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All Noé wanted to do right in this moment was to simply bask in the relief that talking things out actually worked for once. Roland was here, sitting down and listening to their side of the story. The chasseurs that had been hunting them remained standing, forming a circle around the three men on the floor, as if to cage them in, but at least no one was drawing their weapons at them. Noé rubbed at his eyes, his vision finally having recovered from that horrid flash bomb. It was the perfect opportunity in his opinion to just sit back and take a breath.
Of course, Vanitas chose this exact moment to complain about Noé’s way of doing things.
“And you! What was that stunt you just pulled? Were you trying to kill me?!” Vanitas shrieked right into his ear. Noé flinched, the sound far too much for his enhanced hearing.
“I was careful!” he shot back. He knew his own strength, as Vanitas had seen fit to point out during their argument in the catacombs, and he knew the fragility of humans as well, something that Vanitas did not apparently. “I made sure not to break anything.”
“That’s not the problem here!” Noé pouted at the human’s accusing tone. His plan worked out fine, Vanitas was fine, and now the chasseurs were listening. He sighed. There truly was no pleasing this man.
“Oh yes, before I forget!” Roland’s voice interrupted their squabble, turning both Noé and Vanitas’ attention onto himself. The normally sunny expression on the paladin’s face had shifted into what Noé deemed a more professional one. He knew the difference well enough after working at the café for a while.
Roland dipped into a low seated bow, aimed at Vanitas. The human kin of the Blue Moon blanched at the display. “Dear Vanitas, please forgive me for grabbing you in such an uncouth manner just now. My priority at the time was your safety, but that does not excuse the fact that young ladies should always be treated with the utmost care.”
Noé’s mind stopped functioning at the second half of the sentence.
What did he just say?
Vanitas raised his hackles at the sincere apology, scooting further from the paladin’s blinding presence and as a side effect closer to Noé. “Oh shut it, will you?! I’m not some delicate flower that needs protecting. And if anyone should be apologizing to me, it’s this dolt,” Vanitas hissed, jabbing a thumb at Noé.
The vampire in question said nothing to defend himself, his mind still trying to process through Roland’s last statement. Surely, Roland must have misspoken, yes? But if that were the case, Noé knew Vanitas would have wasted no time setting the man straight, even more so given his obvious dislike of the chasseur. That he stayed silent, agreeing even with the man, could only mean…
“Vanitas.” Noé finally spoke. He stared wide-eyed at the human next to him, as if he was seeing him for the first time. Vanitas stopped glaring daggers at Roland to look up at him, brows furrowing slightly at whatever face Noé was currently making. “You’re… a woman?”
Silence filled the room.
Vanitas’ jaw dropped. “You mean you didn’t know?!” she screeched, leaning back away from him. The sudden distance between them made Noé’s stomach clench uncomfortably for unknown reasons.
“Oh wow!” Roland clapped his hands together with a smile. “My dear Noé was unaware of this fact? How intriguing!”
“How was I supposed to know?!” Noé argued, his cheeks flushing bright red under the incredulous stares of the chasseurs. Was he truly the only one who didn’t know?
“Using your eyes?” Vanitas snarked, raising a hand to flick his forehead. “What good are those things if not to see what’s right in front of you? Honestly, you complete country bumpkin–”
Vanitas blinked and paused herself mid-rant. Noé could see the hundreds of thoughts flashing through the human’s mind in those bright blue eyes. “Actually, wait a minute.” She brought a gloved hand to her mouth. “This makes so much sense, quite frankly. I’m more amazed at how I didn’t notice you didn’t know.”
“Really? How so?” Roland inquired, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle Noé had made of himself. Was peace with the chasseurs truly worth his humiliation?
Noé straightened his posture as Vanitas’ gaze fell on him.
“Well, I always thought he was rather progressive for a country bumpkin,” she confessed, “but then it never made sense how one minute he’s yelling at me for hitting a woman and the next he’s tossing me around like a sack of flour.” Vanitas gave a small shrug. “I just assumed he still didn’t like me all that much.”
Noé felt his heart drop into his stomach at the last sentence. “Vanitas–” he tried.
“I swear if you try and apologize now just because I’m a woman, I will turn you to ash myself.”
