Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's cold.

That's what Pure Vanilla noticed. The freezing air chills his knuckles to the bone, his cheeks grazed with a biting sensation. It's cold and he's getting cold, dressed in a simple nightgown that flows and whips around his legs like a lashing, sentient being responding to the unforgiving wind. It's an outfit that isn't appropriate for a winter night, especially this one late in the evening.

But he makes no attempt to retreat back into the bedroom. He doesn't twitch at the idea of settling back underneath heavy covers, mattress dipping and enveloping him like a soft, welcoming cloud.

His body begs to go back inside. Longing. Yearning.

And yet, he stays outside on the lonely balcony, flushed hands resting on the banister. He brushes and feels the wood, its bumps and lows. The intricate design of the bars was illuminated in soft, pretty glows; greeted by the presence of the bright moon surrounded by the windy frost in the air.

His long bangs were getting in the way. Messy blond strands blocking and interrupting his view of the moon and the fading, dark city landscape below. Parting his lips, he blows, his breath adding to the misty environment.

A strand gets out of the way from his eyes, brushing against the slope of his nose bridge.

He inhales, making another move to blow.

"You idiot." A tired, agitated growl comes behind him. A thick rasp, low from disturbed sleep.

Pure Vanilla stops. And blinks.

Once. Twice.

How long has he been out here? It felt like he has been outside in the balcony for more like an hour than mere ten minutes. His hair, grown out and wavy, wasn't enough to keep his neck safe from the cold. It's uncomfortably stiff.

Both from the cold and from the presence of Shadow Milk behind him.

"What are you doing out here?" The sound of a small thud and the rustling of silk pajama clothes leaning against the doorway followed after. It was accusatory. A demand.

Pure Vanilla didn't feel like moving. His limbs felt tight. He stays rooted to his spot, hands on the banister, bare feet against the cement floor of the balcony.

"… My apologies," His voice comes out low and quiet, unused. Tired. "Did I… left the door open? Did the cold woke you up?" Pure Vanilla was so sure he had closed the sliding glass door behind him.

But then again, he's been in a strange, exhausted daze throughout the day since this morning. Actions pause and memory slips from his fingers like rain, leaving him in a weird, inconsistent state of being conscious and unconscious uncovered and drowning.

The chill bites, burying into his ankles.

"The bed is cold." Shadow Milk mutters. Then, a bitter scoff leave his lips. "Y'know, if you didn't want to share the same bed, you shouldn't have been insisting on it in the first place. Hypocrite."

Quick with the assumptions and accusations. Pure Vanilla closes his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. "That's not… I just woke up and wanted to get some fresh air. That's all." He mutters. Not defensively. But honest and genuine. Sincere. "I'm almost done here, though. I'll join you in a bit."

"Has the cold removed your brain cells?" Shadow Milk sounds annoyed and impatient. "Come in now before I change my mind about having to share body heat with a human icicle."

"… Human icicle?"

"Yes— have you not noticed that your shaking? Unbelievable."

The sound of bare-padded footsteps approaches. The scent of that strong blueberry conditioner invades Pure Vanilla's flushed nose from the freezing air that it makes his head spin.

A hand reaches out, covering his that's resting on the banister. Palm covering over freezing knuckles.

That is what makes Pure Vanilla flinch out of his stupor, a hitch of his breath adding to their misty environment.

Shadow Milk's skin wasn't warm to the point Pure Vanilla wanted to cling and never let go. No, that wasn't why he flinched. He flinched because it was a change of temperature placed against the paling and flushing of Pure Vanilla's skin that startled him.

And just like that, it was as if a switch had been turned on, his body's nerves making a emergency call to his brain.

Pure Vanilla is back in his body.

He had been feeling the cold but he hadn't been registering it. Until now.

His body was shaking. Teeth chattering that he couldn't shut. Face, ears, hands, legs and feet were burning not from heat, but from cold, cold, ruthless pain.

Ah.

This is troubling.

"Fuck, you're freezing!" Shadow Milk also ended up flinching from the drastic contrast of temperature between them, his hand flying back almost in a frantic, aggressive sense. "Have you been out here standing for hours?! What is wrong with you!?"

He sounds worried. Or maybe mad.

Pure Vanilla can't bring himself to decide which is which. All he knows is that he's freezing, in pain, and exhausted.

So, so terribly exhausted.

Everything. Everything is wrong with me.

He doesn't make a move to open his mouth to talk. Shadow Milk doesn't let him respond.

His hand comes flying back despite the initial rejection he had made earlier, wrapping around Pure Vanilla's wrist like a snake. Alive and calloused. With a firm tug, Shadow Milk leads Pure Vanilla back inside the dark bedroom, closing the sliding door behind them with a small click.

The frosty wind stops invading its way in, halted. But the room still feels so, so cold and empty. Devoid of any warmth.

Devoid of any warm memories that made this bedroom feel like home.

Shadow Milk was muttering curses underneath his breath that Pure Vanilla couldn't make out from the thundering of his heartbeat in his chest, the pain in his body and muscles. Each step towards the bed, together, felt painful. In a literal and metaphorical sense.

