#drivenwind

“It’s not that bad Ventus, you big baby.” Vanitas reached over to flick his other half’s forehead with his finger. “And if you’re really too hot, there’s plenty of things to do to cool down. Like not lying in bed, or on me, all day. There’s a thought.”

“It solves the problem, doesn’t it?”

“Hello Ventus,” the raven smirked, raising one brow and cocking his head a little, a warmth blooming where his lips had touched Vanitas’ cheek, “is there something you need?”

Love… that was an emotion Vanitas was very unfamiliar with. He’d seen it, maybe even experienced it. But he wasn’t sure he was ever able to return it. Vanitas was fundamentally broken in that aspect. Love was powerful. More than anything he could create with his Unversed. He wasn’t made of love. Ventus, however, was. Ventus was made of love, he spread it like it didn’t cost him anything, shining bright like a star. Sometimes, Vanitas wondered, if he looked at Ventus for too long, he’d be blinded by him. Yet he didn’t look away from him. Ventus was a candle burning in the darkness, and Vanitas was the moth drawn to it’s flame. Drawn towards him, even though it might just kill him.Was that what it meant to love Ventus? Maybe. Now when he looked at his other half, instead of wanting to kill him, Vanitas knew he would die for him instead. He thought of Ventus’ smiles, of how he light up like a spark whenever he was with his friends, of how warm and not quite soft he was when they slept next to each other. His casual touches and the fact that despite everything, Ventus hadn’t abandoned him. He wasn’t scared of him or his wayward unstable emotions. Was that love? Vanitas didn’t know. And if it was, did Vanitas love him because he was supposed to?“I…” He wanted to answer Ventus’ question, but when he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. All he could do was look at Ventus’ earnest face, the light drawing him in, and close his mouth. He wanted to say something, but nothing felt right. Each word tasted wrong on his tongue. How could he explain to Ventus that he wasn’t something like him was capable of love. And even if he was, it would be wrong. He was wrong. He was a black smudge on Ventus’ pure light. A poison that ineffably causes more harm than good. This much he knew, everything else was foreign. Vanitas wanted to love Ventus, but he didn’t know if he could ever do it right.

“…What do you mean?” Vanitas leaned forward, his arms crossed over his knees as he watched Ventus’ face from where he perched. He was still unaccustomed to a lot of normal world terms, and dating was something he wasn’t familiar with. The idea of trusting someone else with yourself so intimately made Vanitas nervous. He was so used to trusting nobody, not even himself completely, that the very idea of trusting someone else was so foreign to him. Despite this, he was learning to trust more. To learn that not everything and everyone was hostile. It would take a long time, and a lot of effort, but there was progress. For example; his and Ventus’ relationship. It was much better now. If he had been told even a year ago that he’d consider Ventus his most important person, Vanitas would have laughed in their faces. Or spat in them.

“No sympathy here.” Vanitas chuckled, reaching to brush a lock of sweaty blond hair away from Ventus face. “You know that man is built like a tank.”

“Sounds like you’ve offended Ventus.”