Noé let the apology die on his tongue. He was unable to keep from squirming in his seat however, the guilt eating him from the inside. He hadn’t meant to make Vanitas feel lesser in any way, but that’s what he had done, hadn’t he? True, he still couldn’t say he liked Vanitas, but he didn’t not like her either…
Vanitas turned to look at him. He quickly lowered head and dropped his gaze to the ground.
She sighed, and he could imagine her lips curling in annoyance. “Hey. Look at me,” she commanded.
Noé raised his head slowly. The scowl on Vanitas’ face only deepened.
“Stop crying. It’s not like you did anything wrong…” Vanitas was looking off to the side, one gloved finger scratching the side of her face. “Man, woman, I don’t really care much for any of that stuff – gender is more a social construct than anything if you ask me – but people always make a big fuss over it and it’s so annoying. It was… refreshing, to have a male not treat me like a porcelain doll.” A light pink dusted over her pale cheeks, ironically painting her face the same palette as those porcelain dolls she so deeply despised. It was, Noé thought, a rather nice look.
Vanitas’ eyebrows pulled together, and she bared her teeth, successfully destroying any illusions of delicacy. “But that doesn’t mean you can just throw me around like a projectile whenever you see fit!” she poked him in the chest, hard enough that the nails on her gloves dug in, but Noé bore it in silence. He deserved that much.
Noé nodded solemnly. He made sure to meet Vanitas’ eyes when he spoke. “Understood. I’ll try to be more considerate in the future, Vanitas.”
“You better,” she growled, flicking her hair over one shoulder even though it wasn’t in the way. “Anyways, that’s probably why I overlooked explicitly mentioning it, at the very least. You have no excuse other than just being a plain idiot.”
“You say that as if it’s easy to tell,” Noé grumbled, biting the inside of his cheek.
Vanitas raised an eyebrow at him. “Everyone else could – except Luca, of course, but he’s but a child, which really doesn’t speak well to your observational skills. And seeing as how your friendship with that de Sade woman is faring, it’s more logical to conclude that you’re just hopelessly oblivious.”
Noé frowned. “What does this have to do with Domi?”
“… My point exactly.”
Roland chuckled at his confusion. “No worries, mon ami, it does take a bit of time for it to register. But now that you know, is it not obvious?” he pressed.
Noé tilted his head at the chasseur. The man seemed strangely invested in the unfolding exchange.
Nevertheless, Noé took a moment to consider his words. His eyes found Vanitas’ face once more, this time with the intent of studying it. Almost immediately, his attention readily latched onto those striking blue eyes. Noé had always thought Vanitas’ eyes were the most beautiful pair he’d ever seen, not just for their unique color, but also in their intensity. At times, when their gazes had locked, Noé swore those eyes could burn him up from the inside out with the blue fire contained within them. Vanitas’ lashes were also too long for a man’s, the tips curling upwards ever so slightly. And those lips were too small, too soft, glistening from the light overhead as she spoke–
“–Noé! Oi, Noé! Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?!” those lips mouthed, the tone of their owner harsh and biting.
Noé blinked, finding himself a mere inch from Vanitas’ face. That nice pink flush was back on her cheeks. Pretty.
The thought jarred Noé back into reality. He backed up, his own cheeks feeling warm as well. “Sorry,” he exhaled, somehow out of breath. His heart fluttered as though he had just run across all the rooftops in Paris. “I suppose you do have a rather feminine face after all.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
“No. That was a compliment.”
Vanitas’ nose scrunched up. “Your compliments are terrible when they’re on purpose.”
Noé ignored the jab. “If it’s not your face…” he trailed off, his eyes leaving Vanitas’ face and travelling lower, to her clothes. He was no stranger to women dressing in more masculine attire thanks to Domi over the years, but even then, her female figure was clearly visibly under the fitted apparel. On the other hand, Vanitas’ garments were all oversized, devouring any hint of curves that might lie underneath.
“You don’t seem to have much of a figure,” Noé stated honestly. He watched as the too large coat slipped off Vanitas’ shoulder again. He resisted the impulse to fix it. “Even with your face, at best you come off as a pretty male.”
“Oh dear,” Roland said, “that was not a wise thing to say.”
