Noé and Astolfo arrive in Florence and talk about the next steps. (They’re going to warm up to each other at some point, I promise)
Chapter 2/?
Content warning : mentioned character death
< Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 >
“What kind of lead do you have in Florence?”
Astolfo sends the Archiviste an annoyed look over his shoulder and goes back to watching the world fly by underneath.
His lead isn’t a fresh one. It’s several months old, and it’s not the first time he goes to Florence for it. But you must do with what you have, and since almost everything he collected during his time as a chasseur was lost with the Paris Headquarters, he has no other choice.
A year ago, the part of the catacombs housing the Paris chasseurs’ HQ collapsed. In Astolfo’s memories, the dust falls, and when he tries to breath he coughs — it’s getting in his nose, his mouth, his eyes, he can’t breathe right. He frantically searches for someone in the crowd, trying to distinguish people from each other, looking through faces after faces, men and women in uniforms but he can’t find him.
“Where is Marco?”
“Astolfo?”
“Where is he, Roland?!”
His heart pounds as he spots more uniforms sticking from under the rubbles and suddenly, he realizes he just lost everything all over again.
A hand on his shoulder. Astolfo jumps and his surroundings change. He’s in the airship, flying high above the French countryside, and the vampire looks at him, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.
“Are you okay? You look pale—”
“I’m fine,” he snaps, and waves him off. “Why do you want to know about my lead?”
The vampire’s face goes a little red. “I was curious and, maybe I could help—”
“I do not want your help,” Astolfo cuts. “I am unsure of how many times I will have to say it for you to understand, but I don’t need your help.”
“Don’t want or don’t need?”
Astolfo falls silent, and his side aches where a months old injury still feels recent.
It’s not the first time he follows this lead, and it has made him realize how weak he truly is, how little he is without the chasseurs. The man he is looking for was seen in Italy a year ago - and was still there six months ago when Astolfo went to check if the information was still accurate.
If he isn't still in Italy, at least he knows someone who can tell him where he went. He knows a chasseur — another blow to his pride, having to rely on them after being unceremoniously kicked out, after never being wanted in the first place.
He doesn’t answer the vampire's question. He doesn’t want to answer, because he doesn’t want to admit the vampire is right, that no matter how many times he refuses help he’ll always need it.
Anger — at himself, mostly, and at the Archiviste — courses through him, as he thinks about his own weakness.
“I said what I said,” he snaps. “Leave me alone, I’m skilled enough to get by on my own.”
The vampire goes quiet, but glances at him when he thinks Astolfo doesn't notice like he can see through his every pretences and Astolfo hates him for it.
They land in Florence about a day later and Noé knows, in the way Astolfo keeps pushing him away, that he is in need of help. Vanitas used to be like this, too. It’s when people like them, who try to be fiercely independent, who want to deal with everything on their own, start pulling away that you know they will need you the most.
He wasn’t planning on sticking around once they arrived in Florence, but he doesn’t like the idea of Astolfo on his own, flirting with danger without backup.
Vanitas would call him a bleeding heart. Maybe he is, but it doesn't bother him. He is not ashamed of doing his best to help people, even if they pretend they don’t need it. Especially, if they pretend they don’t need it.
Not to mention, he owes it to Astolfo. They may not have parted on the best terms, but Noé still owes him large debt, and he intends to see it repaid, one day.
(He can still feel, on the skin of his flesh arm, the pressure of Astolfo’s fingers clamped tightly around his wrist.)
Maybe it’s now the occasion. Besides, what else is he going to do? Go back to travelling alone, sitting in trains and airships with no one but himself and followed by the ghosts of his friends ?
“Why are you still following me?”
“I don’t know the city at all,” Noé remarks innocently, smiling brightly. “Do you know a good hotel I could stay for a few days?”
He asks, because since they arrived Astolfo’s steps are lighter, he moves through the streets with more confidence. The younger man tries not to let the change show, but it’s like he has an easier time breathing.
“Fine,” he relents, with much less hostility than what Noé is used to. “I’ll take you to one.”
As he leads him through this city he seems to know by heart, they pass by a plaza. Noé stops there, admiring the cathedral, and Astolfo’s good moods seem to make him a little more talkative than usual.
