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The walk back to the Hotel Chou Chou after escorting Jeanne and Luca to the Altus Paris barrier was nothing short of stifling. A million questions clambered through Noé’s mind, each of them with Vanitas at their center—and it didn’t help that he could see a rose-like mark blossoming on the skin of his neck just below his shirt-collar.
He sighed. At least Paris was beautiful. The sky above him blossomed into a thousand shades of pink and orange the closer the sun drifted towards the horizon, plumes of translucent clouds adorning the heavens above as the city fell into her golden hour. Merchant stalls lined the streets, the saccharine aroma of flower bouquets and candied sweets filling the air with the decadent scent of Parisian delights. It was all so captivating.
“Hey,” said Vanitas as he stood several paces ahead of Noé. “You’re falling behind.”
Adjusting his hat, Noé said, “Oh, sorry,” as he jogged over to the shorter man. As they fell in step beside each other, Noé exhaled heavily and dropped his shoulders. “The city is so beautiful this time of day.”
“I guess so,” Vanitas mumbled, his arms raised as his hands cupped the back of his head. He pursed his lips and gazed straight ahead through half-lidded eyes. “You get fascinated by the strangest of things...”
And there it was, that unmistakable yet infuriatingly illusive murmur in his chest that sent aches through his ribs. A heart-palpitation that occurred at the oddest of intervals, and seemingly only when Vanitas was involved. It was awful.
“Jeanne seems to like it,” he said, the words slipping past his lips before he could identify them. Why did he bring her up at a time like this?
“Hm? Yeah, I suppose she does,” he mused, not sparing another syllable on the matter.
Somehow, Noé managed to maintain a poker face as he added, “You seem to like Jeanne.”
He scoffed, the faintest of smirks toying with the corner of his lip. “She’s lovely, but I merely find her amusing,” he said, moving to put his hands in his pockets. “I really don’t like anyone.”
Another tremor?
“Why not? She’s...” Well, he’d never given her attractive attributes serious thought, so he fumbled for a moment. “...Strong.”
“Strength isn’t a reason on its own to like someone,” Vanitas quipped. “Besides, I could never keep up with her attitude like I can with you.”
When would these heart pains end?!
“Then why did you kiss her that night?”
“Quoi?”
Noé looked at the man, the golden glow of the distant sunset illuminating his ocean blue eyes with a fire he’d never seen before. It took a moment to collect his bearings. “That night, while we were searching for Monsieur Berneux after the nine-fold murders and we were instead faced with Lord Ruthven’s Bourreau, the Hellfire Witch. We were overpowered against her, but managed to succeed due to quick thinking and an environmental advantage. While you were negotiating with Jeanne—and I was subduing Luca—you said some things that I couldn’t hear, and then you kissed her.” Vanitas blinked. “I wonder how you could have done that had you not liked her in some way?”
Vanitas stared up at Noé with wide eyes and a pale complexion, until a Cheshire grin broke over his features. “Wow, Noé, how long has this been on your mind?” he cooed, smirking horribly.
“My heart... Something is dreadfully wrong with it!”
As a blush began to rise beneath Noé’s eyes, Vanitas’ expression only became more and more... Vanitas-like. “I think I know what the problem is,” he teased, wagging a gloved finger in front of his nose. With a swift motion, he tugged them out of the populated street and into a secluded alley. As Vanitas pushed Noé against the bricked wall, his heart wasn’t the only organ giving him trouble—it seemed his lungs and stomach were afflicted by the disease as well.
“You like Jeanne, don’t you!”
“No I don’t.”
“Aw, don’t be like that—”
“I don’t!”
The smile dropped from his demeanor, and he backed away from the vampire he had so recently dominated with ease. “Don’t lie to me, it’s written all over your face.”
“No, it’s written on your face!”
“Quoi?”
“You like her!”
“Quoi!?”
Vanitas gesticulated wildly, sputtering all the while. “I literally just told you that I don’t, you buffoon!”
“Then how could you kiss her like you did!?”
“Mon Dieu, this again? What is it with you tonight?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea!”
The two paused, watching each other intently as they attempted to decipher the atmosphere between them. Vanitas sighed, running a hand through his bangs. “If you want to know how I kissed her, fine.”
His movements dripped with confidence as he stepped between Noé’s legs, gloved hands grasping at his coat-collar as he pulled the taller vampire down, down to meet his parted lips. As they made contact, Noé’s pulse raced through his body at the divine taste of Vanitas’ mouth; and Vanitas had not expected Noé’s lips to bear a supple texture as they did. And yet...
It was over too soon, Vanitas pulling back and beginning to walk away almost as fast as the whole ordeal had begun. Standing at the edge of the alley, the tips of his boots beyond the precipice, Vanitas stood with his back at the vampire.
“See?” he began, his tone breathless, “How could I kiss you like that if I didn’t like you?” A chuckle passed his lips—the lips Noé had tasted barely half a minute ago—and he turned to look at his flustered companion with his usual devious smirk. “Riddle me that, vampire?”