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Foolish rarely ever allows himself to be like this. It’s a weakness, he knows, the fake-apathy he carries around. He knows nothing else.
But, today has been bad. Today he learned that Graf has Juan’s headband. Him. Not Tina, not Senpai, fuck, not even Foolish. Graf. Not that Foolish has anything against the guy, he was a bit dense, but not a bad person by a long shot. He’s just bitter.
Of course, it isn’t a surprise. If it was left on Juan’s… with Juan, Multi had it. Multi has Graf chipped, obviously he had no problem giving it to him.
So, here he sits. On his bed. Juan’s sweater pulled up to his chest. It’s small in his grasp, the wool fabric is warm. Not from wear, no, rather from the amount of time it’s spent in Foolish’s scaly hands.
He won’t cry. Won’t give himself that luxury. He shouldn’t dwell on it. Sure, Juan was everything to him. Sure, he cared about him more than most. Sure, he wasn’t ready for him to go just yet. But he doesn’t have the right.
Tina has the right. Juan was like her brother. Senpai has the right. Juan was a parental figure for him. But Foolish? Foolish doesn’t have the right. Juan didn’t care about Foolish anymore than he did anyone else.
And boy did Juan care. He cared so much about everyone, wished the best for every person on the island. He gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, still tried to reason with Aldo and Multi even when his life was in their hands. Pleaded with them. And they…
They still did what they did to him. Aldo did it. It was Multi’s lab. But, Roier was complicit. He stood there, he screamed at Juan just as Aldo had. He’d fought with Ash, he’d hurt Tina. His son. His boy had… Foolish won’t think further on it. He doesn’t want to disparage his good memories of Roier.
Memories from the first island have been haunting him more since Juan left.
Memories of Jaiden, memories of Roier, memories of Vegetta and…
And Leo. Memories of Leonarda won’t leave.
Foolish does not want to think about Leo. Doesn’t want to think about her beautiful smile, doesn’t want to think of her little drawings, absolutely refuses to think of how much he loved her. How much they loved her. Not just him, Vegetta too. Vegetta, despite his frequent absence, had loved Leo. Even if Foolish is bitter, he can’t ignore that.
Foolish curls into himself, knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around his knees, still holding that damn sweater. It was for Miercoles Morado. The Wednesday after Juan left. It’s been weeks since then, and Foolish still can’t shake it. Gods, he needs to get over himself.
“Foolich?” The voice startles Foolish more than he’d like to admit. It’s Vegetta, of course it is, no one else calls him that. “¿Estas bien?”
Foolish wipes tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed. He plasters as much of a smile as he can, dropping Juan’s sweater onto the bed below. “Yeah, yes, sí, esta bien.” His voice comes out broken. It’s a shame, he probably could’ve hidden his thoughts if it weren’t for his torn up throat.
Vegetta isn’t convinced. He fully enters the room, closing the door behind him and makes his way to the bed. He sits at the end of the bed, directly in front of the sweater causing Foolish so much anguish.
”Foolich.” Vegetta places a gentle hand to Foolish’s cheeks, swiping away another stray tear with his thumb. “¿Por qué lloras?” He asks, voice sickly sweet.
It hurts. Just how kind Vegetta is being. He shouldn’t be, shouldn’t care this much about Foolish anymore. He has no reason to. Roier isn’t on their side and Leo is gone. There’s nothing glueing them together anymore. Yet,
”It’s nothing, I promise, Vegetta, don't worry about me, no— no te preocupes.” Foolish covers Vegetta’s hand, carefully pulling it away. He can’t take it. The closeness, the touch, it’s too much. Vegetta is too nice.
Vegetta glances down at the sweater. And fuck, Foolish is done for. Vegetta knows. He’ll know just how weak Foolish is, will know just how much he cares.
”¿Qué es esto?” He asks. Foolish can’t lie, he can’t say it’s his, it’s too small for him. It used to fit Juan like a glove, it’d never fit Foolish. So, he resorts to deflecting.
”It’s nothing, it’s just— Well, it’s Juan’s, or— it was, I guess, I just— I was gonna wash it, you know?” It’s a poor excuse, Foolish knows, not just because there’s no reason to wash it, but also because Foolish doesn’t wash anything. Juan did that. He washed everyone’s clothes for them, even as he complained the whole time. He still did it. Because Juan was good.
Vegetta’s face shifts from concern to something more reserved. Sadness, maybe, or pity.
“Oh, Foolich.” He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Foolish’s neck and burying his face in Foolish’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
And gods, Foolish is a weak man.
He crumbles, reciprocating on instinct. His hands shake, curling his fingers into the fabric of Vegetta’s shirt. He’s always been weak for Vegetta, it’s no surprise that his actions alone are what make the damn break.
Tears flow freely now, wetting the collar of Vegetta’s shirt as Foolish hides his face in the crook of his neck. It’s pathetic. Foolish knows it and Vegetta probably knows it.
”I just—“ His voice cracks, “I don’ know, I…” Foolish is trying so hard to collect his thoughts, to form a complete sentence, perhaps even translate it for Vegetta, but he can’t. His brain is failing him, seemingly too caught up in itself to think further. “I miss him.”
