Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His staff lightly tapped against the floor as he walked. 

One thing that people commonly think is that he needs his staff to see at all, something that hasn’t crossed his mind enough to debunk. But his eyesight isn’t that bad, just more on the really impaired side.

His long hair flowed behind him, gliding effortlessly with the wind as he approached the castle. He stepped down from the title of king a long while ago, though he still resided in the castle like before.

Pure Vanilla— throughout his long time of living—hundreds, thousands of years behind him. He never once thought of himself ending up here in the present. With him looking very different, his mindset being very different. 

He found himself not only looking into the light, but also mingling with deceit.

Well, what's the truth without a little lie and vice versa?

Pure Vanilla sighed as he ran a hand through his now much longer hair, the bright aura that seemed to indefinitely surround him, momentarily dimmed. He looked to the door that he stopped beside, his eyes finally opening as he softly gazed upon the door. His hand going to rest upon his soul jam as he contemplated opening the door.

Of course he had too, eventually.

Hm, he wasn’t all too against it really, more about how the other cookie would feel about it.

One thing the kingdom didn’t know was the beast he was harboring in his own room, a room not a lot of people pass by simply because it’s his own. He upkeeps it himself.

Pure Vanilla gently pushed open the door as he stepped in, instinctively closing the door behind him as he made sure it didn't slam close.

And the scene before him was serene. 

The beast sleeping in his own bed with his long hair spread out all around underneath him. His chest subtly rising up and down as the light from the sunset shined onto him through the window.

To say Pure Vanilla would describe the sight as serene would be an understatement actually.

He smiled softly as he walked to the side of the bed, placing his staff to lean against the wall so he got a full clearer view of the room. Despite a light replacing the eye of his new staff that he got when he awakened, he could still see out of it the same, even not clearer.

Pure Vanilla turned to look down at the unconscious beast on his bed.

He might have quickly changed his mind at that moment to open his eyes and look down at him on his own, but nobody was around to confirm it.

He sighed in content as he sat on the edge of the bed, making sure he didn’t accidentally sit on Shadow Milk’s hair. That would hurt him.

Speaking of hair..

Pure Vanilla’s eyes glanced down to the long hair that Shadow Milk had, he couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t majestic at time. How it flowed and moved as if it was its own being. He knew it took constant magic from Shadow Milk for it to flow on its own, his hair being more like tendrils instead of hair. He’s seen it in use before, especially in their last fight.

He twirled an end of it around his finger absentmindedly, the eyes that were usually in the beasts’ hair now being closed and dull, a stark contrast to the glow that it usually has.

Their last fight.

It was a rough one. 

Not because he got really hurt, but because of how bad he felt for his counterpart.

His counterpart was in a coma in his bed right now.

He sadly glanced down to the soul jam that rested on the chest of Shadow Milk, he had taken off the ruffles so he could be comfortable and the soul jam had magically moved down further to the middle of his chest.

Pure Vanilla leaned forward towards him, his hair falling slightly over the other. He had brought Shadow Milk into the kingdom when had fallen unconscious before he could make it into a portal away from them. And Pure Vanilla couldn’t simply leave him to be crushed under the weight of his own collapsing spire.

“Do wake up soon..” He mumbled under his breath, his mismatched eyes lidded with sorrow the two shared.

A truth and deceit.

He had already used his own abilities to heal the other, what’s left to do is for the other to fight through his own mind and wake up.

And Pure Vanilla will be there beside him.

He shifted his position once again, now sitting further up on the bed as the sun continued to set, the light still pouring through and bouncing off them too.

He raised his hand, bringing it over Shadow Milk as he slowly let it rest on the others chest, right above where his soul jam resides. He placed his other hand on his own soul jam, he felt like he could feel a faint pulse that alternated between the two.

Like they were connected. Hm, he liked that thought, they very much were.

“At least, I feel connected. More connected to you.” Her whispered softly in response to his own thoughts, leaning down towards Shadow Milk slowly as his lowered his hand slightly. Now placing his hand directly on the cool material of his counterpart's soul-jam. 

He closed his eyes as he was silent for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he felt another pulse throughout both of their soul jams. Multiple times.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

That was a particularly strong one.

He was content though.

“If you would let me,” Pure Vanilla closed his eyes as he laid his head down on Shadow Milk’s chest, his soft smile growing just a bit warmer. “I’d like to get to know you better, get connected more.” He raised up slightly as he opened his eyes a bit, his gaze locked onto the face of Shadow Milk.

“If you let me, I’d love to understand more of what you’re feeling, what’s in your mind.” He raised up further. “I would never rush you, I’m willing to wait.” 

“You would hate me for saying this but,” He moved one hand to slowly grasp at one of the beast's hands, giving a gentle squeeze as he then looked back towards his face, his eyes being covered by his own hair. “It was never out of pity.”

Pure Vanilla leaned up as one of his hands reached to brush the long silver locs of hair that blocked his view of seeing the upper half of Shadow Milk's face. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t stare for a moment.

“Infact, maybe,” He pauses to think about his words for a moment. “I would say it was out of—“

He abruptly goes silent as he stares more intently at Shadow Milk’s face, and then he notices something.

Tears.

He was crying.

Shadow Milk was crying.

“Goodness..” He mumbled as he scanned the others face, the sadness being reflected right back at him as he frowned. 

Pure Vanilla didn’t ask any questions, immediately going up and putting his hand on his cheek. Catching the tears in his hand and wiping them away with a newfound gentleness. 

He thought back to his time of being Truthless Recluse, how mean and opposing he was to Shadow Milk. How, misunderstanding, he was. That wasn’t a good moment in time for him, not a very good look either. He wonders what could of been different had he known what he knows now, how lonely Shadow Milk was, what he truly wanted. No matter how much he tried to deny it.

A soft cry.

Pure Vanilla paused as his thoughts were interrupted again as he looked down.

A deep frown present on the beast below him as more tears were streaming down his face, his silver locs once again had fallen over his face. Pure Vanilla didn’t move them this time however.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He reached to wipe the tears that continued to stream down Shadow Milk’s face, his thumb quickly swiping any wetness away.  “I wasn’t paying attention.” He said with sadness in his voice, he was sad for Shadow Milk.

His heart broke at seeing the beast cry from whatever he was experiencing trapped in his own mind. It’s not something you would expect from someone like him. 

But a part of him was happy to see that side of Shadow Milk, even if Shadow Milk himself wasn’t really aware he was seeing it.

It was a sort of unveiling to Pure Vanilla, how he finally gets to see unscripted forced emotions on the face of the beast and finally gets to see something real.

Something, personal.

Pure Vanilla wanted those moments, craved it. 

He wiped another stray tear away from Shadow Milk’s face.

If this was how close he was going to get then he was going to take it. And he wasn't going to miss it if he could help it.

The sun was just about to disappear under the horizon.

He stood up from the bed, going over to the window as warm air softly blew in. He drew in a breath as he closed his eyes, feeling his hair slightly blow in the breeze as he leaned out the window. 

He leaned down and let his head rest in his palm, his head tilted as he basked in the dimming sunlight. It was something truly delightful, how its light seemed to make pretty things even prettier.

At that thought he turned around to Shadow Milk still lying motionless on his bed, the light from the sunset still on him.

He definitely stood by his previous thought.

“How much I can’t wait for you to wake up, so I can tell you all the things you deserve to hear.”  Pure Vanilla turned back towards the window one last time as he closes the curtains before pulling away, making his way back towards Shadow Milk. He stayed at the bedside as he ran his fingers through the beast’s. His head tilted as he felt his soul jam pulse once again, though a lot softer this time. 

“Things you should have heard much sooner.” 

Pure Vanilla did think about using his healing ability on Shadow Milk again, though he didn’t know how much light magic would affect the other. 

It could help however.

His healing magic possessed to ability to not only heal, but also offer a sense of ecstasy. It was sort of calming.

Pure Vanilla leans back over Shadow Milk, bending down to place his hand back over Shadow Milk as his other hand held his staff.

…

Maybe he was just really touchy and made excuses.

“I hope this helps you.” He let his power seep through as he lowered his head, his constant golden aura getting brighter as he pressed just a bit harder. He took note of how Shadow Milk seemed to stir in his state, his breaths seeming to get deeper and longer. Good, he liked that, it was a good sign.

Pure Vanilla glanced up to examine his face, while his hair was still drooping into his face, at least he was no longer crying. 

He rose back up as he was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what’s in your mind, or what you’ve been silently fighting alone,” He sighed in content as he tilted his staff slightly downwards, finally looking through it once more and getting a much clearer view of the beast. “But I hope you eventually tell me, and we could fight it together.” He absentmindedly twirled an end of a piece of hair from the other. 

The hair reacted to his touch.

Pure Vanilla froze as he looked down. 

He knew Shadow Milk’s hair was like tendrils and could move at will like snakes, but was surprising was that they were moving at all.

Pure Vanilla watched as the tendril of hair slowly wrapped his hand, curling over and down to his wrist where it stopped. It wasn’t gripping him or pulling, simply just wrapped around him. 

Maybe Shadow Milk was touchy too.

Pure Vanilla looked down at it in fascinating, quickly turning to see if the other was awake.

Not awake.

So this was a subconscious thing.

He smiled, this was interesting.

Pure Vanilla glanced out the window, the sun no longer visible as the sky finally now started to completely darken. The sky will be replaced with black and stars soon. He then looked down to Shadow Milk again, how the sunset light was now be replaced with moonlight.

And he looked even more serene.

He wasn’t surprised how the beast looked better in moonlight than sunlight.

His face changed to a more somber look as he realized he had to depart with him now. Pure Vanilla pulled away as the tendril fell away from his hand, flopping back down onto the bed where it remained.

He hesitated for a moment, he didn’t really want to leave, wanting to remain close where he could keep an eye on the condition of Shadow Milk. His soul jam seemed to also long to be closer to his counterpart as he felt an occasional pulling most days. But some things can’t be helped.

