Archive of Our Own

Anger. Desire. Hatred. Lust. 

The dreading, fiery heat of hell radiates off the bodies of the two women as they melt into a kiss full of nothing but teeth and saliva. With tongues delving and lips and skin melting, dissolving — as if to kiss were to kill. 

It was painfully addicting. Exactly the way the two of them had seen each other to be. A craving that simply burns. Starvation, and a sustenance that was each other. That could only be each other. It feels akin to being eaten alive. Gnawed from the insides and then out. Bloody and disgusting. Organs first, yet the oh-so fragile and oh-so yearning heart being mercilessly saved for last. As if to savour. As if to torture. 

It sort of makes Vita feel sick. 

Distraught fuchsia eyes flutter open to find furrowed blue brows. That unconcealed vexation. Such an indelicate expression, it taints the woman’s normally soft features. 

It’s just the way Griseo always tends to be when Vita is around.

(And it sort of hurts. It really does.) 

Their little repellent relationship of theirs started roughly a year and some months ago.

Back when Vita had left Phosphorus. Left the world and its taunting shackles. Left Griseo all alone with those sweet, adorable children. Had her fun within some bubble universes or two. Then tried her very best to help on the Hyperion, on the Moon, on Mars. 

Amidst the stress and amidst the chaos, she found herself completely overwhelmed. With her mind too heavy. Her thoughts racing wild. And so did her heart. The rapid thumping that signified her fears. The emotions she keeps so steadily concealed. It would have been terrible for others to see her this way. Those that she had let grow close. Those that she considers close. Despite the annoyances plastered across their faces. Despite the aggression in the way they talk to her. It would be bad for them to see her so.. unlike the way she presents herself to be. She knows. She knows. She knows. She needed an outlet. Some place to escape. Somewhere to just be herself. 

…And then her footsteps returned back to that planet in which she so desperately wanted to forget. In which she wanted to burn. To bury. Far, far away. In the deepest corners of her brain, locked up in a steel box, hidden beneath the faint dust of her own selfish bygones. 

(The warmth, the home in which she thought about every. single. day.) 

“Vita.” She remembers. She remembers  it all quite well . The stern, piercing, and cold voice of a woman with lavender eyes so very gentle. “What are you doing here?”

“Why… Can’t a dearly beloved scientist come back to observe her life’s greatest work?” 

She was quick to respond. Quick to smile and to tease. Closing her eyes softly and pretending that she isn’t on the verge of breaking down. 

(But why.. why. Why had she wanted to cry so much that day? She doesn't even know the answer to that question now.)

“You’re lying.” That keen and observant eye. Vita did not like the way Griseo’s gaze held her own. Striking. Analyzing purples probing into fleeting magentas. 

“You know.. It’s not quite nice to accuse your dear friend, little Griseo~! Especially when she came alllllllll this way to visit.” She hummed. Soft smile. Soft eyes. Softer heart. “And Vi is an honest person. Really. Super honest, even! I’m not lying in the slightest.” 

“Cut it out, Vita.”

“Hmm?”

“Your colors are..”

“..Are?”

“ Vivid .” 

It struck something in her that day. Something excruciating. Something terribly uncomfortable. 

“…What a compliment…~ Are you trying to say that you see the great Vi to be full of vibrancy and spirit?—” 

“No.” She remembers how Griseo took a step closer. How she wanted to take a step back. But didn’t. She didn’t. Griseo stepped closer. Into her space. Into her heart. Into her soul. 

She reached out. Brought a gentle hand towards her face, caressing her cheek. Palms delicate against her skin. So sickeningly sweet that Vita felt her heart immediately drop from the contact. A momentarily bitter feeling that quickly dissipated to a tender warmth. 

Something so yellow. So orange . Like a sunset: aches settling down the vast horizon, pain drifting away in a beautiful hazy glow. 

Present. Shown. Out on display. Her heart rested in the palms of Griseo’s soothing hands. And oh, how terrifying is that. It makes her panic stricken, to be touched. To be seen. 

