Aqua might have promised Ven that they would be able to go back home once the Keyblade War was over, but he and Terra had other plans. They’d seen so much since leaving the Land of Departure; there was no way they could just go back there and stay without having another journey—together, this time.

They reconnected with many friends they’d made before, some of them much older than they had once been, but all happy to see the three of them together at last.

It was exactly what they needed—or so Ventus thought. But then they reached Olympus, and Hercules invited them to the theater for the evening. As the play unfolded, Ven could feel Aqua and Terra’s gaze on him.

That night, they knew to say goodbye to him.

“I have to do this,” Ventus told them.

“I can’t pretend we’re whole until then.

But I promise I’ll come back.” Summoning his armor, he opened a portal to the Lanes Between. “Come on, Chirithy.”

Following his heart was something Ven had some experience with—even more so after spending so long buried within Sora’s heart. Still, it took some searching before they made a breakthrough, in a gloomy back alley of the now-empty Traverse Town.

“What’s that?” Chirithy asked, voice full of wonder.

When Ven turned around, he summoned his Keyblade by reflex. His Chirithy was holding a familiar, blue creature.

“Watch out!”

He almost struck down the Flood, until he noticed that it wasn’t attacking. It jittered in Chirithy’s arms, but seemed more at ease than Ven had ever seen such a creature before. Curious, Ven knelt in front of Chirithy, examining the Unversed.

“You’re—different.”

“Can we keep it?” Chirithy asked, holding up the Flood as if to hand it over to Ven.

“Uh—pretty sure they’re not pets, Chirithy,” Ventus replied, nervous. He pushed himself to his feet. “Still, this is good news. If there are Unversed here—”

“Aw, if you were looking for me, all you had to do was call out for me.” The voice came from behind Ven, dripping with sarcasm and painfully familiar.

“Vanitas!” Ven whirled around, his voice sounding more forceful than he’d intended. He forced himself to relax, dismissing his Keyblade and adopting what he hoped was a friendlier pose. “I wanted to find you.”

“And so you came to the world where all those who were stranded by Darkness came before.

Trying to become a poet, Ventus?”

Ven couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the remark, even though it was as acerbic as Vanitas had ever been. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Why are you here,” Vanitas said, and it didn’t feel like a question, nor a threat; his tone was a flat, resigned drone—tired, even.

“Why don’t you take off the helmet, so we can talk? I don’t even know why you’re still weari—”

“If you want to fight—”

Ven refused to let himself get cut off—or provoked. “I really just want to talk.”

Vanitas scoffed audibly, but after a still moment, his helmet disappeared in a shimmer of molten light. “There. Happy now?”

“I should ask you that question,” Ven pointed out. What I am is darkness, he’d said, and it had taken Ventus some time to piece out what he meant. “I heard a story that made me think of you.”

As if against himself, Vanitas raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Ven didn’t remember ever seeing him be curious before. It was a good look on him.

“It’s this legend, in Thebes. You’ve been there, right? I fought Unversed there, back in the day.”

“By all means, remind me of all the Unversed you destroyed. You do so have a way to lighten my mood.”

“I—” Ven bit his lip, sensing in Vanitas’s tone that he’d said something wrong, but he doubted asking what it was would be the right course of action—not now, anyway. Perhaps later, if all went well. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, nervous. “Anyway, they say that people used to be different from how they are now—that they had two heads, two pairs of arms and legs, and they lived in perpetual happiness. But Zeus, the king of Olympus, got so scared of their potential, of the power they could have, that he split them in two, down the middle.” He paused, catching the look of understanding in Vanitas’s features, but Vanitas remained silent. “So now people are as we know them—one head, two arms, two legs.

And ever since, all people live their lives trying to find that lost part of them. Trying to reclaim that happiness.”

He’d hoped that by now, Vanitas would have said something, but Vanitas remained painfully silent, crossing his arms. Still, at least he hadn’t left or derided Ventus yet. It was a start. Out the corner of his eye, Ven noticed Chirithy staring between the two of them. The Flood had started sauntering around Chirithy curiously, and the Dream Eater carefully reached out to pet it.