Pure Vanilla turned around, going towards the door and reaching to leave.

He stopped, feeing like there was another pull to turn around.

Pulse.

His soul jam flickered as he winced, resisting turning around as he took another step towards the door.

Pulse.

He flinched as he stopped momentarily, he ignored it, reaching the handle of the door and starting to pull it open to leave.

Stronger pulse.

He gasped slightly as he took a step back, he looked down at his soul jam as it now softly glowed, it even seemed to lightly vibrate against his chest as examined it. 

Pure Vanilla turned around back towards Shadow milk as his eyes quickly darted to his similar soul jam. 

His was also glowing.

He guesses it can be helped.

Whether his own emotions and thoughts activated something within his soul jam that then had a sort of domino effect towards Shadow Milk’s, he wouldn’t be able to tell. But he certainty wasn’t about to fight against it as he walked back towards the bed, his own feet didn’t even feel like he was controlling them, simply being on autopilot. 

Pure Vanilla let his staff rest against the wall as he sighed, letting his cape fall to the floor as he sat down on the bed. His back resting against the headboard as his hand rested against Shadow Milk’s soul jam. He could feel the soft pulse coming from it as it synced to his own soul jam.

He leaned down as his head rested against the beast's chest, right under where the soul jam resided. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but Pure Vanilla didn’t really mind.

Shadow Milk would definitely hate him being in such a position though.

—

Grass.

That was what was under him.

What?

Pure Vanilla sat up quickly at the feeling of wind on his face and through his hair, looking down at where he was previously laying, on grass.

He stood up as he looked around, he wasn’t in his room anymore and Shadow Milk was nowhere to be seen. He was slightly panicking until he looked around more clearly at the landscape around him, how odd it looked and how–unreal, it looked.

It was grey, everything around him was grey. Either that or it was different shades. He looked down at himself as he was practically the only thing with color in this place as he glowed a soft yellow, not a lot to be blinding but enough where it was very noticeable. He was still wearing his clothes that he had when he fell asleep initially.

A dream. He was dreaming and he was aware he was dreaming.

That's different, he’s never experienced something like this before.

He exhaled in relief as he properly started to look around at the landscape. It looked like the kingdom but everything was greyscale. It looked, mellow, in a way. Something nostalgic and somber. Some things were out of place and different, and moved. He looked up towards the sky as the moon looked to be almost cut in half, he knew it was night because of the visible stars with the usually black sky just being a darker shade of grey. 

Wait, no. Some things were different, he almost didn’t notice.

The castle that he was usually familiar with was different, it had a different structure, different–everything. It almost reminded him of Shadow Milk’s spire.

…

..Anyway.

Pure Vanilla started to walk throughout the kingdom, everything seemed desolate and abandoned. The grass under him was overgrown, a lot of the buildings around him looked to be almost about to crumble, and any buildings that were intact had lots of cracks through them. There market stands and random chairs everywhere, like the people that had resided here had scattered and left everything as they ran. 

Essentially, everything was in ruins. 

He turned around to glance at the castle again, it looked to be the only thing intact here, and even then it had pieces missing as well as cracks throughout it. 

How concerning it all was.

Whether it was something his mind randomly conjured up or it was some type of omen or sign, Pure Vanilla didn’t know. He didn’t know if he even wanted to know. 

Everything in Pure Vanilla was telling him to look around in the rubble to check for any cookies that could be injured or any sign of life. But he knows better, this place looked to be totally abandoned and left in ruins. Even if he were to look and find a cookie it wouldn’t matter as he knew this was all in his head. What use would it be to act as if this was real?

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to explore this interesting place.

Pure Vanilla slowly walked through the grass, it was oddly calming in a sense as the slow wind blew past him. Despite the area being really mellow, he found himself being intrigued about it. How he walked across overgrown paths and broken down buildings. It felt apocalyptic, destopic. An opposite from what he was used to in his own kingdom, where everything was buzzing with life.

A part of it seemed magical. He could feel it in the air, it wasn’t strong enough to notice immediately but enough that if you were looking, you could sense it. And Pure Vanilla did sense it. He sensed it quite clearly and quickly actually as it was in the air. He felt like he could see a faint glimmer in the air, a little bit of sparkly light dust. 

It looked like a trail that led further into the ruined kingdom.

He paused for a moment as he debated deciding on what he wanted to do next. He started to walk forward after he took a second, what did he have to lose in his own mind?

He supposed he was going to end up walking this way anyway, now he just has a reason to also walk this way.

Pure Vanilla took this moment to look more around at the area, it seemed the more he walked through the kingdom the more ruined it became, the buildings now fully knocked down with the grass also just a bit longer. He started to become more careful with where he walked, random bits of stone being on the ground which he could very well trip on and hurt himself. He wasn’t sure on how capable he was of actually getting hurt in this dream-world of his, but he didn’t really want to find out.

Further.

Further.

This path stretches quite far.

There’s no intact buildings here anymore, what being left of them was just piles of stone. It looked more like a clearing now instead of a part of the kingdom that housed cookies.

But one thing easily caught his eye, something was in the middle of the clearing. The magic invisible trail that was in the air seeming to lead directly to them.

Something Pure Vanilla just noticed was how he could see perfectly even though he didn’t have his staff with him.

He slowly walked closer to the thing, at first he thought it was perhaps a large rock, or maybe a different object that was emitting a magical aura. However, after taking a few more steps closer he could see the thing more clearly, it wasn’t a mere rock or object It was a cookie.

A cookie that looked eerily similar to Shadow Milk.

That's strange. Did his mind conjure up Shadow Milk in this dream as well?

The cookie didn’t turn around him as he took a few more steps closer, hesitant on if he should actually keep approaching them or not. The cookie was showing obvious signs of life as they did sutble small movements while sitting in the grass.

“Hello?” He softly called out as he took another step closer, he didn’t want to startle the cookie from simply approaching them as he made his present clear.

The cookie looked up, stiffening for a moment as they finally turned around to Pure Vanilla. 

Shadow Milk Cookie.

But he looked so different, so calming and inviting. Nothing like the usual beast of deceit. He observed how his hair seemed to sparkle like the stars in the sky, with his hair being devoid of the many eyes he usually has. His clothes were also different, a soft blue waist trench coat that flowed down to the floor, under it being a darker blue robe that was quite similar to his own. Around his neck a large basically popped collar that had a keyhole on the front.

Is this really Shadow Milk Cookie?

“Oh, I thought I sensed another cookie here, how unusual.” Shadow Milk spoke just loud enough so he could hear, his eyes gleaming as he tilted his head as he examined Pure Vanilla.

And Pure Vanilla was absolutely enamored. 

He couldn’t help but stare at the different version of Shadow Milk, how different he looked—how calm he looked. It was such a stark contrast that he absolutely adored silently in his head. He couldn’t help as he examined how the moonlight bounced off his body, similarly how it was in the real world when he was observing him, but here, it was so different.

Everything was so, beautiful, about him, from his attire, to the little fang poking out of his mouth. He took it all in. He would remember this for when he woke up from this dream.

“How, curious..” He felt Shadow Milk’s eyes scan him up and down as he spoke, he wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a little nervous under the others' gaze. He couldn’t explain why, this was simply a dream, everything here was just in his head. He didn’t feel like dwelling on whatever those feelings were right now though. “There hasn’t been anyone here in.. witches—I don’t even know how long.” Shadow Milk chuckled as he smiled, Pure Vanilla immediately took note of the small little gap at the front of his teeth. Very endearing.

Pure Vanilla remained silent as he continued to stare, he didn’t know what to say as this was a new thing to him.

Shadow Milk tilted his head in confusion, an eyebrow raised as he slightly frowned. “Well? Are you going to stand there or are you going to approach, I mean, you can—no rush of course, but preferably I’d like for you to approach.” Shadow Milk offered a small smile as he gestured for him to come closer.

Pure Vanilla didn’t hesitate this time.

His steps were slow as he walked the remaining steps to Shadow Milk, sitting down beside him in the grass as he folded his legs. He took quick notice how the grass in this specific area was a lot more clean and lively compared to the rest of this place. He assumed it was from the magic produced from Shadow Milk.

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat as he looked down, “Sorry, I was just surprised.” He chuckled lightly as he closed his eyes, a habit he developed a long time ago. “I didn’t expect you to be here Shadow Milk, especially since you look so different.”

Shadow Milk was silent as he stared in confusion and curiosity.

“..Are you perhaps confusing me for a different cookie?” Shadow Milk tilted his head slightly once again, a small frown on his face as he looked at Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla paused as he looked at Shadow Milk, his own face now equally expressing his own confusion. Despite there being many differences that he has compared to in reality, he knew this was Shadow Milk without a doubt.

“You’re Shadow Milk, albeit you do look very different here.” Pure Vanilla said slowly and carefully as he opened his eyes, glancing over to Shadow Milk.

Shadow Milk was silent again as he turned to look ahead of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked to be heavily in thought. A moment passed before he turned back towards him.

“I don’t know any cookie by that name. Sounds ominous.” He chuckled as he shook his head.

Pure Vanilla stared in confusion as it was his turn to be confused. If this wasn’t Shadow Milk, then who was beside him?

“Light of truth?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“White Lily? Dark Cacao?”

“Unfamiliar to me.”

“Beast of deceit?”

“Oh sounds very dreadful..”

Pure Vanilla placed a finger on his chin, a frown on his face remained as he thought about the possibility of generating a Shadow Milk in his head that doesn’t have any memory of him being Shadow Milk. He paused that train of thought as he started thinking more into it.

Shadow Milk.. could he even call him that still? This doesn’t seem like Shadow Milk before him.

“What is your name?” Pure Vanilla asked quickly, he didn’t want to keep referring to the other as Shadow Milk if he didn’t recall himself being Shadow Milk for whatever reason.