Noé opened his mouth to ask the chasseur what he meant by that when a threatening aura began emanating from Vanitas and, to his surprise, the female chasseur standing behind Roland. All the men in the room shivered in unison.
Clawed fingers wrapped around the rosary on Noé’s neck and yanked him down to eye level. His thoughts flashed back to only moments ago when Vanitas had called his eyes terrifying. He understood now.
“Archiviste…” Vanitas snarled, dangerous flames dancing in those blue eyes, “What did you say about my figure?”
Noé chose the smart answer this time. “N-Nothing.”
The rosary was released. “That’s what I thought.” A noise of agreement came from behind Roland.
Noé swallowed hard, clutching one hand to his chest. Women were truly fearsome beings. He loathed to think what Domi would have done had she heard that admittedly tactless comment, regardless of his intentions. It had only been a week since their departure from Altus and he already dearly missed her ability to navigate these kinds of conversations with an elegance his sheltered upbringing left him lacking. And speaking of their last meeting…
“Wait, so this was why Count Orlok offered you a separate room after the Bal Masque?” Noé realized. Vanitas shot him an exasperated look.
“What’s this? Are you two living together?” Roland grinned, eagerly pouncing on the newly revealed information. The way in which he phrased it suddenly illuminated an entirely different predicament in Noé’s mind.
Vanitas nodded, not perturbed in the slightest. “Yeah. You would not believe how much this one moves around in his sleep,” she continued, uncaring of the implications her words might provoke. “It’s almost impressive how many times he falls out of bed. Not to mention his habit of making a hug pillow out of everything in his reach.”
It was no longer just Roland paying attention to them now. The rest of the chasseurs had gone speechless as they stared, some even openly gaping, although with noticeably less stars in their eyes than their captain. Noé’s cheeks were on fire.
“Vanitas!” he pleaded, “For once, please just stop saying things!”
The blue-eyed human cackled, clearly knowing exactly what she was doing. “Oh, come now, you prude! If I’m to acknowledge my womanhood for the moment then at least let me have some fun with them,” she gestured to the chasseurs.
“Not at my expense though!” Noé pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Are you all right, my dear Noé? Do you need some medicine? I always carry some extra with me for Olivier!”
“No, thank you, Roland.” Of all the humans who could have wielded the Book of Vanitas, why did it have to be the one that seemed to find delight in harassing him? “And while we’re unfortunately on this topic,” Noé pointed a finger at Vanitas, “how could you just accept living quarters with an unmarried man who is not family?!”
Instead of getting flustered, Vanitas put on a devious smirk, her eyes half-lidded. “Oh? Should I have been afraid that this monsieur would sneak under my covers and defile me in the middle of the night?” she purred, leaning in closer until his finger made contact with her chest.
A male chasseur behind Roland choked on air.
Noé dropped his hand like it had been burned. “That is not what I meant,” he hissed. His cheeks almost hurt from how warm they were. “It’s just highly improper and dangerous!”
Vanitas stopped smiling and sighed. “Noé, darling,” she reached out and patted him on one red cheek. Noé stiffened, wary of the unfamiliar affectionate touch. “Given that you are just now figuring this out, I think you can understand why that scenario you’re imagining was the least of my worries, non? You didn’t treat me like I was a woman, so I was certain that you would hold no interest of me in that same regard. That’s all.”
The words were meant to comfort him, to put him at ease, but all they did was bring back that pain in his chest from the other day. When she had uttered those words as they stood chest to chest, a small hand around his waist and slim fingers intertwined with his as she led their dance together. I have absolutely no interest in the sort of person who would fall for me.
Noé buried his face in his hands to hide it from Vanitas, who would surely get upset at him again for making that face. “I really, really don’t like you,” he mumbled into his palms.
Vanitas laughed, the sound far too lighthearted for his thoughts right now. “Likewise. How do you think I feel with a partner who couldn’t even tell he’s been living with a woman for nearly two weeks?”
Noé lifted his head and glared. “It’s not as if you made it obvious. You kissed Jeanne for crying out loud!” He paused, eyes going wide. “Wait, does Jeanne know as well?”
