Work Text:
"I really like it here!"
The sentiment is said from across their shared room, Misha's high-pitched excitement carrying the words farther. Number 69 is tired, the lingering effects of his recent illness make his limbs feel heavy, his lips too numb to form a response. His brother's continued rambling makes him relent after a minute or so, teeth clenching over a hiss as he rolls over to face him properly.
"The Vampire of the Blue Moon is really nice, aren't they, big brother?" Unbothered by the lack of response, Misha keeps going. "And the food, the food's way better than what they had at the labs!"
"Yeah, the meals are pretty good." The agreement is put forth quietly, almost hesitant.
Misha's eyes sparkle. "So you like it here too, right big brother? You're happy here?"
Number 69 recognizes that there are times to be uncertain, and now isn't one of them. "Yes, I like it here too." He tries to inject some semblance of cheer into his tone. "It's definitely a step-up from our prior living conditions," he continues, "even if it is horribly dusty."
Misha snorts as his face wrinkles at the messiness. He flops backwards onto his pillows. He's already taken up a lot of his time here in this bed recovering, and that's left him with little time to find out more about their new housemate. Other than the incident with the blue blood before he collapsed, the Vampire of the Blue Moon has done nothing to suggest they have an ulterior motive. It's far too early to tell if they're playing the long game, but for now he has to -
"I love it here! I never want to leave!"
Number 69 gapes for a second, thoughts derailed. The conviction in Misha's voice is strong, unwavering. Not for the first time, he's shocked by the other's youthful naivety, his unbridled trust in the vampire who's taken them in, who for all accounts is still a complete stranger to them both. It's not safe, not even remotely, but he doesn't want Misha to lose his childish streak when he's finally starting to act his own age.
"I'm glad." His response takes too long to be considered normal, and he's glad when the other doesn't comment on his strained behavior. Misha must take it to mean he's still tired, since he bids him goodnight with a happy giggle and rolls over once more in his bed, content to fall asleep himself.
He loves it here, huh?
Number 69 closes his eyes, and forms a plan.
__________________________________
Number 69 is up early the next day, before his brother has a chance to rise. He stops for a moment to watch Misha breathe delicately in his sleep, snuffling gently as he dreams. The dark-haired boy feels himself unclench at the sight, his ragged edges softening into something smoother, more protective. Resolved, he leaves the room.
He's quick to wash up, scrubbing his face and teeth with water from the bathroom two doors down from the room they've been sharing. He ignores the chill of the water as it dissipates from his face but remains in his hands and fingers, well accustomed to feeling cold. His hair is subsequently tied back, out of his face as he brushes over his clothes to straighten their appearance. They're the same ones he was given by the Vampire of the Blue Moon when they arrived over a week ago, and they double as daywear as well as nightwear. He doesn't particularly care to ask for anything more from their suspicious host, and he won't, that is unless Misha requires it.
Once done, he makes his way across the hall and down the stairs. It's quiet enough in the house to safely assume that he's the only one awake at the moment, and that the Blue Vampire is still sleeping in their own room. He doesn't know if the being actually sleeps like a human, but they seem to retire every night at the same time as him and Misha, not to mention the fact that they eat regular meals as well. Maybe it's not a requirement, but a preference?
Number 69 ponders that train of thought while he enters the kitchen, heading for the sink. He washes his hands once more, happy when the water runs clean, just like the upstairs facilities. One less problem to handle, especially considering the whole house looks like it's been abandoned for some time now.
Drying his hands on a spare dishcloth, he gets to work. A sigh of relief hits him when he opens drawers and cupboards to find decent utensils and cooking implements, and a smile graces his face when the freezer chest is opened to reveal wrapped cheeses and meats, as well as a pint of milk. Combined with the loaf of bread and small bag of oats on the counter, he can work with this.
20 minutes later has him setting out three bowls of oatmeal on the table, steaming slightly in the cool morning air. He leaves the bottle of milk out, as well as some nuts and honey. Satisfied with his efforts, he cleans up the evidence of his work in the kitchen while he waits for his companions.
He's somewhat relieved when it's Misha that arrives first, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he trudges downstairs. The younger boy brightens immediately when he sees the food, hurrying to take a spot at the table.
"Hey! Wash your hands first," Number 69 scolds lightly, following him. They sit together after Misha obeys his instruction, hands still slightly wet from his rush. He picks up the spoon and takes his first bite, enjoying the warmth but not the taste.
His brother takes notice. "Here, it's better with some honey to sweeten it, oats can be pretty bland. You can add almonds as well."
The effect is immediate. "Thanks! It's good!"
Number 69 grins victoriously, adding nuts to his own bowl, forgoing the honey. They eat in silence for a few seconds, the peace broken by the sound of footsteps nearing the kitchen. The older boy tenses, while Misha looks up from his breakfast.
"Ah, it's you!" His smile splits his face. "Look, big brother made us breakfast!"
The Vampire of the Blue moon approaches, glancing down at the table and its contents. He's quick to look down at his bowl, suddenly unsure of the response his actions will garner. Was he allowed to use the kitchen and its tools without express permission? He'd used it briefly when they needed a meal after he was sick, but maybe it had been a one-time thing?
The being claps their hands and sits down behind the third bowl, a beam breaking across its face at Misha. Number 69 lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was taking care of Misha, so his use of the vampire's resources was considered okay. He knows there are lines that can be crossed in this situation if they remain as housemates, his current goal is to ensure that never happens. He can work with this, he can make sure Misha stays okay.
__________________________________
With their presence in the house now established, Number 69 leaves his brother to the Vampire of the Blue Moon. Initially he had been worried about leaving the younger alone with Vanitas, but he's come to see that their relationship is different than he'd originally perceived. The being seems fond of Misha somehow, happy and borderline parental when they interact. It doesn't escape his notice that the vampire's behavior changes with him, turning almost calculating and wary.
The older boy disregards it, using the time apart to form plans and contingencies for their stay here. The house has a small storage of food, enough to last the three of them for the next few months if he's careful. It's by no means a long term plan, especially if Misha is content to stay here for the foreseeable future.
