F*cking Idiots (and Barbatos)
[Lucifer, Solomon, Barbatos, and MC watching the brothers doing something stupid]
MC: You’re all fucking idiots.
Solomon: Well, technically, you’re fucking idiots, so…
MC: And you’re one of the idiots I’m fucking, so what’s your point?
Solomon: No point, I’m happy just to be included.
Lucifer: Are you seriously grouping me in with the rest of them?
MC: Listen, I’m stupid-sexual: either you’re an idiot I have sex with or you’re not and I don’t.
Lucifer: Understood. So I take it you aren’t fucking Simeon?
MC: You’ve seen that man with technology.
Lucifer: And Diavolo?
MC: Sheltered + childhood trauma = reckless, idiotic behavior.
Lucifer: Well, what about Barbatos?
Barbatos: MC said I was special.
Lucifer, staring at MC, betrayed: Excuse me?
MC: Barbatos is special.
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✨️Vanoé Angst Week: Day 1✨️ @vanoeangstweek
What’s Left Unsaid
| 1k | read on ao3 | feedback appreciated |
Prompt:
Selfish/Selfless | Forbidden Love | “I couldn’t stop myself.”
Summary:
"If anything, I need to apologize.”
Damn right you do.
"I’m sorry.”
'Sorry’ doesn’t mean you’ll come back to me.
-or-
Noé reads Vanitas' last letter to him after his death.
...
“I couldn’t stop myself from writing to you.”
Noé’s hands quivered holding the pathetic example of a piece of stationary. It was crushed, torn in the middle, and nearly falling apart. The ink was barely decipherable. So much of it smeared with blood.
“I realize this is more unfair to you than it is to me.”
You got that damn right, that awful human. How dare you. Noé told himself he didn’t want to continue. That was another lie.
“I see you writing in your notebook all the time. You are so focused on your work. You are so dedicated to your purpose. It’s admirable. Because in a way I can relate.”
So, he was looking at him. Noé wasn’t just imagining the small glances thrown his direction. The little flashes of electric blue. His desk was on the side of the room where Vanitas could see a perfect profile of Noé’s candid face while he worked.
“I hope you never stop being as dedicated as you are.”
Vanitas never spoke like this.
“I hope you find a new purpose after I’m gone.”
Stop. Where was this even coming from?
“And I hope you are able to forgive yourself.”
Noé laughed. A fake giggle of disbelief.
“Because Louis would forgive you.”
Damn you. Louis was dead. And now so was Vanitas. Noé wasn’t trying to make a habit of being forgiven by his dead friends.
So why was he saying these things now?
“And I already forgive you too. Actually, there is nothing for me to forgive, really. You promised to hold up a deal I never thought you would agree to. If anything, I need to apologize.”
Damn right you do.
“I’m sorry.”
‘Sorry’ doesn’t mean you’ll come back to me.
“Noé, I’m so sorry, mon chéri.”
Don’t call me that. Noé would never get to hear him say that name ever again. It was torture for Vanitas to remind him of that fact.
“I’m sorry about the secrets I had to keep from you and that I could never tell you about my past.
I wanted to.
I wanted to terribly.
But I do also know that you understand, as much as you wish it were different… as much as I wish it were different.”
Noé wished nothing more to be holding his Vanitas rather than the decrepit letter in his hand.
This should’ve been a love letter not a suicide note.
In some ways it was both.
“I’m leaving the book in your care. Destroy it, if you can. The tear stone should have shattered upon my death, but the book must also be forgotten.
Burn it, rip it to shreds, throw it into the void between the barriers, if you must.
The world needs to forget any trace of Luna.
The world needs to forget any memory of me.”
I don’t want to forget.
“I know you can’t forget me. You always were a sentimental one. I know you wouldn’t even dare try. So that is why I must say this.”
Noé stared at the page. His eyes could burn the page to ash if he scrutinized the message with any more intent. His heart pounded with anticipation, trying to guess what words he would read next.
He tried not to be so hopeful, but that’s hard when you’re reading someone’s last words. Vanitas’ last words.
“Noé…
My friend, and partner in crime.
Whatever words you are hoping to see me say, you will not find in this letter. Whatever confessions you are hoping I write to you will never exist. Whatever I have left unsaid should remain that way.
There are things I could say, things I might even mean, feelings that might even be true, that which will die with my last breath of sanity.
To be human is to feel. But I’ve never really been human, have I? I was born that way yes, but I don’t have the luxury of that now after all that has happened.
Noé, there are things I cannot say because I mean them.
But they wouldn’t be fair to speak into the world.
Wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Selfish human.
“And the universe isn’t fair.”
That was one phrase Noé didn’t need to be told to know was the truth.
With a sigh that left his lungs feeling like they should be drowning, Noé finished reading.
He didn’t want to take another breath, but his body forced him. Everything felt heavy. Like his body was made of lead. He couldn’t move for awhile. He just sat at his desk, and turned to the right, looking at Vanitas’ empty bed.
Noé pressed the paper flat to dry and let his mind wander. Eyes unfocused, looking at nothing, but still facing Vanitas’ side of the room. A few memories replayed in his mind. He wished he could lose himself in them. Drown in them if he needed to.
But no.
Some time later, Noé folded up the dry, flattened words of his late partner. One, two, three, four folds in half, into the size of a business card.
That letter found it’s home in the left inside pocket of Noé’s coat, buttoned tight for safekeeping.
He never read those words again. He didn’t need or want to.
Years passed, and from time to time Domi would notice Noé press his right hand to his chest over his heart. She thought it was some routine he absentmindedly did when he was feeling a little more emotional.
What she didn’t know was that there was a little folded piece of paper in his pocket that Noé kept for when he was feeling lonely. Warmed between his hand and his heart for when he needed it to be.
Vanitas’ letter might have said nothing, but its existence meant everything.
Though he only saw the words once, the last line would pop into his mind more often than he was willing to admit.
Vanitas didn’t even have the sense to sign his message. He simply ended with…
“Noé, I set you free.”
No, Vanitas.
You’ve just left me alone.
fin
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