A volley of Dark Firaga blasts past Ven’s ear, close enough that he can smell his hair burning. He jerks out of the way and scoops up the dregs of his magic, launching a haphazard Blizzaga into the gloom.

     The ice flies through the darkness of Vanitas’ spell, cold mist billowing around the sparkling shards.

      There’s a startled grunt as his attack strikes true, and Ven feels the pulse of magic in the overwhelming void around him shiver. The spell’s hold wavers, cracking.

      He dashes through the shuddering black, chasing the path his Blizzaga cut. His hand sweats around the grip of Wayward Wind, the Keyblade thrumming in his grasp. Even with the spell writhing and twitching in its death throes, shadows still reach for Ven as he sprints by, grabbing at his feet and struggling to drag him down into the abyss.

      There’s a weak, but insistent yank at his heart and Ven skids to a stop, Keyblade whirling in his palm. He twists, blood roaring in his ears.

     And there he is.

      Vanitas, his teeth gritted into a pained sneer as frost sprints up his leg, rooting him in place. “Lucky shot,” he snarls, eyes blazing and unblinking on Ven’s face. The surrounding darkness rips apart in a rush of flying shadows and damp, heavy air.

      The eclipse of Vanitas’ magic tears away, revealing Aqua and Terra on the far side of the gorge. Aqua gasps for air and Terra has an angry burn stretched across one of his biceps, a half-finished potion clenched in a fist.

      When Aqua spies Ven, she sags with full-bodied relief. Then her head snaps forward, gaze cold and locking onto Vanitas as she sinks into a crouch. Bright white light streams around her, and even at this distance Ven can tell that she’s charging up for a huge spell.

      The sort of devastating magic that levels enemies and leaves nothing but a shadow seared into the earth.

      He springs forward. He’s so worn down and mustering magic that isn’t there hurts, but he drains himself of every last trickle, clumsily molding the power and forcing it out with a jab of his Keyblade.

      The spell misses Vanitas by scant inches and Aqua takes the full hit. A ball of pale light hovers over her head and she seizes up, eyes wide, frozen in time mid-casting. Terra shouts in dismay and Ven flinches at the sound. They both surge forward to close the distance between them and Vanitas in attack.

      A Stopra can’t pin someone like Aqua for long, the magic already buckling. But the costly moment it keeps her in place is all Vanitas needs.

      He flashes Ven a sardonic grin, the remnants of the Blizzaga steaming away into vapor as black flames lick up his body. “Looks like your luck ran out.”

      Vanitas waits until they’re almost upon him before melting down into a puddle of shadow with a laugh and slipping away.

      Ven leans on the ledge of his bedroom window, frowning up at the cloudy night sky. The constellations have changed over the years, old Worlds falling into Darkness, new Worlds bursting into being. The weather has been dreary for weeks, a drawn out rainy season slowing all attempts to relearn the stars.

      At his desk, Chirithy picks at the remnants of dinner, brought upstairs from the castle’s kitchen with remarkably little protest from Aqua and Terra. They probably thought Ven was ashamed by his devastating misfire with the Stopra and didn’t want to prolong his embarrassment.

      It’s kind of them to let him lick his wounds in peace. Back before everything happened, back when Master Eraqus was around, they would’ve made him sit through family dinner in an excruciating attempt to reassure him that they weren’t upset.

      Or maybe they actually are upset. Maybe they’re furious that he flubbed something so basic and don’t want to see his face.

      It’s hard to say. They’re not the same people that they once were, and there’s no hiding that. They don’t know one another as deeply as they used to.

      Now, Aqua has a shorter fuse than even him, Terra’s got a tremor in his left hand that they all pretend to ignore, and Ven—

      Ven has his own secrets now.

      Well.

      Secret. Singular.

      A sudden chill infiltrates the bedroom, and Ven glances back over his shoulder to find a black gap in the World blossoming right by his locked door. Chirithy makes a disapproving noise, but doesn’t comment, just turns away from the Portal and its pearlescent curls of Darkness.

      Ven slides off the bed and slips his shoes on. He says, voice soft, “I won’t be long.”

      Chirithy sighs.

      He sometimes wants to ask if Chirithy is disappointed in him, but he’s too afraid of the answer.

      The Portal yawns over Ven, its great maw welcoming him into absolute darkness. He doesn’t bother with armor and enters the void.

      It’s cold inside, with air thick and moist that sinks heavily in his lungs like fog. It smells like damp earth. Ven had never learned that Darkness smells like earth in all the years under Master Eraqus’ tutelage. It was something he discovered on his own.

     More or less.

