fragmented

tw for human experimentation

      The anticipation of the next crash has Ventus far too distracted to take note of the way Vanitas practically freezes as he latches onto him. With his anxiety running so high and fear response reassuming direct control, his senses only care to parse the physicality of the new position to the extent that he’s now in possession of a much larger, stable crutch than the sack of fluff and feathers that surely toppled over the edge of the bed in the abrupt action of its desertion.

      That is, until the new crutch requests his attention. Speaks a completely inane suggestion. Successfully drags the blonde’s consciousness out of the bunker his head was so desperate to construct for it with a bit of unexpected movement and, of all things, a scream.

      By the time it and the thunder have run their joint course, Ventus is peering up at his other half with wide, blinking eyes, seemingly unperturbed by the rainwater that’s spritzing them both. What begins as a low, bewildered intake of breath segues into a snort and from there, laughter. Animated, wholehearted laughter that shakes his frame to the point that he needs to use Vanitas’s upper body for purchase a second time.

      “The storm’s not gonna listen to you, Vanitas,” he manages, pulling back just enough to rub some tears away with his wrist. “It could take you out in—” A snerk sound barges in, interrupting the morbid thought like a hiccup. “—in a second! Less than that.”

      It was common knowledge between the two of them that Vanitas didn’t like water. ‘Didn’t like’ being an understatement. A minor splash had Vanitas rubbing his face into the hoodie he tied around his face in a fervent effort to stay dry. He didn’t know how to explain it, or where the hatred came from, Vanitas simply had zero tolerance for water.

         So he hoped Ven realized (later, he was much too upset to take note of anything right now) Vanitas was trying to do a good thing what with the rain spraying his face. It took every ounce of self control not to scrub his face dry and slam the window shut again. His hand twitched at his side resisting the urge to wipe himself off.

         But with Ven’s laugh there’s ... relief? Warmth? An unknown emotion he wasn’t familiar with that branched far beyond his usual negativity. Suddenly he didn’t care about the rain and all his hatred for it. Instead he started to smile too, unconsciously, and let out a snicker. “Please, storms had four years to take me out! They couldn’t back then and they won’t now.”

       As if to prove his point as he gestured for Ven to join him at the window, then proceeded to lean out and yell again. “Heeeey! You think you can take me on?! I’d like to see you try!”

      Vanitas knew what a kiss was. Two people mashed their faces together and apparently it meant something special. He didn’t care to think about it beyond that, mostly because it didn’t concern him. He didn’t plan on kissing anyone and he knew for sure nobody planned on kissing him. He wanted to keep it that way.

      And then Ven’s lips gently brushed against his cheek and Vanitas’s brain short circuited.

      Instinctively he jumped straight to denial. Accident. That was just an accident. For the love of Kingdom Hearts, the guy was sleeping! Of course it wasn’t on purpose! Ven liked to grab the nearest body and cling to them while he slept. It was only natural he’d accidentally shove his mouth on someones face. People did that in their sleep, right? No, it didn’t matter if people did that. What mattered was Ven did that so it meant absolutely nothing!

      Besides, Vanitas thought as Ven curled around him, totally and completely content to hug the person who ruined his life. It’s not like he would wanna do any of that stuff. Vanitas breathed through his nose and awkwardly shifted onto his side away from Ven’s face.

    While the Unversed’s discordance rings, Ventus tries to fortify himself for the desertion he’s inclined to believe is oncoming. Even if he’s correct in his assumption that Vanitas ran off for his sake, there’s no telling whether or not the mess of words he spouted will get through to him. A possibility that they’ll push him even further away looms overhead. That he’s irrevocably wrong and the emotion incarnate truly is aiming to coerce him in a state of lowered guard so it can strike.

    Just the thought has his half of their once shared heart panging, instigating a fresh wave of tears. He’s nearing the point of retracting the hand he has extended to spare himself from appearing even more pathetic than he already does when he blinks hard enough to clear his swarmed vision and meets the carmine gaze he hadn’t realized was now fixated on him—not unhinged or irate, but bemused.