Shadow Milk smiled proudly as he closed his eyes and looked away with his hands folding in his lap. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone so I would expect you to not know who I am.” He placed a hand on his chest as his smile faltered to something more nonchalant. “Blueberry Milk Cookie, also known as the Fount of Knowledge.” He did a small mock bow as he opened his eyes half way, gazing towards Pure Vanilla without turning his head. And Pure Vanilla’s body felt heavy under his gaze.

“Blueberry Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla tested the name on his tongue, even his name sounds calmer compared to reality. “Well, you can call me Pure Vanilla Cookie.” He smiled softly at Blueberry Milk Cookie as he introduced himself.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie..” Blueberry Milk nodded in approval as he smiled, his eyes closed as he also tested the name. If Pure Vanilla’s heart started to beat just a bit faster as him saying his name, only he would know. “Hm, pleased to meet you.” His eyes opened to turn towards Pure Vanilla once again. “At your service then.”

Blueberry Milk paused as he thought for a moment. “Earlier you confused me for someone,” He hesitated as he looked up towards the stars. “Shadow Milk Cookie.” He whispered out, like the name was a curse on his lips. “Who is that? They sound like they have a similar name to me.” 

Pure Vanilla nervously looked down at his hands, a frown on his face as he hesitated on if he really wanted to tell that information.

..

“A friend of mine.” Pure Vanilla started, choosing his words carefully. “I apologize, you just reminded me of them.”

Blueberry Milk looked at him through his peripheral vision curiously. “Is that a good thing?”

Pure Vanilla froze for a moment, his eyes remaining down at his hands as he compared to too. He felt just a bit guilty at how he thought about this version of Shadow Milk, he liked them both. But this version of him, there was something about it, something natural that he wouldn’t see from Shadow Milk Cookie, but something that was right here as Blueberry Milk Cookie.

For a second he was questioning if this was actually a dream, his dream. Maybe it wasn’t.

Perhaps, maybe it was actually—

“Yes, it is.” Pure Vanilla interrupted his own thoughts as he answered, nodding to himself as he smiled. He didn’t look up to glance over at Blueberry Milk, he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to look away.

Blueberry Milk nodded, “I see, good.”

Pure Vanilla continued. “You do have similar features, but you are also very different.”

Blueberry’s eyes widened in curiosity, a sparkle in his eyes as he was instantly intrigued, “Please, do go on.”

Okay, progress, Pure Vanilla thought.

Vanilla examined him again up and down, his eyes trailing a lot slower this time. “You’re a lot, calmer. Softer around the edges. More understanding.” Pure Vanilla paused at Blueberry, leaned back, turning to look at him as if giving him permission to examine him with his eyes a lot more clearly. And Pure Vanilla took the opportunity.

“A lot, brighter, more content.” Vanilla smiled at the comparison, thinking about obvious differences. “You even appear slightly visibly younger. Not really big on that part however.”

Blueberry hummed in approval, thinking about Vanilla’s words more intently as processed it. “How curious.. It seems as if this friend of yours that you are being reminded of is pretty gloomy. And quite sad.” Blueberry muttered as he leaned back, letting his weight be supported by his arms.

Vanilla’s smile shifted to something a bit more sad, reminiscing his last fight with Shadow Milk at beast yeast. How his time as truthless recluse allowed him to feel the emotions that Shadow Milk hid.

His pain, his anger, his sadness. 

His loneliness.

Pure Vanilla felt it all, he remembered it all. 

All the emotions Shadow Milk kept locked away.

Locked away.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes drifted to the keyhole design on the big collar that adorned Blueberry Milk.

Locked away.

Maybe he’s partially overthinking things, but he’ll remember that for later.

“Maybe, but he’s just misunderstood. He just needs a little caring for that’s long over do.” Pure Vanilla finally answered his tone becoming something more positive.

Blueberry Milk glanced at him again, his eyebrow raised once again. “What a caring soul you are, Pure Vanilla cookie.” 

Pure Vanilla smiled nervously, looking away as he laughed. “Ah, it’s nothing too complicated.”

Blueberry Milk rolled his eyes playfully, his smile growing a bit bigger. “Don’t be so modest now! Rehabilitation is no easy task.”

Pure Vanilla perked up at that. “Rehabilitation?” His attention was immediately drawn.

Blueberry Milk nodded as he talked with his hands, an absentminded thing that Pure Vanilla took note of.  “It sounds as if your friend is quite troubled internally, given from the minor context you’ve given me. Though it seems as if you are giving them a chance and going down that path.” 

No wonder he was called the Fount of Knowledge, he was smart to piece all of that together without much information needed.

“I see..” Pure Vanilla thought for a moment, rehabilitation did cross his mind sometimes, but he never knew what would work on Shadow Milk.

“If I was going to rehabilitate him, what action would I take that would be effective?” Pure Vanilla questioned, a thoughtful look on his face.

Blueberry Milk hummed, also in thought as he tried to think of an answer. “Well I don’t really know how to answer that one as I personally don’t know your friend, but what usually calms me down is going to the great library to read some books. Of course I’ve basically written most of them in there and read them many times now, but it calms me nonetheless.” 

Pure Vanilla nodded attentively taking in the information for later. “I see, reading.” Shadow Milk does seem like a person who would read books, he never thought of that idea. Pure Vanilla himself wouldn’t mind trying that idea as he loves to read and take information as well. That’s pleasing to think about. “Thank you Blueberry Milk Cookie.” He expressed his gratitude as he smiled in thought. 

Blueberry Milk paused as he giggled, “Please, just call me Blueberry Milk, adding the suffix is too formal for my liking now.” He waved his hand dismissively as he closed his eyes looking away.

Pure Vanilla nodded, remembering that detail for later.

Blueberry cracked open one eye to look at Pure Vanilla, his expression comically in a pout.

“Well, what other differences do you see between me and your dear friend?” Blueberry Milk asked, it seems his curiosity was never ending. 

Pure Vanilla liked that.

He snickered quietly as he turned away, “For one, you’re shorter. Quite a bit too.” Pure Vanilla said endearingly.

Blueberry Milk gasped as he put a hand to his chest, “Whaaatt!—I’m offended, friend! Being short is nothing to be ashamed of.” He folded his arms in mock offense as he forced a frown on his face. “Besides, you’re just a particularly tall cookie.” 

Pure Vanilla laughed softly, he couldn’t argue against that, he was told a long while ago by some that he was quite above average. “Maybe, but the friend that you remind me of is only just a bit shorter than me, not by a lot like you are. Is that not a huge difference like you asked for?” Pure Vanilla smiled as he indulged in the playful teasing. He took note of how he already felt very close with the other despite only just meeting him.

Sadly this is just a dream in his head, when he wakes up he likely won’t have it again. 

Unless.. It wasn't a dream. It could be th—

“I suppose so, but at least my vast knowledge makes up for it doesn’t it?” Blueberry Milk interrupted his thoughts—thankfully—as he looked up at the stars again, observing the constant comets and endless constellations. It seemed to be eternally night here forever as the moon hasn’t once changed its position in the sky.

“I suppose it does, Blueberry Milk.” Pure Vanilla quietly replied.

Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t anything awkward or uncomfortable. He found it nice to bask in, he took the moment to cast small glances at Blueberry Milk, taking in all the features to remember again when he woke up from this dream.

What if it wasn’t a dream though?

..

Anyway, 

He committed the design of the other to memory, he doesn’t usually forget things so he wasn’t all too worried.

A soft laugh startled him out of his thoughts.

“Friend.. Do you usually stare at all the new cookies you meet? Though I don’t mind, I’m quite flattered and used to it as the Fount of Knowledge. By all means you can continue as you please, but don’t be surprised if I stare back sometimes.” Another chuckle as Blueberry Milk waved his hand. “I am quite the observer after all.”

Pure Vanilla glanced away, slightly embarrassed at being caught. “How..” His voice trailed off as he tried to ask. 

Blueberry Milk perked up as he finally fully turned his head to look at Pure Vanilla, amusement in his eyes as he clasped his hands together.

“How I knew you were staring while I wasn’t looking? Well, besides the obvious feeling of it, I do have multiple eyes.” Blueberry Milk turned towards him again, showing his face as he now had four eyes instead of two, with the lower smaller two eyes now being the two main ones. But then Pure Vanilla’s eyes glanced further behind Blueberry Milk, multiple blue floating eyes all around him with glowing white pupils all on him.

It was fascinating. 

It reminded him of the eyes that were in Shadow Milk’s hair, but less menacing. 

“I don’t always have them visible since it gets quite overwhelming, but know they are always there.” He waved them away as the eyes closed and disappeared one by one, with the extra two eyes on his face also closing and vanishing.

Pure Vanilla nodded with a sense of awe, “I’ll remember.” He whispered.

Blueberry stared at him with an unreadable expression as the last floating eye closed. His gaze not looking at his face but, down.

“Friend, question for you.” Blueberry started.

Pure Vanilla hummed in acknowledgment as he signaled to go on, curious on whatever he was going to ask.

“My soul jam, how do you have it?” Blueberry Milk tilted his head, now obviously and intently staring at his upper chest now, where his soul jam was. “I actually noticed it much earlier as well as felt it coming from you much earlier, I wanted to ask then but I got a little, distracted.” Blueberry Milk laughed softly before returning to being serious again.

Ah, that would explain why he hadn’t asked him earlier, Infact, he was wondering why the other hadn’t asked him about it. 

..That was starting to confirm his small thought that this wasn’t actually—

“Well, long story short.” Pure Vanilla paused, how exactly was he to explain this to Blueberry Milk in a way that actually made sense? 

