The frustration of travelling
One sure thing in Vanitas’ life is clearly all the kinds of bad dreams, haunting him over and over for every other night of his sad, poor existence and possibly even after it in the bed of death on the last day of the afterlife. There was no possible escape from them, coming back like a stupid boomerang you want to throw so far away, but it only comes back, like a loyal puppy of an abusive owner who doesn’t know any better. Like a little human being who never saw the mystical unconditional love, living in between burning flames, letting them cradle him to sleep.
Nightmares were the only predictable thing in his changing adventures, which just made this toxic need of it, the addiction of being burnt alive from inside in the greatest movie you ever play in, hiding the pain and every grimace under the blanket of
The nightmares were so weirdly mixed with the past and future, ending up with that silly salad of confusion he seems to be just a slave to. And Vanitas gets used to them so badly that after another night of witnessing the death in its true and clear self, he just wakes up and goes along with his non-existent routine. But there is that one nightmare that can keep him awake for days, reacting physically to the whole overwhelming stress of the pushed-away trauma he refuses to deal with, deadly sure it’s his own punishment, then, still believing, it’s still not even close to atonement for his own cruel sins, not the little taste of it.
For Vanitas, there was always that one weird dream, haunting him for decades (even if he was only 18 years old by now). The same scream, the same feel of blood on his cold, trembling hands, yet the faces get more and more blurry, sometimes being mixed with the ones he may have seen during the previous day; sometimes it’s just some shape without any real appearance, and sometimes it’s no one else than his beloved Noe. And God save his poor, tired heart; he cannot touch the man for the next few days after this happened, afraid that it would make him vanish, hurt, or completely disappear from his already falling existence. And the worst part? The knowledge that it was just a dream, nothing more, but seeing there a bit of truth, a possible future, which would end up making cruel things to both of them, like he always does, no matter what he would like to change or decide.
After all, one of them is a poor little mortal.
Seeing the same scene playing in front of his eyes, burying him deeper and deeper into the thick, stinky mud, holding tight to his neck, unable to breathe, slowly choking on his own imaginary because of his own body fighting against him, like they are not on the same boat, floating through the endless sea of blood they end up in. And his arms could just try to grab something, anything, just to end up catching nothing, drowning in his own guilt and fear, his own little poor heart, unable to get better, falling in that bottomless pit of darkness.
“Jeez, man! Slow down there!” But Vanitas didn’t have time to listen to the good ol’ boy Shunpike jumping out of the Faulty Knight—magic bus—before it fully stopped, just to stumble over a small rock and throw up on someone’s grass as he couldn't stop the acids from burning their way out of his throat in the brutal reminder of his crimes. Awful, cruel crimes he could not even forget due to the constant reminder. It was stinky, disgusting—he is disgusting in every meaning of this filthy word.
The vomit burnt him from the insides before going out in the shaming way he could never keep away from. It hurts his nose with its hideous scent, making him only want to get rid of any mineral from his already trembling body, choking him in the same way on—at some point—nothing at all. The horrible gag and sudden hand on his back make him flinch at the suddenness of this move. Face grimaced at the soft but so loathsome, worrying voice mumbling over him, like atrocious ringing bells in his ears, which weren’t making it already difficult for him to simply focus on anything else than to keep the conscious, which was slipping like sand between his fingers. So pathetic, even at his poor standards, hoping to disappear as far from here as possible and even more just to make double sure no one would ever see him like that again..
The muddy grass under his hands felt like sticky scarlet blood he once dipped in, and now he can't get over this terrifying feeling of his own skin betraying him, burning from inside. Cold air around him sinking into his bones, sticking to them like burrs to the dog's fuzzy tail, tangling it into an unbreakable mess of sadness and emptiness, filling him like water would the empty glass, letting the liquid fall over as it ended up over the edge. It’s now too full, spilling at every side of the world, breaking the once strong cup into some lost pieces that cannot be put in place again.
But it all couldn't happen just because of that stupid nightmare—Vanitas knew it quite well. Every detail of the same vision, every little symbol that is slowly infecting his own tired mind. Even in moments like that, his logical side could not let the guard go down so simply, not when he was around anyone, not when he was so vulnerable in this pathetic state of his treacherous, betraying body. The dream might be terrorising, but it wasn't the first time he was experiencing it, not even the most horrifying one, if he needs to be honest. Did he eat something expired? Or is that cold weather in Great Britain already catching him? God, he hopes he is dying, not sick.
