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Sometimes, Noé wished he’d never drank Vanitas’s blood.
It was a crazy thought considering how desperately he once wanted that. The thought had consumed him at times, overwhelming his senses with his desires. It was something he’d longed for, thinking it would never happen.
Then Vanitas allowed him to drink.
And despite the circumstances, Noé had been ecstatic.
It was everything he dreamed of; Vanitas tasted delicious. Afterward, Vanitas allowed Noé to partake every now and again, and Noé relished every chance he got.
The only downside was seeing Vanitas’s memories.
Admittedly, those memories were something Noé had been curious about. He’d wanted to know more about Vanitas, he wanted to know everything. He had wanted to understand more fully what made Vanitas who he was.
And he’d gotten everything he wanted.
Now though…
Now, he wished he didn’t.
Because those memories, both Vanitas’s and his own, were all he had left.
Vanitas never had much to his name. Everything he did have was more practical than anything else: textbooks and notebooks for studying medicine and vampires, a few pairs of outfits for daily wear and when he’d actually sleep in bed, toiletries, and then his medicines and medical supplies.
The only real frivolous item he owned was the hourglass earring Vanitas almost always wore that now sat on Noé’s bedside table, and even that had had a purpose and sentimental value.
There was so little to help remind Noé of Vanitas.
There wasn’t even a grave.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That had been the fate for the Book of Vanitas and the one who wielded it.
Leaving Noé behind with all these memories.
Noé knew that what he was doing wasn’t healthy. Or necessarily right.
Mlle Amelia had pleaded with him. “M. Noé, it’s — it’s been a few days since you got up. It’s lovely outside; don’t you want to see?”
Dante had offered some tasty temptation. “Hey, Fella, a new café just opened up on the other side of town. I hear they’ve got a great tarte tatin. Wanna check it out?”
Jeanne had commiserated with him. “I…I miss him, too. He was very important to me as well. I…owe him a lot, and I know he cared for you, too, so please…”
Domi had tried to reason with him. “Noé, this isn’t healthy. You…you can’t just lie in bed thinking of him all day. I know you did this when Louis… But please. Stop this. Vanitas wouldn’t want —”
Noé snapped at her for that. He felt a little bad about that, but he found himself returning to drown in Vanitas’s memories and the pain of his loss once more.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t want to do anything else when he was the one who —
He didn’t deserve to have so many people caring about him, trying to help him when it was his fault Vanitas was gone. It didn’t matter that that’s what Vanitas wanted. Noé couldn’t — He didn’t —
If he was being honest, Noé didn’t want to move on. He wanted to wallow in all these memories, no matter how they hurt him, because otherwise it’d be like Vanitas never even existed.
He can’t do that. He can’t let Vanitas be erased. So he would cling to those memories and maybe, just maybe —
“You’re an idiot.”
Noé froze. That voice…
He sat up in bed for the first time in a long time.
It couldn’t be real he knew that. He’d felt Vanitas crumble within his embrace; he had no confusion over that.
And yet —
And yet —
There Vanitas was.
He sat in the chair by Noé’s bedside, thoroughly unimpressed as he took in Noé’s current state.
Noé felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.
It’d been ages since he felt like getting out of bed, languishing in it longer than when Vanitas first felt romantic feelings for someone. And though he’d taken care to eat, drink, and do other necessities to ensure he lived, he hadn’t fully showered in ages or taken time to comb his hair. He knew he made a ghastly sight.
In contrast, Vanitas was the same as he ever was.
But that…that wasn’t…
Noé glanced at the bedside table and his heart sank.
It was empty.
No one dared to touch it since Mlle Amelia had tried to move Vanitas’s earring.
“You’re not real.” Noé concluded. “This is a dream.”
“Probably.” Vanitas nonchalantly said, inspecting the claws of his gloves. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t real.”
Anger sparked. The first emotion besides despair he experienced in a while. “Yes, it does!” Noé yelled, his hands curling into fists within his blankets. “You’re — you’re dead! You can’t — you just —”
“You promised.”
Noé’s mouth instantly shut.
Vanitas’s gaze was a weighty thing, pressing against him like a heavy blanket, somehow soothing. His forlorn expression reminded him of after the amusement park, when Vanitas finally decided to let Noé in.
“You promised me.” His face softened as it sometimes did when he looked at Noé. “You promised me you would live, Noé.”
“I…I am.” Noé said, but he couldn’t look Vaintas in the eye.
Vanitas snorted. “Really? You call this living?”
Noé frowned.
He knew. He knew exactly what Vanitas meant, but still…
“I just…I just don’t want to forget you.” Noé tried to justify his actions. “These memories are all I —”
“I’m more than just memories.”
Noé blinked. “What?”
Vanitas sighed in that long-suffering way of his. “I’m more than just memories. I told you, didn’t I? Just because I’m gone, doesn’t mean I’m fully dead.” He poked Noé in the chest pointedly.
Tears filled Noé’s eyes. “Well, if you’re not here, maybe I don’t want —”
“Don’t talk like that.” A harsh edge entered Vanitas’s voice, and he glared at him. “Think like that and I’ll truly be dead.”
Noé’s breath shuddered as he breathed deeply and he brought his knees up so he could curl up into them and not look at Vanitas.
Vanitas sighed again and Noé felt clawed fingers card through his hair, making soothing circles. “At this rate, you’re more likely to drive yourself mad.”
“As if you have room to talk.” Noé grumbled, prompting Vanitas to laugh.
“You’re not alone, Noé.” Vanitas finally said. “There are people right here who want to be there for you. Don’t be like me.
“And besides.” He withdrew his hand and Noé looked up, wide eyed at the sudden loss but Vanitas just smiled at him. “If you’re so worried about forgetting about me, it’d help to have more than just your memories and mine to draw upon, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose…” Noé hadn’t thought of it like that, but he might have a point.
“Or write it all down.” Vanitas waved his hand as if brushing off the idea. “That would probably last longer and you wouldn’t have to scramble every time you try to remember something. Whatever, this is your problem.”
For the first time, Noé noticed a movement near Vanitas’s ear.
The sand in his hourglass earring was draining from the top to its bottom, as if it had been flipped before returning to its place on Vanitas’s ear. And it looked like it was nearly out.
Panic seized Noé and he clutched Vanitas’s hand, startling the doctor.
“Please, Vanitas.” He pleaded, pulling him in for a hug, not wanting to let him go. “Don’t leave me.”
Vanitas floundered for a second before his hands settled on Noé’s back, holding him just as tightly. “You idiot.” His warm tone belied the insulting word. “Even if I’m not here, I’m never truly gone.”
Though neither of them were looking, the last grains of sand fell to the bottom of the hourglass.
Noé blinked awake, holding Vanitas’s old pillow tight to his chest.
Vanitas’s earring glinted on the table, right where he had put it. Shifting to see it, Noé glanced out the window and saw the blue moon shining benignly down on him.
He cried.
For the first time since Vanitas died, he let the sorrow rush through him in a howl, allowing the emotion to fully take hold.
He let himself feel.
In the morning, he’d finally get out of bed and get himself ready for the day. He’d talk to Mlle Amelia, to Dante, to Jeanne, to Domi. He’d remember the good times as well as the bad along with all those who knew and cared for Vanitas, too.
And then he’d get to work.
Because he would find a way to never forget his memories and promises to Vanitas again.