Work Text:
Weeks pass. Time moves on.
For the millionth time, Shadow Milk looks at his reflection in the mirror, the one Pure Vanilla dutifully had replaced when he'd broken all the mirrors in the castle… and he sighs as he looks away.
He flops down onto his bed, his head angled to stare at his first, second, and third attempts to make his dolls as neatly as he used to. Proof that his absolute power only hurt him in the end, right?
Proof that he isn't recovered yet.
Proof that he still isn't satisfied with himself.
At least he can slip into the shadows, and that he does, crawling beneath the door and down the hall. He finds Pure Vanilla exiting the castle, his pace even and relaxed as he heads towards the waffle bot workshop.
Shadow Milk has heard of Strawberry Crepe here and there. A child, apparently, one who had been under Dark Enchantress' employ, even though she abandoned the kid not long after. Still, from what the pesky little raisin villagers whisper sometimes, the bots created were things of wonder and terror.
If Pure Vanilla noticed Shadow Milk has slipped into the darkness beneath his waffle cone crown, he says nothing. Shadow Milk doesn't let him know, even if he doesn't realize as he approaches the young boy.
Strawberry Crepe doesn't seem to be faking his skill, at least. Shadow Milk has seen plenty of wannabe mechanics and engineers in his time, a lie or two here and there, and suddenly being an expert in a craft is attainable. The little guy hops off one of the larger waffle bots, and he can feel Pure Vanilla tense beneath him, even as the boy lands on his feet.
"Did you order those materials from the Creme Republic I requested?"
A citizen of the Vanilla Kingdom being less than polite to Pure Vanilla? Maybe Shadow Milk will get along with him. It would be a breath of fresh air compared to the awe and reverence most citizens stare at Pure Vanilla with.
"The order is in, yes. Admittedly, it will be a little less than you requested. Recovery from the war has effected the Creme Republic as well, and they weren't able to meet the request fully." Pure Vanilla doesn't seem unfamiliar with the boy's rudeness, at least.
"I suppose I can manage with a little less…" Strawberry Crepe sighs, rolling his eyes as he glances behind Pure Vanilla. "Black Raisin? What do you want?"
"I want nothing, but I brought you coffee." Black Raisin steps into view with two cups balanced precariously in her hand.
Strawberry Crepe snatches one from her immediately, his eyes wide as he takes a sip. "It will do. What for, trying to bribe me?"
"They didn't sleep again last night, did they?" Pure Vanilla turns to Black Raisin, his tone that infuriatingly soft one that Shadow Milk is glad Strawberry Crepe recoil at as much as he wants to.
Wait.
They. They?
Pure Vanilla didn't stutter. Didn't correct himself. Didn't use 'him' or 'her' or anything else.
"They got distracted again when one of the patrollers broke down."
"Don't speak of me like I'm not here?"
His ears are ringing. Pure Vanilla had been so normal about it… about what Shadow Milk assumes is the correct pronouns for them. They. Like it didn't matter. Like it was a fact.
Would Pure Vanilla truly turn Shadow Milk away if he found out?
He doesn't want that possibility, even if Pure Vanilla is very unlikely to turn him away. Pure Vanilla is kind. Pure Vanilla would accept that, but even if nothing at all changed between them, Pure Vanilla would know. He'd keep knowing. It would be a truth of Shadow Milk's he'll keep tucked neatly among the others.
If they keep living together like this, it's an eventually that Pure Vanilla will find out.
Shadow Milk doesn't want him to know at all.
How does Strawberry Crepe live so easily with this? With their identity being known? Even if it is respected, don't they get reminded of it constantly? Shadow Milk can't imagine himself wanting to be referred as 'they'. It's a blatant indicator of change.
Shadow Milk can't allow himself to be envious of a child who can live with themselves like that.
When all three of them are distracted, he slips away from Pure Vanilla and into the corner of the room, beneath one of Strawberry Crepe's machines. When both Pure Vanilla and Black Raisin leave after a long, exhaustion conversation that Pure Vanilla's natural light kept leaking into, he slips out.
"So you're Strawberry Crepe, huh? I finally get to meet the genius everyone is talking about!" Shadow Milk grins, leaning forward a good distance away from them. "So, little genius, how did you do it?"