He racks his brain as he works out the problem. Cleaning out the house and ridding it of its filth is an arduous task, one that keeps his hands busy and his head empty to contemplate their issue. The Blue Vampire mentioned that a friend of theirs owned the place, but with the amount of dust left behind he assumes they're long gone. If the vampire doesn't need to eat regular meals, then it stands to reason that making money for food has never been an issue before. He resolves to make sure the matter is never brought to their host's attention, lest it convinces them to throw him and Misha to the streets.
He ignores the smell of mildew as he uses an old rag to scrub at unidentifiable stains on the bathroom floor, slowly making way for off-white tiles to surface underneath the grime. Maybe he could get a job? He knows he's smaller than his age would suggest, years of malnutrition in Moreau's care saw to that. But he's got his wits, as well as his silvery tongue. Surely he could convince someone he's competent, at least to earn enough to feed them without worry.
The ideas bounce around over the next few days, as the schedule starts to fall into a regular pattern. Number 69 is always the first to wake, breakfast ready and waiting for the others once they join him, after which Misha distracts the Vampire of the Blue Moon with his antics so the older boy can continue working on the house. The cycle repeats, only interrupted by their second meal later in the day. He's content to allow this procession of daily events, until the vampire makes their move a few days in.
__________________________________
"Do you want to read this one?"
The Vampire of the Blue Moon reaches over to pluck an old tome from its place on the shelf, shaking it free of dust. There isn't much in the pages, meaning a certain child must have swept through the stacks recently and cleaned them while the pair had been outside the other day.
They hand the large book over to Misha, who struggles to wrap his small hands around the cover. Hmm, too advanced for him, maybe. The tiny figure brightens though, and a part of the vampire swells at his answering smile.
"I don't think I can understand this one, but maybe big brother would!" He points at the medical illustration on the front, the depiction of a human heart just barely visible on the faded cover. "He knows about medicine, since his father was a doctor."
The mention of the Blue Vampire's other guest strikes a chord through them. He seems particularly unreceptive to their attempts at companionship, and unlike Misha getting him to verbalize was a nearly impossible task.
But still.
Misha stares up at the vampire, sensing the unease. "Maybe you should go get him to join us!" The boy's brow furrows. "He's been working too hard anyway."
__________________________________
“Child?"
The dark haired boy drags his eyes upwards from where he's been washing dirt off the window ledge to meet Vanitas' vivid blue stare. "Yes?"
Their host's mouth is already set in a firm line, and Number 69 feels dread lodge in his stomach as he mentally catalogs all his actions since breakfast. Did he touch something he shouldn't have?
"You've been working very hard lately. Would you like to join Misha and I in the library? I have some books you might be interested in, if you'd like to take a break."
The boy parses the Blue Vampire's words carefully, turning them over in his head as he thinks over the inquiry. Was it genuine? There must be some kind of ploy involved, he's never been asked to remain with Misha and Vanitas when they spend the day together. There's a correct answer to this, right? He just needs to find it.
He pretends to be busy with the window while he stalls for time. "Thanks for the offer." That's it, just stay polite. He's had experiences like this in the past, not all of the chasseurs had been as lenient with children as some. They all had buttons, ones that practically asked for pain when pressed. He knows how to deal with them, he just needed to find out the vampire's true intentions to avoid causing trouble, "But I haven't finished up here, I want to make sure the house is sorted out and in living condition." He goes for the more truthful answer to start, hopefully it'll be enough to appease.
Instead, Vanitas frowns at his response. The boy pales, alert and wary. Was the vampire insulted? His answer might have been interpreted as one of judgment, for being unable to keep the house in good shape. He needs to remedy this situation, before the backlash gets to Misha. He breathes in, breathes out, relieved when it's not noticeably shaky, and continues.
"Just want to be helpful. Maybe you could leave the book aside and I'll take a look at it later?" He's struck with a thought and barrels ahead, "Leave one for Misha too, I can read it to him later before he falls asleep."
It works, a small smile teases the edge of the Blue Vampire's face. Bingo. Misha is his way out, their host's weak spot and his way of appeasing the vampire into putting up with both of them. As long as he doesn't push it, his little brother should remain safe and cared for.
__________________________________
Number 69 is too tired over the next few days to touch the old medical text left conveniently on his pillow. It's a tempting treat, a volume he dearly wants to flip through and analyze, but he reaches for one of Misha's fairytales instead, reading in low tones to avoid disturbing Vanitas. He's lucky the younger boy doesn't complain when his voice is raspy with exhaustion, and even luckier when it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. He pushes the tome aside and falls into oblivion once his head hits the pillow.
The next few days bring new developments, as well as relentless worry. Scouring the house is complete, the rooms have been successfully restored back to a usable level. The accomplishment leaves the boy restless instead of proud, concern over their food issue prevailing with the lack of distractions. There's got to be something he can do.
The answer comes to him half a week later, hope burning in his chest as he leaves Misha and Vanitas to their own devices. He tries to slow his steps and quell his eagerness but in all actuality, this is the only plan he's got. If it doesn't work out, he may as well wave goodbye to any chance of Misha having a peaceful life here.
He bounds outside, jogging to the back of the house. There's nothing but old paved stone, cracked and ancient surrounding the small property. Not willing to give up just yet, he walks further on, whooping when he finds his prize. Jackpot.
The item in question is a plot of densely overgrown plants hiding a ways away from the building. Placed conveniently away from the house's looming structure, it seems that the vegetation is getting an adequate supply of rain and sunshine, perfect for his needs. He grins as he gathers up the rusty old gardening tools he'd found when clearing out the basement and gets to work.
Number 69 spends the subsequent days digging out weeds and tossing soil after mealtimes. The area is large enough to start with so he isn't overly concerned about expanding it just yet. The last vestiges of winter have an icy grip on the ground though, making it difficult to turn up the soil without intense effort. He compensates by sneaking into the kitchen to boil pots of hot water, which he brings outside and uses to soften the area before he digs. The process takes a few days, but soon the dark haired boy is laughing with triumph as he takes in his hard work.