"This is the cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore,” Astolfo explains when they walk past it. He stops, gazing up at the facade and its rose window. “The sturdiest building in Italy. It took over two centuries to build, and it survived Babel and served as a shelter for survivors.” He gazes at the building like it holds some sentimental value, and though the urge to ask is there, Noé stays quiet, afraid Astolfo will go silent if he speaks up. “It’s the very first chasseur headquarters in the world, older even than the Vatican.”
They reach a small hotel, not so far off the cathedral. It’s so unlike what Noé thought Astolfo would choose that he makes a double take — but, to be perfectly honest, everything Astolfo has done since they set foot in Italy is so strange that he can't bring it up.
Immediately, Astolfo launches into a conversation with the receptionist, in Italian so quick Noé’s basic knowledge of the language doesn’t allow him to understand a single word of it. He’s unfailingly polite, smiling at him warmly even as he points at Noé and seems to ask if they need only one room — at least, that’s what Noé catches of the conversation. Still, it seems to work out, because he hands Astolfo a pair of keys.
One of those makes its way into Noé’s hand. “Here is yours,” Astolfo tells him shortly, reverting to French, before shoving something else in his hands. “And a city map. Now, will you leave me alone?”
Noé isn’t sure he wants to — both for Astolfo and for himself. Some matters are best not left alone. “Thank you,” he says, not putting his concerns into words. If Astolfo suspects Noé isn’t about to leave him on his own, he’ll try his best to escape and he doesn’t want to take the risk of losing him so quick.
Besides, he seems to be in good moods, and he wouldn’t want to ruin it. “Why this hotel?” he adds, trying to take advantage of said moods, since they make him more likely to answer questions. If anything, he'll get more details about what exactly he's looking for.
“It’s only a few minutes walk to the Cathedral,” Astolfo explains quickly. “I’ll be meeting with the chasseurs.”
It makes sense — if there are people monitoring vampire activity in the human world, it's the chasseur. If Astolfo needs any kind of information, he'll probably be able to get it through them. On the other hand...
"If you aren't a chasseur anymore, how are you so sure they'll meet with you?"
Astolfo grimaces, and crosses his arms, clamming up. It’s the question Noé shouldn’t have asked. “It doesn’t mean I don’t have friends,” he hisses. “Are you done with the interrogation?” When Noé doesn’t answer, he nods briskly. “Very well. Goodbye.”
Noé still follows him up the stairs, because their rooms are on the same floor, but Astolfo ignores him all the way up.
When he’s alone, Murr glares at him like he’s at fault, and settles near the window. Noé follows him here, staring out at the unfamiliar city skyline. He wonders how many secrets it holds, and how many of them Astolfo knows about.
Later in the evening, he and Murrs go to the restaurant area to get something to eat, starting to feel hungry. He orders a simple meal, and is just finished with it when he spots Astolfo crossing the lobby towards the exit.
He doesn’t see him, but Murr is staring intently, and Noé quickly pays for his meal to follow Astolfo out of the hotel.
If it was only a matter of travelling alone or in company, Noé could easily leave Astolfo to his own device and wait for him to be done here, but he can’t deny he’s worried.
Noé sure remembers how skilled Astolfo was in a fight, but the young man isn’t a chasseur any longer, and had to give up his weapon and the drug allowing him to reinforce himself when he lost the title. What if he gets hurt? Or worse? The local chasseurs may have been his friends, but considering the circumstances of Astolfo's departure from the chasseurs, would they allow him to fight by their side?
So many things can go wrong. Noé doesn't like Astolfo, he doubts he could ever truly like him, but he isn't about to leave him to die with no second thoughts. He's seen enough people killed because of him, because he could do nothing, and he's not allowing this to happen again. As long as he follows Astolfo around, Noé won't let him die, not like Louis, not like Vanitas, personal feelings be damned.
“Once again, why are you still following me?”
He blinks. Astolfo is staring at him in affront, eyes angry and jaw tense, hands set firmly on his hips. That he barely reaches Noé's shoulders would make it cute if Noé hadn’t seen him commit numerous murders.
“Are you an idiot? What part of goodbye did you not understand?”
“How are you so sure the chasseurs here will help you?” He asks again, maybe because he needs to reassure himself, in a way, that Astolfo isn't walking straight into a death trap on his own. But instead of answering, Astolfo stiffens, pointedly not looking at him, and Noé understands. “You don’t really know, do you?”
“The man I’m meeting is an old family friend. Since the Chevalier Ténèbre was last seen in Italy, he should be able to give me more details.”