If Pure Vanilla had to guess, he'll guess with certainty that Shadow Milk is cursing at three factors.

Number one, the power outage that happened earlier today has not yet been fixed in the city during mother nature's coldest months.

Number two, having to rely on flashlights with limited batteries, makeshift cooking from a lighter under a stove than turning it on, and layers upon layers of blankets to stay warm.

And number three, the worst factor of them all that both of them can agree with the most— is the fact that they had just recently became exes in the inconvenient timing when the power outage began.

Contacting friends or mutuals was futile. They have nowhere else to turn to when proximity is rejected for needed distance.

So, they are stuck together until the power comes back.

Their knees dip into the mattress, heads settling into pillows. It was almost automatic for Pure Vanilla to get into the right side of the bed, leaving Shadow Milk to have the left as always. A routine.

A routine that no longer felt right. It was wrong and jagged from the way their movements were stiff and awkward. Not natural. Not intimate.

Shadow Milk drags the heavy covers of the multitude of blankets they had dragged into the bed over them, his cursing falling into the silence of rustling sheets and shaky breathing from the cold and something else. Something else they both knew and rather have go unsaid to let the empty quietness of their situation speak for them.

Pure Vanilla's hand twitches. He makes no move to reach out and grab for Shadow Milk, pull him into an embrace when his body yearns for it, longing for it. He still feels cold, so very cold. His hands tuck underneath his chin, nails sending a jolt throughout his body that involuntarily curled into a ball. He waits and waits for the blankets to settle around him, to embrace him with warmth.

Even if there was another option to get warm faster. To erase the small distance between their bodies. Forget about proximity. Indulge into the warmth of being held into body to body.

Shadow Milk's back was turned to him, facing away from him. The smell of blueberries feels stronger in the small space between them. Heavy and thick.

Suffocating.

Pure Vanilla can tell from the moon's light gracing into the room with its hues that Shadow Milk was still awake. Very much so. From the way how the silk fabric of his black pajamas looked tight around his hunched, tensed shoulders down to the small, subtle, but very there, ragged breathing.

Pure Vanilla stares. He lowers his nose to brush against his knuckles, his shaky breath clouding onto cold skin.

He wants to massage those tensed, stressed muscles. He wants to wrap his arms around Shadow Milk's waist and nuzzle his face into the back of his neck. To offer comfort. To offer the warmth he can give over and over again just for him.

He wants to hold him. He wants to be held by him. He wants to caress and be caressed back until their bodies are pressed together that their breaths brush against each other's faces like a nonverbal, vulnerable message that speaks I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

Their worries of being cold will cease when they are together. Hand in hand. Skin to skin.

But that was wishful thinking. Unrealistic thinking.

The boundaries Shadow Milk had let him in before were now locked, blocked with bars of pure steel. Unrelenting. Harsh.

And Pure Vanilla no longer holds the key to Shadow Milk's heart and Shadow Milk no longer holds the lock to Pure Vanilla's love.

Their love is done. Finished. Doomed.

Perhaps doomed from the very start.

And Pure Vanilla was very, very tired of trying to make everything right.

To make himself right.

By the time Pure Vanilla's eyes flutter shut, sleep blurring the edges of his vision, the long-awaited warmth finally comes and graces him with relief. From inanimate fuzzy cotton and fabric. Comforters and blankets.

Not from the warmth body of his ex-partner.

…

This wasn't their first time breaking up.

In the last five years they've dated ever since they were twenty, they've experienced many highs and lows. Many arguments and conversations. Many make-ups and promises.

Promises that have been broken.

Their first break up happened only three months later in the first year of their relationship. Despite the affection moments they shared between hand-holdings, quality times and chaste kisses to the cheeks like any young couple does, Shadow Milk had felt trapped with him.

He hated him.

Despised him.

Even though Pure Vanilla can see through past those lashing, aggressive emotions Shadow Milk wears like a shield; hiding that he was secretly desperate, needy for kindness and love Pure Vanilla was always happy to provide him with— in the end, Shadow Milk didn't want to be vulnerable with him. Didn't want to be seen vulnerable with him.

And Pure Vanilla understood that. It made sense, given their history before they dated.

They were rivals first before being friends, before becoming lovers. Set in opposing friend groups in during their teenage years in Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

Once upon a time, Pure Vanilla had hated Shadow Milk too.

They will get into arguments in the hallways that escalate into private physical fights at the back of school, punches and kicks being exchanged. Pure Vanilla was never a violent person himself before he had met Shadow Milk.

And from that, Pure Vanilla hated how much Shadow Milk had changed him. Hated himself for being weak into letting it happen.

But somehow as they grew older with each taunt, punch and insult that came from between them, Pure Vanilla started to understand him.

To understand how lonely Shadow Milk was despite how charismatic and loud he makes himself to be.

And that was enough to make Pure Vanilla's hate transitioned into understanding. Empathetic.

Compassion.