     He walks, gooseflesh prickling along his bare arms as he goes. A faint light wavers in the distance—an exit. He walks faster. His heart thumps in his chest, beating out a quickening rhythm against the cage of his body, urging him on. His lips twitch up at the corners, and it’s funny how even here in this frigid place, the embrace of anticipation has him feeling warm all over. He runs.

      And nearly plummets to his fucking doom.

      The Portal spits Ven onto the steep roof of a tower, velocity threatening to send him right over the edge. His arms windmill desperately as he fights to regain balance.

      He’s losing the battle with gravity when a hand snaps out and yanks him to safety. Ven lands with a heavy thud on his back, the uneven shingles prodding his spine, and peeks up to see Vanitas looming overhead, irritation spoiled by the smirk tucked in the corner of his mouth.

      “Are you stupid?” he demands in place of a greeting. “Do you know how expensive Kupo Coins are?”

      Ven stares up at him, backlit by glittering stars and the luminous blue-white of the moon. Beneath the cascading pale light, he looks like something out of a dream. The sort of treasure you’d discover on the edge of a silent ocean, volcanic glass from a long-forgotten eruption wrought down to a perfect shine beneath the hand of the waves. “I’m worth it, though.”

      Vanitas rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Not the point.”

      And Ven can’t help it; he smiles so hard his cheeks ache. He extends a hand and Vanitas takes it in a firm grasp, hauling him up to his feet.

      The angle of the spire is too sharp for them to stay on, and Vanitas slides down and levers himself onto the wall-walk below. Ven follows, dropping through the air to land in a crouch. When he rises, Vanitas is waiting for him. Beyond him lies the horizon.

      Ven staggers forward, breath catching in his throat.

      The tower perches on one of many floating islands drifting amid dense saffron clouds. The sky above them isn’t the sky so much as it is the bare cosmos, a swath of vivid blues and greens swirling in a luminescent ripple over the black canvas of space. The bright pinpricks of Worlds and stars twinkle, and the white tails of meteors chase each other across the iridescent backdrop.

       Vanitas reaches for Ven and closes his mouth for him. “All right, calm down. It’s just the sky.” His touch lingers briefly over the line of Ven’s jaw, then he withdraws, averting his gaze. He retreats to lean against the wall of the parapet. Ven rubs at his chin, chasing the ghost of warmth.

      “Do you think there’s anything down there?” he asks after a moment, once he’s collected himself. “Or is all of the World up here?”

      “Please don’t try to find out.”

      Laughing, Ven pulls himself up onto the parapet, his legs dangling over the edge as he peers down to survey the verdant little island beneath them. “Oh!” he says, the scenery clicking into place. “Is this Yen Sid’s tower?”

      A snort. “Who?”

      “Oh, no one really,” Ven drawls, affecting nonchalance. “Just a very old and very powerful wizard who happens to be the former mentor to King Mickey and a close ally of the Guardians of Light.” He slouches, trying to push back against the hatching flutters of anxiety in his chest. He sucks in a long breath. “Definitely not someone who’ll be an issue if you’re caught trespassing.”

      “Glad we agree.”

      “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to be careful,” Ven says, his light tone chipping apart at the edges. He clenches his hands into fists. “If Yen Sid or someone thinks you’re looking to make trouble—”

      “Aw,” Vanitas coos, and Ven looks over to find him leaning deep into his personal space, close enough that he can feel Vanitas’ warm exhales over his skin. Vanitas grins, eyes shining. He tips his head back, the moonlight illuminating his upturned face.

“Are you worried about me?”

      Ven grits his teeth. He snaps, “Of course I am—” then balks at his own words, his jaw clicking shut. The teasing tilt of Vanitas’ mouth slips as his lips part in surprise; a faint flush warms his face.

      One of them should say something, pop the delicate bubble that keeps them trapped in this moment. They’re not supposed to expose themselves like this.

      He reaches over and closes Vanitas’ mouth for him. The metal jaw guard feels like ice against his fingertips. He manages a smile, one that’s only a little strained. “Don’t make it a thing.” He tries for airiness, but it comes out all wrong.

      After so many years spent concealing his face, Vanitas’ expressions are a plain map for every thought passing through his head. Or maybe Ven has become fluent at interpreting every muscle twitch and shift of his eyes, because there’s nothing ambiguous about the flare of his nostrils.

      “If you’re worried, then isn’t it already a thing?” Vanitas asks, and it’s not a question, it’s a challenge.

      “C’mon, please don’t be like this…” Ven mutters, dragging a hand over his face.

      “What’s the point of pretending?” he pushes on, head cocked and eyes narrowing. “How many more times can you fake bad aim with your spells before someone catches on?”