“The Chevalier Ténèbre?” Noé takes in chin between his fingers at the name, thinking. He is sure he has he heard it before, but he can't quite place it yet. Was Chevalier a moniker or an actual title. “This name sounds familiar—”
“They were originally a pair of vampire brothers and thieves. Now there is only one of them left, thanks to yours truly.” He tilts his chin up, face twisting into a grim smile, and he tucks his hair behind his ear. The fanged earring sways and glints. “And Antonio can tell me where he is now.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Nowadays, human and vampire relations are slightly better than what they used to be, and Noé is fairly positive that he can walk into chasseur territory without being murdered on the spot, especially if he's with a human — as long as he doesn't cause too much trouble.
“We are not in Paris, remember?" He shakes his head. “Roland isn’t here to vouch for you.” He wrinkles his nose at the name, though it's only half-hearted.
“If I didn’t know you any better, I would say you’re worried."
Astolfo’s mouth opens, and clicks shut, no words coming out of it. Then, he huffs. “Do as you like,” he snaps. “I don't care. Get yourself killed if you wish it, but do not get in my way.”
Summary: A minute later, Astolfo freezes, and the soft smile disappears in an instant. He doubles over, groaning in pain, and one hand flies to his lower abdomen, clutching it.
Sorry I was so late in answering but I didn’t had time to open the pc and I hate doing it on the phone because the app deletes my posts sometimes10. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?It’s both. The first time it happened they told the order in basically unison to the poor waitress. It happened a couple of other times until it evolved into a game of who tells the complete order for two to the waiters wins. 13. Who reaches for the other’s hand first? Noé. Astolfo is not really a touch-friendly person, so he doesn’t really start something like that, but he loves it anyway.18. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?) Since I hc that Astolfo would probably forget to eat on a daily basis, it’s probably Noé that makes (read: puts together, 90% of the time only buys them from the nearest store already done) the lunches and puts the little notes in. (the content varies between “I’m glad that this time you decided to actually eat” to “I love you”, with sometimes some shitty puns written on the back)otp question meme
A year after Vanitas dies, Noé and Astolfo run into each other again. Together, they run after the monsters of Astolfo’s past and away from the ghosts clinging to their minds.
Chapter 1/?
Chapter CW: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Future Fic (3 years later)
Chapter 2 >
It takes some time for Noé to get used to Vanitas being gone.
There is just a moment, a step forward, as Domi calls it, when he just knows Vanitas isn’t there anymore.
He hits a point when he doesn’t expect Vanitas to enter the room, to shake him awake for sleeping too long, to be eating snacks in a small corner of the building he’s found. He doesn’t see Vanitas in crowds anymore, with every long coat, long hair or blue ribbons.
His mind seems, at some point, to just accept the fact that Vanitas is gone. A point where it instinctively switches from Vanitas is to Vanitas was.
Noé knows this little fact is supposed to be reassuring, and that everyone around him is absolutely relieved to see him enter what they believe is the late stage of grief that is acceptance.
But it feels awful, and Noé hates himself for getting used to Vanitas’ absence.
He tries, at Domi’s insistence, to go back to Averoigne. He needs his rest, and it’s the only way she can be sure he won’t be alone dealing with this. With Domi, now the owner of the manor, as well as the less permanent residents Jeanne and Dante, it’s often populated with overly helpful people.
Dante sometimes still tries to pretend he’s here half-heartedly, but he was just as shellshocked, just a wrecked as the rest of them. He is only at he manor every once in a while those days, having started to travel with Johann and Riche again, though he regularly jumps at the chance to come back.
And Noé tries, really. He tries to look like he’s fine, to play along with everyone, but it feels too much like they’re pretending nothing happened. Like Vanitas was never one of them.
He ends up leaving.
Two full years almost constantly on the road made him a restless person, anyway. On top of everything, he just isn’t used to staying in the same place for too long now.
He sets off for Paris. Normal Paris, not Altus Paris.
It’s because he’s restless and needs to move, and a big city is better for it than any other, he reasons. Or maybe it’s to get some closure. Or maybe he misses seeing Vanitas into crowds even though he isn’t there.
Sitting on that train, watching the scenery go by, and feeling the car’s vibrations as the engine turns and turns and takes him away from a place he can’t call home anymore makes him feel more alive than he has in the past year.