Blueberry looked at him in expectancy, his eyes half lidded as he leaned slightly further in the direction of Pure Vanilla. “Go on.” Blueberry Milk swiftly leaned forward to him, now being inches apart now as his gaze remained locked on the soul jam that was on his chest. It reminded him of Shadow Milk, but instead of being interested in stealing it, he was just interested in it itself. Pure Vanilla instantly turned away, holding his hand over his face as a way to hide how his face started to burn at the closeness. He was for sure going to think about his feelings on this later.

“It even looks a bit brighter than the one I have, it’s not all that noticeable, but I can see it if I look closely.” Blueberry never once went to actually touch the soul jam, only choosing to examine it very very closely. From how close he was, Pure Vanilla could see all the very faint freckles that Blueberry Milk had, something he would only see if he was very close.

Pure Vanilla frowned as he remained silent, he was lost. He didn’t know what to say, or how Blueberry Milk was going to react to hearing such information. Even if the other was just a part of his mind in whatever realistic dream this was, he still couldn’t find it in him to explain it. If this was supposed to be Shadow Milk before he turned to deceit, then who knows how the other was going to react.

Blueberry Milk stared at him with obvious confusion for his hesitance. “What? Are you like, from the future or something? Did I end up giving it to you?” Blueberry playfully asked, a small snicker leaving his mouth. 

Pure Vanilla was silent for a moment.

“You didn’t give it to me.” Vanilla quietly answered.

Blueberry Milk was quiet.

“I suppose that’s all I need to know.” Blueberry responded as he looked down, bringing one of his hands to rest in his lap.

“..You do look familiar to me though.” Blueberry Milk didn’t look at Pure Vanilla as he spoke. “I don’t know why though, I know I only just met you now.” He paused, side eyeing Pure Vanilla as he tapped his fingers in his lap. “But I feel like I’ve known you for much longer.” Blueberry’s voice trailed off.

Pure Vanilla laughed softly. “Maybe you know me then, deep down.”

Blueberry Milk froze as he processed the words, his eyes seemed to have a new gleam in them that appeared for a split second, disappearing quickly. You’d have to be quick to notice something like it.

Pure Vanilla noticed of course.

Blueberry shrugged as he smiled back. “Perhaps I do.”

Pure Vanilla smiled wider before he sighed softly.

..

..His soul jam..

Pure Vanilla glanced at Blueberry as he scanned him once again.

Where is his soul jam?

He looked up to his chest, not seeing the soul jam there. Then he glanced up at his neck, in the place where it would usually rest on his ruffles. Both of which were missing.

“Where is your soul jam? I don’t see it on you.” Pure Vanilla still continued to look at the attire of Blueberry Milk, mainly his neck, but it just seemed like he didn’t have it.

Blueberry looked at him bemused, catching on that Pure Vanilla was scanning his attire trying to find it. “Why would I directly wear it on me?” He chuckled faintly as he shook his head. “No disrespect to you, it just doesn’t seem all that practical.” Blueberry inhaled deeply as he sat up straight, raising one of his hands up as he opened his palm. “Though if you are ever so curious.” 

Poof.

Pure Vanilla's eyes widened slightly as he looked at the staff Blueberry was holding, it was way different from the scepter that Shadow Milk had. Of course, Pure Vanilla found it pretty.

Blueberry extended it so Vanilla could get a good view of it, the soul jam resting at the end of it clearly visible as it glowed. It was just like the one he had, except it had an eye in the middle, a similar aspect shared with Shadow Milk once again.

Vanilla out of curiosity immediately reached out to the staff, with Blueberry pulling back in hesitance. Only then did it register that of course Blueberry would be opposed to letting the other simply grab at the staff, anyone would.

“Apologies, I was just fascinated.” Pure Vanilla bowed his head silently as he dropped his arm, looking away as his eyes looked down at his own soul jam.

Blueberry Milk eyed him for a moment before he looted the staff out of existence, wherever he sent the staff he had no idea, but he was curious about that too.

He wanted to voice his question.

Until he suddenly felt very sleepy all of a sudden.

..

He shook his head, brushing the sudden sleepiness off as he sat up straighter. 

Vanilla deeply inhaled and exhaled as he looked forward looking at the constellations once more, finally gaining courage to voice his next statement. “Well, humor me for a second with this.” Pure Vanilla paused. “You mentioned having a great library here, correct?” Vanilla let his vision stay locked on the stars above, but he felt Blueberry Milk have his eyes on him.

Blueberry hummed in confirmation. “I do, what about it?”

Vanilla stayed silent for a moment as he leaned forward to rest his head in his palm. “When I leave, can you place a note in there? Towards the back in the corner, where the oldest books lie.”

A test.

“I.. suppose? May I ask why?” 

Pure Vanilla suddenly felt very sleepy again, his eyes being much heavier than before. “Just humor me for this.”

Blueberry Milk sighed. “I was planning on going there anyway, consider it done”

Good.

Pure Vanilla clutched his head with one of his hands, feeling himself falling forward until something caught him.

Blueberry Milk, he was holding him.

He likely would of mentally panicked had he not found it so hard to stay awake all of a sudden. He didn’t even know it was possible to fall asleep in a dream.

Oh, maybe he was waking up.

He hazily glanced up at Blueberry Milk, his vision spinning as his eyes were half lidding, the only thing remaining constant in his view being Blueberry Milk. He quickly pieced together that he was not laying on the grass before him, but directly being held in his lap.

Yeah he would have for sure mentally panicked had he had the energy.

“—ou alright friend?” 

He didn’t respond, he didn’t have energy to, only continuing to stare up at Blueberry Milk. How gorgeous he was from this angle.

.. Such thoughts he never used to have for the jes—er.. scholar? This wasn’t Shadow Milk after all.

Or maybe it was?

“Friend?” Blueberry Milk softly talked down to him, his eyes gazing down at him in concern.

Pure Vanilla wished he could stay here for longer, so calming, so relaxing.

And he was so, nice like this. So.. gorgeous. So beautiful.

He would have reached up to him but he was just so tired. Pure Vanilla didn’t have the energy.

Deep down he felt guilty for thinking that, he didn’t like Shadow Milk any less, but there was something about Blueberry Milk that was more vulnerable to him. 

He faintly felt something touch his cheek, it was cool on his warm skin. He didn’t shy away from it, instead choosing to lean into it. It took him a second to learn it was Blueberry Milk’s hand.

“I’ve——re, how odd.”

Pure Vanilla couldn’t even register the words of the other. 

“I don’t want this dream to end.” Pure Vanilla weakly called, he didn’t even know if Blueberry Milk could hear him.

He felt the thumb of Blueberry Milk slowly caressing his cheek, if it was in comfort or something else, he wouldn’t know. But he did enjoy it.

“A dream? Hm.” Blueberry Milk responded, Pure Vanilla could see him lost in thought through his swirling vision.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, not resisting how heavy they were feeling.

Such a pity. He didn’t want to leave, not so soon. He likely was not to have such a dream again. 

What were the odds of having a dream twice?

“—ou can sleep. —ally important.”

Such a lovely dream.  At least he has more information to work with.

Pure Vanilla let the the sounds of the dream world fade away in his ears slowly.

He would remember.

“I hope we do meet again, Blueberry Milk Cookie.”

He almost missed what the others response was

“..Yes, that would be nice, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

—

He awoke quickly by being met with the floor. Shadow Milk’s voice yelling at him in the background as his head spun.

Wait, Shadow Milk?

Pure Vanilla instantly shot up with wide eyes as he sat up, looking up from the floor as his mismatched eyes met blue angry dilated ones.

He was awake, Shadow Milk was awake.

Pure Vanilla quickly composed himself as he stood up, momentarily ignoring how Shadow Milk was yelling at him. He turned around to find his staff on the floor as he picked it up, making sure it rested properly on the wall.

Okay, he was awake now. He still remembered the dream, and this isn’t Blueberry Milk Cookie now, this is Shadow Milk Cookie, the real deal.

Reality. 

This is reality.

He sighed, at least now he had a task to deal with. 

“—re you even listening to me? Shadow Milk called, getting him out of his thoughts as Pure Vanilla realized he was awake now.

He turned around, a soft smile on his face as approached where Shadow Milk was laying on the bed. His expression was angry as he turned his head away from Pure Vanilla as he pretended to be non-interested.

“Shadow Milk..” Pure Vanilla kept his voice gentle and soft as he sat on the edge of the bed, similar to how he was earlier before he had gone to sleep. Shadow Milk had been in a coma for a while, convenient how he woke up right after that dream. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for a while now.” Pure Vanilla subtly scooted closer.

“Yeah, well.” Shadow Milk turned to look at him, his arms folded as he flexed his claws. “Is there a reason you brought me here? I don’t know if you know how this usual, ‘hero-villain’ thing works, but usually you wouldn’t bring the villain to your bed.” He muttered, a scowl on his face.

Pure Vanilla shook his head. “Shadow Milk, I don’t see you as a villain at all.” He slowly moved his hand to rest over the claws of the beast, he took notice of how the beast didn't immediately flinch away from his touch like he expected. “Far from it.”

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes at him as he pulled away, his eyes furrowed as suddenly sat up quickly, his hand flying up to his neck as he felt around. Pure Vanilla immediately realized he was looking for his soul jam and making sure he still had it, he figured the initial panic stemmed from the fact he was no longer in his original bodysuit and instead having a grey colored shirt and pants, with a dark blue-purplish robe.

Only when Shadow Milk realized it had been lower in his chest did he relax, his fingers brushing against the front of it as he ran a finger down it. Pure Vanilla’s eyes followed every moment. 

Pure Vanilla exhaled as he shuffled closer. “Shadow Milk,” He started as he laid a hand on Shadow Milk’s chest, pushing him down slowly to the bed as he got closer. He didn’t notice how Shadow Milk’s breath hitched on contact, a gleam of something familiar in his eyes as Pure Vanilla made direct contact with him. Though he did notice how he stiffened and yet he let Pure Vanilla push him down. 

