Join with me, and the pain will end

Pairing: vanitas/ventus
Warnings: Blood and trigger worthy?
This is an AU Fanfic(Alternate Universe)

Don't know how to summarize this story..Read if desired.

Enjoy~
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"Why was I even born into this world?" The blonde whispered to himself, kicking away a rock into the snow. His hands were buried in his pockets, protecting them from the cold winter air as he walked along the cold stone concrete that made up the town's sidewalk.

It was December, the chilliest part of the year. The boy had left his home around ten at night, temperature dropping by the hour or even minutes at that point. But, to him, there was no point in caring for himself or anything like that any longer. Through the previous weeks, depression and other factors caused him drastic, hideous changes; his body became smaller and weak, and his skin color drained to white, no longer tan as it once was. His blonde hair grew dark and messy. His eyes, once soft and cerulean, came to be as cold as ice. He no longer had dimples, for he never smiled; he had nothing to smile about. His life was a mess, and he didn't even have parents to love him and pull him through the rubble as a lucky kid might-- he was left to be cared for by his grandfather, and even he, the only family he had, treated him like rotten trash. He didn't even have any friends. Nobody wanted to be around him, it seemed.

He had dealt with this for ten years, and now, at age eighteen, he had enough.
He took it upon himself to run away, never to return.

The blonde had made his way across the street and then, just as it could not have grown any colder, snow started to fall and land on him. Despite the weather, he found that he did not care; in fact, the cold, freezing temperature somehow gave him comfort. He made his way to the gates of his hometown's graveyard. The bars of it were as frigid as ice, but he ignored the cold and wet feeling as he laid his hands upon and opened them, closing them behind him as he entered. He did his best to make it seem like nothing had been disturbed.

He began to walk further into the graveyard, shoes thumping onto fresh-fallen snow during his journey. "Maybe I can just...fade away?" He whispered, his face itself emotionless, but a look of sadness lay in his cold, dead eyes. He could hear the icy wind blow and what little leaves the trees had left falling to the snowy ground. The sky was nearly completely dark and cloudy, but the moon shone bright in the sky above through an opening, letting him observe his surroundings. He made his way out of sight from the few night walkers that tread through the graveyard.
After all, he did not wish to be interrupted.

Satisfied that he was alone, the boy stopped by a cross-shaped grave stone and sat down before it, not caring whether or not he had disturbed the dead in doing so. He had nothing to fear anymore, really; he welcomed death. He wanted it to take him, swallow him whole into its dark embrace, so he didn't have to suffer such agony anymore. Sitting down, he felt the frigidness of the tombstone go through his clothing, sending shivers dancing up his spine and through his body as he rested his back on the cross.

Gazing around, it was quiet and peaceful. Despite being such a gloomy and dreary place, it felt nice to be here. In fact, he loved it; it could even be defined as perfect. Snow all around, the moon looking so bright and full, not a voice to be heard in the distance…he could now finally disappear. He allowed his eyes to close as snow landed and remained on his still body.

In spite of such peaceful serenity, the poor boy's mind began to rewind on him, cruelly showing him things he did not want to see twice over—such is the pitiless passage of life.
He and his grandfather had gotten in a fight. Terrible things were said, and he was hurt for it: it earned him a big, sore mark on his torso from a blow from his grandfather's fist, a wound which he still felt. He remembered being thrown to the floor and having books thrown at him. But the physical pain was not what hurt him the most; it was the words that cut much deeper into his heart. But before he could think any more of this painful topic, he heard a distant noise, like leaves being crushed. However, the boy only considered it a stray animal, so he kept his eyes closed. He could already feel the melted puddles of snow that had fallen on him, making his body temperature drop; if he was lucky, soon enough that snow would stop melting against him and he would be gone.

"My, what a beautiful sight..." A voice called, disturbing the silence. At first he thought it was himself imagining things, or perhaps him even becoming delusional, either from the immense cold, trauma, or something else.
It wasn't a female's voice, but a man's, deep and formal. Normal courtesy would have called for him to respond to that voice, but the poor boy wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He ignored whoever may have been disturbing his peace, and unwittingly allowed his mind to replay those dreadful memories once more.

"Boy, you are going to catch your death of cold out here. Don't want that, do you?" The voice called again.

