Work Text:
•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*
Shadow Milk Cookie trembles as he stares at the scissors that lay tossed onto his floor. He had, somehow, stopped himself before the strokes of cold metal became fierce enough to draw blood—and is now contemplating finishing what he started. His arm is still stinging from the damage he had already done—pathetic, really. Before, he wouldn’t think twice before impulsively tracing the stained blade of a knife over his limbs, but here he is; his mind forbidding him from even scraping his skin with mere scissors. The Fount of Knowledge would have laughed in his face. Well, that’s what Shadow Milk has to tell himself—he has to, or else he’ll cower away again.
Shadow Milk takes a deep breath, reaching for the scissors once more when a voice rings in the back of his head.
What would Pure Vanilla Cookie think?
The Beast of Deceit freezes.
Pure Vanilla would be upset. Pure Vanilla would blame himself for not being there to stop it. Pure Vanilla would feel sad, and it would all be Shadow Milk’s fault.
Or maybe, maybe Pure Vanilla would agree that the jester deserves it. Maybe Pure Vanilla would offer to do it for him.
Shadow Milk slaps his head.
“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut UP.” He curses at himself, voice coming out as a shriek at the last few syllables.
The door creaks open.
“Shadow Milk?”
In walks the form, the oh so beautiful form, of Pure Vanilla Cookie. He takes a few steps closer. Shadow Milk can’t breathe. He can’t move. He wants to run, to scream, but he can’t. All he can do is sit and come to the realisation that he has been caught. His sleeves are rolled up, scars from past struggles lining his arms, and one from the present. One, not noticeable among the others if you weren’t to look for it specifically, mark that is still red and irritated, one that failed to cut through enough layers of skin to cause scarring damage. One that is undeniably, so very obviously, fresh.
If the scissors lying on the floor weren’t enough for Pure Vanilla to piece together the situation, Shadow Milk was sure this was.
All of a sudden, truthfully Shadow Milk has no clue on when it happened, Pure Vanilla is sitting opposite him, blinking away tears and confiscating the scissors, which he tucks away into a hidden pocket inside his robes.
“Bluebird,” he begins, voice professionally calm as he meets Shadow Milk’s gaze. “It’s okay. I’m here now. But I’d like you to tell me what caused this.”
Shadow Milk snaps his eyes elsewhere—looking everywhere but Pure Vanilla. His stuttered breathing quickens, fresh tears rolling down his face.
“I am not mad,” Pure Vanilla Cookie continues, tone still effortlessly, perfectly calm. “You have not upset me in the slightest.” Shadow Milk can tell this as a lie. “But I need you to talk to me. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” Pure Vanilla takes Shadow Milk’s hands in his own, giving the much colder, much bluer pair a light, comforting squeeze.
Shadow Milk closes his eyes, composing himself as much as he possibly can as he joins the action with a deep breath. He opens his eyes, ready to look Pure Vanilla in the eyes and tell him everything—
Shadow Milk’s head collides with Pure Vanilla’s chest, drawing a sudden exhale from Pure Vanilla.
The ancient wraps his arms around the other, embracing him fully as he kisses the crown of Shadow Milk’s head.
Tears fall unwillingly from Shadow Milk’s eyes, dampening Pure Vanilla’s chest.
“I’m just so tired, Nilly.”
“I know, darling. I know.”
“You’d be better off without me. If I wasn’t here.” Shadow Milk sobs.
“Don’t say that, my love. My life is so much better now you’re in it, and I love you more than you could possibly imagine.” Pure Vanilla blinks back another set of tears.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yet here I am.”
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
Pure Vanilla gazes down at the cookie sleeping in his arms. He smiles; a soft, sad smile. He wishes he could protect Shadow Milk—protect him from pain, protect him from harm, protect him from himself.
But Shadow Milk has never been one to admit when he needs protection.
The pair remain sitting on Pure Vanilla Cookie’s bed, as the king had taken them there two hours prior.
Shadow Milk Cookie stirs in Pure Vanilla’s arms, opening his eyes with a yawn. He looks up. “Nilly?”
Pure Vanilla kisses Shadow Milk’s forehead. “Yes, love. I’m here.”
Shadow Milk hums, snuggling closer. “Love you.” He mumbles, so quite Pure Vanilla nearly misses it; but he doesn’t.
“Love you too. Do your arms feel better now?”
Shadow Milk stills. He had forgotten about that. Pulling away, he looks down at his previously stinging arms, discovering the fresh marks to be healed and free of pain. He then nods, assuring that he is now fine.
“Would you…like to talk about it?” Pure Vanilla asks, tone soft and gentle.
Shadow Milk hesitates.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…I just…I’d like to know.” Pure Vanilla strokes a hand through Shadow Milk’s hair. Shadow Milk, at last, nods. “Okay.”
Pure Vanilla stifles a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Several beats pass, as Shadow Milk Cookie decides what to say. The truth? The reason? The very thought that has been plaguing him for weeks, as it is now?
“Why do you love me?”
The words come out before he can stop them.
Pure Vanilla’s breath hitches. “Would you like the short answer, or the honest one?”
“The latter.”
“Well, in complete truth, I love you for you.” Pure Vanilla begins, treading carefully as to not startle the jester.
“I love you because you’ve never given me a reason not to. I love you because I was and am able to love every part of you, even the parts you may think need fixing. Even the parts some may call “broken.” You are not perfect, but neither am I. Perhaps you are broken, but if that is the case; so am I. I love you, and if other cookies are going to give me hardships for that, so be it. I love you, and no one else will change that fact. I love you because you’re you. That’s all there is to it.”
Despite himself, well in Shadow Milk’s eyes.
“Idiot. After everything I’ve done, you still protect me. Me, a monster. How could you love a monster?” He snarls.
“Because you are not a monster. You are beautiful, inside and out. Monsters never care as deep as you do.” Pure Vanilla’s response comes quick, as if rehearsed.
“But- But why. Why don’t you hate me? After everything I’ve done to you, you have every right to hate me.” Shadow Milk’s tone begins to border on hysterical, syllables jumping up and down.
“Perhaps I do,” Pure Vanilla says, firm. “And yet I don’t. Yes, you have made mistakes, but so has everyone else. I have made horrible mistakes in turn. I tricked you, and in result, I betrayed you. That was entirely my fault, and I can only continue to apologise and take the blame. You felt hurt, rightfully so. I acknowledged the warped perception of feelings you held within your heart, feelings you never truly understood, and I took advantage of that. So, in answer to your question, yes, perhaps I should hate you, but I do not. Never have, never will.”
Shadow Milk chokes out a laugh, though it more resembles a sob. “There’s something wrong with you, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”
“Maybe so. Maybe I’m insane, maybe I’m crazy for all I’ve done and all my love for you. But if that is truth, I shall wear that title with glee.”
Shadow Milk sobs into Pure Vanilla Cookie’s chest, breaking down once more. Perhaps, one day, Pure Vanilla will receive the full story. Perhaps, one day, all of this will be a forgotten memory. Perhaps, someday, Shadow Milk won’t need the blade anymore. But, until then, he’s happy staying as he is, with Pure Vanilla by him side as a constant reminder to keep living.