The truth always finds its way out.
Vegetta’s soothing voice comes through once more, “I know, I’m sorry. Todos lo extrañan.” He slides his hands up and down Foolish’s back comfortingly. It’s foreign, nostalgic, almost. Of Quessadilla Island. Of their relationship, their time spent together.
”Not—“ Foolish stops himself, choking on his own words. He won’t do that. Won’t diminish everyone else’s feelings.
”¿Cómo que «Not»?” Vegetta pries.
Foolish can’t lie to Vegetta. Not before, not now, not ever.
”They don't miss him like I do.”
Vegetta pulls back. And for a moment, Foolish is scared he’ll leave again. Just like he always had. But no, he pulls back to cup Foolish’s face in his smaller hands, making direct eye contact. The closeness isn’t lost on Foolish, he’s yearned for this from Vegetta for far too long.
“¿Amabas a Juan?” Foolish expects his tone to be harsher. He’d always been the jealous type, hell, he’d kidnapped Pressea for wanting to marry Foolish. He supposes it’s because Juan is… He’s gone.
Foolish had come to terms with his feelings for Juan long before that day. Knew he liked him, knew he wanted him more than would be normal for a friend. But, Juan didn’t like him, not remotely. Foolish would’ve never told him, even if he was still here. After all, humans only live so long. He’d end up alone regardless.
”Sí.”
Vegetta smiles softly, soothingly, “Lo sé, mi amor.”
That stumps Foolish. He knows? How could he—? Does he not care?
“Está bien, no te culpo.” Vegetta leans forward, placing a gentle kiss to Foolish’s cheek, right over a dried tear. Foolish is stunned. He starts to voice his confusion when Vegetta begins speaking once again.
”Foolich, I have been… not here, sí? I know you have feeling about it, Juan es— He was there when I was not.”
And yeah. Juan was there. Every time Foolish would get too caught up in his own thoughts while building, Juan would be there. Talking his ear off as he placed block after block. When Foolish had stupid ideas, Juan was always there to go along with them. Ideas that get people killed.
And the day Foolish saw Nacho for the first time on this island. The day he’d experienced blinding, red-hot rage at the sight of him. The day that rage had manifested itself in harsh hyperventilating. Juan was there. He sat by Foolish’s side and helped him regulate himself, even if Foolish brushed it off and pretended like it never happened.
It meant something to Foolish.
Vegetta is right. He hasn’t been there. He never was, really. He comes around once a month, maybe, throws a couple one-liner pickup lines at Foolish, insinuates that maybe there’s still something there, then he’s gone again.
In some ways, Foolish is grateful for it.
Him not being there means Foolish doesn’t have to look into Vegetta’s eyes and see hers. He doesn’t have to see Vegetta’s toothy grin and imagine it’s her. And he most definitely doesn’t have to hear the name ‘Foolich’, just as she’d written it nearly three years ago.
Foolish misses Leo. A lot.
“¿Amor?” Vegetta swipes away a tear. Foolish hadn’t even realized he’d started crying again.
”You— You look like her.”
It slips out before Foolish can stop it. He’s pulling away from Vegetta’s grasp, face turned towards the bed. Towards that purple sweater.
”Like her? Like—“ Vegetta goes quiet. He’s realized what Foolish means. Foolish doesn’t know how much Vegetta thinks of Leo, doesn’t know if he thinks back with as much fondness as he does, but he must, right? Leo was Vegetta’s daughter too. “Tú también, Foolich.”
Foolish doesn’t see it. Leo always had the best qualities of Vegetta, Foolish rarely ever saw himself in the small girl.
“Su piel dorada, sus pequeños dientes afilados, su cola... todo eso eras tú, mi amor.” And fuck, Foolish wishes he could process more Spanish at the moment, most of the words are lost on him. He really does try, but he resorts to looking at the translator strewn to Vegetta’s side.
Tears begin flowing more freely. He misses Leo more than anything. Leo was everything.
“I— I miss her, Vegetta.” Foolish initiates it this time, falling into Vegetta’s arms like a lifeline. He tangles his big hands in Vegetta’s hair, Vegetta doesn’t even comment on how he’s definitely messing it up. He makes quiet shushing noises at Foolish, caressing the back of his head gently.
”Yo también la extraño.” Vegetta finally says. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he hadn’t abandoned Foolish for months on end when Leo was here.
Foolish shouldn’t blame him for that. Shouldn’t hold it against him. But, it’s so hard when he acts like it never happened. Foolish was the one that raised Leo. Foolish was the one that had to calm her down when she got worked up about her Apa being gone.
But Vegetta was her father too.
He wants to say that he doesn’t understand. Wants to tell Vegetta that he doesn’t have the right to miss her as much as Foolish does. But that isn’t right. Leo wouldn’t want that. Leo would hate the resentment Foolish feels deep in his heart for Vegetta. Of course, the love is still there. He feels it when Vegetta does this, when he holds him gently and comforts him. But the resentment holds strong.
Leo would want Foolish to forgive him. Just as she had.