This time, the boy opened his eyes and looked up, only to see a shadow blocking out the moon light. The shadow in question was actually a tall but very well built man; he couldn't see his face well, due to his teary, foggy eyes brought on by previous bewailing, but it hardly mattered now. "I don't care…" He dully replied to the stranger's question. He sincerely hoped this man wouldn't try to be a hero and call 911 or anything like that. He didn't wish to be helped.

"Don't care, you say?" He heard the stranger reply. "You should, because I might just feast on you if you decide to remain here."

Hearing that, he thought it was just a really foul joke; it wasn't funny in the least, and did nothing to raise his spirits (which was nigh impossible at this point). He rubbed his eyes to get a better look at just who was saying this ridiculous banter to him. The very first thing he noticed was that smirk on his face and those eyes; those eyes that simply must have been some sort of colored contacts, for how else could they have that strange appearance of golden cat eyes?
Age-wise, he looked maybe 2 years older than him…but more than that caught his attention. His clothes didn't seem to fit what was the new style and trends nowadays; they looked old to him, almost…Victorian?

The man's dark hair was also tied back with a red ribbon, another thing foreign to the era. He must have been dressing up to scare people or some other ridiculous ruse. "Haha...funny." The blonde spoke with tiredness, but still managed to squeeze in some bitter sarcasm. "Isn't it a little late to be dressing up? Halloween was two months ago."

After saying that, he heard the stranger chuckle, but only for a mere two seconds. "Ah, I can't tell you how many times I've heard that before... in fact, I believe I have lost count." After that, the blonde didn't even bother to reply -- he only closed his eyes once more as he embraced the cold. The freezing puddles that were beginning to soak him through and the even more frigid temperatures forming did much to accelerate the blonde's shivering.

"Greetings. I am Vanitas." The stranger addressed him, formal to a tee.
"I'm Ventus...just call me Ven." The blonde answered, also revealing his own name, albeit reluctantly.

"Care to share why you have come out here?" The man asked.
"You don't need to know…besides, I should ask you the same."
"I believe I asked you first."
"...."

Silence had taken over, and neither of them spoke for a minute or two.

"I'm looking for food." Vanitas decided to say, breaking the silence.
"Go buy some!" Ventus shouted, feeling irritated.
"I cannot."
"Why not? You're a human being, just like me. Go buy your food and leave me alone!" Ventus shouted once again, his tone as frosty and biting as the air around them.

This earned the blonde silence…and then the cold finally began to tighten its icy fingers around him in earnest, and he began shaking harshly and coughing in a way that certainly wasn't very healthy. He could still feel Vanitas' gaze on him throughout this show of imminent hypothermia, which made him feel even more frustrated.

Finally Vanitas began to speak again. "I am not human."
"Yeah, yeah, you're some kind of Halloween monster, aren't you?"
"No."
"You can't fool me."
"No need."

More silence.

"You could have been more creative with your death decisions."

Those words caused some invisible wall inside of Ventus to crack, a wall he didn't even know existed until it shattered; tears once again began to run down his cheeks as he sat in a more or less stunned silence.
"I knew it. You thought you could just die out here. I wonder why…how is it at home? Do you have a family? Friends? Someone special?"

At this point, the blonde surrendered any attempt at keeping his guard up. This 'Vanitas' person most certainly was not going to call anyone for help. Though what was basically his suicide was no longer in any real jeopardy, those questions that the man had asked just made the blonde want to curl up and cry-- instead of doing that, though, something of deadening emotion rose to the surface of his mind, erasing really anything besides the tears that continued to fall. Even the actions Vanitas suddenly made didn't faze him; his eyes were essentially blanked out and looking away as he was pinned to the cross he had been lying against. Peripheral vision showed him a smirk in the corner of his eyes, yet another thing that Ventus was not really thinking about at the given moment.


And then words, odd, shocking words, came forth from the stranger's mouth and jolted the boy back to reality.
"Join with me, and the pain will end."

Confused, the blonde could not fathom what the man meant by this. But he, for all his fallacies, knew that this person couldn't possibly end his pain; he was simply toying with him at this point…and Ventus had had enough of it.

"Liar!" He shouted, pushing the man away from him with a surge of power that seemingly came from thin air, and got up on his feet and unsteadily dashed away—or so he tried to do. Running didn't get him anywhere far, and, moments after his departure, he had already been caught. An arm had wrapped around him from behind as he ran, grabbing onto his jacket tightly, and was followed by a different hand grabbing onto his shoulder with great force…but he was not turned around to see his captor.