Strawberry Crepe doesn't seem shocked at his appearance, but the question throws them off. "How did I do what? I knew you stayed behind to ask me something but I have no clue what you're talking about."
"How did you get both Pure Vanilla and that crow lady to respect you?" He straightens, staring down at them. "It's a simple question, really."
Strawberry Crepe frowns, their eyebrows furrowing with thought as they stare up at him.
"Still don't know what you're talking about."
"The pronouns." Shadow Milk crosses his arms. "They both used 'they' for you with no effort required! How did you train them to do that?"
"You- you do know who you're talking about, right?" Strawberry Crepe looks utterly baffled as they point at the exit to the workshop. "The Pure Vanilla? Kindness personified? He'd cry if he thinks he hurt anyone." The kid rolls their eyes, picking up one of their wrenches. "Even when I was trying to kill him he accepted it immediately."
"Of course he did." Shadow Milk hisses, his fists dropping to his sides to clench. "Insufferable idiot… did he at least mess up a few times?"
"Like, once? I was a little busy trying to kill him to really pay attention." Strawberry Crepe grins, spinning the wrench before pointing it at him. "Why do you care? Got something repressed, beast?"
"No." Shadow Milk levels them with a glare before turning away. "Forget I asked, else I'll make sure you have nightmares for the rest of your life."
"Then leave me alone. The kingdom won't rebuild itself." Strawberry Crepe mutters, and Shadow Milk can faintly hear them working on something else as he leaves.
Effortless respect. Right. He should have realized. Pure Vanilla couldn't hate him. Shadow Milk still doesn't want him to know. Knowledge is a label. A label he doesn't want.
He doesn't stop for Pure Vanilla when he passes the hero in the hall. He doesn't wait when the light turns to look at him. He closes himself in his room again, picking up where he'd left off on his fourth attempt. This one is less generic. This one is supposed to be him. It is him… at least that was the intention. He couldn't bring himself to grab golden fabric. He couldn't bring himself to use the darkened blues for anything other than his old outfit.
It was supposed to be the old him, but his unrefined hands have made clumsy work of it. A child's drawing given shape. A lump of fabric and string. Imperfect.
'Got something repressed, beast?'
Shadow Milk tosses the incomplete doll at the wall, the needle being tugged along as well. The doll thuds against the wall and the needle clatters right after it. Both land on the floor unceremoniously. How long has it been now, months? Months since he lost his precision and he still hasn't gotten himself back to perfect again?
He turns awkwardly in his seated position, glaring at the mirror across the room. This, he is pathetic. Shadow Milk is pathetic…
'Got something repressed, beast?'
Shadow Milk stands, wobbling violently on his feet as he turns the mirror around. The force he uses is far more than he intended, and the glass hits the wall behind it with an odd crack.
If Pure Vanilla saw him like this, he'd be worried. If Pure Vanilla saw him shaking in this anger, he'd ask. He'd know something else was wrong with Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk doesn't want anything to be wrong.
"Bluebird? Are you alright?"
"Come in." Shadow Milk hisses, letting go of the mirror and stepping away from it to collapse onto the bed. "What do you want?"
"I heard a thud while I was passing by." Pure Vanilla's voice is soft as he enters. That blinding light follows Shadow Milk onto the bed, sitting beside him. "Are you alright?"
Shadow Milk hesitates, but allows himself to sigh, curling against the hand that gently cups his cheek. "Think I accidentally broke the mirror again."
"Did you get hurt?"
Shadow Milk huffs, closing his eyes. "As if I could get hurt." He doesn't fight it when Pure Vanilla gently grabs his hands with his free one. "Slammed it against the wall. Didn't punch it this time. I was just trying to turn it around."
Why does he want to tell him? Something in him must have broken when Timekeeper peeled the other beasts and the ultimate being from his mind. Something is wrong with him. Something is surely wrong with Shadow Milk.
He's going to know eventually, with or without Shadow Milk trying.
"Don't look at me like that."
Pure Vanilla pauses, looking down at him.
"Like I'm some sort of project." Shadow Milk mutters. Pure Vanilla isn't, not really. It just feels like it. "Like you want me. Like you care."
"I'm sorry." Pure Vanilla's voice is quiet. "I didn't realize you felt that way."
