#birbwrites

What he’s decided to do, right now, is wander over to the kettle, still eyeing Ventus off in a way that almost makes him laugh. Like his whole slumped over thing might be contagious, or dangerous. Toeing around some invisible barrier, not quite willing to leave. 

Decided, but still indecisive. Clearly thinking hard about his words before he says them, a little offering to– whatever Ven is doing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mm. Well,” He stops nudging his drink around. Maybe it’d drown him, but also, Roxas would have to clean it up. That doesn’t seem fair. “I was talking to Chirithy–”

“Okay.”

“–And he thinks I sold my soul.”

“...Okay.”

“When I was eight.”

“Right.” The kettle clicks as Roxas turns it on, silence falling. Until the water inside begins to boil, until Ven can see it start to jostle around. They have one of those modern things; all steel and glass. All the bubbles rise to the top of the water, faster and faster. The water churns, boils. 

It’s an awful lot of motion. Ven’s almost jealous.

“What’s a soul?”

“You know what, I don’t even know?” Ven waves his hand around, before letting it fall back down at his side. “It’s like; the Heart, but more than the Heart? Or maybe it’s just the Heart and a bunch of other stuff?”

“And you sold it?”

“When I was eight.”

“Okay.” Roxas accepts that much, reaching into the cupboard to grab a cup. He doesn’t make hot chocolate, Ven notes. That’s coffee. That’s– huh. That’s a lot of coffee. Are you supposed to put four teaspoons of coffee in? He’s not sure. No one drinks coffee in Departure. “I don’t get it, but sure. How come?”

“Chirithy doesn’t know. He says I wasn’t a Wielder back then, so–” A shrug. It pushes his cheek into the wood of the table; even when the motion is done, Ven doesn’t bother lifting his head. The table has some kind of lacquer on it, nice and smooth. It’s pleasant. “But. I was eight. So probably something stupid.”

“What’s something stupid, in this context?”

Even then, the action takes Ventus completely by surprise. Vanitas hasn’t really…left him alone, since they met. Always kind of right there, just behind his shoulder or even standing right next to him, a little in front. A voice in his head says it’s shielding, which doesn’t make any sense at all. He doesn’t need to be protected from Aqua and Terra. He doesn’t need to be protected from all the other people he knows. 

But every time he’d thought that in the moment, a little disquieted and disgruntled, he’d felt Vanitas’ gaze burning into the side of his head and– he hadn’t said anything. Not a word. The shielding continued.

So this feels kind of jarring. A lot jarring. Ventus trots in the direction he thinks Vanitas sped off in, hoping against hope that it’s a straight line, contemplating if he shouldn’t just get back on his Glider and try finding him from the skies, instead. 

It must be his lucky day, because he finds him in the next clearing. Something he would comment about, except he’s not alone.

Ventus. No, Ven. That’s him. 

That’s him, wrapped around Vanitas and rubbing his nose into his cheek with the sweetest smile Ventus has ever seen, completely lax within the arms wrapped around his middle. He looks older, like Vanitas does– a few years on him. Maybe…shorter, though? Their clothes are close, but not identical. The jacket’s almost the same, at least.

They both look really happy.

“Oh! You found him!” Ventus isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling when he does interrupt, just that– he interrupts. The version of him in Vanitas’ arms twists around to look at him, vivid blue meeting vivid blue. Smile widening until there’s a gap between his teeth.

Ven shrieks. A sound that has Ventus jumping out of his skin before it registers that the sound is almost deliriously delighted, before Ven squirms right out of Vanitas’ hold and– blips, across the space between them. Blips.

A few dozen feet away one moment, crashing into him the next. Ven puts all of his weight into throwing himself on him, and Ventus gets one look at Vanitas’ completely unsurprised expression before he’s knocked onto his back with a yelp that ends with all the air in his lungs being shoved out of him.

“You! Oh, you’re so–!” Ven sits on him, thighs on either side of his waist and hands fluttering over his cheeks. “Cute! Vanitas! Look at him!”

He thinks that should sound weird. It should, shouldn’t it? Look at him. This guy who is me. He’s looked at Roxas, before. Mirrors. He knows what he looks like.

Except this is different. It’s so different. Ven is– a little older, and so, so bright. He’s so bright. An angular face and petite nose and wide, wide smile under windswept hair that’s more angelic than Roxas is, by far. Ven is just kind of– holy. He’s kind of holy.

He’s kind of holy and it’s almost painful, staring at him. Wide-eyed and speechless as Ven’s thighs squeeze his waist and fingers grasp at the bells of his cheeks and pinch, hard.

“It’s almost a surprise, you know? Here I was, thinking– oh, well his Darkness is vicious. Pretty nasty, actually. But you’re so,” Ven sighs, leaning closer. Breath washing over his face. Eyes boring into his own, with an intensity that’s uncomfortable. “Soft, aren’t you? You’re so soft. Young.”

The words are almost nostalgic. 

Bitter.

“Ven,” Vanitas says, and Ventus watches with a building sense of disbelief as his older counterpart twists around immediately, peering up at him. Vanitas steps into view, coming to a halt next to his prone form. He looks– amused? “You’re scaring him.”

“I’m not!”

“He isn’t!”

A chorus, one that has Ven turning back to him, head canting to the side. Doglike, vulturelike. Quizzical. Ventus’ heart is beating a little rapidly in his chest, he realizes. 

They’re both staring at him. His heart is beating a little rapidly.

“I just– he startled me,” He feels like he’s floundering, heat settling into his cheeks in a way he knows he’s not going to be able to hide. “I wasn’t expecting to hit the ground.”

Ven coos, pinching his cheeks again. Vanitas is giving him that look. The one that says he’s lying, and Vanitas knows he’s lying. Ventus really doesn’t like that look.

It makes him feel bad. Worse.

“Oh, you really are… young.” Thumbs run back and forth beneath his eyes, lovingly. Ven’s smile is– nostalgic. In an awful way. Too little like his own, and a lot more like the Vanitas he used to know. Mean. “A little Light.”

Ventus doesn’t understand why that feels like an insult.