"You really should not have ran away. It makes my predator instincts kick in." Vanitas spoke from behind, his voice thick and heavy with…hunger? Ventus froze immediately at the mention of "predator instincts". He had no idea what was on this man's mind, but he knew he was insane: although, then again, Ventus himself also must have been insane for any of this to even be happening.

Before the blonde could even cut in with any sort of words or pleas, pain suddenly bloomed violently on one side of his neck in a shocking bolt of pure anguish, a shooting agony that made the boy's body tense up and go rigid against his will, inflicting more of the suffering that had just begun.

He was denied the merciful (but often useless) pleasure of screaming for help; the mere sounds that rose from his in-the-process-of-being-mutilated throat were short, digging gasps and chokes, terrible sounds that brought to mind someone being steadily strangled to death, or perhaps even one being stabbed in the gut and being torn open in a series of deep slashes. Such swifter deaths as those would have been liberating compared to the slow and focused pain that racked his body now.

It was nothing like having a shot, of course; it was like a thousand needles hitting him in a seemingly focused spot (or were there two?), bright red centers of pain in the crimson haze coating his mind. Somehow, through the agony, he could feel something cold that should have been warm trickling down from the site of pain to his clothes, staining them with whatever it was—it almost didn't register to him that it was his own blood soaking him through.

Unlike the previous realization, it did not take half as long to figure out just what it was that was jabbing into him and causing him to lose blood at what was now a more than tolerable rate (as if it had ever been tolerable). At first, he thought it was a knife, but it couldn't have been—the penetration surely wasn't deep enough for that, and Vanitas had an odd, different sort of hold of him. The blonde attempted to turn his head to see just what the weapon of choice was: a bad choice in retrospect, seeing how jostling whatever was in him made pain explode up and down and around the wound and it just made the torturous feeling simply more excruciating, but he caught a glimpse of black spikes of hair and then he knew.

Vanitas was biting into him.

Ventus couldn't even think straight now, as if he even could have before; his mind was simply a vermilion miasma of unexpressed screams, red flashes of NO NO NO STOP IT PLEASE STOP IT HURTS STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP leaving seared marks in his brain that seemed like they would never heal. A burning sensation crawled up from the depths of the pain and soon engulfed his body in nonexistent flame, causing him to sweat, perspiration mixing sickly with the blood that continued to increasingly drench the boy.
As his struggles began to cease, the blonde started to feel literally drained, and he began to slump. If Vanitas hadn't been holding the boy up, his now-limp body would have most certainly thumped unceremoniously to the ground, and might have just bled to death right there. It would surely have been better than enduring that agony any longer.

True to the man's words, the creature that was currently tearing into Ventus certainly fit the title of predator now.
The blonde, eyes squinted in an attempt to even stay conscious, realized he was able to form a single, strangled word: "S-Stop!"
He found himself begging with what little strength he had left; if death was this painful, he certainly didn't want it. But even with his pleas, Vanitas ignored him. Ventus had become alone once again, and that was what he had desired. But this was not how he wanted it.

After minutes that seemed like hours of the most agonizing time of his life passed, the pain finally subsided. The grip on him had disappeared, as did any attempt to keep him upright. The blonde's knees roughly met the snow covered ground, and so did his hands, trying his best to hold himself up. He wasn't sure if he was going to meet his demise right now or not, but, once more, he was ready to die again.

Shoes met his limited gaze, telling him Vanitas had moved in front of him, watching him silently.

"W-...wh-..."
Ventus tried to speak, but the words could not come out; instead, his expression came in form of fresh, incomprehensible tears. Before he fully collapsed, he was grabbed and pulled up into the arms of his…attacker? Assailant? It hardly mattered now. In the action, he caught sight of fangs and blood dripping from Vanitas' mouth. He might have screamed at the sight, but the literally drained boy remained unable to vocalize as he was embraced by the very man who had just caused him unbearable agony.

Ventus's head limply angled upwards as he was held, watching the bright moon above falter and wobble and even black out occasionally as the blonde's vision vacillated. His body halted its inferno and once again grew cold—colder than before, or so it seemed to him. That may have just been Vanitas's fault, though. His body did not seem to radiate any warmth.

"Your pain is finally over."

Ventus heard him, but remained silent.

"I told you, I am not human."

"What...are...you?" He forced himself to ask, disregarding the pain that lingered through his body.

Asking that rewarded the blonde a small laugh. "What am I...? To say it frankly…I am the walking dead."

Silence.