It's not a secret that Shadow Milk's childhood was taken from the start. He had been raised as a prodigy, the infamous young Fount of Knowledge since he was five years old in Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

Until the infamous Fount of Knowledge was caught purposefully lying during middle school. Weaving rumors. Bullying. Had even made kids depressed and insecure, sadistically tormenting them to feel good for himself.

Pure Vanilla was fifteen when he found that behavior of Shadow Milk's revolting and atrocious.

He was seventeen when he realized how the teachers of their Academy, the Witches, had failed Shadow Milk and the four others raised to be prodigies for their Virtue Program.

Shadow Milk's cruel actions back then were not an excuse for how he treated everyone from deceiving them and controlling them like dolls. Treating Pure Vanilla like a doll.

… But the reasoning, the history of the former prodigy condemned for his actions publicly as a kid instead of given a second chance was enough to make Pure Vanilla's heart pang sympathetically.

He wanted to be the one to give Shadow Milk a second chance. From rocky beginnings to an offering hand in an initially rejected but ultimately reluctant hand, Pure Vanilla understood why Shadow Milk felt trapped when they first broke up.

Three years of rivalry and three years of a shaky friendship forming into romance was something Pure Vanilla felt guilt over. Hated himself for that.

He should've considered Shadow Milk's feelings. Should've considered the timing. It was not right— trapping Shadow Milk into a romantic relationship, the expectations controlling from what comes from a romantic relationship when Shadow Milk made it clear he did not want to be controlled anymore. Contained and locked like he was from before.

Regardless if Pure Vanilla had no malicious intent of trapping him— it still must've felt suffocating for Shadow Milk. Overbearing. Uncomfortable.

So, Pure Vanilla made a promise.

"Let's stay as friends."

Shadow Milk needed a friend. Pure Vanilla wanted to be his friend. So, reverting and staying back into a platonic establishment was no trouble for Pure Vanilla to make. He didn't shed tears. He understood and smiled at Shadow Milk.

He'll be fine as long as Shadow Milk stays in his life.

And yet, that promise broke two weeks later when Shadow Milk kissed him on the lips for the first time.

It was sudden and out of nowhere. They were in a college classmate's house party late into the the night, upstairs in the hallways where the noises of the active party and music below were muffled.

It was just him and Shadow Milk. Pure Vanilla had finished talking with other friends and was met with a pleasant surprise to see Shadow Milk when he went upstairs.

And then, after a small exchange of words and a odd look in Shadow Milk's face that Pure Vanilla noticed, always seeing and noticing every tiny detail, Shadow Milk had pinned him to the wall to kiss him.

It tasted like raw desperation.

In-experiencing and experiencing a kiss for the first time. Grasping and tugging at each other's shoulders, waist and hips like all they wanted was to be closer than ever before. Together.

It was rough. The press of their lips against each other, their breathing racing and hitting each other's faces from opened mouths, tongues seeking a space for air and more.

For more.

Pure Vanilla didn't push him away. He squeezed Shadow Milk's arms hard and pulled him in closer.

It felt good and new.

It felt off and wrong.

When clarity finally hit him of their situation, the setting they were in, Pure Vanilla had gently pushed him away with a hand pressed against his cheek.

His heart hitched in his throat when Shadow Milk had not only pressed his cheek against his palm, accepting such a gesture, but was looking at him with dark eyes, half-lidded. As if Pure Vanilla was in the center of a unspoken spotlight even though Shadow Milk was never kin to sharing a stage.

Pure Vanilla gulped tightly, licking his lips from the foreign sensation of another person's salvia on it. Shadow Milk's salvia. From here in this sensitive, intimate moment of uncharted territory neither of them had ever faced, Pure Vanilla cautiously walked through it.

"Are you drunk?" He had asked.

Those uncharacteristic dark half-lidded eyes had become something more familiar, more grounding. A look of furrowed brows and an offended look entered Shadow Milk's expression.

"I thought you knew me better than that, Nills." He hissed defensively, a pretty flush overtaking his cheeks and azure-teal eyes averting from his.

But his hands tightened on their hold on Pure Vanilla's hips. He didn't pull away from Pure Vanilla's hand on his cheek.

He stayed rooted to the spot. And Pure Vanilla couldn't stop the flush entering his own cheeks, the realization hitting hard.

Shadow Milk wants him. Still wants him.

It was an dawning light of an opportunity, to make things right again.

"Seriously, do you think I'm an idiot to not understand how this would look if I was actually drunk—"

Pure Vanilla interrupted him by pressing his own first initiation kiss on Shadow Milk's lips. Soft. Unhurried. The hand caressing his cheek traveled down to the back of his neck. And Shadow Milk responded back not a second later wasted.

That night when they left the party into a quieter corner of the porch outside the house, Pure Vanilla made sure to have a conversation with Shadow Milk. To clarify things. To make things stronger.

To make them stronger together.

"I know romantic relationships can bring… a lot of expectations. Expectations that are overwhelming and huge… But," Pure Vanilla clasped Shadow Milk's hands into his own, a soft, hopeful smile on his lips. "We don't have to follow those expectations. We can define our own relationship. Set our own expectations. I'll follow whatever you are comfortable with, Shadow Milk and vice versa from you for me. Does that sound alright?"