“Please, you’ve been in a coma for a long white now, you need to be calm.” Pure Vanilla gazed down at him carefully, taking in his features quickly. 

Hm, faint freckles on his face. He never noticed.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes as he waved his hand dismissively. “Wow, I just feel so cared for.” He said with mock enthusiasm.

He quickly found it interesting how Shadow Milk was lacking the usual bite in his tone, Pure Vanilla considered it progress.

Progress.

Pure Vanilla looked to the nightstand by the bed, grabbing the glass of water he prepared the night before as he picked it up. He carefully held the water up to Shadow Milk, glad to have placed the water there earlier. 

“Can you drink this? I know you don’t need subsistence like normal cookies to function, but this could help you.” Pure Vanilla offered a small smile, constantly reminding himself mentally to make sure to keep his tone light and inviting. 

Shadow Milk frowned at the glass of water. “You said it yourself ‘Nilla. I have no need for such things.” He snickered As he tilted himself away. “I’m not like those other cookies.” He smirked as he looked away.

Pure Vanilla frowned at the statement but he didn’t back down. “Shadow Milk, I want you get better.” He pushed the cup of water closer to the beast as a sort of encouragement. “Please do drink it.”

Shadow Milk side eyed him as he huffed in frustration. “Why? Did you poison it or something?” Shadow Milk scoffed as he pushed the cup away with the back of his hand. “Even if you did I’ll have you know poison only minorly inconveniences me.

Pure Vanilla leaned back slightly as he held the cup to his mouth. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He lifted the cup as he drank only a little out out of it before lowering it and offering it again. “Well?”

Shadow Milk’s smirk faltered as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so pushy.” 

Shadow Milk reached out to the cup of water, Pure Vanilla’s eyes drifted to the beast’s hand, how the blue faded into black fingertips with sharp claws. Shadow Milk’s hand rested over Pure Vanilla’s as he forced the glass closer to his lips, gulping the water down hastily. He hadn’t even bothered to take the glass fully from Oure Vanilla as he was still holding onto it.

Interesting.

Shadow Milk pushed the glass away as he looked down, water dripping down his chin as he sighed. “Happy now? That sure did a whhoolleee lot of something, did it ‘Nilly?”

Pure Vanilla tried not to stare.

Don’t stare.

He was staring.

“Very, I’m very happy.” He quickly placed the cup down on the nightstand as he leaned back to fully stand, stretching his limbs which had remained almost too inactive for so long.

“Well, I appreciate the hospitality, I will be going now!” Shadow Milk quickly gestured infront of him, sparkles forming in the air before fully dissipating. He saw Shadow Milk frowned heavily as he tried again, sparkles forming in the air before once again fading away. The next sound being a frustrated groan from and a sigh from Shadow Milk as he slammed his hands down on the bed.

“Don’t strain yourself, Shadow Milk. You’ll exhaust yourself again.” Pure Vanilla leaned back further, not liking how the other was already trying to use magic he didn’t have the energy for at all.

Shadow Milk glared at him as he scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He quickly moved across the bed, swinging his legs over the side as he swiftly stood to his feet. He began to float as he—

Thud.

Shadow Milk immediately stumbled back down to the floor as he wasn’t able to float for long. 

Pure Vanilla knew where this was about to go as he took a small step forward. 

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla muttered as he held out a hand.

Shadow Milk flinched away from him, as he took a step forward—

Pure Vanilla simply opened his arms as Shadow Milk fell right into them.

Pure Vanilla softly smiled as he sighed, since the other wanted to be stubborn he was going to indulge just a bit.

He swiftly turned them both around with Shadow Milk still in his arms, with his back now facing the bed he let himself fall onto the bed while he held Shadow Milk to his chest,

Shadow Milk wasn’t fighting against the embrace, and Pure Vanilla knew the other was already exhausted. He knew the beast would never admit such a thing however. 

“Let go of me.” Shadow Milk’s voice was muffled as he remained face down on Pure Vanilla’s chest.

“Push yourself off.” Pure Vanilla responded lightly.

Shadow Milk didn’t move. He was exhausted.

Shadow groaned, his claws digging into the sheets as he gripped them between his fingers.

“I hate you.”

“That’s alright.”

“Like, a lot. I despise you.”

“Mmh.” 

Pure Vanilla’s smile never wavered, he slowly stroked the back of Shadow Milk as he used his other hand to bring it up to his blue hair. He twirled the silver-blue strands around his finger as he spoke. “I brought you here for a reason Shadow Milk. I might not be Truthless Recluse anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand you all the same.” Vanilla’s eyes looked down at him endearingly.

“All I ask is for you to open your heart just a little to me.”

Pulse.

His soul jam flickered as it vibrated slightly, he knew Shadow Milk felt it as he felt him jolt lightly while still in his arms.

Pulse.

Oh, well that was interesting.

Shadow Milk’s soul jam pulsed and vibrated in response to his own.

Very interesting.

Shadow Milk’s mumbles were inaudible as he was still face down on his chest, however Pure Vanilla saw the eyes in his hair very much looking at him. Unsettling.

“I’m not saying it has to be right now, i’m willing to wait for you. It’s okay to take your time.” Pure Vanilla slowly ran his hand down Shadow Milk’s hair slowly, a gesture that was meant to be comforting to the other.

“Whatever.”

Progress.

Vanilla glanced out the window, it was still very early into the day, a lot of cookies would not be up at this time. 

He looked back down to Shadow Milk, an idea forming in his mind now that the cookie was awake. “You like, reading, yes?” Vanilla asked carefully, he thought back to his dream.

Shadow stiffened at the mention of books, his head raising slightly to look at Vanilla through his bangs. “Why are you asking?” His voice was accusatory as his eyes narrowed.

He thought of something on the spot.

“Well, I was thinking of going to the library later, would you like to come with me?” Vanilla asked softly, trying to sound more welcoming.

Shadow was silent as he looked away, a frown on his face as he sighed. It was either being in this room, or the library. It was an easy choice.

“I’ll go to the library.” 

Pure Vanilla smiled, his eyes lighting up.

Progress.

—

“Ugh, this is humiliating.” Shadow Milk stumbled forward, a limp in his walk as he clutched Pure Vanilla’s arm. Vanilla was grateful the specific spot he was grabbing was just his loose clothing and not his arm, otherwise those claws would definitely be hurting him right now from how tight his grip looked. He was even getting slightly nervous.

“You wanted to come.”

“You offered! Who am I to refuse an activity from my host? It’s almost as if you want me to be rude.” Shadow Milk huffed as his hand gripped on Pure Vanilla robes even more.

Vanilla stifled his laugh as his staff tapped against the floor as they walked along the path. “Not at all, I’m happy you came with me, Shadow Milk. You seem like a cookie who would love to read.”

Shadow Milk didn’t spare him a glance, choosing to focus on making sure he didn’t tumble. Especially out here. “Yeah well, who wouldn’t.”

Pure Vanilla perkee up at that. “Yes, who wouldn’t want just a bit more knowledge.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond to that, his expression flashing with something Pure Vanilla was too slow to catch.

“What will this little kingdom think of you when they see you treating the beast of deceit with such compassion? I’m sure they wouldn’t take kindly to their king doing that.” Shadow Milk smirked as he adjusted his long silver blue bangs out of his eyes.

Pure Vanilla shook his head. “I’ve had meetings, most of the kingdom knows you are here by now, and they should leave you alone as you are my guest.” Pure Vanilla sighed briefly as offered a tired smile to the other. “And again, I am not king anymore.”

Shadow Milk snickered as he rolled his eyes. “Well you sure do still act like it.”

Pure Vanilla ignored that, they had just reached the steps of the library anyway.

Vanilla made sure the other didn’t trip on the stairs, going slowly up it while he continued to mumble about, ‘How humiliating this was’ and ‘What If I fall down these steps and take you down with me?’ Both of which he didn’t entertain.

He moved his fingers down to Shadow Milk’s waist to properly steady him, he didn’t miss the way the other flinched against his touch like it burned. Of course he immediately asked if he was hurt there only for Vanilla to instantly get shut down on asking any other questions.

Vanilla pushed open the big doors effortlessly, as they stepped inside, immediately greeting Eclair Cookie by the front desk where he was reading a history book. The Library doubled as a museum so it was no surprise you would see him working here very often, especially up at such very early hours like this.

He breathed a small sigh of relief at how the cookie didn’t react to seeing Shadow Milk by his side. 

“It is very early so there aren’t many cookies aren’t up yet, you have most of the library to yourself.” Eclair Cookie smiled, he did a short bow as he gestured to the rest of the quiet library. 

Pure Vanilla smiled back, this was the main reason he had decided to come early.

He ignored how Shadow Milk struggled against him, keeping his hand over his mouth to make sure he didn’t say anything rude as he walked back. Also ignoring how Eclair nervously looked at the interaction.

Shadow Milk pushed him away as Pure Vanilla finally let him go. “Okay pal, you didn’t have to practically strangle me.” 

Pure Vanilla noticed how much more quietly Shadow Milk was speaking now they were in the library. 

He smiled at that.

Vanilla turned away from him as he looked around the shelves of books, grabbing a random one as he sat down. He wasn’t particularly in a rush so he would take this time to actually read something interesting. “Apologies Shadow Milk, I just had a feeling you would say something.”

“You’re lucky I’m too exhausted to fight with you right now.”

Pure Vanilla hummed, pointing to the plush chair beside him without looking up from his book. “Maybe you should sit then.”

Shadow Milk didn’t move, only staring at him like he had two heads.

..

Shadow groaned in annoyance and he ran a hand down his face.

He dramatically plopped down on the chair spread out, his arm draped over his face as he gritted his teeth.

Vanilla hummed in approval, he spoke without looking up. “Why don’t you go and read something, find something you like?” 

“Everything this library has to offer I most definitely already know about.”

