Doesnt Mean Goodbye - Tumblr Posts

I'm going to leave the Vees.

There it was. Something had been building all evening, some tension that settled in between the dishes, hanging in the air like smoke that couldn't be dispelled. Vox had been on edge ever since the invitation--not because an invitation in and of itself was strange, but because something was off. Something had been off, really; until now, he would've been willing to concede that it was all in his head, that there was nothing wrong with Valentino...

But not now.

Vox frowned at the announcement. He waited for a moment, perfectly still, expecting there to be something else, something more. Maybe Val would demand that he wanted to be the most public facet of the Vees, and then he would stay. Maybe he wanted his own building. Maybe he wanted Vox and Velvette to design another studio for him for whatever kink was trending these days. Maybe he wanted...

But he didn't.

The beautiful moth didn't add anything else. He wasn't throwing a tantrum. He didn't even seem angry. Valentino was being calm, deliberate. He had planned this.

Vox set his flatware down as well, regarding him for a long, long moment, before he took a drink. Whatever was about to happen, it would go down better with wine.

He set the glass down, huffed, then got up and walked over to him, his steps quiet.

Vox turned Val's chair out away from the table with him in it, then dropped to a knee. Frowning, he took his hands and held them between his own--not hard, just trying to be reassuring, to establish a connection.

"Is somebody fucking with you?" he asked, his voice just as calm and tense as the strange energy of the night, frowning. "Val, while I know you can handle yourself, if someone is fucking with you, threatening you, making you do this--don't let them win. We're not the V from Victims, remember? We're the Vees in Survivors. It's what we do. Survive and thrive. Together." Vox shook his head. "So whatever's going on, baby, talk to me. Let me help. I've got your back, you know that."

Because this had to be what was going on. Someone had gotten to Val, messed with his head, threatened him with something... Valentino could be the most impulsive and emotional sometimes--or so Vox believed, firmly in denial about his own ridiculous emotional outbursts when it came to certain broadcasters--and someone had doubtless taken advantage of that. There was no reason to be angry. No reason to be hurt. Because this wasn't a problem. It wasn't real.

Val wasn't really going to leave.

@doublejango redemption starter

He had invited Vox to dinner in his penthouse because he wanted to tell him about his decision in person. As they sat at the table in front of the glazed wall, Val carefully set his fork down, his plate of pasta half-finished as he looked at the TV demon's face.

ཐིཋྀ "I need to tell you something.", Val started, sounding much more serious than during their light-hearted chatter before.

"I'm going to leave the Vees."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Val was fucking serious. He was serious. He was being introspective, and he was serious. While Vox knew he should be happy for him, knew he should be proud of him, every word hit him like goddamn ice-water. His screen flickered around the edges, hints of static coming through as he listened. He was mindful never to actually squeeze Valentino's hands the way he suddenly wanted to, as if squeezing them, inflicting some measure of pain, could help. Val wasn't always the most introspective type, none of them really were, so for him to have come to this conclusion, taken the time to plan this, this, this--

Farewell dinner?

Vox abruptly let go. If he didn't, he was going to dig his claws into Val's hands. Violence was fine in the bedroom, as far as he was concerned; the two of them were fully capable of discussing what they wanted and consenting to it together. But unprompted violence towards his partner? Not acceptable. No matter how much this hurt. No matter how it felt like iron bands were suddenly wrapped around his chest, tightening fast and hard and cruel.

"You're serious." Vox's screen flickered again, the brightness turning up, and his eyes seemed to double in size just for a moment there. Electricity crackled over the backs of his hands, down his neck, and his veins and arteries began to take on a subtle gleam, followed by the larger nerves--a private light, when he was trying too hard to hold something back, that usually only Val got to see, and even then usually only during sex, when Vox was losing the fight against an orgasm.

This couldn't be farther from that.

He stepped back, started to reach up to grab his own head, stopped himself halfway, hands in the air, palms out towards Val as if Valentino were the one who needed to calm down here, not himself.

"Val, are you--are you leaving the Vees? Or are you leaving me? Is it both, are you--does going off to become a better person mean you can't--fucking," he pressed a hand to his forehead now, screen flickering again, "can't fucking be around me? Is that--is that--"

Not helping, he checked himself. He was getting defensive and angry and that wasn't helping.

Vox shoved his emotions back and folded his arms. "Val. Baby. I don't--understand," he quirked an eyebrow, his entire body seeming to hum with electricity even as he held himself as still and composed as he could, trying not to explode, "but I want to be on your side here. What do you... need. From me? To make your goals happen."

It was a dangerous question to ask and he goddamn knew it, because Vox suspected, not so very deep down at all, that he knew what Val was going to say, that this fucking mothpimp was going to walk out that door and take his heart with him.

"I don't want you to leave," he added quickly, "but I won't force you to stay. I'll fight for you. But I won't force you. Have you--you've thought this through? What might happen to you out there? How are you going to--

"What are you going to do with all of your souls?"