To Pure Vanilla's relief, Shadow Milk's head tilted to the side, considering Pure Vanilla's words with a smirk growing on his lips. His long hair being caressed by the wind and joining the aesthetic of the night sky above them with his black, blue, and white hair.

He looked like a star that came down to Earth.

"Well, well color me intrigued. I can't say no to the idea of getting away from the shackles of boring norms." Shadow Milk's breath brushes over his lips, a low, amused chuckle escaping. "Especially when it's with you. Us against the world, huh? What a cliche."

"A good cliche."

"Cheesy."

Another shared chuckle. They shared another kiss again.

Another promise settling in between them.

Another promise waiting to be broken.

…

"You cut your hair."

"What, does it look bad?" Came Shadow Milk's biting but tired response.

It's the next morning and the power was still out. The apartment wasn't as pitch black as it was from nighttime last night, aside from the moon letting its light be a faint source.

Pure Vanilla woke up in the bed alone. He dressed up and found Shadow Milk in the living room eating a plate of scrambled eggs at the table on the couch. He was dressed with a white sweater over his silk black pajamas paired with fuzzy, dark blue socks.

There was another plate of scrambled eggs on the table too.

Pure Vanilla didn't show attention to it. Instead, he shakes his head slow and short. "No, it looks fine. Good."

He had seen the sight of Shadow Milk with shorter hair when they were teenagers, after all. The underside blackness of his hair creating a shadowy shade on the base of his neck going upwards, blue and white layered strands on the top of his scalp falling into smoothening waves in its short space. It's nothing new.

It just leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth because of the reasoning behind it.

Shadow Milk only cuts his hair when he feels stressed. Out of controlled. Powerless.

The message is obvious to Pure Vanilla.

Shadow Milk feels stressed because of him. Because of his presence here. Because of their situation forcing them to stick together when things are shattered and broken between them.

I can't do anything right.

He can see the deep bags underneath Shadow Milk's eyes. And Pure Vanilla can feel the same emotions that always arises within him whenever Shadow Milk is upset.

Worry, guilt, and the need to do something, anything to help and comfort.

But he's tired. Drained.

Those emotions, even though they are creeping up inside his chest, his heart, his mind, they all felt… muted, somehow. They are there but also not. Their presence loud but deafened.

Pure Vanilla doesn't delve into it. Maybe he's just tired from the cold, still. Maybe that's why he's acting like this.

It has to be something else other than the breaking up yesterday.

He shouldn't focus on the messy situation of their personal lives. He should focus on working together, living together for the last time until the power comes back, whenever that may be.

Then Pure Vanilla will pack up his things and leave just as Shadow Milk wants.

"… You're wearing my sweater." Shadow Milk tells him with a glance towards his way, biting into his scrambled eggs with a fork.

Pure Vanilla looks down. His white nightgown was over-layered with a black, cozy sweater.

He meets Shadow Milk's eyes (And he can't help but notice the small but typical eyeliner he wears everyday, as if their situation was not going to stop him from looking his best) then makes a pointed look at the white sweater Shadow Milk was wearing.

"So are you." He speaks non-accusatory. Just a quiet observation.

Shadow Milk stiffens, his fork freezing mid-air.

"…" Pure Vanilla stands there, tugging at a sleeve. "… we can switch—" He begins to offer.

"Too late." Shadow Milk cuts him off with a fed-up groan, looking away from him. Shoulders tensed. Grip tightening on his fork.

A pause of silence.

Then: "Hurry up and eat your eggs before it gets cold."

Pure Vanilla didn't consider. His mouth moved before his mind can think. "I'm not hungry."

Shadow Milk pauses, turning his attention back to Pure Vanilla. "… Don't do this." He narrows his eyes at him, lowering his fork on the plate with a small clang. "Don't start acting difficult now. Not right now."

Those words hit like a stab to the heart.

Rationally, he knows Shadow Milk doesn't mean it like that.

His words always have double meanings, after all. Don't act difficult means don't act difficult in their situation where they are supposed to be working together.

But knowing the intention behind such words doesn't change that it still. Hurts. The phrasing hurts.

It hurts.

Why do you care?

But Pure Vanilla knew saying that would hurt Shadow Milk's feelings. Cause a bigger strain in their relationship.

Cause another argument, another conversation Pure Vanilla had no energy to go through with.

They can't have that.

Be considerate. Be empathetic. Be useful. Be kind. Be graceful.

I'm so cold.

"… I'll eat later. I promise." His tone feels dry and empty. Pure Vanilla clears his throat, adding: "Thank you for making me breakfast."

Shadow Milk's eyes scanned his face quietly, wordlessly. Then, with a click of his tongue, he looked away and continued eating his breakfast.

The day passed away like this.

Empty short words exchanged paired with heavy tension in the suffocating, freezing air. Heavy thoughts. Heavy feelings.

They are together. Stuck together.

But Pure Vanilla has never felt so alone.

…

Their second break up happened last year.

Twenty-three years old and moving into the middle of a new city after they had finished college, starting renew together in a fancy but cozy apartment. Not too expensive, not too luxurious, but enough to stand out and be a perfect living space for two.