Vanitas seemed to chuckle once again. "The walking dead as in a vampire, I should say." He heard him add. Ventus couldn't believe this; it was hard to process with the occurrence of this "encounter" (to put it simply), but he really had no choice but to believe him. He certainly wasn't in any position to object to it. The boy wondered what would happen to him now. Would he die? He hoped so. Once again, but for a different reason, his body started to shake violently, and he felt his eyes beginning to shut with the impending blackout and relief that had previously lain just out of his reach. This was it: he'd finally gotten what he wanted.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

--

"So young…so beautiful...so-"
What had felt like the end had only given way into consciousness anew. Hearing those words, Ventus thought for sure that he was dreaming. This could all very well be just a delusion. Moonlight shone down as his vision began to clear, drifting back into some form of consciousness, though his eyesight still blurred now and then. He felt himself being propped up on something. Ventus turned his head and caught sight of him once again, the blonde's blue eyes finding closed ones. He would have thought the man was sleeping, if a hand didn't reach up and place itself onto the back of the boy's head.

"Rest." Vanitas said, his voice calm. His lips were no longer covered in blood—perhaps what had happened before was an illusion? Presently, though, Ventus wondered why this man was holding him so close. But let it slide; he was too tired to think about it much, and, in fact, it didn't feel weird to be embraced this way: having never been held, it was somehow…nice, to feel that sort of touch. The blonde turned his gaze back to his own self, same as it had been when he had awoken, but then he caught sight of the blood that had stained his clothing from before—so it hadn't been a dream at all. This discomforted Ventus to the point of making him whine and try to divert his eyes away from the sight, unable to muster up enough energy to really do anything else.

Vanitas seemed to hear this uneasiness of the blonde's. "Let me clean that for you." He said, the same way a polite host at a party might offer to take someone's coat, and removed the blonde's jacket. Ventus watched him carefully, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with having his jacket taken off. And, as if he wasn't cold enough beforehand, it felt worse now without any sort of coat or cover.

Vanitas just smirked and attempted to clean the blonde's still-existent wound, surrounded by still fairly fresh blood, with the jacket; it was simply a courteous gesture, if nothing else. The damage had already been done, and he was really only siphoning away the blood from his skin.

"I'm surprised you didn't scream your lungs out."

Silence.

Of course, it was hard for him to reply to Vanitas; he was completely drained of energy. And other things. "...Tired." He told the man.
After he responded, Vanitas took off his own old-fashioned coat. At first, the blonde was confused by this gesture, but the question in his thoughts as to why he did it was answered when the man put it around him like a blanket. "Then rest." Vanitas told him, moving about as he tossed Ven's dirtied jacket to the side and picked the blonde up…bridal style, no less.

Ventus wondered where he was being taken, but it hardly mattered; he had already surrendered his life. As he was lifted, his arms, weak as they were, reached for the jacket wrapped around him and held it close to his face; he felt freezing, chilled to the bone, while it also felt like he was dying from the inside out...it was as if he was almost decomposing, you could say. Once more, the boy began to shiver harshly and his vision once again deteriorated into blurs and specks of black as he felt himself being carried away. He wanted to speak, to make any attempt and vocalization, but the words just wouldn't come out.

"Soon, you will become a being like me...you will become strong, solid...and here's a special treat: whatever or whoever hurt you in your past life can be hunted down and have their lives put to an end. I will even help you do so, if you wish."

Hearing those words, Ventus knew what his fate was now: he'd become a vampire, just like Vanitas. The thought itself didn't seem to bother him that much; it was the consequences. He was known throughout the neighborhood—people would obviously know who he was if he decided to heed Vanitas's offer. Of course, he had those he disliked that may have made the offer worth it…but the thought of 'hunting' those souls down never crossed the boy's mind. He was too good for that.

However, he couldn't help but almost feel like taking up that offer. He had one person on his mind that he believed he could kill, that one wretched soul that had brought him so much emotional pain. One person he never wanted to see again. Even with the ability to kill the man he so hated, running away forever seemed like the best option for him. For some reason, though…he wanted to run away with this stranger.

"R-...Run away with me."
The blonde whispered this plea, his head falling weakly onto the man's shoulder. The older man simply chuckled from the gesture. "Treating me like a friend, now, are we?" He heard the man say. His eyes closing as he smiled a little for the first time in forever. "Maybe..." He whispered to him as they walked to who knows where.
He heard the man speak to him again. "Where do you plan to run to?"

