Don't Fuck with the Forest Spirits || OTA

[evulsed]

characters: Vanitas (evulsed) + OTA
location: mostly The Church, the Invincible + the Boathouse
date/time: July 19 and the days following
content: just waking-up-after-being-dismembered things
warnings: violence

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[evulsed]

[ His gaze cuts back from the lantern to Sora's eyes, meeting them with an almost audible click in the wake of those five words. It isn't a foreign idea, but hearing it said, seeing the subtle curl of Sora's fingers as they come away from his joints— is very different. The full weight of it settles on Vanitas like a physical presence, jarring enough to make him go perfectly still.

He isn't sympathetic or apologetic, but it's the memory. All those hands on his body, the inhuman strength it took to rend him limb from limb— like having his heart shattered, but everywhere. The sick tearing sound of muscle, the gash of teeth sinking into flesh and separating it from his own body. An echo of terror crawls up Vanitas' spine, making his hands curl into fists, and sheer willpower prevents him from looking over his shoulder— but it doesn't stop his pupils from going small, or stop him from swallowing against the dryness in his throat. ]

Do you?

[dualikey]

Yes. [The syllables break and just like that it's too close.

Sora hasn't tiptoed around it because he hasn't really had to. Riku and Kairi haven't brought it up and any time he paid too much attention to the way something felt in his palm, or to a cramp in his leg, or to an ache in his back he could just brush it to one side. He could push himself around it and not look back- keep his face forward. It isn't the first time he's taken a feeling like that and made it quiet. He'd only really come close with that doctore, when he'd tried to explain what happened in the hope that there was something he could do to stop the hole feeling. And Dawn- who had asked like he'd known.

His throat feels tight, like there's a fist wrapped around it that doesn't choke off the air, only the words underneath it. Vanitas remembers. Vanitas remembers it right now, and sensory memory wells up in him like a wave, suffocating him from the inside. Sora's mouth parts, an attempt to suck in more air, like if he could just breathe a little faster he might not drown. It just isn't enough. His eyes burn, red-rimmed even in the absence of light and they sting for the tears that start welling up in them: not even sadness or grief, but the huge open maw of fear and pain and powerlessness. How close it feels.

The lantern remains tucked against his arm and Sora draws in a wet breath before his jaw clicks- a resolute attempt to keep it down. To keep it from getting too high too fast.]

Will you come inside?

[evulsed]

[ It echoes between them, maybe no stronger than it had been before, but Vanitas is dialed into it now— this specific frequency. The one that mirrors his terror back at him in the shape of Sora's jaw going slack to breathe quicker, that makes his eyes red in the light of his lantern. Now that he notices it, now that he's looking at it, the simplicity with which it could turn into a endless feedback loop is visceral.

Sora inhales.
Vanitas inhales in tandem.

Yes is on his tongue, but he sews it up tight with a clack of his teeth. Vanitas' eyes go over Sora's shoulder, to the monolith of the boathouse. He thinks of Gene, saying he was worthy of kindness despite what he is. He thinks of Wanda, and the soft press of her fingers in his hair. He thinks of how vulnerable he had felt, still feels, and immediately the same recoil of so many eyes on him at once.

It's strange, to feel brand new like this. Like when he'd first been born in that desert, when nothing made sense.

He looks back at Sora, and his light fills Vanitas' vision. ]

I'm not going to stay with all of you.

[ The fear in him says. Vanitas doesn't know yet that it will turn into a lie for almost a week. ]

[dualikey]

[It's strange- to know the answer before he hears it. Because Sora's sure that he knows, because it feels like the words have alredy hit the air or like it's a conversation that's happened years ago. He knows Vanitas will say yes the way he knows his own name or the way he knows what his old alarm clock sounded like, or the way he always knew where to find the cookies on the top shelf in the cupboard.

But more important than the reply is the way it feels before it happens. The moment doesn't just ease and it doesn't snap like an over-stretched string either. Sora feels it welling up inside him, a glass that's been filled to the point of overflowing- held together by suface tension and not much else. He feels it stop right before the point of no return. And then, barely a change at all, there's a little bit less. Vanitas mirrors his inhale and it's a little bit less again.

Their lanterns face one another, the bend of one arm and the slope of another. Sora becomes distantly aware of his feet in the sand and the gentle sloshing of water against the docks.]

Just stay with me.

[He doesn't know why he says it. There isn't a precursor, there's no overarching thought to connect point a to point b, to turn this into a solution. Staying with Sora isn't really any different than staying with everyone else and that's inevitable because of their living situation. He's not going to apologize for that- for wanting to be near his friends after everything. It's the nuance that matters. There's no denying that Sora and his friends are a package deal, but what with me really means is for me. Because it's something he needs.

Something about it- the prospect of the two of them going their separate ways right now and what happened last time, the way he plays it on repeat every time he lays down for too long-

His gaze snaps up and Sora realizes exactly what he's said only in the seconds after he's said it. And he could take it back. He could try.

He doesn't.]

[evulsed]

[ Sora says it, and a beat so heavy follows that when he suddenly meets Vanitas' eyes, it feels as though he's physically reached across the distance and touched him. It should make him stiffen, make him recoil— but instead, Vanitas feels something unspool from his spine.

The message has been the same from all sides: be better, be good, be more. He knows that's what these people want from him too, but in this moment— that isn't what Sora is asking of him. It isn't the way the strangers here seem to shoulder their way into his space, thinking he should have company, thinking that's what he should want and need. It isn't inviting Vanitas in to be part of a group he has no business intermingling with. He says just stay with me and the broken pieces of his heart understand what Sora is really asking without his having to say it.

With me. For me.
A wanting that only Vanitas can fill.

Vanitas thinks of how desperately he chased after Ventus, and how that boy turned him down time and again, a light too dazzling to be once more marred by darkness. How badly he needed that salvation. He thinks of that long expanse of peace, of how it felt to finally put everything down at it's inevitable conclusion and rest.

He doesn't look away from Sora's eyes when he takes that first step forward, and then another, until they're nearly toe to toe. Finally, when he looks away, it's to turn his eyes down on the glow of Sora's lantern, warm and steady as a heartbeat. With his chin bowed, he nods. ]