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When Noé left the Hotel ChouChou that morning, on a mission to find Vanitas and himself Paris’s best croissant, his partner was still up on the roof from the night before. Though they had made up quickly after the incident at the amusement park, it was clear that Vanitas was still affected by everything that had happened. After Dante and the others beckoned them in for the night, Noé had decided to head back into the hotel. Only after watching the sun slowly set of course, with his back warm and pressed firmly against Vanitas’s; but his partner had never come back to bed that night. Noé couldn’t say he was surprised, Vanitas spent much more time thinking about his past than he would ever admit to, the hours he spent on the roof was more than proof of that. Noé had decided that maybe space was what Vanitas would benefit off of the most, and a delicious croissant wouldn’t hurt either. He had woken with the sun, gotten dressed, and headed out without even thinking to look towards the roof. He spent most of the day simply wondering, watching couples swing interlocked fingers between one another, children tossing coins into too full wishing fountains, and listening to the men on the corner play their accordions to their hearts content. When he noticed the sun slipping past its halfway point, he started mapping his way to a small bakery, and after that, home; to Vanitas. After securing the goods of two fresh croissants, one pain au chocolat, and of course a slice of apple tarte tatin, Noé practically skipped back to the hotels, mouth already watering at the idea of enjoying his sweets. When he unlocked the door to his room, however, he was greeted with the sight of Vanitas, in nothing but the soft silk pajamas the hotel provided, crocheting on his bed. Noé froze at the door to the room, watching Vanitas’s hand work smoothly and diligently at the project in his hands, fingers moving swiftly and practiced around the yarn that was interwoven between his left middle and index finger. Their room was filled with a warm glowing light that the slowly lowering sun provided, making Vanitas’s skin shine with a soft golden aura. His eyes were soft and down turned, focusing greatly on his hands. His face was relaxed and comfortable, and for a moment, Noé felt like he was intruding, before letting his mind blurt the first thing he had thought.
“Vanitas, what the hell are you doing?”
“What,” Vanitas answers, clearly annoyed and not caring to look up, “you can’t tell me you’ve never seen crochet before.” Vanitas shakes his head gently to the sides and continues to ignore the fact that Noé is more than surprised at the scene before him.
“Well, yes” Noé response, not quite sure how to continue, “but I’ve never seen you crochet before.”
“Now you have” Vanitas replies, taking a quick pause from his work to finally glance up at Noé, still standing in the doorway, “You look like and idiot standing there, what are you even doing.”
This seemed to snap Noé out of his surprised trance, and he finally entered their room, setting the small bag of pastries on the side table right next to the door. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to Vanitas’s bed, sitting gently on the edge and peaking over to see how much had actually been crocheted so far. The yarn the Vanitas has picked out was a mix of blues, purples, and silvers, making Noé smile. It was their color pallet, whether Vanitas did it on purpose Noé would never ask, but the though was nice in itself.
“You’re being a creep,” Vanitas said, grabbing up another chunk of yarn and setting to work again.
“And you’re being calm for once, that’s creepier than anything.” Noé responds, “why did you decide to crochet tonight?”
“What’s in that bag you brought?” Vanitas replies, not so elegantly avoiding the question Noé had asked.
“Hm, wouldn’t you like to know.” Noé says teasingly, “Maybe if you’re nice to me and tell me why you decided to this, then I’ll share.” He smirks up at the other, feeling satisfied with his cheeky response. Vanitas’s mouth scrunches in thought, hands pausing momentarily before saying,
“Yeah, whatever, bring me the bag.”
Noé smiles and heads over to grab the bag, stopping momentarily to shed his own clothes from the day, sliding on the same style pajamas that Vanitas wore. As he grabbed the bag of pastries, he noticed that Vanitas had not moved an inch from where he sat on his bed, legs crossed and back against the headboard. Hm, Noé thought, I’ll just sit up there with him, I guess. He slowly climbed into bed, taking care not to tangle himself up in the yarn that seemed haphazardly unraveled unto the bed sheets. Surprisingly Vanitas made no moves to get away from Noé, instead shifting his legs closer to the other after he got settled, opening the bag and grabbing out a croissant.
“Of course, it’s food.” Vanitas chuckled.