They pursued their careers. Pure Vanilla a doctor at the nearby hospital and Shadow Milk occasionally leaving on oversea trips to be on stages, an outstanding actor not bind with strings and attachments.

He can tell a story enough for the world to stop breathing and take a moment to just. Look at him. Underneath a spotlight. Graceful. Eager. Passionate.

A star in its spotlight.

Pure Vanilla always, without fail, finds time to leave the hospital to take an airplane overseas to watch the plays Shadow Milk is in on its first opening night.

He'd be sitting in the front row seats, enamored by the storyline and the moment Shadow Milk steps onto the stage, playing a character either villainous or antagonistic— he still demands to be in a main character cast.

And Pure Vanilla loves that for him. He loves to see how confident Shadow Milk is on stage with costumes tailored to his form that screams who he is. A dress, a suit, raggedy clothes, fancy clothes— it's all personas he plays with justice.

And it's a beautiful sight to see. To witness.

So, how did a night of watching his partner's play led to this moment?

They were in Shadow Milk's temporary studio apartment overseas far from home after they left the theater. Things were normal, unsuspecting. Conversations and small banter then and there were exchanged, catching up on each other's lives. The amputee patient, Black Raisin, Pure Vanilla had took care of became friends with him once she got discharged from the hospital. Shadow Milk got to be a guest in Black Sapphire's podcast's recent episode, talking about the topic of rumors and whether they are true or not while playing with fire to keep it trending.

Pure Vanilla scolded him lightly and Shadow Milk laughed it off, feelings unhurt.

Everything felt fine. Everything was fine.

Pure Vanilla had been taking off his shoes when Shadow Milk casually, almost nonchalantly says:

"Let's stop before this drags on any further."

Pure Vanilla froze.

His shoes tumbled on the ground. He straightened himself up, looking up at Shadow Milk who was looking back down at him, holding the bouquet of flowers Pure Vanilla got for him for his performance tonight.

He looked calm. Collected. As if he has been thinking about this for weeks.

Pure Vanilla felt a chill go down his spine.

"… Pardon?" Pure Vanilla breathlessly spoke, taken aback. "Shadow Milk, what do you mean—"

"You know what I mean by that, Pure Vanilla." Shadow Milk's eyes averted from his. "In fact, let's just stay out of each other's lives. Preferably."

What?

Was it something I did? Pure Vanilla's throat felt clogged. Choked. Did I do something? Was I being too much again? Why are you looking away from me—

… Ah.

Despite how eerily composed Shadow Milk was, Pure Vanilla can see the slight subtle shake of his shoulders. His hands. His fingers.

And how he was tilting his face away from Pure Vanilla, bangs covering his eyes and cheekbones. It was a familiar picture to their first break up. When Shadow Milk brought up how much he hated being his boyfriend while turning away.

Not wanting to show vulnerability.

Afraid of being hurt so he lashes out first. Defensively. A safety net.

Shadow Milk was scared again.

And Pure Vanilla refused to let him deal with it alone.

The one-sided conversation escalated into an argument when Shadow Milk couldn't stay composed anymore.

Shadow Milk claimed that he'll just drag Pure Vanilla down like he did before, bringing up their high-school days. Pure Vanilla retorted that their violent, depressive high school days aren't relevant to the present, not when that was before they became friends. Partners. Before Pure Vanilla offered Shadow Milk a second chance that he took in the end. Before Shadow Milk did changed.

How ironic, that the blind person between them can see how the other was so blinded to see how much he had improved himself over the years.

"I'll hurt you again," Shadow Milk was backing away from him. "I haven't changed at all, you idiot— it will happen again!"

"Then that will be a conversation in the future if it does happen!" Pure Vanilla kept following him until he reached up and cradled Shadow Milk's tensed jaw in his hands, eyes pleading. "Until then, you haven't hurt me ever since we started dating so stay with me!"

Shadow Milk's breathing went ragged and rough, eyes wide and wild with conflicting amount of emotions behind them. None which Pure Vanilla is quick enough to take a grasp of—

But he can see it. He can see the loneliness in Shadow Milk trying to drag him back into a false sense of security by pushing Pure Vanilla out.

It was self-destructive.

And Pure Vanilla was walking into the explosion, arms wide and open.

"You put too much foolish trust in me."

The bouquet Shadow Milk was gifted had fallen to the ground, crushed under his heel when he was backing away from Pure Vanilla.

The petals crackled underneath Pure Vanilla's feet when he stepped over them.

But that's okay.

Pure Vanilla can buy many more flowers for Shadow Milk.

"Darling, you need to put that foolish trust into yourself more."

Shadow Milk didn't went through with the break up that night when they were tucked underneath the sheets, curled up against each other while Pure Vanilla's hands softly caress his hair.

But that doesn't mean it didn't cause a small crack in their relationship.

Pure Vanilla managed to make Shadow Milk stay this time.

But considering their history and Shadow Milk's aversion to vulnerability despite the many experiences and memories they went through together from first-times to laughing together—

How much longer could Pure Vanilla convince Shadow Milk to stop doubting himself? To stop doubting them?