Then those harmonic purple eyes come to soften. “Vita… What’s wrong?” 

Oh. 

Despite awaiting for such a tender touch, such a sentimental soul for all her life.. fear blooms where Griseo’s hand caresses. 

Fear blooms from the flesh of her cheek and it spreads like ripples all across her body. Inducing her immobile. Striking cruelly at her heart. 

Especially so when lilac eyes pried into her. Full of worry, concerns, and hints of something else. Of Griseo’s own secrets, own truths. Own words that she wanted to say. Actions that she wanted to do. But didn’t. 

“Nothing.” A whisper so faint. It could be mistaken for the quiet sound of the breeze of a passing wind. 

“Vita..” An exasperated sigh. Long, low, dragged out. Mixed with an utter defeat. “Can’t you just be honest with me?”

Can she? 

Can she open up in such a way? Can she bring the sharp dagger of her truths to her chest and cut open her petrified heart? Bleed out in the colors that she knows Griseo can already see—? 

…

Of course not. 

Of course she can’t. 

“I said nothing.” She speaks with a smile. With a pathetic facade in her glinting eyes. “There’s nothing wrong, Griseo.” 

Just like that. Sunsets melted into the lonely night. Darkness that lurks the mind. Invades the soul. Shadows and murks swarming around a pitiful figure. A woeful excuse of a Goddess . 

She left in a hurry after such a revolting conversation. Left with no other words being spoken. Breaking away from the painter’s touch. Eyes immediately welling up with the emotions she refuses to let be named. 

Because if she points them out..

If she acknowledges them.. 

Then it becomes real. 

(At least this way, she can lie to herself.) 

…

Vita should have never returned to Phosphorus.

Because she can’t quite stop coming back. 

Two weeks later, atop a vibrant spring hill, fuchsia eyes had found themselves gazing tenderly. Settling down upon seven sprouted seeds and their initial gardener. Smiling. Laughing. Playing. Enjoying their little lives the way their long forgotten nurturer wished they would have. 

Vita saw them within a distance. Eyes fond. Heart fonder. Then a pair of bright purples met her sight. A color that made Vita recall the light touch against her cheek. Made her recall the warmth. The coziness. Sympathy from the one she wanted it from most. A deep and rich feeling that upsettingly etched into her skin. That she found herself yearning for. The sole reasons why Vita had come back even after that disgustingly mortifying encounter. 

…

That same night, when the rest of the universe lay peacefully asleep, she’d find herself alone with Griseo again. Alone with those gentle hands that cradle her face once more. Thumbs brushing along the rim of her eyes. Catching the sorrowful tears that forcibly broke free from the cage that Vita had built herself. The cage that Vita tried to keep them contained in. 

She shivered. 

From the touch. 

From the gentleness. 

From the ever blooming crave - want - need for more that sprouted forth like a summer’s lavender field inside her chest. 

From the fact that she’s never been touched quite like this. With tenderness and with care. The fact that she has never been touched at all. Having been so afraid of the mere thought of having the fingertips of another against her skin. 

(But now that she knows what it feels like: fear. terror. joy. happiness. She finds herself helplessly touch-starved.)

“Your colors are the same as that day.” The painter’s voice was too mournful and Vita did not know whether she hated or loved it. “What’s wrong?”

The same question.  

The same fears. 

Heat bit uncomfortably at her cheeks. Her heart began to pound with unease. Bile was rising. Nausea settled in. As did uncertainty. As did wariness. As did distrust. 

(But towards whom, if not herself?) 

Vita did not say a word. 

And perhaps this time, she did not need to. 

Colors speak for themselves. And who better would understand the pouring blood and tears of black, blues, and purples if not the sole painter before the dear canvas? 

Loneliness. Longing. Something that cries, I miss. I miss. I miss and miss and miss. 

(But what? What is it? What do you miss so much that it rips you apart, deep inside?) 

“Vita..” 

“Don’t.” Don’t say a word. Don’t say anything. Please leave me be. Please leave me alone. Please don’t leave me at all . 

