A Gust of Wind (Vash x Reader), Chapter 8
Vash x Reader, GN! Reader, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn Romance, TW: Mental Health Problems. Reader awakens to an unfamiliar world, left alone and struggling with mental health problems from before the crash. Vash emerges as a guiding light for Reader, and vice versa.
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A/N: Giggled and kicked my feet SO MUCH as I wrote this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
(God, this was so self-indulgent… My touch-starved is showing </3)
A Gust of Wind
Chapter 8
Vash gave a whole new meaning to taking someone’s breath away. You struggled for air with muffled wheezing as he smothered your face into the crook of his neck, pressing his hand to the back of your head, crushing your chest against his, squeezing until he could no longer feel your warm, strangled puffs of breath against his skin. He repeated his words like a mantra. You came back… You came back…
Yes, you came back, but this was not the welcome you expected, nor deserved. His touch, like fire, burned hotter than Marlene’s. As he continued to melt your body into his, something hard and metal on his chest dug into your skin painfully, sure to leave a couple of dark bruises come tomorrow. This small atonement for your sins was all that kept your tears from streaming down your cheeks.
You were dizzy, sore, and blue in the face by the time Vash loosened his grip, giving you just enough room to expand your chest once again. His face was inches from yours as you took deep breaths, and his own ragged panting invaded your lungs. His eyes, beautifully dazed, fixed upon yours.
You would have given anything to gaze into those eyes of his again, the ones that saw through you in the way that, up until now, only your mother had. The ones that carried the same distinct taint of some deeply rooted sadness, of something that could leave anyone feeling othered, and utterly alone. And here they were, those familiar eyes, like home, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look.
“I’m sorry…” you said in a small voice, your face turned away from his. It was all you could manage. You hadn’t had time to think about what you would say once you found him. Your thoughts up to now were thoroughly preoccupied with deceiving the townsfolk and planning his escape. And besides, you’d be a liar if you denied the fact that you were simply terrified of how this conversation might go. You didn’t want to think about all the awful things you were so sure he’d say to you, and rightfully so. Despite his overwhelming, bone-crushing affection upon seeing you again, you still waited with bated breath for his response.
“Sorry?” Vash’s grip loosened a little more, his hands sliding to your shoulders. “Sorry about what?”
You couldn’t help yourself any longer. A shaky sob escaped your lips. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sounds you could no longer hold back. A hasty barricade upon a breaking dam.
Suddenly, it was Vash who was comforting you. After everything that happened, beaten, bleeding, and bruised, he was the one comforting you.
And here you were, trying your damned hardest to keep your cries from alerting the gunmen passing by outside. All for what? Because you hurt your own feelings? Because you’d done a horrible thing you should never have done? Because you were the one responsible for every one of the mars on his beautiful face? You deserved every ounce of guilt weighing down upon you. And you certainly didn’t deserve the way his kind hands cradled your body once again.
Your chest heaved painfully as you desperately choked down your cries. You couldn’t help but run your trembling fingertips obsessively along every bloodstained bandage, as if you could somehow brush the lacerations softly away.
His right hand traveled up to your face, cupping your cheek carefully, like newspaper wrapping brittle glass. Vash pressed his forehead to yours, and coaxed your chin gently so that you’d look back at him the way he wanted you to. Finally locked in the gaze you both craved, each of you wondered if the other saw in themselves what you saw in each other.
Without a doubt, this man could read right through you. His soft, yet piercing eyes left not much to the imagination. You were an open book for him to flip through and enjoy. Something about this should have felt so violating, yet there was some relief in the way he turned each one of your pages with such delicate hands, careful not to make a single tear, leaving only the slightest fingerprints of his forefinger and his thumb. It was enough to make you wish he’d turn the pages a little faster.
But who was to say that the words on the pages read the same for him as they did for you? The way he looked at you was angelic and full of love, as if he weren’t staring straight into the eyes of a sinner. What did those pages read? What could they possibly be saying?
And Vash. He paraded with the guise of a paperback, but underneath the decorative sleeve was a hardcover. You longed to touch it, if only to feel the tiny grooves of the leather, before trading away whatever secret scraps of paper you had left for the chance to read the entirety of his first page. There had to be more to this man than what you could see, even now. You wanted to see, and you knew that he wanted you to, as well.
Still, there were parts of him that maybe even he couldn’t read. Chapters he probably skipped every time he opened his book. Chapters he simply refused to recognize. But you did. You at least knew they were there. Perhaps Vash didn’t quite understand the value of the ink on his pretty pages. He would rather feed them to the fire to keep his neighbors warm on a cold desert night than to ever acknowledge that he may be worthy of something softer.
Your fingers ghosted over a particularly bloody bandage, messily tied right over his clothes. Carefully, you unwrapped it. The gash was long, and rather deep, cutting across the side of his torso. It would leave a scar, for sure.
“Take off your shirt,” you whispered, your hands already sliding underneath the hem.
Vash hesitated as you gently started lifting the shirt for him. “I’d… really rather not,” he responded.
Your fingers pressed against his belly as he placed his hand over yours, preventing you from going any further. His skin was surprisingly rough, and… Was that a piece of metal?
You started to back off, but one more look at the wound you had just unbandaged strengthened your resolve. “Let me help you,” you insisted, tensely gripping the edge of the fabric.