Murr curls up on his laps, and Noé’s flesh hand scratches him behind the ears. He closes his eyes, lays his head on the window, and tries to let himself sleep.
He wakes up as the announcer yells about being in Paris — “Ladies and Gentlemen we have arrived in the station of Paris - Gare de Lyon. This is this train’s terminus, make sure you do not forget your personal effects while leaving the train.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen…”
Noé blinks groggily and shakes his head. He gathers his things, puts his hat back on, grabs his suitcase, and lets Murr on his shoulders.
The hotel he chooses is not Hotel Chouchou, but a small hotel, not quite in the center of Paris — while Count Orlok offered him a place to stay upon hearing of his return, Noé preferred to refuse.
He’s here to figure out what the hell to do with himself now. Maybe rediscover the city, taking advantage of the fact that he is not pressed by time or need anymore.
Paris used to be a base of operations — where they came back after hunting for yet another curse bearer, but they never stayed long enough in the city (or anywhere, really) to really appreciate it. It’s an opportunity, he thinks, to finally getting to really know Paris.
It’s complicated.
It revives memories.
Every step seems to take him to a spot he has been before (with Vanitas), and brings back old memories (of Vanitas) in places he used to go in his free time for tea or otherwise (with Vanitas).
He holds out two days before he decides that, no matter how he misses Vanitas, it’s enough. This trip, which is supposed to be relaxing, supposed to keep his mind off things, quickly turns into a painful reminder that Vanitas is dead.
Gone. Not dead, gone .
Dead feels a little too final, especially when he hasn’t, actually, seen him die.
Time to leave.
He goes back to the station, reading the list of departures over and over again, looking for somewhere to go. Somewhere far enough, a trip that would stop his body from itching with restlessness and get his mind to focus on something that’s not…well. On something new.
He briefly considers the south of France, maybe going to see the sea near Marseille, but another one catches his eye.
There is an airship leaving for Rome in less than an hour. Yes, he thinks, this is where he will go.
Italy.
Rome. He needs to get a ticket to Rome and leave Paris as soon as possible. Roma has no memories in every street corner and no one and nothing he knows about. It’s perfect.
The first step is to get to a ticket booth and buy himself a spot on that aircraft. The station is bustling with activity, and he finds himself having trouble locating the selling desk.
Looking around with a specific purpose, he doesn’t really pay attention to the people surrounding him, and it’s only a matter of time before he bumps into someone. He apologizes, the man barely notices him, but Murr takes the opportunity to jump off his shoulder and disappear into the crowd.
“Wait!” Noé calls. “Murr!”
He goes after him, but Murr is running like a cat on a mission. He follows him for a few minutes before seeing him stop right at someone’s feet.
“What the—” they say, looking down at the cat rubbing itself on their leg.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims. “He got away from me —“
“It’s no trouble,” he says, and Noé’s frantic apologizing trails off at the sight of the familiar light, almost pinkish hair. He bends down, gives Murr a scratch and picks him up. “I was only surprised — no harm done,” he continues, handing Murr to Noé. “Here—” He stops. “Oh.”
Astolfo Granatum is probably the last person Noé expected to run into in Paris, of all places. It seems like the sentiment is shared, as Astolfo’s smile becomes a bit forced the moment he recognizes him.
“It’s…you,” Noé manages to say.
He hasn’t seen Astolfo in over a year, since the mess here, in Paris. They went on their separate ways after that, to everyone’s relief. Astolfo was not a very pleasant person to be around if you were a vampire.
Several emotions pass over Astolfo’s faces in a matter of seconds, before he defaults to polite pleasantries. “Monsieur,” he greets, voice a little too sharp, tilting his hat. “Long time no see.”
Noé nods, following suit. “True. So, how are you doing?”
“Good,” Astolfo answers shortly, and Noé doesn’t believe him for a second.
His voice his strained, and he looks drained. Like he hasn’t had a good night sleep in a year.
Noé knows how that feels.
There is a long, awkward silence, during which they stare at each other. There is no aggression or resentment in the way they look at each other, despite…well, they were never friends. Enemies, once, allies, at some point, but never friends. Either way, they hadn’t exactly parted on good terms, and it wasn’t completely Astolfo’s fault either.
Maybe time has changed the way they thought of each other.
Maybe they’re just both too tired for this.