Pure Vanilla frowned. “You don’t have to necessarily read for knowledge, you can always read for enjoyment as well.”

Shadow Milk scoffed. “What’s there to enjoy about it if I’m not learning anything new?”

Hm, that’s interesting. Despite being a beast, he’s always still looking to learn something new. 

Now he wonders.. what was Shadow Milk like before his path to corruption.

“You aren’t even going to try to look for something?”

“Nope.”

“So, you know everything?”

“Likely.”

Pure Vanilla hummed in thought, placing the random book he picked up before turning to scan the shelves, looking for a specific boo—

Here we go.

He reached up to pull a black book littered with white dots, a book about stars and various constellations. Shadow Milk seemed like a person who would enjoy things space related, it was worth a try.

Pure Vanilla held up the book in his hand so Shadow Milk could see the cover. “What about a book about stars?”

Shadow Milk perked up, lifting his head as his face peeked from behind his arm that he draped across it. 

Perfect. He’ll remember that detail later. 

Shadow Milk sat upright, his eyes narrowed as he avoided looking at Pure Vanilla directly. “I’ve lived for a long time ‘Nilla, I’ve seen every star you could think of.”

Pure Vanilla played into the bluff, even he knew that was a lie. From the time of Shadow Milk getting sealed to now, he knew there were new stars he hadn't seen.

“There’s been new stars since the time you’re familiar with.” Pure Vanilla shrugged as he turned around to hide his smile, raising his hand to put the book back. “But, if you aren’t interested—“

“I didn’t say that!” Shadow Milk shot up, snatching the book as he immediately opened to the first page.

Progress.

Pure Vanilla happily let Shadow Milk snatch the book as he sat back down, moving his chair to scoot closer to Shadow Milk while he was distracted with flipping through the book.

He returned to his own book as he flipped through the pages, truthfully he wasn’t paying attention to it as he was watching Shadow Milk in his peripheral vision.

He sighed in content as he held the book close to see it through his blurry vision, it seemed reading about new things calmed Shadow Milk and it pleased him to finally see the beast relaxed while doing something.

He looked up as he felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to look at Shadow as he was looking down at a page.

“What is this one? I’ve never seen it before.” Shadow pointed to the page, circling his claw over a picture of stars. Vanilla leaned over him as he made sure his long hair didn’t get in the way of seeing the page. 

“Ah, that’s a recent one, appeared only a few hundred years ago.” Vanilla looked away as he recalled further into his memory, he remembered seeing it in the sky many years ago, it was a magnificent sight to be remembered.

Shadow Milk’s face dropped at the news, his eyes dilating as he looked to Pure Vanilla and back to the book. “You mean, I missed it?” Shadow Milk sighed in disappointment.

Pure Vanilla laid a hand on his back as chuckled. “It’s okay, there will be others.” 

Shadow Milk didn’t respond as he continued to flip through the book really quickly, flipping past pages of pictures he’s likely already seen before.

While Shadow Milk looked at the book while Pure Vanilla looked at Shadow Milk.

He looked beautiful like this too. 

Interested about things he doesn’t know, striving to learn more as he was heavily invested in the book, flipping back and forth between the pages.

Pure Vanilla found him so fascinating.

And perhaps he was a bit greedy, he wanted to know even more.

“What was it like in your time?” Pure Vanilla kept his voice low, giving Shadow Milk the power to direct the conversation.

Shadow hesitated as he sat up straighter, letting the book fall flat on the desk in front of them as he cleared his throat. “It was much different from today to say the least. It shocked me when I first saw it.”

“What did you do in your time?” Pure Vanilla was pushing it. He knew he was.

Shadow Milk was silent, a slight frown on his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He muttered.

Okay, he wasn’t ready for that yet of course, noted. 

Pure Vanilla glanced at his long hair, the eyes being closed as opposed to being open. “The eyes in your hair, how do you manage with that? Isn't it quite overstimulating processing information from so many?” Vanilla tried a different approach, asking about him directly instead of his past.

Shadow Milk smirked as he leaned up, letting a tendril of hair wrap around his own wrist; a single eye opening to stare at Vanilla. 

“Well if you’re ever so curious, I actually don’t see out of them like you would think.” Shadow let multiple eyes open slowly one by one as he spoke. “They allow me to see the area surrounding me, as well as wherever I magically place them of course. I don't directly use them though.”

Shadow Milk paused before he continued. “Imagine there is a cookie in front of you, but you aren’t directly looking at them, but you make out their features without actually looking at them.” Shadow Milk waved his hand as he leaned forward again to look down at the book, his head in his arms as he flipped it closed.

Vanilla smiled as he processed the information. “Interesting.”

Very interesting.

He’s more likely to get info if he asks about Shadow Milk himself, but not about his past or anything personal.

At least, not yet.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a light snoring, he quickly looked to Shadow Milk with his head in his arms, falling asleep in such a short amount of time.

It was a cute sight honestly.

He reached forward to pluck the book from his hand.

“Mmh.. no, mine.” Shadow didn't even open his eyes or move his head to look up at him, his voice basically in mumbles as the book was out of his grasp.

“Shh, you can sleep, it’s alright.” Vanilla patted his head, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf. He wasn’t surprised the jester quickly fell asleep, he had just awoken from a coma not too long ago from overusing magic. The poor beast couldn’t even magically maintain his hair or have his many eyes open like usual, never mind floating. He would be cruel to force him to stay awake.

He suspected he was going to be very tired usually now, that’s just the effects of overusing magic.

At least now he can handle his own thing.

He decided to leave his staff leaning on the shelf by the desk where Shadow Milk was sleeping, he wanted to keep an eyes on him even while he wasn’t here.

He quickly and silently made his way towards the back of library, the light not even managing to properly reach back here as the books became older and dustier.

Vanilla wasn’t looking for a book though.

His eyes shot to a book that almost looked like it was disintegrating, the cover chipped and worn as the old leather wrinkled. His eyes scanned the title as he gasped, bending down to look at it closely on the lower shelf. 

The Downfall Of The Originals

The originals..

He opened to the first page clearing a layer of dust, coughing as he fanned the air.

On the first page he recognized a really grainy photo of the beasts he knows today, but they looked so.. different. So friendly and innocent. Not anything you would expect to see today.. But something easily caught his eye in the middle.

Wait is that Blue—

He can’t believe he almost walked past this.

Judging by how old it looked, it had to be an only copy. An only copy that he’s sure no one is going to notice is missing.

He tucked it into a pocket hidden in his robes as he continued walking further towards the back, albeit much slower this time. He practically found something that could be very helpful for him, he wasn’t about to walk by anything else.

Here we go, it should be around here.

In the far dark dusty corner of the library a small circle of desks, he almost wouldn’t have been able to see the neatly folded note laying on it if it hadn’t been for his constant glowing yellow aura that seemed to ‘turn on’ every time he entered anything remotely dark. An aura that was always so present after his awakening.

Was he correct?

Pure Vanilla slowly approached the note on the desk as he carefully unfolded it, not much was written on it aside for just a few words, the signature on the bottom causing his eyes to go wide as he stared at it. All his thoughts being confirmed from the dream he had earlier.

‘For you, Pure Vanilla Cookie.’

                    -Blueberry Milk Cookie

Chapter Text

Another light snoring brought him out of his thoughts, he didn’t react as he continued to have his head in his hands.

Having placed the note safely in his robes, he sighed at the new implications that he now has to think about.

He glanced at Shadow Milk, still sound asleep with his head in his arms, completely unaware of turmoil brewing in Pure Vanilla’s mind.

Vanilla glanced at Shadow Milk closer, at how relaxed his features were compared to when he was awake. His usually tensed posture now lean and unguarded. Something Shadow Milk would very likely not allow him to see.

“I wish you would let me see this more often.” Pure Vanilla mumbled as he leaned more forward, shifting so he could rest his head in one palm. He caught himself staring once again, though he allowed it.

From the eyes in his hair, to how his hands faded to black and extended into claws that looked like they could tear through the fabric of time itself. So many differences to Blueberry Milk Cookie, but so many similarities. You wouldn’t even believe the two to be the same.

His eyes glanced down, being drawn to a faint glow he could see emitting from Shadow Milk.

His soul jam, peeking out just a bit from beneath his robe.

..

Pure Vanilla will halt those thoughts there.

Vanilla quickly turned away from Shadow Milk, a hand over his mouth as he frowned. He needed to pull himself together, having to focus on other things quickly and not the new types of feelings and thoughts in his head.

He shook his head, leaning forward in annoyance as he laid his head face down on the table, a hand in his hair as he heavily exhaled.

He did have a sudden idea however.

Pure Vanilla glanced at Shadow Milk once more, thinking more about the idea while also laying his head in his arms.

He could always try sleeping again, maybe he’d even have a certain interesting dream.

He breathed slowly as his eyes closed.

That’d be nice.

—

Grass. He was lying in it.

Pure Vanilla shot up hopefully with his eyes immediately scanning the surrounding area. 

He was back in the dream.

He was back in the dream with Blueberry Milk Cookie.

Pure Vanilla was on his feet in seconds, turning every which way to try to feel a hint of magic in the air, any sort of trail or hint that would let him become aware of where the other cookie might be.

Turn.

Turn.

..Another turn—

There.

He briskly walked forward as he made sure to avoid tripping on any stones or any holes in the pathway. Nothing about the setting of the dream had changed, from the forever night sky to the desolate abandoned nature of the fallen kingdom. It all looked the same with nothing new to it.

Pure Vanilla stopped as he scanned the area more thoroughly.

No, something changed. It was a bit darker.

He slowly kept walking, choosing to ignore that little detail and instead spending his time trying to search for the certain cookie. He had a time limit to being here before he woke up, best not to dwell on small things and waste time.

Vanilla stepped into the clearing with a frown, the spot they had been in last time devoid of life with the blue cookie nowhere.

