Dawn's Disciples [Vanyel, Violet]

As the time went by, Vanyel only grew more excited at Violet's progress. Working on physical aggression could come at another time, but, right now, what she had chosen to focus on had taken precedence, and she was really getting good at it. As they went for a splash of cool water with the hose, Vanyel had been smiling practically the whole time. He hadn't been sure about becoming a teacher figure, but, with the feeling of pride he felt in his chest at seeing Violet's improvement, as well as the training that he gave to Senna...this teaching thing actually wasn't so bad.

The pride and sheer adrenaline of the constant motion had put off the dizziness he'd been feeling for the last hour or so. His form had been shaky, but he had mostly just chalked that up to general exhaustion. But, stumbling lightly as he went to get the hose, Vanyel suddenly crumpled to the ground, collapsing, his breathing shallow and quiet.

Violet was busy redoing her ponytail when she heard a light thud. She hadn't realized it was Vanyel dropped, so after getting her hair settled and looking over, she felt everything just... stop. Vanyel was... just... suddenly on the ground?

"Vanyel...?"

When he didn't respond, Violet rushed to his side and turned him over. "Uh, uh..." First things first, get him out of the sun. She wasn't sure why he suddenly collapsed, but the heat was an easy assumption. She curled her arms under his and dragged him back inside. She wasn't the strongest, but she wasn't so weak that she couldn't move him. 'Couch, couch, co-.. bathroom.' VIolet turned him down to the bathroom so his body hit cold tile floors and then did her best to get him into the tub.

Violet grabbed the glass she kept the on the bathroom counter to rinse her mouth out, quickly rinsed it, and filled it with cool water from the sink. Before she could soak him, she realized. 'THIS FUCKING SHIRT.' Violet let her anger out on his shirt in that moment, carefully handling his head as she used some nearby scissors to cut the fucking thing off. Once it was gone, half of it shredded in the tub, the other half on the floor, she began pouring the water down his hair, shoulders, and chest.

"If you're not awake in five minutes, I am calling an ambul-..." That's when she noticed... 'Whoa, cool tattoo... Wait, what...' Violet ran her fingers over the tattoo and then noticed thick scars covering his forearms... and wrists... "Vanyel..." Violet realized that this was likely why he was so insistent with her at times. He went through his own personal hell, didn't he? She shook her head to refocus on him in the now, and went to refill the glass. "Come on, hun, wake up..." she muttered, pouring more cool water over his skin. And then she turned on the cold bath water.

He didn't know how long he'd been out. It felt as if time had just skipped ahead and he'd suddenly teleported somewhere else. As he slowly came to, he felt...cold. Eventually, his eyes fluttered open, wincing at the sudden introduction of the bright overhead light, groaning as he tried to sit up, only for his hand to slide against the wet base of the tub and smack his head against the wall.

"Ow...! Fuck, where the hell..."

He looked around, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the room, before cradling the back of his head. He was in the bathroom inside the house. What the hell happened? He turned to look at Vi, his eyes widening at seeing the panic...but, then he noticed that his shirt was off, half of it on the floor. In a panic of his own, Vanyel snatched up the half that wasn't in tatters, immediately trying to hide his forearms more than anything.

A look of shame came to his face as he looked to the tub. In an uncharacteristic fashion compared to what Violet had seen before, Vanyel's body instinctively began to curl up, his legs moving close to his chest, and his arms stowed behind them.

"I...um..."

Violet did not see him wake up. She heard him wake up. At this point, she was shaking and one second off of pushing “call” with the City of Light’s “911” equivalent lit up on her screen. She sat there, watching him, flinching when he hit his head, and then finally setting her phone down and turning it off. As she watched him curl up on himself, like he was trying to hide, the anger that was rapidly rising in her gut stopped, and then it faded. 'He has a reason... It was that important to him.'

"You passed out..." Violet crawled over to the tub to get closer to him and brushed his hair back, as she turned off the water that had been running for a few minutes. "You scared me..." She reached down and set her hand on his forearms, where she knew his scars were. "I already saw them, you don't have to hide them from me, Vanyel... You know... the only reason I don't have them too... is because my parents owned a healer. You did these yourself, right?" Violet let him go and then turned away, leaning her back against the tub. "I put mine on the inside of my thigh. When Mom found out... she made sure they disappeared. Quincy reputation and all that... Why... Why... Why didn't you just... You... You could've... Damn it, Vanyel."

Knowing that she'd already seen them only made Vanyel retreat even further into his shame and embarrassment. But, his head popped back up when he heard that...she'd had them too. His eyes widened as he listened, fingers unconsciously digging into his pants and knees at the idea that her mother was more concerned about her reputation than the fact that her daughter was hurting herself.

But, one comment rung in his ears, seeming louder than the rest.

You did these yourself, right?

Vanyel slowly let the tattered remains of the shirt fall from his arms. That was what made him the most ashamed -- it was something he did himself. He wouldn't have been ashamed if it was something that he had gotten by accident while out, preparing something in the kitchen, or in a fight. But, it wasn't any of that. He had done it himself, and the reason behind it was stupid. So, so, so stupid...