Wiping the disgusting mess from his mouth using the lovely sleeve of his coat, he would be caring about later that day when it comes to cleaning the stinky stain he just left to somehow keep the pieces back together and act like nothing happened. Not only embarrassed, but also getting a bit irritated by the way his body is acting right now, like it couldn’t play “vulnerable” and “sick” at home. No, it needs to be in front of a small public; it wouldn’t be needed if there weren’t any spectators watching him like the most pathetic little broken puppy they found. At least Noe was looking at him that way, which made Vanitas want to throw up again, but this time at the vampire, so the man would have something more important to care about than his sick friend on, actually already over, the edge.
“And what are you lookin’ at, boy?” Vanitas hissed to the teenager, who was just sitting on the slightly wet ground, a bit shocked seeing the weird bus and two men, where one of them is actually giving back to earth his poor breakfast. “Never saw a man throwing up? You better check if your mother stops giving pussy to everyone. Bitch.” With these words, he surely deserves the sharp gaze from the vampire, who in the other situation would simply reprimand him, but this time deciding to keep the silence, which only annoyed the doctor, who doesn’t appreciate this in any way. The pity in those breathtaking violet eyes was killing him piece by piece, making him more and more disgusted by himself for ending up in such a humiliating position on the ground, not so far from his own stinky puddle of this not-fully-digested meal. Disgusting, so disgusting.
“Your mother is a bitch! Not mine! Take these words out of your mouth!” Boy seems to treat these words seriously and by heart, not saving on the anger that was boiling in him roughly with every passing second, sounding like that thin teenager is ready to fight for dear life for the honour of his lovely mom, he must love so much. Such a gift to have this type of a son, who would protect a good name of yours regardless of anything. However, Vanitas was already annoyed by his own situation, letting the shame simply change into the furious and harsh words, even while knowing it would bring only more harm than relief.
“Yeah? Joke's on you; I don’t have one.”
Suddenly a glance from the boy caught men’s attention. Is there something dangerous waiting to attack them in these weird-looking bushes? Or was it just the wind? As Noe was looking quite confused, even a bit scared, Vanitas was not able to hide his frustration, and the weirdness of this situation could not make him chill down a bit. To say the least, the doctor was furious, as the whole river of anger seems to be covering most of the land of shame the man is feeling right now after that pitiful act of vomiting almost on his own fancy boots. This whole frustration got rid of the fear, or at least covered it enough to not be noticeable, making him stand up with some help from Noe's shoulder, tilting his dizzy head to the right, trying to see something—at this point even a bird—that could make that boy in glasses so scared like the only darkness of night wasn't enough. The shiver runs through his spine, shaking him off the searching, letting it stay as a wind or unharmful animal—whatever would just shut his mind from running through possibilities. The last thing he needs right now is to catch a cold or whatever else Great Britain has to offer at this time of the year. And all that just to cover his little lie. Amazing, just amazing.
“What? Did you lose your dignity, or something?” Vanitas hissed to the boy, deciding to somehow deal with the whole box of emotions in him in quite a childish way of screaming at someone else. It never works, only hurts others, and the doctor knows about it pretty well already, but God… sometimes it’s just too much to deal with in a sinister way, ending up acting like an emotionally immature teenager whose parents didn’t let him go and do drugs or some other crazy shit these young people get involved in. I don't know myself; my mama doesn't let me go out at night, and after all, where would I go? Drown myself in the river?
“I didn't—!” The boy could try to defend his own name, but did the doctor care? Not at all; there was no possibility for him to find it anyhow important, letting it stay just like a dog’s little shy bark, to only let him know the other one in fact heard and, most importantly, understand what he was about. At least he wasn't ignored right now, which sometimes happens.
“Then stop looking at me like a lamp on the whore and get your ass out of this ground.” Man adds reaching and pulling the frustrated boy on his feet, ignoring the way the younger harshly got his arm back to himself and moved away from these weird people, not wanting to have anything to do with them. And the boy’s aunt was calling him crazy! “Get in or get lost; I want to be in London before dinner.” Vanitas hissed, moving to pass Shunpike to get in the bus himself.
“Why would I get in in the first place?” The boy wasn't buying it, asking more questions than giving answers. For sure he was taught to not walk into strangers's cars and buses and was alarmed enough not to let his guard down no matter what. Unfortunately for him, Vanitas was in no mood to respect his careful thinking.
“You moved your wand, didn’t you, boy?” Shunpike asked, leaning over the wall, before the doctor had time to say any more harsh words. The last thing they need right now is an angry man scaring away the lost magical children they can earn on.
“Up and on the left, it’s the Faulty Knight, a magical bus. We can take you anywhere as long as it’s on the land.” Noe decided to add, since he was quite excited about something as simple as this transport, even if its ride made him also want to just throw up everything he managed to eat this morning in his and Vanits’ hurry, mostly because of the vampire’s fault only. Well… They didn’t wake him up on time! It’s not him who is supposed to be blamed for it. At least not for the whole thing. It would be unprofessional.