“You expected anything different?” Noé replied, smiling back and starting on his own sweet, “Now, why did you decided that tonight, of all the times, was the time to get back into your crochet.”
“What do you mean ‘get back into?’” Vanitas asks, “how do you know I’m not a natural genius and picked this up earlier today, dear Noé” He grinned around his croissant, clearly satisfied with his response.
“You’re fantastic at avoiding topics you don’t wish to talk about, you know. I wish I could learn the skill of distraction as well as you use it.” Noé responds simply. Vanitas sighs and looks down at the work in his lap, stretching his legs out across the bed and placing the pastry back onto the bag it came from. He took a moment to settle himself, fiddling around slowly with his crochet hook and yarn, making a couple of stiches only to pull them out and start over. It was a few minutes before he responded, Noé waiting patiently, picking at his own food and shuffling the blankets to be more comfortable.
“My Father taught me how,” Vanitas starts without warning, “and I haven’t stopped thinking about him since last night.”
If Noé wasn’t surprised before, he certainly was now. Vanitas never talked about his past, not willingly and certainly not allowing Noé to experience it himself through his memories. He could feel himself staring at his partners face, taking in the pain that was very subtly etched across his features, having practiced too much at being able to hide his internal feelings from everyone, but Noé knew better. The small downturn in his lips, the perse of his lips, and the long look in his eyes. He was ethereal and heartbreaking.
“I can’t go back and change the past,” Vanitas continues, “but I can remember the good times at least.” The end of his sentence trailed off with a small upturn of his lips, and suddenly Noé feels like melting. He can’t imagine the pain that Vanitas must have gone through with everything that happened with Luna and Mikhail, and the fact that he was sitting here, being vulnerable enough to share that he missed those moments of his childhood, made hot tears well up in his eyes. He figured that Vanitas would chuckle when he saw the tears running down his face, but he reached his hands up instead, cupping the sides of Noé’s face, and swiping the tears from his cheeks.
“Why the hell are you the one crying right now?” Vanitas asks, pulling Noés face down a bit to match his.
”Please let me kiss you, Vanitas.” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“If it’s in pity,” Vanitas whispers back, “absolutely not.”
“It’s because you’re beautiful and I think I love you more now that I ever have anyone in my life, actually.” Noé responds, taking great pleasure in the way Vanitas’s eyes widen and lips fall slightly apart.
“Now,” He starts again, “please let me kiss you.”
“God, can I really deny you after all of that?” Vanitas smiles and pulls Noé face towards his, pausing right before their lips meet. Noé realizes, in a split second of total astonishment, that Vanitas is waiting for him to make the move first. He smiles quickly before tilting his head and kissing the beautiful lips that he has starred and fantasized about since they had first met. His lips were softer than he could’ve imagined, and tasted of the butter that the croissants were glistening in. Vanitas let him have his moment of self-satisfaction before settling in and deepening the kiss between them, slotting their lips together perfectly, and sighing gently. He wrapped his hands softly around Noés’s neck, and slowly pulled away after a few moments.
After separating, Noé came face to face with a version of Vanitas he had never seen before, one that was thoroughly and wholly bright pink, the blush starting right under his eyes, and traveling all the way down to his collarbones.
“Wow,” Noé started, “Who knew you’d be such a softy about kissing.” He smiled as Vanitas shoved him away, grabbing quickly at the rest of his food and crochet hook.
“I will stab you with this hook if you tell anyone about that.” Vanitas said, trying desperately to sound intimidating, the deepening blush still surrounding him.
“Aw, but then no one will kiss you if I get killed!”
“Shut up for once and speak of that to no one!” Vanitas shouted, “you’re absolutely impossible I don’t even know why I lo-“ He stopped, feeling Noé’s eyes suddenly very focused on him. “Why I even keep you around.” He slowly finished.
“Ah yes, that was a great recovery, Vanitas.” Noé laughed freely, the sound bouncing softly off of the now dark walls within their room.
“Leave me be already!” Vanitas snaps out finally. Noé laughs softly again and nods his head, bringing his arms around his partner, boyfriends? waist and hugging him in close, listening to the sound of him beginning his project again and settling in. He might never be able to see all of Vanitas’s memories, or even understand them if he did, but if small bits of himself were shown in a way that ended like this? Noé would let him be all he wanted.