"It's embarrassing. Every time I look at myself, I'm...ashamed. Always reminded of my own stupidity."

His hands slowly rose up to the tattoo, fingers lightly grazing his shoulders.

"But, I just...didn't want to scare you, or set you off, make you think I was a part of that anymore. I didn't...I didn't want to cause a rift in our friendship."

Violet moved to grab the little trashcan that she kept in the bathroom. She dragged it over and set it by the tub. Reaching in, she picked up the torn remains of his shirt, twisted the water out of it, and then threw it all away. “You don’t scare me. Some scars and a tattoo won’t change that… Though, I don’t get how the tattoo would scare me. It looks pretty bad-ass,” Violet said in a very ‘matter of fact’ way.

“What scares me is seeing you collapse. It’s seeing you on the ground, barely breathing, and not waking up when I shake you or call your name.” Violet said as she filled the cup with cold water again. She moved to pour it over his head, but then stopped as she realized something, and lowered her head. “I guess… this might be how I made you feel when I came home that night…” There was a quick inhale before Violet leaned in and looked Vanyel in the eyes. “Why? You know mine, so it’s time to tell me yours. Why did you hurt yourself, Vanyel?”

Vanyel's eyes widened at the comment about the tattoo. She didn't know. She didn't know what it meant, what it represented, both for him and for the society he was a part of for so long. But, before he could comment on it, his head lowered again as she made note of it being similar to how she had made him feel that night. All he gave in response to that was a light nod.

Then came the question that he didn't want to answer. His eyes flicked down to the tub, his lips parting for a moment, before closing, taking more time to think. Eventually, however, he finally answered. He started in a low near-whisper, but, as the story went on, his voice eventually rose to his regular speaking voice, though it did little to hide the embarrassment reflected in his tone.

Yet, despite it all, there was still a sense of relief that he felt in finally talking about it, something he hadn't talked to anyone about. Almost like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, albeit only partially, and someone else was helping him to carry the load. His soul, to some extent, felt a bit more at ease.

"It was so stupid...and I've been scared that I could relapse at any point, any day."

Violet felt all the guilt in the world after taking in his story. She found herself holding her breath for long periods of time as he talked. She didn’t just cause him problems all the time, but she was a clear reminder of something that devastated him. A darkness slithered into Violet’s mind, telling her to make him leave. ‘If he stays around me, I'll just hurt him again... I know it. Am I willing to do that?’

Violet backed away and then went further, until her back was against the bathroom door and she sat silently, staring at the grout of the tile floor. “You should go.” she said and then forced herself to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she pushed up a weak smile. “I don’t want you to relapse… and I’m a reminder. You’re always walking around here like I’m made of glass, scared of doing or saying anything wrong… and no one should have to live like that… So, you… You should... You should go.”

Violet reached behind her and opened up the bathroom door so he could get out without her in the way. She knew the moment he walked out, she would be alone again, and that was okay. The fact was, Vanyel was more important to her, and his mental and physical health took priority over her own. She didn't want him to leave... She would never want him to leave; she thought he needed to for his sake.

As he finished his retelling, Vanyel found himself looking toward the edge of the tub again. It was only when Violet finally said something that his head shot up, his eyes widening. This was exactly what he was afraid of. He should never have said anything, all it'd done was put a rift between them, just as he'd feared.

"What...? N-No, you're not..."

He didn't realize his breathing starting to pick up its pace, a hand slowly raising to reach out, only to fall back into his lap. He didn't want to leave. Whatever he had implied, that wasn't the intent -- what had he said wrong? How had he said it? He spiraled down his own thoughts, rapidly trying to think and process every single thing he'd said, and what he might have done wrong, only for the sound of the hinges on the bathroom door squeaking as it opened to drag him back out.

Before he knew what he was doing, he got up out of the tub. But, rather than walk through the door, he pulled Violet into a tight, firm hug. His body quivered as he held her, though whether it was from the cold water or from the sheer anxiety, he couldn't tell.

"You're not a reminder, Vi. Whatever gave you the idea, just...no. If anything, helping you, seeing you recover, improve, and just be happy...helps me. I just don't want to hurt you, set you off, or...make you think that I'm like the people that hurt you."

Slowly, but shakily, he let go of her, idly gesturing to the tattoo.

"Because, I...used to be in the yakuza."

The way he reached out both surprised and scared Violet. Having just witnessed him pass out, she didn't want that to happen again and she was worried it would, but she didn't have the courage to move from her spot.

Violet expected him to walk out, and that would be okay. It had to be okay. She was not expecting the hug, or the cold… Ohh, he was cold. Cold, cold, cold… Ignoring the cold and wet though, Violet still returned the embrace, a very clear difference from their previous hugs lay in the fact that he was not only wet, but shirtless. She was used to gripping the fabric as a way of holding onto him. She couldn’t do that now.

She didn't like this anxious feeling, specifically his shaking and how hard he was breathing. She whimpered, holding more tightly onto him. "Are you okay?"

‘Me being happy… helps him…? I don’t get it…’ she thought as he explained...

Vanyel pulled away and Violet looked up at him, then to his tattoo once he gestured to it. She was quickly confused. “Wait, I thought yakuza were the bad guys?”