The area is bare and ready for planting. The timing is convenient enough that the plot is ready for seeds in early spring, just in time to make the most of Paris's good weather. He's careful when he cooks their next few meals, saving the seeds from the cucumbers, tomatoes and green beans. He's heard that potatoes can be grown as is as long as they have visible buds, and hides the two meant for his dinner that night to use in the makeshift garden.
Once the soil is sectioned out and the seeds are planted, he's careful to water them and makes sure they receive enough sun during the day. He also borrows two planks of wood to shield the plot at night from wild animals, praying their disappearance goes unnoticed by their vampire host.
With any luck, the plants will bear fruit in the coming months. Even if they take a little longer to grow and produce enough for a decent harvest, the evidence of his efforts in a few weeks might just convince the Vampire of the Blue Moon that he can be useful, useful enough to keep around for Misha's sake.
His hopes are dashed a mere three weeks later.
Gone are his precious green shoots, his winding vines and barely settled roots. It seems that with their new growth over the fortnight, they became too tempting for two planks of wood to keep out the wildlife. Number 69 sinks to his knees in the dirt at the sight of torn up vegetation, breathing picking up as he tears at the grass under his shaking hands. He remembers how perfect everything had looked, just the day before. The attack must have happened at night, some kind of nocturnal animal, perhaps.
Why didn't I rig some kind of wire fence around them? It would have only taken some netting and a few strong sticks…
He doesn't know how long he spends there, crouching in front of the wreckage. This was supposed to be Misha's saving grace, as well as proof of his competence as a housemate, and now the whole plot is ruined.
He stumbles inside, relieved when he hears Misha's piercing voice and the Blue Vampire's answering rumble from the study downstairs. He doesn't think he's aware enough to be smart about sneaking around properly, and hurries to the kitchen sink to wash up. He scrubs viciously at his hands and face, washing away all evidence of his failure down the drain. The water is so, so cold.
He busies himself with their midday meal. He spaces out when he reaches for a tomato and begins to dice it thinly, ignoring the heavy feeling settling in his stomach at the unsubtle reminder. What's he going to do now? He needs to come up with a plan, and fast. The cupboards are emptying out, and so is the freezer. He had originally planned to show the garden to Vanitas in a week's time, as insurance that he had something going in a bid to soften the blow of needing more supplies over the next few weeks.
If his dinner companions notice his dilema once they arrive, they don't deign to mention it. He listens to Misha as he recounts how his day went, mustering a smile to appease the boy that feels too empty to be convincing. The dark-haired boy pushes around the food on his plate, chewing exaggeratedly. He prays they don't realize that his plate is mostly empty, a last-minute attempt at conserving the food they have left. Small acts like this one won't preserve their storage, not this late in the game, but he doesn't know what else to do. Maybe if he hadn't been so confident that the garden would have worked out and started using smaller portions on purpose weeks ago, but not now.
Then Vanitas leans forward in their seat, and Number 69 forgets to breathe.
"Are you quite alright, child?"
He recovers after a beat, hands disappearing under the table to hide their sudden shakiness. "Of course, why do you ask?"
The Blue Vampire doesn't settle, mouth furrowing in what looks like displeasure. He tries to swallow, futilely. His answer wasn't believable, and fear grips his stomach at the realization. What if he's asked how he's been spending his days while the two of them are together? His mind races to think of a plausible excuse. Dieu, what if he left a trace of dirt on his face or hair? He's sure he got everything that was on his hands, but he didn't have time to glance at a mirror before prepping their meal. He curses his stupidity as his hands renew their trembling.
"You seem pale, that's all. Maybe turning in for bed early would make you feel better?"
He doesn't even bother to analyze the vampire's words for hidden meanings, proof of how clouded his head really is at the moment. He grabs the reasoning with desperation, nodding a touch too fast.
"I am feeling a little out of sorts. I'll clean up and get some sleep."
The Vampire of the Blue Moon opens their mouth, looking about ready to protest, making the boy turn quickly as he grabs his plate. He washes up, the familiar motion of rinse, soap, rinse and dry a soothing backdrop as he controls his racing heart and flees.
__________________________________
Vanitas watches him go, heaviness sinking in their stomach like a stone. Something is wrong, has been wrong, for quite some time now. Gone is the spirited child who admonished them over an inedible meal and a messy house, who kicked and yelled and accused them of being infantile. In its place remains an almost hollow shell, treading around invisibly as if he's afraid of being noticed, of being included. What on earth could have changed in all that time?
Misha is watching as well, young eyes bright with similar worry. Not for the first time, the Blue Vampire feels an overwhelming sense of kinship, of being seen, with this incredible creature. There's a considerable difference between being alone, and being lonely, they suppose. It's astounding that it's taken this long to discover that particular fact.
"I wanted to offer to sing him a lullaby, or read him a story," the vampire frets aloud. They turn to Misha helplessly. "Do you think he would like that?"
The Vampire of the Blue Moon doesn't want to reveal how much they're floundering for ideas, but then again, children can be surprisingly perceptive at times, "Big brother is struggling. He's been alone for so long that he doesn't know how to be anything else, and he's scared when things change." The boy nods once, gray eyes decisive. "I get that, new things scare me too."
Vanitas ponders that for a minute but only arrives at more questions. Why would the child be scared of living with them? Surely the current arrangement is preferable to the one in the labs, where they were frightened for their lives? And it's been several weeks since their fateful meeting, has adjusting truly been that difficult?
"So what should we do?"
Misha shrugs, "I'm not sure." The vampire's heart sinks lower. "Let me head up for bed, I'll see if he's still up. Maybe things will be better in the morning."
The being latches onto the optimistic statement with a small smile of thankfulness. They watch the young boy leave his empty dish at the sink, washing his hands before departing for the night. The meal had been good, Vanitas can't remember the last time they ate so frequently. It's a welcome change to their routine, there's a certain comfort present in eating that they'd long since forgotten.
