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Pure Vanilla awoke to a light, hesitant tapping at his door… so soft he almost thought he’d dreamed it. He lay still for a moment, listening. The castle was silent. Then the tapping came again, a little more insistent this time.
He sighed quietly and pushed himself upright, the blankets slipping from his shoulders. Moonlight spilled through the tall window beside his bed, painting the floor in pale silver. Still night, then. Far too late for visitors, and far too early for morning worries.
The tapping came a third time.
Pure Vanilla swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his robes out of habit more than necessity. He tied the sash loosely at his waist as he walked to the door, his steps quiet against the cold floor.
When he opened it, Shadow Milk stood alone in the hallway.
The corridor behind him was dark, only a few torches flickering along the walls. Their light didn’t quite reach him, leaving half his face in shadow. He was staring down at his feet, shoulders slightly hunched. He looked… small. Smaller than usual.
“Bluebird?” Pure Vanilla whispered softly. “Do you need me?”
Shadow Milk didn’t answer right away. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, he just stood there with his hands fisted together tightly at his sides. Then, slowly, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
Shadow Milk’s expression was carefully blank, but his eyes gave him away. Tired. Uneasy. Like he’d been awake far too long with thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone.
That was all Pure Vanilla needed to see.
He reached out without another word and gently took Shadow Milk by the arm, warm fingers wrapping around his sleeve, and tugged him inside the room.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the cold hallway and the dark.
“You can’t sleep,” Pure Vanilla said quietly, not as a question but a soft observation.
Shadow Milk shrugged one shoulder, trying for nonchalance, but it didn’t quite work. “Sleep is terribly boring,” he muttered. “Lying there doing nothing, thinking about nothing… dreadful activity, really.”
Pure Vanilla smiled faintly at that, because they both knew it wasn’t true. Shadow Milk’s mind was never empty, never quiet. That was the problem.
He guided him further into the room. “Sit,” he said gently, gesturing toward the edge of the bed.
Shadow Milk hesitated like he might argue, but then he sat, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Pure Vanilla moved to the small table by the window and poured a glass of water, then handed it to him. Shadow Milk took it without looking up, turning the glass slowly in his hands instead of drinking.
“You came all the way here just to stare at my floor?” Pure Vanilla asked softly.
Shadow Milk huffed a quiet laugh at that, but it sounded tired. “Your floor is very nice,” he said. “Very… floor-like. Marble.”
Pure Vanilla sat beside him. Not too close at first, just enough that their shoulders almost touched.
They sat in silence for a moment longer.
Then Shadow Milk leaned sideways, just slightly, until his shoulder rested against Pure Vanilla’s arm. It was subtle, like he was pretending it was an accident.
Pure Vanilla didn’t comment on it. He just shifted a little closer so the contact was more comfortable.
“You can wake me up,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to stand in the hallway by yourself knocking. You don’t need me to let you in, you are always free to come.”
Shadow Milk didn’t respond right away. He stared into the glass of water, watching the moonlight ripple across its surface.
“…I know,” he said finally, very quietly.
After a moment, he leaned a little more, his head almost resting against Pure Vanilla’s shoulder now.
“I just wanted,” Shadow Milk paused, frowning slightly like he was searching for the right words, “to make sure you were still here.”
Pure Vanilla’s expression softened immediately.
“I’m still here,” he said.
Shadow Milk nodded once, small and satisfied, and finally took a sip of the water. Then he set the glass on the bedside table and, without asking, slowly lay down on top of the blankets, facing the window.
Pure Vanilla watched him for a moment, then pulled the blanket up and draped it over him anyway.
Shadow Milk didn’t protest. He just grabbed a corner of the blanket and held it loosely in his hand, like a child who wouldn’t admit they wanted comfort.
Pure Vanilla dimmed the lamp until the room was almost dark, then sat back on the edge of the bed.
After a few minutes, Shadow Milk spoke again, voice quieter now.
“…You didn’t ask what was wrong.”
Pure Vanilla folded his hands in his lap. “You would tell me if you wanted me to know.”
Shadow Milk was quiet for a long time after that.
Then eventually,
“Nilly, I need you.”
Pure Vanilla didn’t hesitate. The moment the words left Shadow Milk’s mouth, soft and unsteady in a way he almost never allowed himself to sound, Vanilla fixed the small space between them. Shadow Milk was still laying down, but the second Vanilla came close, Shadow Milk reached out and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him forward.
Vanilla let himself be pulled without resistance, and a moment later Shadow Milk wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down against his chest, holding him tightly.
It wasn’t a graceful hug. It wasn’t polite or careful or composed. It was desperate and tight, like he was afraid Vanilla might disappear if he didn’t hold on hard enough.
Vanilla adjusted slightly so Shadow Milk wouldn’t have to strain, one hand coming up to rest gently on his shoulder, the other lightly holding the back of his arm. He could feel how tense he was, how tight his grip was, how his breathing wasn’t quite steady.
“I’m here,” Vanilla said softly.
Shadow Milk didn’t answer, but his grip tightened for a moment before slowly loosening just enough so it wasn’t crushing. He pressed his face into the fabric of Vanilla’s robes, hiding there, like he didn’t want to be seen right now.
For all his tricks, all his sharp smiles and clever words, Shadow Milk had moments like this, quiet, hidden moments where he just seemed tired. Not physically, but something deeper than that. Tired in his mind. Tired in his heart.
Vanilla gently moved one hand up and rested it on the back of Shadow Milk’s head, fingers lightly brushing through his hair in slow, calming motions.
“You don’t have to explain,” Vanilla murmured. “We can just stay like this.”
Shadow Milk let out a slow breath against his chest, and Vanilla felt some of the tension leave his body. His hands loosened slightly where they gripped the robes, but he didn’t let go.
They stayed like that for a long time, sitting on the edge of the bed, Shadow Milk holding him like he was the only solid thing in the world, and Vanilla letting himself be held without complaint.
After a while, Shadow Milk spoke again, voice muffled.
“…Don’t leave yet.”
Vanilla’s hand stilled for just a second before he resumed gently running his fingers through his hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
Shadow Milk nodded faintly against him, though Vanilla wasn’t sure he could feel it. His grip loosened just a little more, but he still kept one hand tightly in the fabric of Vanilla’s sleeve, like a promise that he was still there.
The room was quiet, the moonlight still spilling across the floor, and eventually Shadow Milk’s breathing slowed, evening out as he relaxed against him.
Vanilla didn’t move.
He just stayed there in his arms, letting him hold on for as long as he needed.