Chapter Text
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Pure Vanilla Cookie doesn’t quite mind the visits.
During the early stages, yes, he was a tad wary, but Shadow Milk Cookie has proven to be harmless company. Well, not Shadow Milk Cookie. Less Cookie than whichever animal he chooses to take form of; usually a wolf, only once a bird, sometimes a cat. The meaning for these “visits,” Pure Vanilla is admittedly unsure of.
Well.
Not entirely unsure of.
The first time, he found himself dwelling on the thought that perhaps another chance at claiming the Soul Jam of Truth was what Shadow Milk Cookie was seeking, but, evidently, such an attempt has yet to be made.
That is not saying Pure Vanilla has let his guard down. To be fair, the Cookie himself has noticed less malice in his visitor’s approach as of late, has noticed the fragile peace upheld in the quiet moments as Pure Vanilla acts as though he has barely taken notice of Shadow Milk’s presence while they spend indirect time beside each other. Pure Vanilla enjoys such times, though he may never outright admit it. He doesn’t want to overstep. Doesn’t wish to scare the other half of his soul—literally—away.
Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie finds himself lying on his ivory bed, tired after a particularly busy day of meetings and paperwork. He hadn’t even had the energy to change into his nightclothes, but no matter. Kicking back the blankets, Pure Vanilla snuggles deep into his sheets, shutting his eyes with a heavy sigh.
Who knew even an abdicated king could have such a heavy workload? Before he slips away into the depths of slumber, one last thought, slightly upsetting (for reasons he struggles to pinpoint), occurs in Pure Vanilla’s mind; Why hadn’t he visited today?
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The soft patter of light rain fills his mind as Pure Vanilla drifts into consciousness. He stifles a yawn, eyes fluttering open as he glances to the side.
Wait.
Pure Vanilla lifts his hand to brush over his soul jam. He looks around in confusion.
He’s here?
He is. A fairly small, black-and-blue wolf lays curled up at the foot of Pure Vanilla’s bed. The sight brings a smile to Pure Vanilla’s face, though he remains unsure of why the wolf is visiting so late. He checks the time.
11:07 PM.
The wolf yawns, rolling onto its back and stretching high…
And all of a sudden it is Shadow Milk Cookie lying in front of Pure Vanilla. Pure Vanilla’s gaze does not waver. However, the other Cookie doesn’t seem to take notice, sitting upright and gaining awareness before elegantly (well, at least for a Cookie whom has just awoken) floating off of the bed. He seems to be making his way out, though still oblivious to the milky mismatched eyes staring into his back.
“Shadow Milk Cookie.”
Shadow Milk noticeably stills at the call of his name.
Pure Vanilla offers a small, slightly sleepy, smile as the other turns, cautiously meeting his gaze.
“What do you want?” Shadow Milk drawls, less of a question than an accusation.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Pure Vanilla returns.
Shadow Milk says nothing.
“You’ve been visiting me.” Pure Vanilla Cookie continues. Shadow Milk, still, remains silent, eyes narrowing.
Pure Vanilla sighs.
The awkward silence remains for several beats.
“So?” Shadow Milk bites back. “Here to lecture me? Interrogate my intentions, ask what on earthbread a beast such as myself is doing in your precious kingdom?” He continues, averting his eyes to turn his back on Pure Vanilla once more.
“Not quite my intention. I suspect I know the cause for these check-ins,” Pure Vanilla replies calmly.
“You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?” Pure Vanilla Cookie needs to tread lightly. He needs to be careful, as to protect the outcome of such a conversation. He needs answers, and he wants honesty, neither shall he receive if not taking into account of Shadow Milk’s quick temper.
“You know what I mean. The pull. It’s undeniable, Shadow Milk, the soul jams yearn to be together. I do not know why, however-“
“Shut UP.“
Pure Vanilla has failed.
“I don’t know what petty feelings you’ve deluded yourself into believing, but you know why I am here,” Shadow Milk flops back in the air, glancing down at Pure Vanilla Cookie with his trademark smile.
He does. Pure Vanilla Cookie does know why Shadow Milk is here, both the reason Shadow Milk would like him to believe, and the real one. He hadn’t needed to question it.
“Shadow Milk, please, surely you can see-“
“Oh, do be quiet. You talk too much, you know that? Every time I’ve come to visit you in this sickly place, I’ve left with my ears ringing. It’s quite remarkable, actually,”
Pure Vanilla watches Shadow Milk tentatively. He needs to play his moves right.
“How can one be so irritatingly annoying that even your “other half” finds you insufferable to be around? Quite the achievement if you ask me!” Shadow Milk is taunting him. Pure Vanilla knows that, and he doesn’t let it bother him.
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to reconsider my offer.” Pure Vanilla says firmly. He watches Shadow Milk’s expression shift ever so slightly, barely enough to notice.
“I meant it when I said I forgive you. I meant it when I said I wanted to be your friend.”
Right then and there, Pure Vanilla is taken back to the scene.
“Please, Shadow Milk Cookie. Let me be your…friend.”
“Friend..?”
He remembers it. The pure betrayal on Shadow Milk’s face, the hurt and worry. Pure Vanilla recalls every moment of the event, the very moment Shadow Milk’s face twisted from annoyance to hurt, the moment Pure Vanilla felt a pang of guilt in his chest-
“Liar.”
Shadow Milk’s pointed answer snaps Pure Vanilla back to reality.
Shadow Milk Cookie wears an expression of fury, but Pure Vanilla knows. He knows how his other half is truly feeling, not through some soul bond; no, Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes tell him all he needs to know. Not the eyes full of fury, the ones full of sadness, full of hurt, the ones that noticeably stand out with their blue appearance against the black insides of Shadow Milk’s hair. Shadow Milk can hide his distress with whatever mask he plasters on his face, but those eyes will always tell the truth. Those eyes do not lie, no matter what act Shadow Milk hides behind. No matter if the show curtains are drawn closed. No matter if every line is made up—or as Shadow Milk would say, improv. Eyes don’t lie.
“I know you’re scared. And you have every right to be,” Pure Vanilla’s voice rings loud, firm.
“But I do not want to hurt you. Yes, I have made mistakes, and yes, I have regrets, but you too, Shadow Milk Cookie, have made mistakes. You too have regrets from that night, I know you do. Had I had the chance to go back, to play my cards differently, perhaps I would have, but I did what I needed to at the time. For the good of cookiekind. My affection for you was never fake, it has always been real, just as it is now, when I tell you that I still wish for you to accept this hand I extend in friendship,” Pure Vanilla opens his eyes once more, extending his hand.
“Please, Shadow Milk Cookie. It doesn’t have to be quick, it won’t be easy, I don’t expect it to be a smooth road, but I truly enjoy your companionship. In those few moments in the spire, I got to see the true you. No, not the true you. Part of you. The you whom was happy to have someone who understood you, the you who longs for compassion but will never admit such out loud,”
Pure Vanilla’s eyes fill with tears.
“I see you.”