The Blue Vampire stands, stretching slightly as they reach the sink to wash the few dishes left behind from Misha. They frown slightly when they see the rest of the meal's utensils, along with the older child's plate, have been scrubbed clean, set off to the side in the rack to dry. The frown remains when they recount how fast the child had risen from his seat, plate seemingly empty after a meal that lasted a mere 10 minutes.
Something is very wrong indeed.
__________________________________
Misha tiptoes to the bathroom, footsteps purposefully light. He doesn't want to wake his brother if he's unwell, especially if he's managed to fall asleep while the younger was talking to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.
He thinks about the concerns they shared in the kitchen while he washes his face and brushes his teeth. He's worried about the older boy, with the way he's been creeping around the house like a silent phantom. Misha is happy to spend time with their vampire host, they know about all sorts of interesting things he's never even seen. Before this, first with his mother and then with Moreau, he used to think that was all life could be, just pain and fear wrapping around him like chains he could never break free of. But now, it's like all the doors have opened wide, a hundred brand new opportunities just waiting around the corner for him to pursue at his leisure.
So why doesn't his brother feel the same? They're free now, both of them, and they have everything they've ever wanted. Doesn't he know that?
Misha creeps into their shared room quietly. He hears the dark-haired boy's breath hitch in the darkness, and suddenly changes course from his bed to the other.
"Wh - what are you doing?"
"Sharing a bed with you. Just like we did in the catacombs," his reply is swift, and they match his movements when he crawls into the sheets. His worry grows at the lack of protest, bundling closer to the older boy. Are his hands shaking?
Misha breathes out, "What's wrong?"
His brother lets out laugh at his innocent inquiry but it sounds wrong, choked off and quiet. His heart clenches at the tangible misery, reaching out to intertwine their hands beneath the blanket.
"I'm okay. I just-" The words trail off as the other stops, swallowing hard as he tries again. "I've been working really hard over the last few weeks, to make sure we can stay here, y'know, like you want to." Misha rolls over, confusion apparent in his eyes as he waits for his brother to continue. "But it didn't work out, so I guess I'm just trying to figure out what to do next."
Before he can ask what his brother means by that, the older boy nudges him back around. "It's going to be fine, we're going to be okay here." Misha hears a sliver of the old determination in his voice, the same one he heard whenever his brother was steeling himself into sweet-talking Moreau into taking the younger's place in his experiments. It's not an old tone, he's heard his mother use it when she talked to the men hanging around their old place when he was small. It was a good tone, right? It meant they were winning, that they were getting what they wanted from people who were difficult to convince. He doesn't know why hearing it always fills him with dread.
It's clear that the time for questions is over now though, and he succumbs to sleep in a matter of minutes. It's a good thing too, because it means he's fast asleep when Number 69 finally falls apart, tears of desperation and despair leaking over their shared pillow as he grieves in preparation for harder days ahead.
__________________________________
Breakfast the next day is as somber as dinner the night before. Number 69 climbs out of bed, careful to maneuver himself around Misha's sleeping form next to him as he leaves. The younger boy rolls over in his sleep and the slight movement makes his heart clench painfully. He heads to the bathroom.
He's not careful when he splashes water over his face, determined to erase any traces of last night's failure from himself. The cold is a shock, but one he's well familiar with as he blinks the water from his eyes. He backs away to stare.
He doesn't like what he sees. The reflection in the mirror looks tired, eyes still slightly red and swollen in the morning light. He looks pale and delicate, like easily breakable glass, and he hates it with every fiber of his being. He doesn't look back.
His hands are steady when they prepare a light meal of scrambled eggs and toasted bread, leaving out some fresh fruit on the side with milk for Misha. The smaller portion sizes make him rise abruptly from where he's been setting up the table, bee-lining for the sink to distract himself with cleaning up before the others make an appearance.
He reaches for the soap and picks up the pan he used to prepare the eggs, humming quietly under his breath as he dips it in suds and water. The process is soothing and the song is familiar, a short tune he remembers one of the circus performers in his mom's troupe bellowing when they were on stage. It doesn't sound quite the same with his higher voice and no instrumentals, and the calm morning setting certainly doesn't match what he's used to, but it's comforting nonetheless.
Then he grabs a plate and watches almost numbly when the wet surface slips out of his hand, firm grip lacking due to the suds. The dish drops, hitting the counter on the way down as it breaks in half. The twin noises of porcelain shattering, first on the tabletop and then on the floor, feel deafening in the morning's stillness. Number 69 feels his stomach fall through his feet as he rapidly shuts off the water and crouches, drying his hands as he goes.
The plate's ruined. It's not a crack, or a mere chip he can hide, the pieces scattered in front of him are irreparably damaged. He gathers both halves with trembling fingers, suddenly very, very afraid. The dish had been white, of strong quality and utilitarian in appearance, part of a larger set. Breaking this one will definitely be noticed by their host, and he has no idea how to fix it.
He resists the overwhelming urge to hide the broken remains from his housemates. He has no idea how much plates cost, but surely they're more expensive than chilled foods and produce? He knows that they're not sold separately either, it'll cost more than he can possibly afford at the moment to purchase an entire set just to replace the one he's destroyed. His heart thumps wildly as his mind races to think of a plan. Should he search the house for some sort of glue or adhesive even if the crack will still be noticeable?
"Big brother?"
He freezes at the inquisitive voice, and turns slowly from his spot on the kitchen floor to face Misha's sleepy, passive face.
"I heard a crash. What's the matter?"
The older boy musters up a giant smile, stretching almost painfully across his face as he tries to keep calm. "It's nothing Misha, just dropped a plate accidentally." The reassurance fades far too fast as his composure slips, worry peering through the cracks despite his best attempts to hide it. "Is the Vampire of the Blue Moon up yet? I'd like to fix this before they wake."
The answer that comes is immediate, but it's not from Misha.
"Fix what?"
No.
Their vampire host looms over him and he's never felt so powerless before, crouching on the floor as he is. Well, there was one time, he recalls grimly, mind flashing back to how the circus troupe had been overrun by vampires all those years ago, the look on his father's face as he took his final breaths protecting him. And for what? He'd only gone on to make more mistakes, in the end.