Contradicting thoughts. As always. 

It hurts that even in a moment like this, Vita still could not be true to herself. 

At least not with words. Not with thoughts. 

..For the truths that desperately wished to be heard were instead spoken in the form of a kiss.

She leaned towards Griseo. Hesitant. Almost scared. 

Almost. Almost. 

For she is the great Vita. She cannot be scared. 

She can’t. 

She can’t. 

Her quivering lips met the touch of another. And it felt right. It felt perfect. Felt like a cure, the one and only antidote to Vita's pain. Felt like the clouds in the sky, the only place where a solitary bird could find solace. 

It was soft, steady. Full of potential. Full of hope. The very hope that Vita herself would one day come to shatter.

Griseo pulled her close. Hands so firm around her cheeks. Deepening the kiss. Pressing her lips against hers as if it was all she knew. 

As if trying her very best to convey: I hate it. But I’ve missed you. I’ve really, really missed you. 

That night ended in intimacy.

Tender, with a shared heat that engulfed them both. Intense arousal and needs that continuously pooled, drowning the two in a sea of utter affections.

Their first time was sweet, gentle, slow. Careful kisses and featherlight touches. Heads pressed against one another as tears fell from both their faces, as masks momentarily slipped off. 

…

Vita couldn’t stay no longer than a day or two. No. There were too many things she had to do. Too many reasons why she had to leave. Too many responsibilities she's gotten herself all mingled into on the fourth planet. 

Too many. 

Too many. 

Too many blatant excuses. 

Hence their little agreement was made. 

At least once a month, Vita would come to visit Phosphorus. At least once a month, the two of them would indulge in one another. 

Vita has never missed a month. Never missed a time. A day. A moment spent with her dearest painter. Her dearest Griseo. 

The one who could remember her. The one who wouldn’t forget. 

Everything was sweet then. A year ago. The first few months, ecstasy. Bliss. Peace. 

Kissing and touching with no strings attached. Hands wandering. Hands caressing. Hands exploring, tangled up in the strands of long, blue hair. Griseo’s careful touches beneath her clothing. Palms tracing her skin. Tracing the colors of her soul as paint taints her flesh - the soothing colors, feelings. The soothing whispers, words. Phrases that make Vita’s heart flutter. That puts her mind at the ease she so hopelessly needed. 

Both women would simply lose themselves to pleasure to forget about their pains. Would lose themselves in the touch - sight - scent of one another, to forget all about the world, just for the night. Their single moment of refuge. Shelter. Salvation.  

The gentleness of it all. 

The purple eyes that looked up into hers. Holding words and feelings and secrets of their own. So many. Too many. With a look so pleading, begging, wanting. The soft gaze Griseo flashes before fluttering her eyes shut. Before whimpering Vita’s name with a voice so genuine that it hurts..

It was gentle then. As gentle as the flow of a lone petal floating in the sky. Traveling all over the world before settling down in the middle of the vast ocean.. 

It was gentle then. But now, at this very moment, it’s not. 

Now, Griseo was biting her exposed shoulder angrily. Her teeth so incredibly merciless that Vita almost believed she was bleeding. 

Griseo was treating her with little to no care. Pushing her harshly against the steel door of the ark as the two stumbled into her small bedroom. Bodies pressed into one another, entirely. Perfectly. Curves and all falling into place like two pieces of a puzzle. Except the two puzzles also had creases, cracks, scratches, tears. Imperfections that caused a slight, slight gap to form in the spaces between. 

Vita hisses. Loud. 

Griseo didn’t seem to like that. Hearing her. 

She pulls away from her shoulder and wastes no time crashing her lips onto hers. 

Collided, locked and devouring. A kiss all consuming. Tongues delving so deeply that it stings. Saliva tickling their throats that they nearly choke. Saliva falling from the corners of their lips, dripping from their chin, and forgotten beyond. 

Kisses grow less tender. More hot and heavy. More ravishing. With teeth that feel like fangs. With bites that feel like punctures. 