    Suddenly, the Unversed trembles, wavering closer. Ventus’s breath breaks off in his windpipe.

    The relief that courses through him in the moment that it presses its head into his waiting palm is too exponential to be muddled with any of the uncertainty that haunted him the second prior. A shuddered sound caught between a sob and a clipped bit of laughter escapes from between clamping teeth, devolving into more hiccups. Within moments, his face screws up even further, twitching fingers carding through the creature’s faux hair. Then, without any more preamble, he rushes forward to throw his arms around its shoulders, springing up onto the tips of his toes on contact.

     Considering the size difference between himself and the Unversed, it would be more accurate to say that he’s subjecting it to a cling than a proper hug, but the specifics are the last thing on the guardian’s mind.

    “I know there’s a lot I don’t get. About you. A-And the Unversed. But I… I want to get it. All of it. E-Even if it takes our whole lives… even if we drive each other up the wall the entire time…” His clinging intensifies in the form of a desperate nuzzle into its collar. “It’s okay if we fight… or if you need space. I just—”

    “I don’t wanna lose you again!”

    A bright light has Ventus’s eyes snapping open before the dispersal of the antithetical dark mass in his arms does, but the displacement of his arms is just as jarring, setting him enough off balance that he teeters until the resulting glitter shifts and darts off in the direction opposite to the one he’s facing. It’s only when he’s steady on his soles that he whips around, sees the other boy steeled for impact, puts two and two together and barrels after the luminescence as if he could hope to catch it.

    It’s nothing short of a miracle that he doesn’t eat dirt on the way over.

    “Vanitas.” The blonde drops onto one knee and skids to an almost perfectly spaced stop, one set of fingers making very tentative, feather light contact with the addressed’s chest and the others flying to brace him by the arm he hadn’t raised. There’s so much that Ventus wants to say—needs to say, if all of this is to prove meaningful—but he can’t. Not yet. All that matters right now is— “Are… are you okay? H-How bad does it hurt?”

      Over the years Vanitas grew well acquainted with the unpleasant sensation of his negativity returning to him. Depending on the emotion manifesting it would generate a different yet still uncomfortable reaction. Anger was boiling hot, coming in waves crawling up his throat. Sadness was a shiver that traveled from his spine and settled behind his eyes. So on and so forth. The larger Unversed always settled right in his core and were a knife twisting into his gut. In his early days it left him on his knees rendered useless. 

      All that to say, this one didn’t hurt.

      The light embodying the former Unversed wasn’t a knife, shiver, or hot. It was like a warm breeze enveloping him trying to take the negativity that generated the Unversed away. Not a single trace of pain or misery to be found, yet it left Vanitas gasping in pure shock all the same. All he could do was stare down at himself, blinking rapidly, utterly confused. 

      With the skidding came Ventus and Vanitas tore his eyes away to stare him, bewildered, ignoring (or perhaps not aware of) his fingers poking him in the chest. His breathing came in short, quiet gasps, as his mind tried to process everything that just happened. Til the question finally hit him that Vanitas finally worked out the words. “It... doesn’t hurt.”

      How could an Unversed return to him and not bring the pain it stemmed from back with it? It wasn’t possible- that’s what Vanitas believed until now. That’s how it always had been, why would it suddenly be any different?

      His answer was right in front of him, having just embraced the manifestation of years worth of believing he was nothing more than an abomination. Ventus healed him. 

      And it’s with this realization that Vanitas seemingly snapped back to reality. He shook his head and swatted Ventus’s hands away-- “Get off me,” he grumbled, with surprisingly less bite than normal-- and pulled his knees up to his chest. As if to resemble a pouty child even more he scooted around so he wouldn’t have to face Ventus then plopped his chin onto his forearms. 

      He could try to deny it but the proof was right there. Ventus accepted him, all of him, the ugliest part he hated the most. Laughed, cried, professed a desire to understand and not to be separated again. The idea made Vanitas want to laugh, so long as they were torn apart they would never be whole, but did he really believe that after all the time he had spent with Ventus? They may be separate, but they didn’t need to be whole to be together. 