I wish you were more kinder to yourself. He thought to himself when he pressed a small kiss against Shadow Milk's forehead.

Then, he softly whispered against his bangs. "I'm never going to leave you."

Shadow Milk won't be alone and neither would Pure Vanilla.

They'll stay together through anything that comes their way.

That's a promise.

A promise that'll break again.

…

"What are you doing out here again!?"

Pure Vanilla blinked. Then, he was grabbed by the shoulders and turned around to the sight of Shadow Milk's baffled, angry face.

The moon hits Shadow Milk's face and new haircut nicely.

Pure Vanilla blinked again. Then, he registered five things.

One, it was nighttime. Two, they were out in the balcony. Three, it was beyond freezing to the point it bordered on painful. Four, he was still wearing Shadow Milk's sweater and Shadow Milk was wearing his from this morning.

And five is that he had lost track of time and had spaced out. Again.

"… I'm sorry. I was getting some fresh air and I must've lost track of time again," Pure Vanilla muttered, raising his hands to grab Shadow Milk's wrists on his shoulders. Not prying them off but not tugging them in either.

Shadow Milk lets out a disbelief empty laugh at this, lips strained in an unamused smile like he didn't believe Pure Vanilla. "Getting fresh air again to the point of catching frostbites?! Is that what you are doing?!"

Pure Vanilla scans himself. "No, I don't have any frostbites—"

"That's not the point you — you insufferable little!—" Shadow Milk's face twists. "What even— What even is this??? Because at this rate, it seems like your fucking guilt-tripping me for breaking your heart."

"… What?" Pure Vanilla's head snaps up at that, feeling a whole mixed emotions suddenly swelling up inside him, tightening his throat. "Guilt-tripping? I wasn't— That wasn't my intention—"

"Then what is your intention?!" Shadow Milk's nails digged in his shoulders, not to the add pain, but to add pressure. "You've been acting off ever since we broke up and been stuck in this stupid situation and now you flee to the balcony twice in a row to do what— to freeze out here? To forget? Is this some coping mechanism I'm not getting because it's not one I don't think is smart, especially for you as a fucking doctor, to do in this situation!"

"Oh, so I can't act upset with you? Is that what your saying to me?" Pure Vanilla's mouth moved impulsively, eyes narrowing. "I can't be upset that — that after all these years, your not willing to give us a try anymore and expect me to act like nothing has happened because there's a power outage and that's more important than us?!"

"I—" Shadow Milk looked startled, his hands flying away from Pure Vanilla's shoulders.

But Pure Vanilla wasn't done.

He's cold.

He's tired.

And most of all—

Everything hurts.

And like a cracking dam, he breaks.

"I'm sorry I'm being too difficult to handle with now, but I'm at the lowest point of my life and I just— I just wish," His voice breaks. "I just wish you could support me through it like I have done for you whenever you felt low."

…

"… That's selfish thinking to expect from someone like me." Shadow Milk says so weakly, so uncertain.

A harsh gust of wind passes through their shaking forms. It whips their bangs around, their clothes rustling and pressed against their bodies but not against each other.

Pure Vanilla lets out a shaky breath. A painful, empty smile forms on his lips.

"Darling… You haven't even tried."

And that's how it always will go between them wouldn't it?

The one who believes he can't change and doesn't try. Can't believe in himself. Can't trust in himself.

Can't love himself.

And the other one whose tired of giving second chances. Tired of feeling hurt. Tired of helping.

Tired of loving for the both of them when it's futile because the other can't bring himself to try.

It's freezing outside. Pure Vanilla silently grabbed Shadow Milk's wrist and led him back inside, closing the sliding door behind them.

He was the first to get into bed. Back to the right side of the bed. A place that doesn't feel fulfilling anymore. A hesitant pause of silence before Shadow Milk joined in. Quiet. The sounds of reluctant blankets put over them.

A larger space was put between them. A larger distance.

Pure Vanilla waits for the warmth to come from blankets instead of Shadow Milk.

He waits for sleep to come.

For now? He tightly squeezed his eyes and curled into a pathetic ball on his side, face pressed against his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself like a sad, messy hug.

No tears came because of how cold he felt but the pain in his chest was overbearing. Overwhelming. It cracks and breaks and drowns him in a never-ending world of pain.

The pain for loving someone so, so much.

"… Pure Vanilla."

"Yes, Shadow Milk? …" A pause. Then: "Is… everything alright?"

"Nills— Pure Vanilla. This… This isn't going to last forever. This… Us— It won't fucking last. I'm done. We are done."

"Shadow Milk… what are you… wait, please—"

"Don't even try to change my mind again. It won't work. We're almost nearing our mid-twenties— You have so much to live for then having me as a pathetic excuse of a lifetime partner."

"Please don't talk about yourself like that—"

"Well, it's an undeniable fact! Okay? Stop denying it and trying to make me… me good because it won't happen, it— it won't—"

"I'm not trying to make you good, Shadow Milk, I'm trying to help you heal! Your not allowing yourself to be happy because your scared it won't last forever!"