“There’s another woman?” Noé’s sensitive ears caught the horrified whisper of the female chasseur. “And the one they’re involved with is Vanitas?”
“Of course, Jeanne knows,” Vanitas pointed at the spot where Jeanne’s mark of possession lay underneath her clothes. Noé’s chest tightened again at the reminder. “Well, to be fair, she didn’t know when the kiss happened, but she most certainly did after the Bal Masque. But what does that have to do with me not being female…?” she tilted her head, making her hourglass earring jangle.
Noé raised an eyebrow at her. “Even you must admit that it makes more sense to assume that the one kissing a woman is a man in most situations, and especially when taking into consideration what we’ve discussed about your, erm, deceiving appearance.”
Roland shot him a thumbs up. “Nice save!” he cheered. Noé spared a brief glance at the chasseur’s puzzling behavior.
“Captain, please don’t encourage them,” the female chasseur groaned.
Vanitas hummed, drawing Noé’s attention back to his human companion. Her right leg bounced up and down as she weighed his words. “Touché,” she conceded. “I’ll have to remedy that.”
Noé didn’t even get the chance to wonder what she meant by that when he was once again dragged down by his rosary and a pair of soft lips were pressed against his own.
He froze.
Seconds passed, and yet Noé could not find a single coherent thought in his mind for the life of him. He was nothing more than a statue, eyes wide open and staring at Vanitas’ face that was so very close to his own, even closer than before. Unlike Noé, her eyes were closed, the lashes fluttering in time with his uneven breaths. He could taste the foreign sweetness on his mouth as Vanitas’ lips moved gently against his stiff ones, similar to the delectable aroma of her blood but not quite the same. Before he could even begin to press his lips back, the pressure was gone, taking the sweetness with it.
Vanitas let go of the rosary with a huff. Noé remained stuck in place, his heart pounding so fiercely he feared it would beat right out of his chest, hands trembling where they rested on his knees. Like catching a cold.
“There, now I’ve kissed a man as well,” Vanitas announced with an air of nonchalance, as if nothing had happened. The pain in his chest returned ten-fold, and this time Noé had an inkling of what might be the cause behind it. “Does this make me sufficiently female for you, Noé?” she challenged, gazing up at Noé with her usual smirk.
The familiar sight helped Noé move again. His eye twitched.
Noé reared his head back and slammed his forehead into Vanitas’ own.
“Owww!! Damn you, Noé! What the hell was that for?!” Vanitas whined, rubbing the spot with the back of her hand.
“Absolutely not. I refuse to accept you as female,” Noé said, aware that it was more for his sanity than anything else. He could barely deal with the man named Vanitas since he had set foot in Paris. A female Vanitas would drive him into an early grave, in more ways than one. No, he could never accept this.
“Hah?!” Vanitas yelled into his ear again, a grimace marring those sweet lips. “Well, I refuse your refusal!”
“I thought you said you didn’t care about all that.” Noé felt his heartbeat slow down as they fell back into familiar banter. Yes, it was much safer to pretend this revelation never happened.
Vanitas tried to burn him with her eyes. “I changed my mind! Now hurry up and apologize for hitting a woman!”
“Hm, don’t care. Gender is a social construct, after all.”
“That’s not how this works and you know it.”
Noé turned away from the vexing human which left him looking at the chasseurs. Regrettably, they were still watching them, which meant they had all borne witness to… that. Fantastic. While most of their faces ranged from disgust to embarrassment, Roland looked as if Christmas had come early with the way he was sparkling. Noé narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man.
The chasseur captain broke off Vanitas’ tirade with a cheerful laugh. “What a terrifically intriguing discovery!” Roland put his hands on his hips, smiling with the radiance of the sun. “All right, that settles it! I’ll go with you two!”
“Huh?!
From that point on, Noé was grateful to find that he and Vanitas were more than sufficiently distracted by the case at hand and by the chasseurs that were apparently accompanying them to even think about everything that had happened. It would have truly been perfect, had it not been for one chasseur in particular. Specifically, the one who Noé now called friend and who seemed highly invested in his and Vanitas’ developing partnership.
“You two really do get along well, don’t you?!”
“WE DO NOT!”
… Noé was greatly reconsidering their friendship.