      And Vanitas nearly threw that away. He felt so stupid right now.

      He deserved to know why Vanitas pulled such a dumb stunt. If Ventus wanted to know and understand, best to hear it from the source and not a garbled emotion monster. Vanitas chewed on his lip, momentarily wrestling with the idea of actually opening up to someone, but the Unversed basically spilled the beans. How much worse could it get? So he sighed and dropped his forehead onto his arms. Maybe this will be easier if he didn’t make eye contact.

      “--It’s so easy-” he started, clunky, and still searching for the right words. “-to just... break something.” Was that okay? Did that sound stupid? It felt stupid. “It doesn’t take much. An’ I’m real good at it.” Obscured by his hair and shoulder his lips twitched into a knowing grin. “Doesn’t matter what it is. A rock, some toy, myself, or-- anyone else,” he shrugged. “Thought that’s all I could do. ...All I’d ever do.”

      “And then!” Vanitas groaned and wanted to sink into his kneecaps. Already his fingers were finding their way into his hair, ready to pull any minute. “Then there’s you! D’you know why that old man dropped you off on Eraqus’s porch? Cause if you stayed-” a short, bitter laugh. His voice grew louder, angrier, “-if you stayed I’d have killed you. Every time I looked at you all I could feel was hate, jealously, it was-- it was like I was just born hating you! That’s how it was for four years, Ven! That was my life!” 

      Vanitas inhaled sharply, sank his nails into his skull for a minute, then slowly threaded them out as he exhaled. Slowly he put his chin on his forearms again and stared off into the desert. All the anger washed away and his tone was empty. “...That was my life until it wasn’t. ... I don’t know how or when it happened but one day I looked at you and ... and there was nothing.” Another shrug. “No hate. No jealousy. I’ve never not felt any of that before, I didn’t know what that meant. ‘think that’s when I realized I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

       Hands clutched and squeezed biceps as he sighed through his nose. “But that’s all I do. I ruin everything. Maybe not now but eventually I’d just hurt you again. Hurt your friends. Your home. And your little happy family would be reduced to nothing. It would all go back to how things used to be. ... Figured if I was going to end up alone in this wasteland again one way or another, I’d do it on my terms. I’d...” his throat tightened up. He already said more than he wanted to but if this meant anything at all he had to continue. Even if his throat burned and his eyes stung.

    The poke spurs a giggle of her own. It’s just like Sora to take her brash manner of teasing and return it at half-force.

    “Don’t ever change,” indeed.

    “Of course—and I stand by that. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, either.” Though the upturn of Kairi’s lips remains playful, there’s an undeniable tenderness to her words and the timbre that sculpts them. “It’s fine when you’re with me. I’ll keep you safe. But when I’m not around, you have to promise you’ll try to stay on your toes.”

      There’s something in the way she said that that takes Sora back a few years. Standing in the water ways of Traverse Town as she pleaded to accompany Sora. She didn’t want to see him get hurt back then either. Funny how some things never change yet everything changed since then.

      “If anyones gonna keep an eye on me I’m glad its you, Kairi.” Little bit of a tease but it’s the truth all the same. Sora owed a lot to Kairi and he knew she was more than capable of watching his back. Kairi made him feel not just safe but strong too.

Upon hearing the rather familiar voice, the blond only tilted his head ever so slightly as the brunet spoke his name along with questioning how he was amongst other things, Roxas’ face was obscured by his blond locks only to return to the darkness within the station as he sat on the edge of the class that had been cracked.

❝ ..Arn’t too bad? You’ve got Ventus protecting whatever is left of your light, you have that girl who’s fading away even more, there’s Vanitas who’s revelling in the fact you’ve been norted — And then there’s me ❞Roxas spoke, it was rather clear within his tone that he was not a happy bunny, but what was stranger yet, was the fact he hadn’t turned around to even properly greet his Somebody.

      Sora quirked his head like a confused puppy. Ventus? Vanitas had only mentioned him in passing so Sora didn’t know much about him. But he was in here too? And what did norted mean?