Vita keeps her eyes open, albeit lidded. Simply watching. Wondering. Hoping. 

Griseo’s eyes were closed. Refusing to look. To see. To reveal. And Vita did not know yet whether she preferred their nights of passion to be this way or not.

(A back and forth of immense give and take. Of having your fill until completely satisfied. Reckless. Not caring for the other person in the slightest bit. The way their relationship had grown to become: a deranged meal for a pair of starved and bloodthirsty animals, rather than an act of affection - devotion - tenderness between lovers.) 

Footsteps stumble once again.

A step forward. A sway to the side. Effortless maneuvering. A dance of two against the vinyl floors. This time, Vita leads. Away from the doorframe where her back still aches, and towards a wooden desk where the pretty painter slightly bumps into.

Vita doesn’t want to admit that she treats Griseo a little more gently. She doesn’t want to. 

But she does. 

She eases Griseo down. Slowly. Gradually leaning forward - leaning into her as Griseo’s back delicately lies against the desk. 

Pretty. So pretty. 

The hazy light of the desklamp dances across Griseo’s face. Skin smooth. Lips bruised. Cheeks a burning red. But not as raging as the ignited flames in that lavender gaze. 

Why?

Vita wants to ask. Wants to so much that it hurts inside her chest. 

Why are you so angry?

But she already knows the answer. She already knows the reason. And it hurts her all the same, how she can never give Griseo what she truly wants. 

So instead, she kisses down her jaw and towards her neck. Lightly. Carefully. The nibbles she leaves in all the places she knows are sensitive are gentle. Only hard enough to leave a faint, pink mark. A light bruise that will only last for the night, fleeting within the sunrise to come. 

(Just as herself.) 

It's intimate. Just as their first. 

It’s intimate. Just as she knows Griseo has grown to hate. 

“Stop that.” Stern and demanding. A voice so cold, it sends shivers down Vita’s spine.. “Stop it, Vita.” 

“Oh? Is my sweet little jellyfish done for the night?” Vita hates how the tease in her voice sort of wavered. “Does she want her dear friend Vi to depart now? Already? Hm?” 

“Don’t you dare.” Leave so soon. Leave me alone. Again. Again. Again. 

Vita knows. 

Vita knows. 

“…Hehe. Thought so..” 

The words nearly get caught in her throat. Get caught in the rising panic that she feels is slowly crawling out of her skin. Like it’s threatening to erupt from her heart, breaking the bones of her ribs before tearing through her flesh if she chooses to keep it concealed. 

Talking grows less. Actions become hungry. 

She kisses her neck once more. 

This time with intensity. With need. With harshness and bites and wretched hunger that has Griseo pulling ruthlessly on her hair. With lips that claim her all over. With a mind and heart growing intoxicated from the way Griseo arches. The way Griseo trembles. The way Griseo screams. 

Yet still. Afterwards. Vita’s tongue would come to soothe out those stings. As if to say sorry . As if to say I didn’t mean too . And Griseo would only switch their positions - Vita’s back colliding hard onto the desk with a loud thud. Pain seeping where she knows a purple bruise would form. A purple that cries out: I don’t care.

(But she does. She does so much.) 

Vita leaves the next morning, before Griseo could wake, and returns the next month, late at night. Just as always. Just as every other time. Just as they agreed. Just as they loathed. 

“Hello, my sweet little Griseo!” 

The painter looks at her with an irritated glare. Annoyance and impatience barely suppressed in those purple eyes of hers. A glint that only Vita could decipher. 

“How have you been the past month? Did you miss me? Your deaaar friend Vi?” Because I have. So much. 

Conversations wouldn’t last long. 

They never do. Not lately, at least. 

Griseo would always initiate. Rather quickly, too. Especially at this hour of the night. The darker times when all of Phosphorus was sent into the sweetest of dreams. Saccharine slumber. 

But for the two of them, their dreams are only each other . 

Sharp inhales. Shaky exhales. Breaths hitch, chest tighten up. As do hearts. As do minds. As do something else. 