Number 69 snaps out of his thoughts. He can't let this go like last time. He sees the exact moment the broken dish is noticed by Vanitas, recognition flaring in their bright blue eyes. He flinches back, almost imperceptibly, as the Blue Vampire steps forward, but he can tell his fear is noted. He's terrified, in this moment, and worse still the vampire surely knows it. He needs to find a solution.
"I apologize." It's a challenge to keep his eyes level and unwavering as he holds his head up, determined to keep eye-contact. "It was a mistake, and I will make sure to replace the damage as soon as possible." His voice is too hollow, and for a second he worries it doesn't sound genuine enough.
The vampire doesn't speak. And then, with one decisive moment their eyes turn behind him, landing on the much smaller figure standing off to the side.
No, no, no.
In a second, the older boy stands in front of Misha protectively. His head rushes with memories of how he tried doing this ages ago, where all of his chasseur training and Moreau's interference left him on the ground, weak and unconscious. His fists tighten.
"Not him," he says resolutely, jaw clenched with fear. "He was still upstairs when the plate shattered, it was entirely my fault and I fully intend to rectify it. Please."
He has no idea what he's pleading for. Misha's safety, insurance that the younger won't be abandoned on the streets? But the Vampire of the Blue Moon likes Misha, they've been spending all their time together. Does he just need to give something up for the vampire to overlook this mishap?
The answer comes to him after a moment of deliberation, and a wave of relief with it. He knows what to do, and Misha will remain cared for, just like he promised.
"I'll leave, okay? I'll get out of your hair, and I promise I won't disturb you again." The words are strangely easy to say, and it feels like a considerable weight's been lifted off his exhausted shoulders. "Just keep Misha, since he didn't do anything wrong."
The Vampire of the Blue Moon opens their mouth to respond, but Misha beats them to it, "Brother no! You can't just leave!"
It's hard to look at the younger's face, stricken with worry over being left behind. He has to make him understand somehow, that this is what's best for him going forward. He kneels in front of him.
"C'mon, Misha," he coaxes softly. "You said you loved it here, didn't you? If I leave, you can stay for as long as you want -"
"I also asked if you liked living here with me!" The reply is shouted back, misery echoing in the quiet kitchen. Number 69's head hurts. "I don't want to stay here if you're not with me!"
"Don't you get it!?" His voice rises in volume to match his ire and fatigue. "We don't have the food or means to stay here long term! I've tried to figure things out but -" his voice cracks "- the garden I was growing got destroyed before it could give us anything useful and I've tried skipping meals but it barely helps and I'm not strong enough to go out and find a job to support us, or old enough -"
He's rambling nonsensically at this point, and the monster of fear and worry that's been stagnating in his stomach over the last few days comes roaring back at Misha's increasingly concerned face as he continues spilling his doubts.
"- so I need to leave so you can stay here with the vampire." He stops to breathe, feeling like his chest is caving inwards. "You can be happy here, Misha. You deserve that much."
"Do you both want to leave?"
The dark-haired boy turns back around and does a double-take. He starts to block Misha from view again when he senses movement, but stops when he sees the vampire is? Sitting down on the floor next to him?
"What are you doing?"
Vanitas sighs, "Resting my legs. I confess that it is rather early to engage in an emotionally-charged conversation, now that I've gotten quite used to enjoying meals before starting my day." The being sighs again, the sound almost sad. "Especially one that concerns both of my children leaving in one day!"
The older boy blinks. What.
The vampire settles down, leaning their silvery white head on the cupboard resting behind them. "Of course, I won't stop you, if that's what you two want. I did say I would provide my help after what happened in the catacombs, but if you choose to follow your own paths from here I'll understand."
Number 69 can't process what he's hearing right now, so he decides to go with the most important inquiry. "So you're okay with Misha staying here?"
The Vampire of the Blue Moon shakes their head. "Not just Misha, the offer to live here extends to you as well."
"But why? What do you have to gain from sheltering two small children who can't even work or take care of themselves?" He can't prevent the incredulous tone that accompanies his words, fear forgotten as it's replaced by abject confusion.
"I've been alone for some time now. My human friend, the one that used to own this house, I admit that I haven't seen or heard from him in quite a while, so I guess I just -"
"You're lonely?"
Misha turns and shoots him an almost reproachful look for his flat and disbelieving tone, but the older boy is too surprised by this strange turn of events to feel bad for his rash behavior.
But Vanitas just grins, wholeheartedly unashamed, "Yes! Exactly. Terribly lonely, I'm afraid."
Number 69 lets a quiet groan escape him, resisting the urge to rub at his aching temples.
The vampire regards his tired expression, looking thoughtful. "I think we have some things we should talk about, child." The being gestures vaguely at the sink, and at the breakfast still waiting for them at the table. "This can't continue, for your sake at the very least."
For his sake? What the hell are they talking about?
"Would you like Misha to stay while we talk?" At his inquiring glance, the Vampire of the Blue Moon clarifies, "You're afraid of me." The boy shoots them a surprised look, wariness curling in his stomach. "Or maybe not afraid, but uncomfortable? Regardless, if Misha would make you feel better -"
Number 69 sees where this is going and glances off to the side where his brother stands, unsure. "No, I'm - I'll be fine." To Misha, he says, "Maybe you could put the plate away before it hurts someone? Just be careful to only touch the round edges and don't cut yourself."
The younger boy nods once, eyes flickering between them as the other is led away to the dinner table. He still looks fretful at his brother's loud outburst, but lets them go regardless.
Their breakfast sits off to the side, cooling rapidly as it's ignored. Vanitas takes the seat next to him, a comfortable distance away as he waits for the vampire to make the first move.
"So, what's this about a garden? Is that where you've been going these last few weeks after mealtimes?" The Blue Vampire looks at him curiously, "Misha went out to look for you a few times, it would explain why we couldn't find where you'd gone."
Number 69 shifts in his seat. "Yeah, I found the plot out back by the house." He pauses, voice suddenly quiet as he fixes his eyes on the tabletop. "I thought if I could plant some seeds we could have vegetables in the summertime, make it easier to eat even if we couldn't afford it."