"Oh, how dare you— You have such a infuriating savior complex! What if I just don't want to heal anymore, have you ever thought of that?! I don't want to— I'm tired of it! I'm tired of you. And I'll just end up destroying you in the process anyways."

"… so you won't even try for me? Even after all we've gone through, you won't… try?"

"… I don't deserve you. You deserve better."

The lights flicker.

Attentions shifted.

"… what is…"

The room plunges into darkness.

"… oh, you got to be kidding me."

There was a power outage.

The power is back.

That's what Pure Vanilla noticed when he got off of bed and wasn't greeted with the outside world's cold bypassing through the walls. There was no frost in the air. Just the welcoming warmth of the heaters working, cozying up the room in a comfortable, safe environment.

And yet, Pure Vanilla still feels cold. Empty. He can't find the joy in feeling warm because now that the power is back on…

It means he has to start packing his things up and leave now.

Leave them behind.

As he moves with heavy limbs to start packing his wardrobe from their shared dresser into a bag he owns, Pure Vanilla can feel how a tiny piece of himself wants to try again. To try to convince Shadow Milk to stay. That they can make things work.

It's a core trait of his to be kind.

But it's also a trait that hurts him.

Because I'm not good enough for him to consider changing for.

And Pure Vanilla had no one but to blame himself for having these selfish, greedy thoughts of just… wanting to be yearned for once.

How selfish of him. How cruel of him.

Pure Vanilla knows. He knows he should be mad at Shadow Milk. And he was last night. He was so, so terribly mad and upset.

But now? Now he remembers how quiet Shadow Milk went last night. The regret and guilty look in his face with those deep bags underneath his eyes wearing him down.

He can't bring himself to be mad or upset towards him.

He can't bring himself to even hate him.

It's so confusing. It's so messed up. Shadow Milk was the one who hurt his feelings but Pure Vanilla can't help but feel hurt for him too. Can't help but feel so much love for him even as it does destroy him like Shadow Milk predicted it would— but just not in the way Shadow Milk had expected.

Because being understanding too much can overwrite his own pain to focus on Shadow Milk's pains. He understands Shadow Milk like no one else could.

And Shadow Milk doesn't want him because his fear is holding him back, not because Shadow Milk doesn't love him back.

That fear of his, fear of being abandoned because he has been abandoned and failed when he was so little, forced to learn and act bigger. That same fear that is now destroying them more than whatever false caution Shadow Milk is trying to convince himself is the right decision to do.

How could Pure Vanilla hate and blame that fear? He can't blame Shadow Milk for not wanting to overcome his fear. He can't hate Shadow Milk for not wanting to overcome his fear with him by his side.

He understands.

So, he doesn't shed tears. He doesn't hesitate or linger.

By the time he was done packing his clothes up, he can hear the rustling of sheets and blankets being moved.

Shadow Milk has woken up.

Pure Vanilla takes a deep breath.

Then, he musters up normalcy. "Good morning, Shadow Milk." He says gently. Sincere.

This is their last day together. He wants to end it politely.

Not to ease the pain. But because he doesn't want to taint their last interaction with another argument with painful words being thrown at each other.

Just be kind.

And everything will go okay.

He pretends to not notice how Shadow Milk's expression falls at the sight of the bag in his hands. Pure Vanilla stands up, leaving the bedroom to gather more of his things left around in a place they used to call a home together.

"Bahahaha! You— You didn't know phones weren't supposed to be taken out during performances!? Isn't that supposed to be, I dunno, common sense?! I can't— I can't believe you forgot about standard one theater etiquette!"

Shadow Milk was clutching his sides, still in his costume and laughing in Pure Vanilla's embarrassed face.

They are twenty years old, young and dumb, dumb for Pure Vanilla to not realize he's not supposed to have his phone out in the musical play his partner had invited him to see for the first time.

"I just… I just wanted to record your singing…" Pure Vanilla feebly tried to defend himself, but it wasn't working because Shadow Milk ended up laughing harder at that.

"Hahaha!— Ow— Ow! This fucking corset!" Shadow Milk wheezed, frantically waving his hands towards the corset wrapped around his torso digging into his ribs.

That caused Pure Vanilla to panic, quickly circling around him to unlace and loosen the corset of his costume.

It helped Shadow Milk to breathe. It didn't help Pure Vanilla to avoid hearing his continued laughter at his expense.

Pure Vanilla bit his lip, looking away and waiting for his partner to stop laughing. His flush flames from his neck to the tips of his ears at remembering how the person next to him scolded him for having his phone out as if it was, just like Shadow Milk said, common sense.

But then, Pure Vanilla let out a startled noise when he felt arms wrapping around his waist, back to chest, Shadow Milk's laughter dying down to chuckles against from where he buried his face into the space where Pure Vanilla's shoulder meets his neck.

"You are too sweet to me, Nills." He murmurs against his skin, sending a shiver down Pure Vanilla's spine. "How did I ever get so lucky getting the perfect golden-boy to commit such a atrocious crime in theater history all just for me?"