They somehow find themselves sitting in the same café, at the same table, while a waiter brings Astolfo the most concentrated cup of coffee they have.
Noé never quite knew how to act around Astolfo.
The young man was always volatile and easy to anger, and despite Noé’s efforts never completely warmed up to the idea of vampires as a whole. He got better towards the end, yes, but not quite enough to be friends. Astolfo built himself, and his career as a chasseur, around his hate of vampires, and it takes a while to unlearn something so deeply ingrained into yourself.
Astolfo stares into his coffee like it contains the truth about life, the universe’s formula and everything else. He looks like he has something to say, but Noé knows how difficult it is for him to open up. He told, once, some details of his family’s murder, but only because Roland told Noé and Vanitas about their death first.
And well, Noé asked. Several times.
He won’t say anything unless prompted to.
He also looks like he needs help, with the dark bags around his eyes and the way he slumps forward a little. And Noé isn’t the kind of person to ignore someone who might be in need of help.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. Astolfo’s eyes snap up to him, and Noé actually wonders, for a second, when is the last time someone genuinely asked him such a question.
When is the last time someone truly worried about Astolfo? Does he even have anybody left to worry about him?
“Nothing is wrong.” He smiles again, that closed eyes smile that doesn’t ring quite right . “Last year has been a little stressful. I’ve been looking for the vampires who—” He pauses. “It’s more difficult now, because I’m not a chasseur anymore, what happened last year lost me all the resources at my disposal to find them.”
“Do you need any help?” Noé hears himself asking, and he isn’t even sure what he’s offering.
Astolfo’s face twists in a grimace “I don’t need help, especially from — ” His fingers clench around his cup like it’s a lifeline, something like regrets passes over his face. The coffee ripples in the cup. “I’m doing perfectly well on my own.”
It’s a lie.
“You aren’t,” Noé corrects.
Astolfo stares at him, hard, trying to make himself look bigger, better than he feels, but Noé isn’t fooled for one second. “I’m good ,” he insists.
“All right,” Noé concedes, unwilling to make him angrier, and changes the subject: “Where are you going?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m going to Italy,” he goes on, and Astolfo’s eyes dart away for a very short second before they focus back on Noé, an excuse or a lie ready to leave the younger man’s lips. However, over the past few years Noé has gotten better at reading people — Vanitas gave him a lot of practice, and a lot of Vanitas’ most annoying mannerisms are reflected in Astolfo. So, before he can speak, Noé says: “I take it’s where you are going as well.”
“Yes,” he admits after a short, resigned silence. “Italy. I have a lead there,” he adds like it puts more weight on the affirmation that he is doing fine without help.
It still gives Noé an idea.
“Let’s travel together, then!”
“Excuse me?”
“Until Italy, I mean.” He drinks some of his tea and smiles warmly at the younger man, hoping to ease the idea into him. “Once we are here, we can go on our separate ways, of course!”
“And why would I want to travel with you?”
“I don’t know.” Noé stares at his tea, thinking about how different traveling is without Vanitas. Nothing is the same, no quiet conversations on night train and pulling at the other’s arm to avoid being late and falling asleep on each other. “It’s better than traveling by yourself, isn’t it?”
Traveling by yourself is lonely. Astolfo is lonely. Noé is lonely. The solution seems so simple.
Astolfo’s mouth sets itself in a thin, severe line. He finishes his coffee in one go and puts his cup back on the table, making the spoon tremble. He stands, putting his hat back on. “Florence.”
“Uh?”
“I’m going to Florence. The airship leaves in two hours, don’t be late.” He stares down at him. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, I’m not allowing this for your sake. I simply don’t like how pathetic you look asking for company.”
Noé nods eagerly, barely believing his own enthusiasm at the prospect of a trip with Astolfo Granatum, of all people. ”I’ll be there!”
“You better, because if you are not on time I will not be waiting for you.” He turns on his heels, and walks away, dragging his suitcase behind him.
Watching him go, Noé takes a sip of his tea. He didn't expect the conversation to go so well — maybe it's a good sign. Maybe they can still become friends.
Summary: When Astolfo gets placed next to Noé - his most hated rival - in French whilst he also has the flu, an unexpected connection sparks between the two. (After Astolfo had thrown up, passed out, and woken up from a nightmare, that is.)
Content warnings: Vomiting, fainting, mentions of parental death, nightmares.