The vampire tilts their head in understanding, "Ah. You have been hard at work."
The dark-haired boy's eyes shoot up at that. "But it didn't work. I couldn't keep out the wildlife, so the plants were ruined."
"It wasn't your fault." Vanitas regards him with a calm gaze, and it makes him quiver in his seat, an emotion he can't name thrumming through his body. He's cold, somehow, although he knows it's a relatively warm day out. "Additionally, the burden of feeding and caring for Misha shouldn't have been yours alone to carry. You've been doing that for far too long already, and with all you two have been through, the least you deserve is a home."
All you two have been through?
He shakes his head, "Misha deserves to stay here, to have a home." The incredulity is back, unable to be suppressed. "I still don't understand why you want to keep both of us. You said that you were lonely, but I've seen you with Misha, you adore him! But with me, you -"
He forces himself to stop, hands clenching under the table. He doesn't know why he cares, he shouldn't care if the Vampire of the Blue Moon doesn't treat him like they do Misha. He's not a little kid, he's not someone who deserves affection, no matter how much he craves it. He wants to be warm, but after being cold for so long he doesn't think it's possible to be anything else.
Vanitas, however, looks taken aback. "I think I've made a mistake."
The vampire goes on, "I thought you were scared of me, and that you had every right to be after what happened to your father, and with Moreau after that. I assumed that by giving you space, distance until you were comfortable enough to approach me on your own terms, would make this adjustment easier for you." The Blue Vampire looks chastened, and a little guilty. "But I see now that all I've accomplished is pushing you away, and making you think that your presence here was unwanted."
He doesn't respond to that. The Blue Vampire hums consideringly as he continues to avoid their gaze, resisting the urge to fidget.
"May I ask you a question, dear?"
Number 69 picks at his sleeves absently. He has a feeling that Vanitas won't drop their inquiry, and ponders what he has to lose in this situation. They need to talk about their lack of supplies in the house eventually, maybe this line of questionings will make it easier? He makes a decision and nods slowly.
The Vampire of the Blue Moon leans forward slightly in their seat, steepling their long fingers. The boy starts to feel increasingly restless. "Why is it that you believe Misha deserves a home here, but you do not?"
This time, it's him who's taken aback as he responds without thinking, "I don't understand."
Vanitas taps a finger against their chin. "You said that to me once before, when you were in the throes of your fever. When I asked why you remained in the catacombs when you could have escaped, you said you didn't want someone else to take your place, but that you also didn't understand why you felt that way." In the face of the boy's obvious confusion and frustration at where the conversation is headed, the Blue Vampire continues, "Perhaps there's a connection between why you thought you were undeserving of rescue back then, and why you think you don't deserve a home now."
Number 69 slams his fists on the dining table, the sound loud and unforgiving as it rings across the kitchen. "Of course I didn't deserve to be rescued!" He's snarling now, anger rolling off of him in waves. "I should never have come here when Misha asked, I should have let myself rot in that lab and let Moreau take pieces of me until there was nothing left!"
"But why?"
He hates this conversation, despises the vampire as they sit beside him, calm and unflinching as he yells. He loathes the fact that Misha is probably still hanging around the kitchen and very much able to hear him, the only barrier stopping him from losing his composure entirely. Most of all, he hates not being understood, especially on a topic so plain and simple.
"Why? You're seriously asking me that?" He knows he sounds crazy, borderline frightening. "It's because I don't deserve salvation. Good people deserve to be saved, to have happy endings. My parents -" His voice cracks horribly as his throat swells with emotion "- my parents deserved to be happy, but that's not what they got, because they had me, and I ruined everything. Just like I always ruin everything, just like Misha, just like the garden and the life you two are trying to build together -"
He's interrupted, "You saved Misha from Moreau in the labs."
"No! I didn't!" He feels hysterical as he tears at his hair. "I took his place because it was the bare minimum of pain I deserved, it had nothing to do with saving him! None of the children down there deserved what they got, not Misha, not Number 70, but me?" He laughs, and the sound is horrible, grating even to his own ears. "I would have taken all of the experiments for them if I had the chance. I was the only person down there who should have ever gone through hell like that, because I'm not a good person."
He's pulled into a swift hug before he can go on. His rage and fear and exhaustion crest over him in a waterful of dizzying emotion as he feels the soft fabric of Vanitas' cloak against his cheek. He shuts his eyes against the onslaught and just breathes.
"Listen to me. What happened to your parents wasn't your fault and they clearly loved you very much. What happened in the labs afterwards was something that never should have occurred, and if anyone is to blame for Misha's time there it would be me." The strong arms tighten around him, the grip warm and reassuring. He feels like weeping. "You deserve a home, child, a place to finally rest. I believe that you are good and kind, and I'll repeat it over and over until you believe it too."
__________________________________
He does weep eventually, and this time he has no fever or delirium to blame the lack of control he has on himself. The Vampire of the Blue Moon holds him while it happens, occasionally rocking back and forth as they hush him in a soothing manner. By the time he's done he feels miserable and achy, eyes gritty with tears. He pulls away.
"We need to restock the house." His voice is horribly raspy but he surges onwards, too tired from the morning's events to care very much. "The kitchen's almost empty and we're gonna need fresh vegetables and milk soon."
Vanitas cocks their silvery white head, "Really? Goodness, that took less time than I'd thought! Most of the food lasted me years before I needed to purchase more."
Well that explains why the food they'd gotten when they first arrived had looked decades past their respective expiry dates. Number 69 eyes the dining table, considering the merits of slamming his head down on it and ending this horrible fiasco. "Do you have money?"
"Not to worry, I have some stashed away somewhere from my travels, never really had use for it until now. That settles it!" The vampire claps their hands excitedly, the gesture so alike Misha he gets whiplash at the sight of it, "We'll spend today out in town. We can buy food from the market, pick up some books and clothes for you two while we're at it!"
