Nothing To You - Vanijeanne fic

Nothing To You

She wasn't sure why she'd agreed.

As in, why she didn't protest when Vanitas led her through the dark Paris streets, why she didn't react when a few people gawped at them - dishevelled, unpresentable - why she said nothing, did nothing, when Vanitas brought them to a small, discreet hotel for a room.

No. Perhaps that wasn't entirely true. She did know. She was raw and emotional, she'd just bared her soul to a human she loathed. She hadn't realised how much worry and anxiety she'd had pent up until he'd asked her again about being a curse-bearer, until he'd witnessed her uncontrollable reaction to blood. He was like a mirror of her own state. His reactions made her face her own reactions, made her see what she didn't want to see. But the mirror was here; she saw her own reflection and it terrified her.

'Would you like me to take your boots off?'

Ice-chipped piercing blue eyes stared up at her.

He was crouched at her feet, his bow draped across his neck like a scarf to hide her fresh fang bite, that iconic ribbon now dotted, spoilt with fresh blooms of his blood, his shirt crumpled, the neck still slightly open. She was perched on a single bed not far from another bed - wait - he'd booked a room with two beds?

'Jeanne?'

Merde.

She secretly loved the way he said her name. But that didn't change the fact that she still didn't trust him.

He watched her. She hadn't reacted to what he'd said; she stared straight past without seeing him, lost in thought.

He pushed the hem of her dress and petticoat up, only up to her ankles and began pulling loose the laces of her boots. Vanitas slipped her first shoe off and placed it down by the bed. Then her other shoe off and placed it next to the first.

'You should lie down, rest.' Vanitas stood up. 'You've had a long day. I'll stay and make sure you're OK.'

He turned to go -

A hand grabbed his wrist.

But -

She did not trust him and yet...

Had he not just saved her from a public incident? Did he not submit to her cravings, freely giving his very life source, the thing she craved the most, every time they met? And just now, he had listened to her, he hadn't mocked her. If anything, he'd made her a promise that took the edge off at least one of her fears -

'Do you want... more?'

A question in his eyes.

She hesitated but it had nothing to do with the blood. She'd drank her fill and would be foolish to taste more for his sake and her own. She did not want to become addicted or dependent -

The bed dipped as he sat down on her right side, her right hand still grasping his left wrist. His diamond eyes surveyed her citrine ones.

He was irritatingly handsome. Beautiful. Worse so when his face was void of stupid expressions and he was being patient. Like now.

He'd hugged her.

Moments ago in the atelier. It was just a hug but she had felt a mountain of comfort from it. Comfort she hadn't known she'd needed -

She wavered.

She couldn't just... hug him again? No. Of course not. Not now. Surely that would make her seem needy, vulnerable? Although... Did he not already know, more than anyone else, exactly how needy and vulnerable she truly was?