Shadow Milk yanks his hands from Pure Vanilla's hold to shoot up, coming face to face with the hero. "That's not what I meant. I-" He looks away, nothing at all hidden with how close they've ended up. "What if I told you something. Something about me. Something that shouldn't change anything between us, but will then be something you know. Something you should know. Something I don't want you to know."
"If you don't want to tell me, I will not force you." Pure Vanilla whispers. "And I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me anything either. There is nothing you can hide that I would feel I 'deserve' to know."
Shadow Milk sighs, closing his eyes as he leans against Pure Vanilla's shoulder. "But I do want to tell you… but I also don't want to… at least not right now."
"Then don't tell me right now."
He frowns. That isn't it either… but what choice does he have? "I shouldn't have blamed you for this." Shadow Milk knows his words are muffled by Pure Vanilla's robes. That's why he says them. That's why he nearly apologizes. "It wasn't entirely your fault."
"I don't mind." Pure Vanilla hums, and slowly, gently, his fingers begin to card through Shadow Milk's hair. "Having someone to blame tends to be cathartic."
"Stop trying to take the blame for things that weren't your fault."
"Yes, Bluebird."
The silence that follows is heavy, tinged with the loathing Shadow Milk hopes Pure Vanilla can't somehow sense.
He doesn't sleep. Not really. He drifts in an uncomfortable space where he's alone with his thoughts and the steady sensation of Pure Vanilla breathing beneath him. His head spins around the conversation from earlier. The unimportant, casual use of 'they'. The way neither Pure Vanilla hadn't made an effort to use it… he just did.
Shadow Milk wants Pure Vanilla to know.
"Bluebird, is it all right if I get up?" Pure Vanilla's voice is soft. "Are you awake?"
"I've been awake, you stupid sap." Shadow Milk pushes himself up. His hands clench around nothing.
"I promised Black Raisin I'd help her out." The hero stands, and before Shadow Milk can even think of mocking him he leans to press a kiss to Shadow Milk's forehead. "I'll be at the inn if you need me."
"Yeah, yeah, go help her." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. "Stop bothering me."
"I should be back by nightfall."
"Have fun working I guess."
"Love you too, Bluebird."
With Pure Vanilla gone, Shadow Milk looks back at the doll he'd tossed earlier. His footsteps feel final as he approaches it and picks it up again, grasping at the thread before the weight of the needle damages the fabric further. He can… he can probably make this better.
Maybe… maybe Shadow Milk just doesn't want to tell Pure Vanilla. Maybe he just doesn't want to know when he knows.
He works carefully. He ends up undoing most of his work, carefully stitching and using a touch of his power to mend the fabric. But, he still doesn't use the golds. The image of his old self comes back into view. Dark blues, white and black for the eyes that used to linger in his hair. He finishes the body first. It's unrefined. It's still not perfect… but it's a little better.
He wants Pure Vanilla to know, but he can't tell him. At least not with words.
He doesn't make the body too realistic. After all, it's going to be covered in clothes anyway. His fingers tremble as he directs the needle to the dolls chest, mirroring the two scars beneath his own pecs. As an afterthought, he stitches in the keyhole he used to bear between them. Pure Vanilla already knows about the keyhole he used to bear. Maybe it will be a distraction.
The clothes are a different matter. He's found a similar light blue to the first sweater Pure Vanilla had made him, and he uses care to imitate it as best as he can. It's not wool, so of course it doesn't look the same. He'll coerce Pure Vanilla into making a small sweater for the doll later.
It's not him as he is now. Its the Beast of Deceit before he nearly died at the hands of Dark Enchantress and Silent Salt, before he absorbed Eternal Sugar, Mystic Flour, Burning Spice, and a portion of the Ultimate Being, before he tore apart the timelines and attempted to rewrite the story anew. The doll doesn't have his mismatched hands or the scar that overruled the keyhole that he used to bear.
His favorite old self with new clothes. The Beast of Deceit nearing his prime, yet wearing a hand knit sweater made by the Hero of Truth…
This is better. Far better than it was.
If Pure Vanilla were to take a moment to marvel at this slightly shoddy work, would he notice the sweater is removable? Would he look? Would he see? Well, Shadow Milk can't exactly imagine Pure Vanilla purposefully unclothing a doll.