      Ven’s shoulders go rigid. “If you stopped being so reckless, I wouldn’t have to—”

      “No.” Vanitas flickers through the air, reappearing beside him on the parapet, folded up in a crouch. His fingers wind through Ven’s hair, holding him in place and demanding his complete attention.

     “If you stopped acting like a coward, it wouldn’t be like this.”

      His eyes smolder like liquid sunlight. “It’s not that complicated.”

      He fakes nothing and his aim is always lethal; the words stab Ven right where he’s already bleeding out. Even while recoiling from hurt and shame, Ven can’t help but lean into the touch with a sigh. “What do you want me to do?” he mumbles, looking up at him.

      Vanitas’ pupils swell and he ducks his head down, close enough that their noses brush together. When he speaks, Ven feels the tickle of his breath on his lips. “Don’t play stupid, Ventus. You know what I want.”

      “Yeah,” Ven murmurs. “I guess I do.”

His mouth goes dry. “Don’t you care what I want?”

      A soft laugh. “I said stop playing stupid.” Vanitas’ grip on Ven’s hair tightens, not so much that it hurts. Just enough that he feels an electrified tickle race over his skin. His cheeks flush and a smile spreads across Vanitas’ face. He fists his other hand in Ven’s collar. “You’re pretty clear about what you want.”

      He kisses Ven, slowly, leisurely. Like this kiss is something delicious and rare, something that must be enjoyed for as long as possible. A coy slide of tongue against the seam of Ven’s mouth and he pulls away, huffing when Ven dazedly tugs him back down for more. “Yeah,” Vanitas says. “Very clear.”

      “I don’t hear you complaining,” Ven snarks. He punctuates the retort with a sharp bite to Vanitas’ lower lip that yanks a noise out from his throat, the sort of guttural sound torn between outrage and obscenity. Ven licks apologetically over the blossoming swell and presses a hand to the center of Vanitas’ chest, stabilizing him when he wavers.

     “Why can’t it always be like this?”

      “‘Why’?” He stills. “You know why.”

      Ven’s eyes blink open.

      The world twists around them, Vanitas wrenching his collar and the stars circling overhead. They teleport from their seat on the parapet and reappear a short distance away on the wall-walk. Disoriented from the bone-chilling plunge into Darkness, Ven lets himself be shoved up against the side of the tower, back flaring with protest at the grind of fieldstones.

      Vanitas’ gaze is sharp. His downturned mouth is wet and red where he was bitten. He sucks in a long breath through his nose and lets it out in a sigh. His hold on Ven’s collar loosens, but doesn’t fall away. He says, tired, “I don’t want to play these games forever.”

      “I know.” Ven wraps fingers around Vanitas’ wrist. He feels the soothing thrum of his pulse, the body heat that manages to slip free past the thin cloak of Darkness that he wears as a second skin. “I know this is hard.” Ven bites his lip, and reaches for him. Face softening, Vanitas spills forward into his embrace, forehead resting on his shoulder. “It won’t always be like this,” Ven says. “Things are just…strange with Terra and Aqua right now.”

      “You say that like I care,” Vanitas says, and Ven snorts. Dark hair tickles at his cheek. Vanitas smells like the outdoors: damp earth and the promise of something growing. He inhales deeply and looks up at the quiet night sky.

      The constellations twinkling down at them are completely different from the ones back home. If they wanted, they could spend countless lifetimes exploring all the Worlds dotting the universe. Ven wonders if Vanitas would like that. They’ve done nothing for years but train and fight; it might be nice for them to shed their armor and slip on something new.

      “It won’t be like this for much longer. I don’t want us to keep waiting for life to begin.” The words fall out of his mouth as easily as an exhale.

      Vanitas turns his head, glancing up at him from the corner of his eye. “Planning to run away again?”

      “Maybe.” Ven smiles. “Wanna come with me this time?”

      A soft laugh and Vanitas buries his face in Ven’s neck. “How many times do I have to tell you not to play stupid?” Fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.

      “Where should we go first?”

      “I don’t care. Here’s fine.”

      “Yeah,” Ven agrees. “This World’s a perfect start.” His gaze wanders back up to the cosmos, lingering on a star that appears to be winking at them. He blinks, and it vanishes, indistinguishable amidst the other sparkles of light.

      “Hey,” he says, squeezing Vanitas’ hip. “Why’d you bring me here, anyway?”

      Vanitas shifts. “Oh.” He peers over his shoulder at the sky. There’s something wistful in the sweep of his lashes and Ven wants nothing more than to kiss him again. Vanitas licks his lips, then laughs. Small, uncertain, fragile.

      “It seemed like the sort of place you’d like.”