Flawed Method

Flawed Method

Made another thing for @mmmilkweed! This time, it's based on this post.

Side note: You can pry Scottish White Lily from my cold, dead hands.

-

Shadow Milk would sooner die than admit that being held brings him comfort. It’s an embarrassment to all he is and all he stands for. There is no lie to be told in the warmth of a tender embrace, and deceit cannot pervade its gentleness. He is fearsome and powerful, and hugs are a comfort for the weak.

Still, he slips into Pure Vanilla’s arms every chance he gets, one way or another. Whether it’s a wild embrace with scathing kisses and frantic clawing and rustling sheets or simply sliding up against him in his sleep, he gets what he wants.

Today, Pure Vanilla refuses to even look his way. He can feel himself twitching as frustration claws at his chest. It was a minor prank! Everyone got all their limbs back in the end, so what’s the harm? “Nillyyy!” He complains, hating how pathetic he makes himself sound. The Beast of Deceit whining for the attention of a pious and truthful man; it’s a ridiculous image for sure, but he doesn’t care. Just one look and he’ll be satisfied for now. He can get whatever else he wants later.

Still, the man stubbornly ignores him. He stifles the growl threatening to rip from his throat. How dare he? How dare he refuse to give Shadow Milk his attention like this? He apologized, didn’t he? He fixed what he did.

Then it hits him. He’s mad at Shadow Milk, but what if he wasn’t Shadow Milk?

It’s as easy as lowering himself to his feet and slipping into a new skin. He reaches out with a pale little hand, forcing his lip to tremble. He lets tears slip down his cheeks. “Pure Vanilla…” He pleads in White Lily’s soft Scottish burr. Finally, the man whips around to look at him in shock. Victory! Oh, but he’s not done. He has to pay for ignoring him like that. “Pure Vanilla! Please, don’t-” He hiccups, pretending to stumble over his words. Oh, what a show he’s going to put on for him! “Don’t leave me! Please!”

He presses himself close with a sob, tangling these frail arms of his in Pure Vanilla’s robes. It’s so warm compared to the frigid air. He blinks, and more tears fall from his eyes. He continues his pathetic little mumbles and apologies, only beginning to let up when Pure Vanilla wraps his arms around him in return. Was he seriously that stupid? Did he really think he was hugging White Lily or something? A little giggle slips out, but he masks it with another sob. Already, he can feel his frustration waning.

Here, in the warmth of Pure Vanilla’s arms, he feels a plan forming. And oh, what a plan it is.

~

The next time he slides into another skin, it’s Hollyberry’s form he adopts. The boisterous woman should be easy enough to emulate; she’s hardly a quiet person. It’s easy to pick up on her mannerisms. He strolls through the gardens of Pure Vanilla’s palace, delighted when he sees his quarry tending to a patch of milkcrown flowers.

“Pure Vanilla! How are you, fratello?” He laughs, approaching with ease. The man waits for a few seconds, then looks up with a bright smile.

“Hollyberry! I am well. How are you and your family?” Pure Vanilla rises from the soil, brushing grass from his robes.

“Good, good! We’re doing just fine.” He replies, standing right in front of Pure Vanilla. It’s a nasty habit of Hollyberry’s to invade personal space, one he delights in. He can smell vanilla orchids and turned earth, and the scent is almost enough to send him into a high. He maintains his composure, though, and opens his arms wide. “Now, where’s my hug? It’s been too long!”

He just about dies of happiness when Pure Vanilla steps closer and wraps his arms around him. He pulls the man close, a grin much too wide for any normal face spreading across his lips. It’s borderline euphoric to be able to hold Pure Vanilla like this. He’s smaller for once, dwarfed by Hollyberry’s muscular physique.

He’ll have to do this more often.

Should he do Dark Cacao next? Maybe Golden Cheese. Already, so many ideas swirl around in his head. He could impersonate Black Raisin or maybe just some random child. He’ll do anything, steal anyone’s form, if he gets to feel this all the time.

“Shadow Milk, why are you pretending to be my friends?”

Just like that, the illusion shatters. His grin falls, and his face twists into a scowl. He snarls and shoves Pure Vanilla away, returning to his own form. Fucking hell, why couldn’t he have his fun? “How did you know?” He rasps, floating out of reach. He crosses his arms, trying to hold on to that wonderful warmth for a few seconds more. Already, his metaphorical hackles are up.

“Your eyes. They don’t change.” Pure Vanilla replies with a tender chuckle. The man returns to his flowers, ignoring Shadow Milk’s anger. “Besides, Hollyberry only calls Cacao fratello. She calls me mio piccolo tesoro. Isn’t that just the cutest?”

Her little treasure. Hollyberry calls Pure Vanilla her little treasure.

Writhing jealousy grabs his heart and twists it, and another growl rips from his throat. “No, it’s disgusting,” He spits.

“Either way, I asked you a question. Why did you pretend to be White Lily and Hollyberry?”

It’s the easiest question in the world to answer, but it’s the hardest at the same time. He knows why he did it, but that doesn’t mean Pure Vanilla has to know. It would just complicate things. He didn’t need to give this pious prick another reason to push so hard for his redemption.

I just wanted you to hold me.

“To fuck with you, obviously!” For the first time in his long life, a lie doesn’t come easy. He struggles to choke it out. He forces out a cackle and flips upside down. “What did you want me to say? ‘Oh my sweet Vanilly, I just wanted to be held in your big, strong arms?’ Yeah, right!”

“If it’s as simple as wanting to be held, then you just need to ask,” Pure Vanilla says with a soft smile. Shadow Milk splutters, his eyes going wide as he stares down at the audacious man from his spot in the air. Did he not hear the majority of what he said? Okay, he had to be genuinely stupid at this point.

“Do you only hear what you want to or something?” He stammers. Pure Vanilla just shrugs in response and carefully trims a flower, twisting it to and fro in his fingers. He beckons Shadow Milk closer, and he obeys against his better judgement.

“Sometimes,” he whispers, tucking the flower in Shadow Milk’s hair, “I hear what people truly mean instead of what they tell me.” The gesture is so soft and sweet, almost nauseating. Shadow Milk has half a mind to leave right then, but the way Pure Vanilla opens his arms just for him is such a compelling invitation. He doesn’t offer for White Lily or Hollyberry; no, he offers his embrace to Shadow Milk alone now.

Fighting down the giddiness rising in his chest, he throws himself into Pure Vanilla’s arms with a huff. He grasps the man’s robes firmly, refusing to let go. He basks in the sweet smell of patchouli and sweet vanilla as he buries his nose in Pure Vanilla’s neck. Warm arms curl around him, hands resting on his lower back and between his shoulders, and pull him closer. Pure Vanilla slowly sinks down, kneeling in the soil with Shadow Milk draped over his lap.

This is how the world is meant to be, he likes to think. Here, in the arms of the one whose attention he craves so desperately, everything feels right. He closes his eyes, savoring the way Pure Vanilla places his chin on his head and gently rocks back and forth. He thinks he might be humming, but he can’t be bothered to care.

This warm cocoon of vanilla and light is all he needs for now.