Vash swallowed hard, agonizingly contemplating what to say. It made no sense to refuse your help in his current state, but still. His mind raced through all your possible reactions if he were to go through with this. He wasn’t sure if he could bear much more at the moment.
“Please…” you begged, intertwining your fingers with his and gently guiding his hand aside.
He could no longer refuse you. The way you were looking at him made him wish he could repeat this scenario anywhere else, in a safer place, just the two of you. Taking a deep breath, he slowly removed his shirt.
You couldn’t help but gasp a little. Immediately, there was a look of regret on his face, and he almost began to reach for his shirt once again. However, your hands now rested softly along his ribs, catching him by surprise.
You brushed your fingertips, featherlight, over his torso, almost as if in a trance. His skin was covered all over with large scars, burn marks, and even metal bits that appeared to function as prosthetic pieces. What happened to this poor man?
Images from earlier that day crept up in your mind. Was this the price he paid for the sake of people like you? You bit your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, all in a desperate attempt to keep your composure. This was a vulnerable moment for him, and you would do your best to make him understand just how special he was.
“Oh, Vash…” you breathed, resting your forehead on his shoulder while your hands lightly stroked each and every scar. The way you caressed his sensitive skin, the way you slowly dragged your hands along the marred tissue over his heart… It sent a shiver down his spine. A shiver that coursed right through your own fingertips.
At this, you reeled yourself in, shaking your head a little and turning around to hide a furious blush. His reaction would stay engraved in your memory for quite some time.
Clearing your throat awkwardly, you reached over for the medical supplies in your bag. You could feel Vash’s heavy gaze on your back as you did so. He watched your every move as you retrieved disinfectant and fresh bandages, and relished in how you cleaned his wound so gently. He could barely hold himself back from putting his hands on you again, trying not to get in the way of your work.
“I know it’s hard, but try not to move so much on this side,” you said, double checking to make sure the bandage was snug. “Otherwise, it’ll just keep bleeding through.”
“Mhmmm…” he hummed, although judging by the glazed look in his eyes, it didn’t really seem like he was listening. His hands snaked up your arms as he pulled you close.
Suddenly, you were pulled flush against his chest once again, and his forehead pressed softly to yours. Vash had a big, goofy smile on his face. “I can’t believe you came back.”
You wanted to smile. You really did. But you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken at the way he said those words. They didn’t quite match the look on his face. Instead, you settled for a nod and a light squeeze to his hand.
“Does this mean… you’ll stay?” He asked tentatively, suddenly not looking you in the eyes.
Your heart sank. You didn’t know what to say. Lying crossed your mind, but he probably already knew your real answer from the way you hesitated to respond.
You couldn’t do it again. As much as you cared for him, you could in no way guarantee that you could do it again. You couldn’t vow to stay the way you’d done for your mother. It was a broken promise waiting to happen.
Vash’s fingertips dug into your skin, not quite hard enough to cause pain, but hard enough that it made you look, just to be sure that it was, in fact, his hands gripping you this tightly. You turned your gaze back to him. He still refused to look you in the eyes, but you could see that his expression was pained and pleading.
“Please… Stay…” he whispered softly, his breath on your lips. “If not for me, then…”
His chest heaved slightly before he continued, taking you by surprise. “God… I was so scared. I thought you’d never come back. I thought I had failed you. I thought you would… I thought…”
At this, it was your turn to give him a hard squeeze. “You are not responsible for me, Vash,” you stated firmly, moving your head to look directly into his eyes. You couldn’t keep the frustration out of your voice. “For the love of God, don’t you ever think about yourself?”
“I am thinking about myself!” He retorted, his words dripping in a tone you weren’t used to hearing from him. It nearly made you flinch, but you stood your ground.
“Does letting others drag you into situations where you’ll get the crap beaten out of you count as thinking about yourself, then?” You hissed angrily, trying to keep your voice down. “You were worried about me, but I was freaking out about you, too! You could have died.”
“You could have died, too! In fact, you did almost die the last time, so don’t give me that!” Vash furrowed his brows. His grip on your arms was starting to sting.
“That is my business. Mine, not yours!” You said, attempting to tear yourself away from him, but he only held on even tighter. “Besides, it’s my fault that you even got into this mess to begin with!”
His grip let up and his expression softened. A few moments of silence passed by as he looked at you curiously. “Is that what you think?”
More silence. Once again, you didn’t know how to respond. You knew this was a question you’d keep coming back to, as long as Vash was the one asking. But the answer was obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to put it. Your demons would drag you down, and your anchors down with you.
“Listen, I am being selfish, okay?” He breathed softly into your ear, resting his temple on yours. His hands traveled up your back, wrapping you in a gentle hug, attempting to calm you down. He could feel your pulse rising. “Please, let me be selfish.”
“Let you… be selfish?”
“Yes. You said you were sorry, right?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder blades as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. You nodded slowly. “Well, then don’t ever do that again. Don’t run from me ever again. Don’t leave me, (Y/N).”
His shaky breath felt warm against your skin. The realization was setting in for him. Swallowing your nerves, you gently wove your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp in apology for the words you couldn’t speak. You hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
Vash sighed heavily. With sudden force, he squeezed you in his arms. It was too tight, too strong to escape. Once again, you could hardly breathe.
“Well, that’s okay. I won’t let that happen. Ever again.”
