Chapter Text
Pure Vanilla sat in his study, tension creasing his face as a pen tapped against his desk as he blankly stared toward a lit candle nearby, the only source of light in his otherwise dark room, its flame flickering and casting shadows that danced gracefully around him.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap…
A constant metronome, toned out by the thoughts in his head, nonstop and unforgivable.
How could he?
He was the image of purity for his people.
A saint.
A monarch.
A king, carrying the weight of a fallen virtue.
How could he ever think of such things?
Ever since he had encountered Shadow Milk in Beast-Yeast and ever since his time in the Other Realm, he couldn’t help but think of him. He wanted so desperately to reach out, to let Shadow Milk know that he wasn’t alone.
He wanted him to know that he understood him.
Oh how he would give up anything to hold that beast in his arms, feel him melt against his body, to take his troubles away from his otherwise troubled mind.
He wondered what would happen if his fingertips grazed against his cold skin. Would Shadow Milk welcome him?
Or would he recoil in disgust from such vile touch?
Pure Vanilla himself felt disgusted at the mere thought as shame taunted him from the depths of his mind. Perhaps, he deserved such a violent reaction from Shadow Milk if he ever even thought about acting upon these temptations.
Frustration made him scowl slightly. He never thought about this towards White Lily cookie, but wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? A dear childhood friend turned into a lover.
Anybody would kill for such a love story!
But instead, he found himself thinking these things for him.
Shadow Milk.
He’d be damned.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap…
The pen continued to make that annoyingly repetitive sound against the wood, quickening in tempo whenever Pure Vanilla thought a bit too hard on something. That constant noise echoed against the walls, reminding the old Ancient of his own loneliness.
The burden of being immortal, just another issue to add onto the growing mental list. However, with Shadow Milk in mind, his thoughts start to wander into more dangerous territory.
He could almost see their time together as his mind conjures up vivid ideas of deceit and chaos being balanced by his truth and benevolence.
Perhaps, they could find fulfillment together with each other.
He groans, dropping the pen to instead cradle his face in his hands. He desperately needed this to stop as shame burned at his back like heated needles. How ignominious of him to be thinking these things, let alone for Shadow Milk.
Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding for himself, maybe this was all just platonic and he wanted a bond with Shadow Milk that would fulfill both their lives and eliminate each others’ loneliness.
He wanted to believe that at least, all whilst his hand reached for his pen as thoughts continued to flood and overwhelm his mind.
Words spilled from the ink, confessions he dared not to speak aloud, devoured by the silence of the paper they soaked.
In pristine handwriting, the letter read:
I mustn’t speak such devilish words to you, but I must get my truth out somewhere.
Shadow Milk, I truly long for you. Ever since my days in the Spire in your Other Realm, I can’t get you out of my mind. You’re like a thorn in my side, slowly stabbing your way into my heart whilst I try to cast out the thought of you.
I wish to spend time with you, even as you push me away, something draws me in, as if my Souljam calls for me to search for you, to open the wounds you hide and to let your story bleed into the pages of my own.
Whether we like it or not, we are bound to be in each other’s lives. It’s as if the Witches that created us choreographed this gentle dance between truth and deceit. Truth cannot thrive without deceit and vice versa.
I hope that our paths cross sooner or later, I wish to speak to you again.
Sincerely,
Pure Vanilla Cookie
His face is scrunched with tension once his name is signed on the paper. These words, dripping with sin and yet so quiet as he lets the ink dry before folding it up and hiding it securely in a little compartment in his desk he hid from anyone and everyone.
It was now an unmarked tomb for unspoken truths that he hid with lies.
Those words, they couldn’t bear to see the light of day, could never be spoken or heard by anyone. It’d tarnish his reputation further, the saint and savior of Earthbread, weak for his deceitful counterpart.
Pure Vanilla groans in frustration once he gets up from his desk and quietly pushes the chair in. He grabs the candleholder carefully before taking a few steps towards his vanilla lavished bed.
With a gentle blow, the candle’s flame was dispelled and his room was covered in a blanket of darkness. The candleholder was then gently placed onto his nearby nightstand before he laid himself in bed.
Even whilst in the comforts of his own bed, a domain in which he often found comfort in, he felt restless. He had the urge to write more, to spill his heart out on a paper. He needed his words to be heard yet quiet enough not to spread around the kingdom.
These feelings will pass.
These feelings…will pass.
These feelings will…pass.
Repeated like a mantra in his mind as he shut his eyes tightly, repeating those words like he was counting his cream sheep.
His cream sheep! Oh how he adored his little flock of cream sheep, it reminded him of his humble beginnings, reminded him of much simpler times.
As memories flooded his thoughts and distracted him, he seemed to find his peace as he finally fell asleep for the night.