This is the only way Shadow Milk can acknowledge it, at least right now. A hint. A clue. He can't exactly verbally tell Pure Vanilla he's different. He can't speak that truth, can't come right out and say 'I changed myself' right to his or anyone else's face.
He has to acknowledge it. Before something happens, before the off chance that Pure Vanilla accidentally walks in on him changing or some other stupid trope where he'd find out.
Pure Vanilla isn't back yet when Shadow Milk slips into his room. Gently, he places it on one of the shelves, in one of the spaces Pure Vanilla had left for him to fill without question. Soft. Pathetic. His Silly-Vanilly.
Shadow Milk's.
He lets out a sigh as he turns away, exiting the castle to trace Pure Vanilla down. The servants don't flinch at the sight of him anymore. True to his word, Shadow Milk finds him outside the inn. Black Raisin lingers against the wall, sipping at what seems to be a cold drink, based off the way the sides sweat moisture. Pure Vanilla stands in front of her, talking softly, a drink in his own hand. When he spots Shadow Milk approaching, his smile only grows, and he steps into the inn.
"What's his deal?"
"Give him a minute. The experiment turned out better than expected." Black Raisin grins.
They stand awkwardly for a few minutes before Pure Vanilla rushes back through the door, a second cup in his hand and a massive smile that Shadow Milk nearly recoils from.
"Try it. Trust me."
How idiotic. It's not that Shadow Milk trusts him, it's that he doesn't think doesn't think Pure Vanilla is capable of poisoning him. That alone is the only reason Shadow Milk accepts the cup and takes a sip.
It's cold and sweet. Basically ice cream. A little fruity. "What is this?" And he needs to know, so that's why he drinks more. "Tell me now."
"A variant on ice cream they have in the Creme Republic!" Pure Vanilla’s light is far too blinding. Headache inducing, really. "Perfect for a hot day, right?"
"You're late. It's early fall."
"So we're a little early for next summer! Look at the first group of taste testers!" Pure Vanilla gestures across the way, pointing to a small group of villagers. They all seem happy, taking sips of the drink as they talk amongst each other. "Besides, it's not like ice cream in the winter is unpopular… right?"
"You are the reason your kingdom is broke." Shadow Milk mutters, unfortunately taking another sip. Technically Pure Vanilla is right… by technicality only. He isn't going to admit it though.
"This gives us reason to trade with Dark Cacao's kingdom other than 'I must maintain good trade relations with my friends'." Black Raisin hums, her smile just as soft. "I think Pure Vanilla is doing half decently again."
"That isn't the only reason I trade with Dark Cacao." Pure Vanilla sighs, shaking his head. "Do you really think that little if my negotiations?"
"Yes." Shadow Milk says before Black Raisin can try to soothe him. "I'm willing to bet if Golden Cheese asked you to trade with her kingdom you would."
"Golden Cheese… wasn't that-"
"Entirely digital, yes." Shadow Milk nods, rolling his eyes. He's watching carefully as Black Raisin's stoic smile tries desperately not to crack.
"You two are teaming up against me, then?" Pure Vanilla chuckles, closing his eyes. "At least you two are getting along better."
Shadow Milk recoils away from that statement, even as Black Raisin forces herself to frown.
He follows Pure Vanilla back to the castle on silence. Nerves make his fingers curl. "Hey, Nilly?"
Pure Vanilla stops at the entrance, turning back to look at Shadow Milk with that warmth he despises.
"I finished the doll. I need a sweater for it. The same wool and color as the first one you made me."
"Very well, Bluebird."
Shadow Milk wants Pure Vanilla to know.
Pure Vanilla's hands are precise. They've never lost their way, at least not here and now, not with his craft. The miniature sweater is finished within thirty minutes, and he finds himself loathing Pure Vanilla's hands.
"Will this suffice? I've never exactly made something this small before."
It's perfect. "It's terrible, but I'm tired of waiting."
Shadow Milk snatches the doll off the shelf. It's a little too easy to cover the chest of it with his hand as he pulls off the imperfect placeholder and slips the new one into place.
Pure Vanilla should be able to see that the doll can be unclothed, that there was work put into the actual body of the doll… but not what the details are. The possibility of it. He can't stand anything else.