Pure Vanilla took small steps, his hope fading as he felt the wind blow through his long hair. The quiet wind being the only sound to hear in the silence, truly emphasizing how alone it was in the place.

It was a shame, he supposed he should of expected the same exact dream with the cookie to happen twice. He would of enjoyed learning more abou—

“Oh? Pure Vanilla?” 

He froze, turning around swiftly to the direction of the voice behind him. He stumbled at just the speed of him doing so.

Mismatched eyes meets shiny blue.

“Blueberry Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla breath hitched.

Blueberry Milk tilted his head, his expression unreadable before a slight smile appeared on his face. “What a surprise! I didn’t notice your presence like last time.” Blueberry Milk looked away, a finger on his chin. “Must’ve slipped by me somehow, ah doesn’t matter much.” Blueberry Milk shrugged.

Pure Vanilla still couldn’t believe he managed to meet him again, he was stunned.

What were the chances? The chances you even remember your dreams in the first place.

It was something he never really stopped to think about much, but now that he was here standing in front of Blueberry Milk, and he found himself feeling grateful. Grateful and, something else. 

Something else.

He couldn’t identify that feeling clearly, but he knew it was there. After all he felt it strongly.

“Where were you?” Pure Vanilla finally spoke, snapping out of his thoughts and smiling back at him. While he appreciated being able to see clearly while in the dream, he still found it disorienting to not have his staff with him.

Blueberry Milk lifted a brow at him before walking past him. “Could you not sense me like before? Odd.” He waved his hand as he folded his arms. “Well, I wasn’t too far seeing as I found you here myself.”

Pure Vanilla offered an apologetic look. “My friend, I could sense you. Though it was much fainter this time.” The trail to Blueberry Milk was very much there, but it was strange how even Blueberry himself was having trouble detecting him as well. He distinctly recalls him being able to sense Pure Vanilla just as well if not better. 

Blueberry Milk shrugged, turning around as he gestured for Pure Vanilla to follow. And ‘follow’ Pure Vanilla did, without much hesitation.

They didn’t go to sit in the spot in the clearing of the grass like last that however, Vanilla instantly took notice of how they were walking back down the path leading through the desolate buildings. 

Pure Vanilla slowed his pace in confusion, his eye brow raised while looked at the cookie leading him in silence. While he was happy to see them again, he couldn’t help but find himself questioning where they were going, especially in a place like this. Still, he took the moment to glimpse around.

“You know,” Blueberry Milk didn’t turn to him, still walking forward down the path calmly. “It was really odd how you disappeared last time I saw you, I didn’t think you would come back.”

Blueberry Milk turned back to him, his eyes staring into his with once again an unreadable expression. “Where did you go anyway, was that some type of teleportation magic?” 

Pure Vanilla nervously glanced away at the question, he knew this was a dream to him, but he didn’t know if the other cookie did as well. He didn’t have the heart to admit it, a hint of uncertainty in his mind.

A cookie bathed in truth, lying.

It’s rubbing off on him.

“I suppose, it happened suddenly and I didn’t expect it. I must of been so tired it was automatic.” Pure Vanilla said with confidence to add to his lie, glancing back at Blueberry Milk to observe his reaction.

Blueberry Milk stared at him in intrigue, turned back to look ahead of him. “I see, I learn something new about you often.” 

Pure Vanilla breathed a sigh, if it was of relief or still out of anxiousness he didn’t know. “Never anything wrong with that.”

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat as he tilted his head, while he knew he would never get any answers out of Shadow Milk, would he get information out of Blueberry Milk instead?

He hesitated as he thought the action through, not wanting to scare the other away with any prying into backstory. Though Pure Vanilla was ever so curious, and his mind begged to know. 

He wanted to know something, anything.

“Question,” Vanilla started out slowly. “What happened in this kingdom?” He looked to the abandoned and broken down building. How some of them weren’t even standing anymore, the cracks even following down to the path they were walking on.

Blueberry Milk was silent as he continued walking with Pure Vanilla behind him, showing no outward reaction to the question he asked. Pure Vanilla had a slight frown at the sight, it wasn’t a good sign.

“I don’t know, friend. it’s been like this for a while.” Blueberry Milk said in a low tone, an obvious response that wasn’t looking for any question.

Pure Vanilla pondered that thought. It was like this for a while, a response that was obviously missing more details.

He didn’t pry, that was enough.

“I see.” Vanilla thought to shift the conversation, similar to what he does with Shadow Milk. “Where are we going then?”

Blueberry Milk lifted his head at that, the tension in his shoulders lessening as he glanced quickly back to Pure Vanilla, a familiar gleam in his eyes as he spoke. “We just arrived actually.” Blueberry Milk shifted to the side, allowing Pure Vanilla to see what was as in front.

A garden. A garden of flowers with blue cream wolves inside.

It was almost like an opposite of the garden he had in his own kingdom.

Noted.

Pure Vanilla hummed. “I didn’t know you had an interest in gardening.” He approached the garden as he followed behind Blueberry Milk, going through the fence as he closed it behind him. He immediately bent down to inspect the bush full of blue flowers.

“Forget-me-nots.” 

Pure Vanilla turned to look at Blueberry Milk, the other speaking catching him slightly off guard. 

Blueberry Milk held a petal in his fingers as he was sat down in a criss-cross. His head in his palm as he rested against his lap. 

Blueberry chuckled lightly as he plucked the petal, holding it closer to his face as he inspected the small details. “I’d never usually say, but I’m quite bad at gardening.” He looked over at the other bushes, how a lot of them didn’t have any flowers. “I go here when I remember, but still, I’m not any good at it. I give up on it a lot.”

Gardening. Pure Vanilla knew enough about that.

Vanilla looked back down at the petal in his hand, the blue petal soft in his hand; he made sure to be careful with the flower, not tugging it away from the bush.

He smiled at that thought.

To have a garden was not something he would expect from Shadow Milk, the other would simply not be interested in such a patient thing such as it.

He let go of the petal as he fully sat on the soft grass, it wasn’t as overgrown here. 

“Hello friend, don’t think I forgot about you.” Blueberry Milk’s voice grabbed his attention, his eyes turning to look at the scene of Blueberry and the blue cream wolf.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes slightly widened at how Blueberry Milk interacted with the cream wolf. How gentle he was with scratching at the cream wolf; how calm the cream wolf was with Blueberry Milk. Despite the look of the cream wolf, the gentle display of them both had him so, interested.

Interested is an understatement.

He finally inspected the looks of the cream wolf, his it actually looked like it was covered in wool like a sheep, except for the head, paws, and tail. 

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Pure Vanilla squinted his eyes, another thought in his head.

Now that seems much more like a Shadow Milk thing.

Pure Vanilla tapped his fingers against the grassy floor. He didn’t mind that thought unsurprisingly.

“I didn’t know there were other little species here.” Pure Vanilla looked away pass the small fence and towards the broken down houses and huts. The greyscale of it all adding to the empty feeling. “This place is so empty, I’ve yet to see another cookie other than you.” He glanced back to the cream wolf who had now taken a step back from Blueberry Milk, now staring at Pure Vanilla.

Blueberry Milk looked down at his hands with narrowed eyes, his body tense as a frown made itself clear on his face. “I’m aware, but now you do know.” Blueberry Milk reached out to place a hand on the white wool of the wolf. “I don’t claim this wolf personally, sometimes It just follows me and I let it.” Blueberry smiled at the wolf.

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, willingly following?

“Interesting, do they have a name?” Vanilla scooted to be closer.

Blueberry shook his head. “Never got around it, I find whistling works good enough, no?”

Pure Vanilla sighed before smiling once again. There it is, the similarities between the two. 

Shadow Milk would have thought and said such a thing, the attachment a name brings is something Shadow Milk would be likely to avoid all together. Pure Vanilla understands that well, with the time that immortality brings, it’s not all that out of reason to not want to name something as simple as a cream wolf. 

Pure Vanilla understands that.

Understanding.

Something new.

Pure Vanilla leaned just a bit more closer, his hand twitching in his lap while he looked to the blue cream wolf that was still staring at him.

Even the cream wolf reminded him of Shadow Milk.

“Are they friendly?” Pure Vanilla continued to stare back at the wolf, he noticed it didn’t outwardly display any aggression, but the staring was something he thought was odd. “I would like to know if I have to avoid being bitten.” Pure Vanilla chuckled.

Blueberry Milk looked at him in amusement, leaning back on his hand as he looked away. The dancing sparkles in his head immediately catching Pure Vanilla’s eye. 

“They are friendly to me so I would assume they are friendly to you.” Blueberry Milk paused. “That’s a maybe however, perhaps it’s just a bonding thing.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, turning his attention back on the wolf with his arm raised slightly out. His plan towards the cream wolf in caution, a simple gesture he’s used many times before with the small singular hounds that wandered just a bit too close to the edge of the kingdom where he just happened to be.

The cream wolf narrowed its eyes at him, leaning down to the ground as it took small steps toward him. Its small thin paws were silent as it closed the distance slowly between them.

Shadow Milk would take a liking to this wolf maybe, in some way.

Blueberry Milk watched carefully with narrowed eyes, the lower half of his face being covered by one of his hands.

It would be a lie for him to say he wasn’t nervous, he didn’t know what would happen if he got hurt in this realistic dream word, and he didn’t want to find out by a sharp wolf bite to the hand.

He was brought back to the moment by something touching his palm, his eyes tracking down to the cream wolf in front of him.

Oh.

Blueberry Milk let out a small excited gasp, his fingers clasped together as he observed Pure Vanilla and the cream wolf.

The cream wolf stared up at him through his fingers, its long snout pushed up against his palm as he felt the fur.

He didn’t move.

Blueberry Milk let out a hum of approval, a small sigh of relief hidden behind quiet laughter. “That’s good, for a second I was expecting the worst.” Blueberry Milk mumbled as he turned his attention back to the blue flowers, his back towards the cream wolf and Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t respond however. He was too fascinated.