Distracted, Ven didn’t notice when Vanitas moved. One moment he was a few paces away, the next he was standing right in front of Ven. Even knowing what his powers made him capable of, the move still took Ven by surprise, and he recoiled, startled. He almost tripped and fell, but Vanitas grabbed hold of his upper arm and held him steady.

“You came to tell me a fable? Tell me you don’t believe this nonsense.”

Seeing Vanitas from up close like this, without any weapons between them, it was hard to remember to breathe. “It’s not about believing in it,” Ven finally managed to say.

“But doesn’t it remind you of–us?”

“Last I recall, Xehanort was anything but afraid of our power.” His words remained mocking, but his tone had lost its edge. He was toying with Ven—challenging him, even.

“I was thinking more of the end of that story. Of—trying to find that lost part.” Ven mustered all the strength he could, and added, “You do realize that the story is a metaphor for love, right? People really are looking for someone else to make them feel whole. And—” He paused, suddenly short on breath. His heartbeat felt fast enough to burst through his chest. “And so have we.”

“I remember you found friends to make you whole again, Ventus.”

“I did.” He couldn’t deny that. “But the whole time, I could feel an ache at the same time. When I found out who you were, I thought it was just the pain of missing you, but—there’s more to it than that, right? I was feeling your pain at being replaced, too.”

Vanitas narrowed his eyes, and his grip loosened on Ven’s arm. Before he could pull away, Ventus put his other hand on Vanitas’s, keeping it still.

“But you weren’t being replaced. I was still missing you, even if I didn’t know it. Just look at us, Vanitas. Your whole life, you’ve been chasing me. And the moment I found out who you were, I’ve been chasing you, too.”

At that, Vanitas looked away. “Don’t say that.” His voice broke as he said, “Why would you say that?”

It took a moment for Ven to follow his gaze, and see that it had landed on Chirithy and the Flood. A smile tugged at Ven’s lips as he looked back to Vanitas. “It’s made of your emotions, right? And Chirithy is a manifestation of my dreams.

They know how we really feel, even if we don’t.”

His smile grew wider, out of control. “Or at least, even if we won’t say it.”

“Stop it,” Vanitas growled. Despite his words, he drew closer to Ventus, his other hand finding Ven’s hip and clinging to it hard.

“Maybe I should take you to Thebes,” Ven teased. “I also met a woman who told me all about how she wouldn’t say she’s in love.”

“Will you shut up?”

“To quote our last meeting: make me.”

Ven leaned in even before Vanitas was pulling him closer, anticipating his movement as if they were one mind. Vanitas kissed him hard, hungrily, desperately, greedily. It was a kiss long awaited, long refused to oneself, a kiss that felt like it might never end, a kiss that felt like it would be the last.

Ven refused to let it be the last. When Vanitas broke the kiss, desperate for air, Ven reached into his hair, keeping him close. “Stay,” he said. “I told you I’d bring you home. All you have to do is agree to come with me.”

He sounded like he was pleading, and it should have felt embarrassing, but it was how he really felt. And if any occasion demanded honesty, this was it.

To his surprise, Vanitas didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he pressed their foreheads together. “I told you. I don’t want to disappear into you.”

“I didn’t say anything about that. I rebuilt the darkness in my heart that you took with you. I can help you build the light you were always missing.”

“And I also told you. I am darkness.”

“Yes. I get that now. You are defined by your pain, your hurt, your trauma. And mine—the one you took with you when you left. And that is okay. But it doesn’t have to be all you are.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he inched backwards and cupped Vanitas’s face with his free hand. He pressed his lips to Vanitas’s, and to his relief, Vanitas returned the kiss, until they were moving as one again. They would never be one person again, one heart, but Ventus didn’t want to go back to that.

“Just come home with me,” Ven said, breathless.

Vanitas’s golden gaze held on him for a moment, staring at him as though he was a gaping precipice and Vanitas was teetering on the edge. Then, with a deep breath, he said:

“I’d like to try that.”