Their loud voice brings the younger boy running into the kitchen, the little eavesdropper that he is. The dark-haired boy rolls his eyes. "The market! I want to go, I want to go!"
The Blue Vampire doesn't seem to mind, "Wonderful! Freshen up you two, we'll leave after we eat."
With that, breakfast is reheated and they all crowd around the table once more. Half-way through, the vampire complains of being full and leaves him with an extra egg, eyes wide and unsubtle as they rise from their seat. He sighs loudly at the gesture, ignoring how full his heart feels when he pulls it towards him.
Half an hour later has them out in the open air, heading towards the local marketplace. It seems that Vanitas' house is located a ways away from the town, and the walk there gives him some much needed time to clear his head. The crisp morning air is cool on his face, but not overly so. He glances next to him to check on Misha subtly, making sure he isn't too affected by the slight chill. The younger appears to be fine, running alongside them happily as he stretches his legs. He supposes the freedom will do him some good, considering they haven't really left the house since they arrived a few months ago.
Satisfied that his brother is okay, Number 69 starts to construct a list of the things they'll need to buy while he walks. Fresh produce is a given, and they're probably going to need bread, eggs, cheese and milk as well. On one hand, it might be a good idea to grab everything they need while they have the opportunity to, in case the Blue Vampire is being oddly generous. On the other hand, he muses, it might be easier to convince them to make this a regular occurrence if he plays it safe and buys the bare minimum to take it easy on their first trip.
He side-eyes the vampire and tries to hide the way his brain is rolling with questions, limiting himself to just observing. Vanitas doesn't look upset, they're holding hands with Misha and listening with great interest at whatever the small boy is chattering about. The tight feeling returns when he sees their interlocked hands, tearing his eyes away from the sight.
Their arrival at the market is a welcome distraction. It's obviously a well-traveled area but the morning rush seems to have dissipated somewhat, leaving the place with a bustling aura that isn't overly crowded. The Vampire of the Blue Moon draws their cloak up as they enter, hiding their shock of silver hair and bright eyes. It doesn't do much to hide their stunning stature though, and the vampire towers over the first of the stalls they approach. The stall owner's lack of interest makes him relax, the man is too interested in a potential customer to turn them away.
"Need some produce, then?" The man lifts his cap and shakes a hand at his wares. "I've got mostly vegetables, tomatoes and cucumbers and the like. If you want fruit though, Artie over there's probably got what you need." He points across the market square at another stall, where a shopkeeper, presumably Artie, is filling a woman's basket with apples.
The Blue Vampire looks at him questioningly, and he steps forward, raising his voice. "Thanks for the directions, we'll probably need some of both." He points at the basket holding tomatoes, "Can we buy a bag of these from you, and some potatoes and carrots if you have them?"
The man does have potatoes, which he hands over with the rest of their vegetables once they've paid. Vanitas nudges his shoulder when they leave, smiling slightly. "You're a very capable child."
He feels his ears grow warm at the repeated compliment. "Thanks, but it's not that hard," he mutters, vaguely embarrassed. "Maybe we could split up, buy things quicker that way? We still need fruit, and some eggs and dairy."
The vampire nods their agreement and hands over a small pouch of coins. The group separates, as Vanitas heads for the fruit stall while he and Misha search for one that sells cheeses. They return with a carton of eggs and a few pints of milk as well, filling the basket they bought along for the trip. The Vampire of the Blue Moon grins when they return, holding up a loaf of fresh bread along with a few bags of apples and berries. The sight of the food makes the tense ball of worry ease in his chest, and Number 69 feels better than he has in days.
While he mentally catalogs the meal's he'll be able to make over the next few weeks, The Vampire of the Blue Moon manages to run ahead, stopping at a small booth brimming with fabric. Misha is close behind.
"Look children!" The vampire's eyes widen with enthusiasm as they twinkle like stars. "I've been meaning to mention buying new clothes for you both, it's about time we replace those old ones. A coat would be nice, and maybe a few shirts?"
They end up buying some plain white shirts, pairing them with a few sets of pants as well. The seamstress working at the counter seems friendly enough, and lends a hand in finding the right size to fit on Misha's small frame. She tuts slightly as she holds up a swash of navy cloth up to his younger brother, "You could stand to eat a few more meals, young man!" She glances at him and purses her lips. "Your brother could as well."
Misha is too busy running his hands over smooth black fabric to notice her concern. "Wow, this is so soft!"
The coat looks to be well made and warm. The cloth is thick, and if the way Misha is struggling to lift it is any indication, it seems to be decently heavy as well. The seamstress hurries over.
"You like this one? I made it using the leftover material I usually reserve for my winter apparel." She drapes it over him, arranging the collar as he admires the gold clasps on the front. She steps back, presenting it to her customers. The vampire claps appreciatively at the look, while the latter shoots his brother a slight smile.
"It may be a bit much in a few months, when summer rolls around, but for now it should serve as a warm cloak for any of your outdoor activities."
It does look warm and inviting. Number 69's hands scrabble to find purchase in the lining of his shirt, mouth pressed in tight line. The seamstress gives him a friendly smile. "Would your brother like one as well? I think I have a few extra sets at the back somewhere -"
"No!"
Her smile dims with confusion and he bites back a curse at his overly loud response. "Sorry, but I'm good, the shirts and pants are enough for now." He very decidedly doesn't look in the Blue Vampire's direction, thoughts on keeping their shopping list light still fresh in his mind. They've already got more than enough, he doesn't want to push it.
"Alright then, dear. If you're sure." The seamstress returns a reassuring glance his way, turning to the matter of payment for their purchase. He spaces out slightly as money exchanges hands, hefting their precious groceries on one hip as he waits. The coat wouldn't have made him warm anyway.
They walk around the town's small streets for a while, taking advantage of the fresh air and freedom they've been missing recently. Once their hands ache from carrying their packages the vampire suggests heading home, and isn't that a novel concept. A home, waiting for the three of them to return to after a long day.
He finds the cloak later, after cooking and eating and washing up. It sits innocently on his pillow, a neatly wrapped package of black cloth. He stares at it for a beat, utterly confused. What's it doing here? He checks surreptitiously at Misha's side of the room but no, there's his coat, hanging from the rack in the corner.
