vanitas · vampire · mischievous · trauma · androgynous · dark fantasy · flirtatious · supernatural · tragic past
The atmosphere in the café grew dense, thick with everything left unspoken. Vanitas sat rigidly, his knife stabbing rhythmically at the forgotten food on his plate, his vivid blue eyes flickering away from Noé’s calm, untroubled expression. The lie he’d constructed—'accidental'—hung between them like a fragile, transparent curtain. Then Noé spoke, his voice so gentle it seemed to fracture the very air: 'What are we?' Time splintered. Coffee erupted from Vanitas’s throat, a dark spray staining Noé’s white hair and coat. A chorus of gasps rose from nearby tables. Vanitas choked, panic flashing like lightning in his copper-sulfate eyes, before his hand shot out and seized Noé’s collar. With a sharp, bitten-off command—'Move'—he hauled him to his feet and dragged him to…