"Okay… now you're just being insufferable now." Despite the scolding, Pure Vanilla couldn't hold back a fond smile at this.

And Shadow Milk noticed this. "And yet your smiling." He teases.

"Always for you."

"Bleh! Look at you! Shamelessly being flirtatious and being terrifyingly bad at it! Someone ought to teach you a thing or two, doll-face."

"Well, could you teach me then?"

Shadow Milk's arms squeezed his waist. "Like I'll ever let anyone else teach you."

And from that, Shadow Milk captures Pure Vanilla's lips into his. Slow. Tender. Affectionate.

Love.

Pure Vanilla loves the smell of his blueberry scented conditioner engulfing his senses when he was properly turned around so they can kiss better, heads tilted, cheeks caressed with hands he trusts wouldn't harm him.

"Make sure you get something for yourself to eat. The food in the fridge must've been spoiled by now," Pure Vanilla comments when putting his shoes on. He pats his knees when he straightens off of the floor, checking his three bags. One filled with his clothes, one filled with his personal stuff, and one which was his work bag.

It's now three in the afternoon and Pure Vanilla was ready to head out.

And Shadow Milk has barely said a word to him, standing behind him but not in a way that felt invasive or imposing. He'll make sounds of acknowledgement whenever Pure Vanilla talks to him, but that was about it. He's been silent ever since he woke up and has been like a shadow following Pure Vanilla around. He doesn't offer his help when Pure Vanilla was packing but doesn't stop Pure Vanilla from packing either.

The thought of him stopping Pure Vanilla makes his heart clench desperately, selfishly. He wanted for that to happen.

For Shadow Milk to stop him.

But Shadow Milk made his decision. A decision that wasn't honest to himself and a decision that wasn't fair to Pure Vanilla.

And Pure Vanilla was too tired to try again.

"… Take care of yourself, Shadow Milk." He mutters gently, sparing a small glance towards Shadow Milk's way with a small smile.

His hand reaches for the doorknob.

"… You're still wearing my sweater." Came Shadow Milk's unexpected response, slightly raspy from unused.

Pure Vanilla pauses, scanning himself and feeling an embarrassed, shameful feeling inside him. How could he forget that he was still in his nightgown and in Shadow Milk's sweater? He's gotten so lost in the motion of trying to act normal to make this day as passive as ever while packing that he forgotten the most important, obvious detail to change his outfit before leaving, especially when it's winter time!

"I'm sorry, let me go change—"

Pure Vanilla didn't get to finish his sentence.

"I'll try." Shadow Milk blurted out.

"…" Pure Vanilla froze. He turns and looks up at his ex-partner with wide eyes whose eyes also looked wide. Like he himself didn't expect to say that out loud.

But it seemed like he wasn't going to take it back either.

"You… what?" Pure Vanilla breathlessly asks. This doesn't feel real. Did the cold finally numb his senses?

But he hasn't been out into the balcony since last night and the power was working, heaters working on comfortable temperature.

And Shadow Milk is telling him he'll… try.

"I'll try working on myself," Shadow Milk steps closer. Pure Vanilla doesn't step back. "I'll work on myself to get better. To become… To become somebody deserving for you and… and myself. Just don't… don't go."

Don't go.

"… My things are already packed." Pure Vanilla softly mutters. Not a protest. But a statement.

A statement that doesn't deter Shadow Milk. "I'll unpack your things for you."

"You hurt me." A fact. Pure Vanilla's eyes were beginning to well up with tears. Hands twitching at his sides. Hesitant. Hopeful.

"I won't hurt you again." Shadow Milk was closer now. Voice low and fervent. Pure Vanilla can see how his eyes shone with desperation, regret, and need. Need to prove himself in moment of the life-changing decision of Pure Vanilla leaving when Shadow Milk had caused all this hurt in the first place.

It was so tricky to decide. To be apart of Shadow Milk's journey to healing self-love by being with him in every step of the way to witness it unfold or to leave himself out of it so he doesn't keep getting himself hurt by failed hopes and selfish expectations.

The conflicting emotions he was feeling must've shown in his face because Shadow Milk grabs his hands and cups them almost as if Pure Vanilla was a treasure to adore. To keep.

"I love you, Pure Vanilla." Shadow Milk's voice cracked a little, weak and trembling. He presses his forehead against Pure Vanilla's, whispering. "Let me start over and prove it this time."

It was a promise.

A promise that could very well break in the future.

But as of right now? Pure Vanilla couldn't stop a broken sob leaving his lips, his muted emotions finally releasing like a ugly, pathetic mess despite his efforts to keep them concealed. Shadow Milk didn't say anything. He just gripped his hands tighter. Then, when that didn't feel enough, he dragged Pure Vanilla into a tight embrace and didn't let go.

They were both clutching tightly onto each other like they needed each other to breathe. To exist.

Pure Vanilla's hands grasped on the white sweater Shadow Milk was still wearing that's his.

His.

Shadow Milk was still his. And he was still Shadow Milk's.

And for the first time in a while, Pure Vanilla doesn't feel cold anymore.

He feels warm in his partner's arms again once more.