“... To London?” Boy asked with a bit of a hesitation, letting his wand fall down his body, deciding to use it as it’s still there. Of course he won’t let them know it was just a little mistake because he was scared of something in the bushes! Vanitas had already insulted him enough, and he won’t give that man more reasons to do so. What did he even do to him? Looked the wrong way?
The young doctor, from the other side, had had enough: the horrible nightmare, throwing up, this whole travelling, which could make the man tired so far in it—and then all the little things, like it being too cold and rainy, the cup falling from his hands; it all just adds and adds, wanting him to end it all right here, right now. If not the Vampire, Vanitas would most likely just teleport to London, without caring too much about how painful it is for him with how the doctor had changed his body just to be able to bear the Blue Moon Vampire’s blood, just to be better than anyone around. At this point, he would appreciate taking one agonising movement and having to sleep through the next few days rather than taking any more seconds of this hell.
With one harsh push, Vanitas just walks into the bus, ignoring Stanley’s voice of disapproval on being treated this way by the Frenchman. Like he is the one making it possible for them to travel, and that’s all he got? A bit of respect to this young wizard conductor.
“Don’t mind him." Noe softly spoke to the boy as well as to Shunpike, sounding less threatening than the previous man, making the doctor want to throw up again at how nice the vampire is. “He is just washed in hot water.” He adds, helping the younger with the luggage as they didn’t weigh anything at all, shocking the ones who weren’t used to that spectacular strength of his. (Un)fortunately, Vanitas could feel on his own skin how dangerous and harmful it can be if the white-haired one wasn’t as kind and gold-hearted as he is. How deadly it could get for the world if Archiviste had been raised a bit differently, not by the kind old people as he was.
“Yeah, don’t shit yourself.” Vanits didn’t stop these words from coming out of his mouth, sitting on one of the uncomfortable beds, letting his body sink a bit into the corner of the wall, looking for something between the silent and comfortable, not quite sure what to do with himself right now. The sleep was nice, but whenever he closes his eyes, the scenes of bloody spectacle are passing through his head too fast and too realistically for his own good, ending up sitting there tired, trying to gain some strength in different ways.
His poor state must have warned Noe, because the man quickly but silently excused the boy, who introduced himself as “Neville Longbottom,” and in no time bent next to him, trying to understand what’s wrong with him. Yes, the doctor was unpredictable, and his harsh comments shouldn’t even worry him anymore, but the younger one surely knows when to keep his mouth closed and not to fall over like a child. This may be because of the exhaustion he is going through right now; Vampire himself is so tired right now! All that travelling from Paris to London, in fact, is taking away some strength, and God forbid him from saying it out loud, but the whole fight not so long ago must just push the wrong buttons.
“Alright, what the fuck?” Noe asks without giving it any soft form, wanting to get the same clear answer. He may let Vanitas speak badly to him, but for God’s sake! It was a child, a worried child, and the doctor is acting like it’s the world’s fault that he threw up so ungrateful. And as long as the vampire wants to be all nice and understanding, there are the lines no one can cross without a good excuse.
“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me.” Man slid a little down on the seat, crossing his arms on his chest like a rebellious teenager. Maybe he is still in this phase? Acting all around with this stupid grin and belief that he is the centre of the universe. After all, he is almost at the right age for it. Who really knows how humans go through all this puberty and when? Maybe even the doctor is a late bloomer after the hell he must go through just because he ends up in the wrong place at the horribly wrong time.
“Answer the question, Vanitas.” The vampire tries again to convince him to give any real response and not just these smart-ass sentences, which would not guide him anywhere around. Both of them were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to just sink into the soft beds and let their bodies finally rest after a long time of standing up.
However, the doctor doesn’t even think of doing so, stubbornly sitting there without saying anything, almost like giving Noe the mystical “silent treatment," which used to annoy him, but at this point in their relationship? It’s just another thing Vanitas does, not to punish white-haired for anything or whatever other bullshit, but to give himself some time to think without needing to explain himself for not being able to correctly analyse the situation earlier.
And after that long time of dealing with this man, Archiviste teaches himself to stay calm and actually let the other one slowly put it back together at his own pace, but not leaving his side, wanting to let him know that he is still there if the talk is needed. The time they had spent together was enough for the vampire to know how much the other man appreciated the little company of him. It’s never spoken, but it is—the knowledge that if there is a will of sharing with something, Noe is close enough to listen.
With a little push, so Vanitas’ boots would be over the edge of the mattress, he sat down next to him, moving his eyes back to “Neville,”, deciding that a little talk wouldn’t kill anyone, and since they are still going to the same place, they might meet up again from time to time—who knows?