The blonde attempted thought for a moment, but found that he still couldn't think all that well; the cold and tiredness that racked his body hazed out anything besides the simplest responses. "I don't...know."

"I have a place in mind."
"...Where?"
"An abandoned castle, far away from here."

Ventus couldn't help but smile at this, and he might have laughed at the thought, if he wasn't so tapped of energy.
"Tell me...about yourself."

"Hmm...alright. I've been dead and alone for over one hundred years, and I come from what you people call the Victorian era. I hardly need to describe how it was like, since I'm sure they must have taught you about it in school...thought I must say that the namesake of the time was not all that appealing to me, nor was the culture itself shockingly interesting…but, I digress.
I've been killing and feasting on humans in these types of graveyards all over the world. I could not tell you how many I have killed but…mmm, what a feast they all were. I like feeding best when it's cold out, I'm sure you will, too, once you fully adapt to your new life. I am quite different from the beings in your little vampire story books, you know; I can walk alongside humans, the same as any other…but not when the sun is out, though. I will burn if I do that. I feed at night once a week, and I sleep whenever I wish…but I have no need to sleep every day. Hmm, what else is there to speak of..."

Ventus had listened to him talk, finding him interesting, yet terribly frightening. He wondered if he would have to feed on others to survive, too…he wasn't sure how he would do it. He couldn't bear to hear the painful screams of others. Surely, he wouldn't live long as a vampire without the will to feed.

This troubling development caused Ventus to wonder, and inevitably voice his concern. "Why choose me?" He asked softly, opening his eyes and looking at the man who held him, the man whom was potentially both his savior and captor.

Vanitas seemed as if he was about to speak before, but was interrupted by Ventus's question. A smirk appeared on his face at the sound of it. "That's difficult to really say. When I saw you lying against that tombstone, I felt a connection...almost as if I liked you the moment I saw you. Silly, isn't it?"

Hearing that made Ventus actually smile; or as best as he could manage to show his happiness. "Nah, I like you, too..."

Vanitas just chuckled at that. "The feeling is mutual, then. Splendid."

Silence overcame the two of them once more as Ventus closed his eyes again. This man who held him no longer felt like a stranger to him, despite knowing him for only a few hours. He felt somehow safe in his arms. Even though he had been attacked by him, had his own mortal life taken away, he didn't blame him and assumed it was his own fault for attempting to run… but he didn't regret it now. As long as he could leave his sickening previous life behind, nothing else mattered. After a while, Ventus dozed off in Vanitas' arms.

--

Ventus awoke later, alone in a dark room. Looking about, he realized that he obviously couldn't see anything. What little things he could see were blurred, but those soon cleared up as his vision sobered.
His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and the boy realized he was in a very small room, surrounded by cold stone walls. Sitting up, he could feel something slipping down his front; it didn't take long to realize it was Vanitas' coat. Peering down at it, the blonde noticed he had been snoozing away for who knows how long in a red-padded coffin.
"Must be his." He whispered to nothing in particular.

After a short time spent sitting up and surveying the surroundings, he no longer felt cold, drained, anything-- he felt pretty normal in that respect. He didn't feel sick or tired…but he did feel sort of different.

Eventually Ventus upped out of the coffin and stood in the room, and noted that Vanitas was nowhere to be found. The boy worried that he may have been abandoned already as he left the room only to be greeted with nothing. Snow still covered the ground, and tree leaves still occasionally fell as he noticed that the moon hanging in the sky didn't look as full now as it had the last time he saw it. He appeared to still be in the cemetery. The boy's expression faded to sadness at the thought of being alone, not just in one life, but in two. "Have you abandoned me already..?" He whispered to emptiness, watching the snow lightly fall from the moonlit sky.

On a whim, Ventus lifted his hand to his neck; two little holes were still evident in his skin. No blood was there anymore, and the wounds felt slightly healed. But now these holes had him wondering about his appearance, so he couldn't help but look down at his skin; nothing much about him had changed, besides the fact that he might have been a bit paler than usual.

"Merry Christmas, Ventus~" A voice called from behind.

Ventus knew that voice, of course. He turned around to see Vanitas standing behind him. He couldn't help but grin, and a small blush happened to worm its way onto his face in accordance with that smile. He stared into those strange, golden eyes of his, and then the boy's gaze trekked downwards. He saw Vanitas carrying a small, long box tied with a bow: obviously a gift of some sort. But wasn't Christmas not until next week…?