Within the ark. Griseo’s bedroom. Vita lies on the bed. Attire all messed up, fabric pulled apart. Griseo towers above her. Blue hair tickling her skin. 

Vita’s hands come to touch wherever they can. Roaming beneath clothes, nails dragging across the expanse of the painter’s stomach. Desperate for the feeling of soft flesh. 

“I really, really hate you.” Words are whispered between ragged kisses to Vita’s lips. “I really do.”

Ah. Don’t you know how much it hurts when you say things like that.. Then kiss me with so much emotion? 

Vita only kisses her back. With just as much passion. Just as much heat and need and crave. But also with something more soft. More gentle. More sincere. 

Something honest. 

“I know.” Vita says. Lips still pressed. And she could feel the way Griseo’s lips quivered.. Or was it her own? Perhaps it was the both of them. 

You tell me that all the time, after all. And I’m starting to think it’s true. I’m starting to agree with you. 

“…So much.”

“I know.” 

“I hate you.”

I know. I know. I know. 

It stings. It burns. In her eyes and in her throat. In her chest, deep down in her heart. Feels like blood being dissolved into acid. Melting her bones, muscles, nerves, skin. Everything, until reduced to the nothingness she sort of wishes to be. 

“I hate you, Vita. I hate you. ” The way you make me feel. The way you make me want you. The way that I need you. I hate it. It hurts.  I hate it . 

What cruel words. What cruel thoughts, little one.

Griseo would continue her torturous venting. Each phrase bleeding out from her throat so effortlessly, as if her neck had been slitted instead. Each phrase being spoken between kisses that trail lower, lower, lower. 

Vita could only hum. Could only mewl. Could only whimper. Arching her back and spreading her legs. Gripping onto orange silk sheets, squeezing her eyes shut, not quite noticing the few tears that fall as she listens to the painter’s hurtful words. The damnation that makes her want to die. Body displayed out like a wretched canvas for all of the stars and the moon to see. 

Vita. She hears. And it sounds so very weak. So very tired. So very broken. I really, really, really hate - love - hate you. 

Vita’s response comes in the form of a cracked moan— hot pools of ecstasy clouding her vision as her heart bleeds in the colors of foggy greens and navy blues before melting into a hopeless pastel. 

…

If she’s true to herself, she would say she’s hurt.

She would say it pains her every time to leave. To step away from the warmth she yearns for. And it hurts even more when she comes back. Returning back to arms so cold, so distant. Yet close. Yet open. Yet inviting. The very heart that pounds just the same as her own. Just as loud. Just as rapid. 

It hurts to return back to eyes that look so red. Puffy, as if Griseo had been crying. 

Vita wonders if Griseo notices the red in her eyes too. Wonders if she could see the stains of her sorrowful tears. 

Maybe she can. Maybe she does. Maybe she sees it in the form of colors. Colors that do nothing but reach their hands out towards her, begging Griseo to grasp on. To eternally intertwine their fingers, press together their palms. To never let go. 

Maybe.. Maybe.. Just maybe.. 

Maybe it would be best for Vita to stop showing up to these interesting little escapades of theirs. This hollow masquerade for two, where Vita’s mask slips with every nocturnal encounter. Her perfectly posed facade being reduced to mere dust from the indifferent yet wanting gaze of a painter so, so cruel. 

It would be best for her to back off. To stop coming. Stop contacting. To stay away. Then at least like this, Griseo can go back to her lovely little life. Making joyous memories with the seven, and with that whimsical woman.. Enjoying Phosphorus — Qiming , the seed she brought, the world that sprouted, to its full extent. 

..All without the great Vita to disturb her peace. 

(At least that way, one of them could at least be happy.) 

…

Can Vita even bring herself to stay away? 

…

Haha. 

Why would she trouble herself over such silly concerns? 

…

Of course. 

Of course she can. 

Because she is the great Vita, and Griseo, a distant memory. The two of them, flowers that never got the chance to bloom, just the way the rules of this universe intended them to be.