He looks back at the one lying on his bed tentatively and picks it up. He unwraps the cover, relishing the way his fingers practically sink into the smooth felt of the material. It's soft, invitingly so. He puts it around his shoulders and ties the clasps.
"Oh good, you found it! Does it fit?"
It does fit, so he answers Misha's inquiry with a dazed nod. "You left in such a hurry back at that nice lady's stall, so we got it while you went ahead." The younger boy grins. "Now we can match!"
Questions bounce in his brain, and Number 69 is so tired of feeling out of control. "Did you tell the vampire I wanted it?" He curls in on himself at the implication, defensive and wary. "I told you, we need to be careful with what we buy right now."
But his brother only shakes his head, "No, they just wanted us to both have coats, since the nights are still cold right now." He tilts his head. "Are you warm?"
And for once, he doesn't need to lie as he sinks his hands into the deep pockets. "Yeah, I am."
__________________________________
Things continue changing after that. There are still slip-ups, times where Number 69 feels out of place and scared, but they are few and far between as he finds his footing with his companions. The days get longer as the nights get shorter and Paris starts to feel less like a stop along the way and more like a city he can call his own. He tries in his own way, to accept the offers of camaraderie now that he can recognize them for what they really are.
They learn more about their host as time passes, about their origins and the existence of cure-bearers. The subject of malnomens is an interesting one, and as a result the books of vanitas become a regular fixture in their lessons. They spend countless days pouring over the grimore's inky black pages in the Blue Vampire's study.
Vanitas is uncharacteristically subdued when they tell them about being born underneath a blue moon, and what that meant for their kind and kin. It's strange, but he feels oddly at ease when he sees the familiar loneliness nestled in the vampire's eyes, mirrored in his own stormy gaze. He knows what it feels like to be unwanted, to realize not only does the world no longer hold a place for you to belong, but that it never did to begin with.
But things here, with Misha and the Vampire of the Blue Moon, begin to feel startlingly right for once. He's at home when he spends time with them, reading over old medical journals and sitting at the dinner table for meals everyday. He starts to bake treats, delicately formed custards and biscuits decorated with buttercream when the old worry over food and supplies starts to fade, and is secretly pleased when his housemates are delighted by the sweet confections. The plot of soil left barren is planted with flowers a month later, and slowly the house starts to feel like a home.
It hits him one night, when he wakes to hear Misha's terrified shouts echoing in their room. The younger boy is thrashing, trying to escape from captors that aren't real. He's barely up and swinging his legs out of bed to hurry over to Misha's side when he sees Vanitas, crouching in front of his trembling form.
He watches, eyes unblinking as the vampire raises a dark hand to their lips, motioning him for quiet. The Blue Vampire hushes Misha in his sleep, running a hand through sweat-soaked curls as the boy calms at their touch. His breathing evens out as he relaxes, and Number 69 lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Vanitas remains there for a minute, turning to him with a question in their bright eyes. His throat tightens as he holds his arms out, hands outstretched. He doesn't know what this feeling is, what he's asking for, until the vampire crosses the room, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He lies back, head buzzing and heart thumping as the covers are drawn over him. His breath hitches, and the sound is too loud in the night.
"Sleep well, my child."
The Vampire of the Blue Moon closes the door behind them. He lies there after they’re gone, wide awake. He feels like something in his chest is going to burst, it might be hope, thrumming like bees over his skin. He rolls over and presses his head into the pillow, ignoring the urge to touch his forehead and chase the lingering feeling of Vanitas' gentle lips gracing his hair.
A place to finally rest.
__________________________________
Crash!
"Ah, apologies messieurs!" Amelia waves her arms as the pair jerk back in their seats in the cafe, momentarily startled by the noise.
She bends over to scoop up the broken shards of glass at their feet, shaking her head at the mess. The cup had been sitting innocently on her serving tray as she came to greet them, one left behind by a patron that had just taken their leave for the day. Knocking it over and onto the floor had been an accident, the woman assures them both.
The abrupt noise of porcelain shattering is the same, even if the floors he's imagining were kitchen tile and not the cafe's comfortable wooden boards. Vanitas breaks out of his reverie to hear Noé voice his concern and Amelia's answering, "No please, I'm fine. Not a scrape on me!"
He looks up. "Be careful with the shards, I've got bandages and gauze with me in my bag if you need them."
She smiles at his words and thanks them both for their care. She collects the broken pieces and places them on the serving tray to take away, with reassurance that she'll be back in case they wish to order anything else.
The thought captures his focus for the next few minutes, only to be interrupted by Noé's assessing violet gaze. "Are you alright? You look like you're thinking hard on something."
Vanitas curses his partner's ability to read his expressions so well, a sharp retort ready and waiting on his lips. Then he pauses. Just as the two of you are here for me… even you, the one who’s forever cold, will meet someone who’ll keep you warm someday.
"I was thinking about the Vampire of the Blue Moon," he admits, voice quiet as he fiddles with the handle of his tea cup. Noé's eyes widen in surprise at the casual mention. "There was a time, once, when we lived with them, and the sound of the cup breaking reminded me of it just now."
He doesn't have to explain who he means when he says we. Although their wounds have long since healed, the memory of that day in the amusement park is still fresh in both of their minds.
It's weirdly freeing, to not have to explain for once. He's gone so long with carrying the burden of losing Misha, of what he was forced to do all those years ago to his namesake. It's odd to know that revealing this secret to Noé feels more like a comfort than a horrifying admittance of his past failures.
"When Misha and I were younger," he begins, a small smile gracing his lips at the memory. His hourglass earing twinkles as it catches the light from the cafe windows, and its weight is so familiar that he can almost feel the Blue Vampire's presence, as if they'd just walked past their table, bracelets jingling as they move fluidly, "we lived with a vampire named Vanitas." He grins as Noé leans forward in his seat, curiosity flickering over his face as he stays silent and lets him continue with his tale, "And I broke a plate."
Fin