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Wolfwood could barely stand anymore. His vision turned distorted and his head felt foggy. The ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop, furthermore making him more irritated. His first irritation came in the form of Vash the Stampede. Wolfwood still couldn’t wrap his head around why he came back. Well, he couldn’t wrap his mind around anything at the moment. At least Vash agreed to have a drink with him.
As they both sat down on the antique couch, Wolfwood popped open the bottle of Bride, pouring a shot for Vash and himself. They clinked glasses and Wolfwood felt the burn make its way down his throat. The pain in his throat felt better than the pounding in his head. He looked from the corner of his eye at Vash, his frown deeping. All Wolfwood wanted to do at that moment was to kiss it away. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
“Smile, Spikey.” He took a breath, realizing it was a lot harder to talk than he thought,
“You look better… When you smile.”
Vash’s somber expression turned mournful. Wolfwood sighed heavily and rolled his head to the side, facing Vash.
“That was a bit harsh. Sorry.”
Vash swallowed gratingly. He scrambled through his brain, trying to come up with anything to say. Anything to convey his gratitude, his friendship, his love.
“Um… Wolfwood…” He still couldn’t conjure anything, his mind blank. Unintentionally, Wolfwood interjected.
“Please don’t… Say anything stupid.”
Vash felt lost. What the hell was he supposed to do now? How was he going to move on? Losing someone close to you is harder than he thought. He felt his eyes start to well but he held it in.
“Not yet.” Vash thought. “Not yet.”
Wolfwood could see something from the corner of his eyes. Looking up, his face formed into a look of surprise. Confetti. They recognized him. She recognized him.
“Thank you, Melanie.” Wolfwood whispered. She was always like a mother to him and always will be. He was home. He wanted to scream, cry, anything at that point. As he blankly stared at the horizon, he felt a tear stream down his face.
“Nico… I’m sorry.” Vash muttered. He slid his hand over the couch to Wolfwood. Vash clutched his sleeve, fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry.”
Wolfwood felt the bottle of alcohol fall from his hand. Everything was in slow motion, while he grabbed Vash’s hand. He gave it a soft squeeze, until he was surrounded by darkness. Yet, he wasn’t scared. It was time and he was satisfied. He was gone before he could hear the sounds of Vash’s sobs.
Vash put his face in his hands as he continued to cry. He knew he’d have to get up soon, bury his partner, tell Livio the news, and find Knives. However, he sat there for what felt like forever, enjoying the forlorn silence.
“Goodbye, Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”