"But, it's not Christmas yet..." Ventus said slowly, feeling a little confused.
"Oh, it is. You've just been asleep for a week."

Ventus was shocked at this fact; he didn't even know what to say.

Vanitas just laughed and moved closer to him. "Does it really matter now, though? It's not like you are aging any older now, you know."

Ventus listened to him, very sure his words true: but it didn't matter now whether they were or not, though they actually were. He had all the time in the world now, of course. He then smiled again. "Yeah...oh! Merry Christmas to you, too. I'm sorry I don't have an-.."

"No." Vanitas cut him off. "Do not apologize; you've already given me something. Just take this."

Ventus couldn't help but feel bothered a tad by this, due to his own nature, but he let it slide this once. "Alright then...thanks." He said, taking the box from Vanitas's waiting hands. It was white with a black ribbon, the latter of which he soon slid off of the box. He couldn't possibly imagine what the man had given him. Vanitas didn't even know him well, and now he was being given a gift? So strange, but…sweetly thoughtful.

Upon opening the box, Ventus found inside a single, real black rose. These were supposedly so rare that Ventus was genuinely surprised; his mouth comically dropped open a little.

"Some people suggest that black roses can symbolize rebirth or the beginning of something new. So, I got this for you to celebrate your new beginning." Vanitas told him, his voice sounding so soothing with the way he said it. It even made Ventus blush a bit harder, pink flushing his face. Somehow, the thought of actual love bubbled up in Ventus's mind. He didn't question the man's sexuality or his own as it came up. Maybe Vanitas didn't care, maybe Vanitas meant that he liked him in a different way. Who knew?

"That's--"
"Weird, isn't it?" Vanitas interrupted.
"What do you mean?"
"Me giving you this... Does it make you feel disturbed or uneasy? Good? Bad?"

Ventus knew what he meant now, and it gave him…hope, you could say. "Good, it's good…it makes me really happy...like never before." Ventus replied with his own little smile. Vanitas attempted to grin as well, but not as much as Ventus; his smile was calm and charming, without any hints of excitement.

To Ventus, Vanitas appeared handsome and well-groomed, despite him being a vampire. He seemed very attractive and nice, and it didn't look like he would be the type to get angry at someone…but the boy didn't want to take that chance. He liked seeing him like this: happy, no worries visible.

"But, Vanitas...What way do you like me?" He brought himself to ask.

Silence was earned between the two of them, which brought discomfort to the blonde. He wished he could take back what he'd said, feeling stupid than ever right now. That was until he heard the man speak again.

"More than a friend, I suppose…does that make you uncomfortable?" Vanitas asked.

For Ventus, his hopeful feelings were at piece now. "No, I feel the same." And like that, Ventus walked towards him and hugged him close. Feeling Vanitas embrace him back. For him, today was a very new and wonderful beginning. Being a vampire shouldn't be that bad. He wouldn't be alone, he'd have Vanitas with him, to care for and be cared for back. And maybe someday they'll grow even closer and love one another.

"The feeling really is mutual, then. Very good." He heard Vanitas say. The blonde couldn't help but laugh a little at the formality as he embraced the man. This was going to be a really nice beginning.

"You know, you should tell me about yourself sometime." Vanitas told him, murmuring in his ear. Ventus only smiled more than before (a difficult feat indeed) as his head rested on the man's shoulder. "Sure thing."

"…I'm going to miss those blue eyes of yours." Ventus heard him say, which made him back away and look at him with concern. "Are my eyes not blue anymore?!" He asked, feeling a little unsettled.

"No, but they might change...I know mine did. My eyes were different though, one was red and the other blue; I ended up inheriting something they call heterochromia nowadays from my parents. It somewhat explains the strange color...but I guess being a vampire changed it. You may have a different outcome with your eyes." Vanitas explained.

Ventus had listened without interrupting, but he couldn't help but feel a little sad; he didn't want to lose his blue eyes, as they were one of his more redeeming qualities. But, then again, they might not change at all… at least, he hoped they wouldn't. And, if they did, he knew he'd just have to get over it anyways.

But then a question, something he noticed in Vanitas previous words, came up. "Wait...so you weren't born a vampire?"

"Of course not, but let us save that for another time. Right now, it is time for us to celebrate." Vanitas said, and despite his voice retaining its normal, nonchalant tone, he seemed to have a slightly bothered look on his face…the boy took this to mean that was a topic not to be touched upon just yet.

So, Ventus let it go and gave him a smile. "Alright."