He places the doll back onto the shelf and tosses the imperfect doll top into a small portal, uncaring of where exactly it lands in his own room.
"That's new, Bluebird. Should I start making clothes for your dolls too?"
"Be quiet!" He hisses at the amusement in Pure Vanilla's tone. "It's experimental. My next ones are going to be like that!"
"Very well."
Pure Vanilla knows now. Not exactly what Shadow Milk is hiding, but that he is hiding something. An invitation.
Shadow Milk swallows down the fear that begins to creep back into place as he flops onto the bed, ensuring Pure Vanilla can see his glare as he slips under the covers.
It's not a concession. It's not giving up. It's not a request to be known, or a fact freely given, or anything else of that sort… but if it's not any of those things… then what is it?
Pure Vanilla's hands grabs his, and Shadow Milk growls as he shifts forward to plant his face into the blond man's shoulder. After all, he can't seem happy about this. It would kill him.
When he wakes, he finds Pure Vanilla is already awake. The slightest motion of Pure Vanilla's arms as he knits almost lulls Shadow Milk back to sleep, but then he catches the warm, curious glance sent at the doll on the shelf. The sight of it makes him sick, so he rushes Pure Vanilla to breakfast under the guise of an empty stomach.
"Bluebird, would you like to accompany me to the waffle bot workshop today?"
The question breaks him out of uneasy emptiness of his head. He looks up, catching Pure Vanilla's gaze.
"What could I possibly get out of going to a waffle bot workshop? You know I don't care about the mechanics of machines." He looks down, poking at his food with his spoon.
"I think you'd get along well with our resident mechanical genius." The blond hums. "You were there yesterday, right? But you didn't come out to greet them."
Pure Vanilla knew he was there, but didn't realize when he'd slipped out from beneath the waffle crown. "I don't get it."
Pure Vanilla pauses, his silverware accidentally scraping against the bottom of his plate. "I'm sorry, dear, could you be more specific?"
He just needs to brace himself. He wants Pure Vanilla to verbalize something similar ahead of time. An acceptance. "The pronouns. Using 'they'. I understand the mechanics of it, but the purpose of it, but the logic eludes me." A lie, but Pure Vanilla idiotically is very fine with him lying.
Pure Vanilla thinks on it for a moment. "I'm not quite sure how Strawberry Crepe views pronouns, but I always considered them in a similar manner to names. If I may make the comparison, I wouldn't refer to you as the Fount of Knowledge, right? You are Shadow Milk, or Bluebird, or, the Beast if Deceit."
And, it's gotten too close to him again. "A denotation of a current shape, then. A label."
"Do you consider it a label?" Pure Vanilla asks, his eyes closing in that stubborn gentleness.
Shadow Milk swallows. "Why would I consider it a label?
"Anything can be labeled, but only by those who wish to label." Pure Vanilla's voice softens. "A single mistake could make someone a monster. An unintentional phrase could make someone a liar. A misplaced view could make a seer a searcher. It's a matter of perspective that can vary from person to person."
"So, if I told you one day that I'm changing myself…"
"Then I would accept it." Pure Vanilla opens his eyes, his smile soft. "You are you, Bluebird. I didn't fall in love with the Beast of Deceit, I fell in love with you, and I've long known you'd never let yourself be conformed into one shape."
Say something. Say anything. "That, in and of itself, could be considered a label."
"Are you labeling my love, Bluebird?"
"No, I-" Shadow Milk sets his spoon down, leaning against the table. "You are insufferable, you know that right?"
"I am very aware, but I suppose that's what led you back to me. I'm fine with being insufferable."
Pure Vanilla is technically right, but Shadow Milk isn't going to let him know. "Could you just be quiet?"
The fifth doll, or the start of it at least, was meant to be the Fount of Knowledge. Not the first one, no, but the one he became before he embraced Deceit. The scars beneath the pecs, much darker, much newer. His second form, the second Fount of Knowledge, with self made scars that he couldn't quite get rid of, no matter how he tried.
Halfway through, he snaps the thread in half and tosses the doll beneath his bed for only the dust to find.
Pure Vanilla had never given him a direct answer… but maybe that was the point.