[Verso sighs, wishing he was there with him, to pull him close and kiss his smile back into place. But that would be a bad idea. This was too far as it is. To be with Vanitas physically... he's already proven himself weak. That might break him.]
You have me. I won't ever leave you. [That's his promise. Not that they will be intimate sexually, but that he has him: different things.] I'll play for you. [Another, acceptable, way to be intimate.]
[Something that Vanitas himself wishes for, too. He misses those big, strong arms, the warmth of Verso's chest against his, along with the kisses he's always gifted with. But he knows that can't be, not if he's to keep his promise and be faithful. If only he weren't so greedy...]
Verso... [He almost chokes up at those words, but manages to swallow down most of the noise of distress he wants to make. To the point he manages a light laugh, drawing his phone closer, as if that'll bring Verso nearer to him, too.] I'd like that very much. And I'll sing for you. [A gift from him.]
[A truly precious gift.] I'd like that. Best make it soon? [When they're apart for more than a day, Verso finds himself aching for him, and his feet take him to the café, to Vanitas' home, to all the places Vanitas is that Verso can't enter, not without breaking the peace.
Stepping away from his bed, Verso carries his Syntrofos with him to his piano. He stretches. He cracks his knuckles. He puts his fingers to keys.
Picking a delicate tune with one hand, he props his Syntrofos on his chest with the other — about the only perk of that part of his corruption. At this hour, his playing will surely have his neighbours complaining yet again, but at least the melody is something like a lullaby.]
You are always welcome with me. [A fact he's sure Vanitas doesn't understand, but he also doesn't need to understand it for it to be the truth. While they're trapped in this world, Vanitas is his family. He is his home.]
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You have me. I won't ever leave you. [That's his promise. Not that they will be intimate sexually, but that he has him: different things.] I'll play for you. [Another, acceptable, way to be intimate.]
no subject
Verso... [He almost chokes up at those words, but manages to swallow down most of the noise of distress he wants to make. To the point he manages a light laugh, drawing his phone closer, as if that'll bring Verso nearer to him, too.] I'd like that very much. And I'll sing for you. [A gift from him.]
no subject
Stepping away from his bed, Verso carries his Syntrofos with him to his piano. He stretches. He cracks his knuckles. He puts his fingers to keys.
Picking a delicate tune with one hand, he props his Syntrofos on his chest with the other — about the only perk of that part of his corruption. At this hour, his playing will surely have his neighbours complaining yet again, but at least the melody is something like a lullaby.]
You are always welcome with me. [A fact he's sure Vanitas doesn't understand, but he also doesn't need to understand it for it to be the truth. While they're trapped in this world, Vanitas is his family. He is his home.]