His hands curled into fists on the table, the sudden silence between them weighing heavy on his shoulders. But Val didn't say anything else, wanting to give Vox time to process his announcement.

He gritted his teeth when his partner circled the table to get to him, his eyes averted when the other knelt before him and took his hands in his own.

The moth had expected many things. Anger, disbelief, bitterness... but not this. The unexpected tenderness extended to him by his lover was in some way more painful than anything else he could've confronted him with.

He took a deep breath, calming himself.

ཐིཋྀ "It's not that. Nobody is fucking with me, Vox..."

His grimace morphed into a sorrowful expression when he tilted his head to once again look at the other. Not wanting to be a coward.

"... this afterlife... our operation and my part in it... it's just like the mess I got caught up in as a human. I'm doing the same things, over and over... I'm just like... someone I never wanted to resemble. I didn't realize it before because I never knew anything else. The drugs, the sex, the killing... it's not that I don't enjoy those things but they're limiting me. I never found the courage to take a different path while alive, and I kept repeating the same mistakes in death."

A clean cut.

The souls already freed.

The studio shut down, the limousine sold.

Vox should have been watching. He should have been watching. He never spied on the other Vees, he never violated their privacy like that, not unless they wanted him to for some reason, but now he regretted it. If he had just been spying, if he had been prying, he would have known--

But maybe there were other things. Other ways he should have known. Valentino couldn't have come to this conclusion, and already executed his plans, without any warnings signs. Had they been there? Had there been moments Vox missed? Something in his eyes, in his tone, or silences that lasted a little too long?

Had Valentino felt alone the entire time he was making this choice, making these plans?

Mind whirling, Vox listened. He listened, walked over, and was down on his knees, his hands on one of Valentino's legs, looking up at him, trying to memorize his face. Not just to take an image, because images were cheap, they were a dime a thousand, and they weren't the same as a memory. They weren't the same as knowing someone. Remembering how the light hit their skin, remembering the heat of them under your hands, or the way they smelled, the way their voice made you feel. He was losing Valentino--he had to be. Because what Val wanted... what Val wanted, where he was going... Vox could never go with him. He couldn't be redeemed. He couldn't do better, not the way Valentino wanted to--

But maybe, maybe, he could do one thing.

His hands tightened around Val's leg. There were actually tears on Vox's screen now, little droplets that burned his eyes as they slid down, sizzling, to drip from a corner.

Val had already done this. Of course he had. He set his plan into motion, he took every necessary action, everything that would have to be done to ensure Vox couldn't stop him. Which meant there was only one form of damage control to take here--and only one choice to make.

"Let me come with you," he said, his voice quiet, tight, maybe a little hoarse. "The Vees won't--without you, Val, I don't care. I don't want the prestige. Not without you. You have come to matter to me far too much, more than anything else. So if you're going, if this really means that much to you... Velvette's the smart one. She can handle things. She doesn't need us. Let me come with you. I'll release my contracts. Do whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I don't want to lose you, Val.

"Not until the end. Not until Heaven takes you. Because that's what you want, isn't it? To be welcomed into their arms?

"So let me stay with you. Let me--protect you, at least. I won't interfere. Whatever it takes to help you find... find what you need." Valentino was better muscle than Vox was, he always had been, he had the street smarts, but it didn't matter. Vox loved this man. He loved him. Being the Vees meant more than just the image, important as that had been: it meant loyalty, at least to Vox. And if he couldn't stay loyal to both of them, he would stay loyal to one of them. This one. This soul. This man, who he would always choose, in the end.

Until the end.

Val's own fingers twitched when Vox withdrew his touch. Sensing that his words were beginning to truly sink in. The physiological changes made it obvious, the familiar glow was usually a sign of a euphoric slip of control. But not on this night.

What followed was a bombardment of questions, quickly making Valentino feel overwhelmed as each desperate inquiry inflicted more agony than the last. All of his preparation, the explanations he had concocted beforehand, threatened to crumble under the crushing weight of guilt.

But Val had sworn to himself that he would tell Vox the truth.

ཐིཋྀ "I freed all of them.", he confessed, holding his partner's thunderstruck stare.

"Every soul contract I made is undone. I shut down the studio, sold my limousine, and made arrangements to move out of the penthouse."

Because Val didn't want there to be even the slightest chance that he would back out of his plan. Not after the eternity it had taken him to find the courage to attempt to change. It was now or never.

"I have two places I can move to, I've yet to decide which one it's gonna be. But Vox..."

He leaned forward in his seat, red eyes glowing with conviction.

"... I'm not doing this to hurt you. I know my resignation will weaken the Vees and I'm sorry for that. You can sell all of what I leave behind, I won't be keeping much. I promised myself that if I'm going to do this, I'm going to see it through to the end. A clean cut... will make it easier for all of us. Which doesn't mean that we can't be together anymore. Just that a lot of things are going to change."