Fascination was an understatement.

He kept his hand out to the cream wolf, its long snout still pressed into his palm before it shifted further up. Its head tilting to the side as it turned to where Pure Vanilla’s hand was now resting against its cheek. The eyes staring up at him the whole time in an emotion Pure Vanilla couldn’t name.

It was something intelligent, something aware, something telling.

Something familiar.

And Pure Vanilla will remember.

He moved his hand up towards the cream wolf’s head, his eyes landing on the blue mark that was on its forehead. The cream wolf stared up at him as Pure Vanilla stared back, the eyes of the wolf a mismatched blue and white—

Blue and white?

He tilted his head, his eyes wider with his stare increasing.

It reminded him—

Pure Vanilla gasped with the speed of which he fell back, the cream wolf rushing past him and jumped the fence, running down the path towards the center of the kingdom as it disappeared past the ruined houses with Pure Vanilla’s eyes not being able to follow it.

“Don’t be let down or surprised.” Blueberry Milk spoke through the silence in disinterest. “It does that often, not something noteworthy or new. It’ll come back if it wants to.”

Pure Vanilla quickly sat up, dusting his robes off with a frown. He hadn’t wanted that encounter to end so suddenly, and so soon after discovering such odd behavior. Odd behavior he wasn’t new to. “I’ll come back?” He mumbled low with another glance past the fence.

Blueberry Milk shrugged, still having not turned towards Pure Vanilla. “If it wants, nothing guaranteed.”

Pure Vanilla dragged a hand down his face, feeling exasperated at the situation. So much to think about to say, such little good that it would do. He had to accept some things weren’t going to be answered like he wanted them to be, at least, not anything at the moment. Not yet.

He got composed quickly, more quickly than he would have liked, but he had to. “Do you have any other creatures around this area?” Pure Vanilla was hesitant, for a reason he didn’t know.

Blueberry Milk hummed in thought, pausing his inspections with the bush to look at Pure Vanilla. “There sometimes is also another here, but it’s harder to catch sight of that one. I see the cream wolf more.” Blueberry Milk turned back to the bush casually, as if Pure Vanilla wasn’t just a step away having his own confusing speculating thoughts in his head. 

“Another? Is it not a cream wolf?” Pure Vanilla was attentive now, there were basically no other cookies and any sign of life here in this world, if there were any creatures—which was already proven by his encounter with the cream wolf—then they must be here for a reason. If he was overthinking that reason though, he didn’t know. 

Blueberry Milk leaned back with him fully plucking the blue flower from the bush, turning around to fully face Pure Vanilla now as he pondered the question. “I don’t really know what it is, it’s just a thing.” Blueberry Milk waved his hand like he was trying to piece together what he was trying to say in his mind. “It’s simply there, like a little small creature.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, pondering on his own about what the other cookie could possibly be talking about. It was something small, so likely not a cream wolf. “So if it’s not a cream wolf, what does it look like?”

Blueberry Milk looked away, his eyes squinting like he was imagining a picture in his own head. At least, that was what it seemed to Pure Vanilla.

“Hm, I guess it’s kind of like a—“ 

Pulse

Pure Vanilla fell forward, clutching one hand to his chest while the other reached in front of him to make sure he didn’t fall forward into the grass. His breaths coming out in short gasps for a moment before he regained his control, his eyes wide at the sudden feeling that overwhelmed him in a second. 

Blueberry Milk reached forward, worry in his eyes as he also made sure Pure Vanilla didn’t fall face first into the grass.

Pure Vanilla clutched harder to his chest with his eyes closing. Except he wasn’t touching his chest really.

He had was clutching his soul jam.

It was quick to identify where the pulse came from, but why it had come, especially in a dream, is something he didn’t expect to happen.

Except that would be a lie, he’s had these emotions for a long while, and he’s also had these pulses before. It was nothing new to him, the only thing that was new was the fact he was feeling different, and not something he would think to affect him even in his own dream.

He looked down at his soul jam, his finger running down the protective membrane as he felt it vibrate and pulse under his touch.

Odd, he’s had that happen to him in reality, but it’s not something he expected to happen in the dream world of all places.

“Pure Vanilla?” Blueberry’s voice startled him.

Pure Vanilla lowered his hand, leaning back to compose himself with a small shake of his head. He was caught off guard again, not something new to him now anymore.  “Apologies, I just felt off for a minute.” Pure Vanilla folded his hands in his lap, his breathing returning to normal after a few shallow pants.

Blueberry Milk gazed at him in remorse, his hand rising up to rest on his chest, just below the keyhole design of the collar that popped around his neck. “Oh, I’m sorry friend.” Blueberry Milk hesitated, his gaze lowering down to avoid the eyes of Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla frowned once again, he hadn’t wanted to accidentally sour the mood; much less cause any distress to the other—

“I think I felt it too.” Blueberry Milk mumbled just loud enough to hear.

Pure Vanilla glanced up in surprise. “What?” 

“I felt it, I don’t know if it was the same as you, but it was something.” Blueberry Milk raised one of his hands up, his claws splaying out—Vanilla didn’t even know he had claws, though they were much shorter than Shadow Milk’s— glowing with a burst of magic as the small cloud formed with a—poof.

Blueberry summoned his staff in his palm as he efficiently twirled it once, holding his soul jam to his face as he inspected it. “Not anything physical of course, but I did feel it internally. A faint emotion.”

Ah, now that was also interesting. The feeling was mutual.

Blueberry Milk raised a finger to his chin as he was in thought, his staff disappearing with a flick of his wrist. “I guess today must be a strange day.” He shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “Well, it can’t be helped.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, intending his shoulders as he looked back down the path where the cream wolf went. There was another creature that was here besides from it, one that Pure Vanilla was interested in seeing.

He likely wasn’t going to today, but Pure Vanilla was satisfied with meeting the wolf for now. Except for his newly formed questions, it was something new nonetheless.

Just as he was about to speak, the wind picked up suddenly. Blowing through his long hair and robes with speed, his eyes squinting at the suddenness of it.

He turned back to Blueberry Milk who seemed to be almost entirely unaffected and unbothered by the wind, his eyes looking in the opposite direction of where he was looking. Pure Vanilla followed his gaze further down the garden, his eyes catching on the black mass that was seen hiding behind a bush.

What was—

Pure Vanilla fell forward as his breath hitched, not being able to catch himself like last time as he felt the familiar unavoidable sleepiness overtaking him. His eyelids getting heavier with every second.

He use his leftover energy to look at Blueberry Milk, the other cookie already looking down at him with half lidded eyes. His head resting in his palm against his leg, and in Pure Vanilla’s eyes, the sight was beautiful as always.

Blueberry Milk tilted his head in confusion, a pout on his face as he looked down unbothered to Pure Vanilla. 

He didn’t have much time before he would be pulled out of the dream. 

“Blueberry Milk Cookie, I saw the note you left in the library like I asked,” Pure Vanilla shook as he forced himself to lean up, his body heavy with low energy as he bowed his head. “Thank you, it helped answer a question of mine.”

Blueberry Milk raised an eyebrow. “A question,” he repeated Pure Vanilla’s statement. “And what question did it answer, Vanilly?”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened, he was momentarily gratefully his long hair fell in his face when he bowed his head so the other cookie couldn’t see his expression.

Vanilly.

Who else has called him a similar name to that.

The parallels.

Pure Vanilla kept his head lowered to the grass, his hand tensed into a fist. He kept his gaze lowered, not having enough energy to even lift his head.

“Not much of anything important Blueberry Milk, you need not concern yourself with it.” Pure Vanilla kept his tone soft, his breathes shallow as he struggled to fight against the fighting drowsiness. “I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience for you.”

Blueberry Milk snickered, placing a hand on Pure Vanilla’s head; his hands laced his long hair as he twirled it in his fingers. “It wasn’t an inconvenience, it took me only a short bit of time.” 

Pure Vanilla nodded in response, his head fully rested in the grass with Blueberry still playing with his hair. Pure Vanilla let him as he closed his eyes.

Blueberry Milk paused as Pure Vanilla felt him pull away for a second with a faint rustling of foliage, his hand returning to his head as Pure Vanilla felt Blueberry put something in his hair, Pure Vanilla didn’t have the energy to check whatever it was.

He heard a sigh before he started to fall in and out of consciousness, his hearing fading. “I sense you are leaving soon, I’d like to see you again, if that’s alright with you.” 

Pure Vanilla nodded, or at least he thinks he did.

“I would like to.” 

The last thing he heard was the rustling of the grass and the blowing wind.

—

He shot up from the table with a jolt, blinking his eyes a few times with a sigh. 

Pure Vanilla looked around, he was still in the library and it was still day, albeit it was now later into the afternoon now.

Something he noticed was he was alone, Shadow Milk not being next to him anymore upon him waking up. He found himself feeling sad at that realization, not having a clue where the other had gone when he had fallen asleep.

Pure Vanilla also found himself being nervous, Shadow Milk was not something to be taken lightly, once he does recover; the other’s power would be unimaginable like it’s always been. And Pure Vanilla does not have a clue where he could be in the kingdom.

He pushed the chair out from under him, his hand reaching towards his staff that was resting against the shelves.

As he made his way out of the library and waving goodbye to Eclair Cookie, he found himself feeling something in particular. A feeling that made itself present in his soul jam, the faint pulsing clear and known just like it had been in his dream. 

Longing.

He walked up the steps to the castle, his cloak flowing behind him with the wind softly picking up, a clear contract to the faster winds that were present in his dream.

What was he longing exactly.

..

He raised a hand to his chest, his soul jam gleaming in the sun.

Was this even his emotion

He continued walking to his room, his steps quick as he made sure to avoid all the staff that were walking around at this time. The staff that did notice him thankfully left him alone after a short bow of respect, which he did back.

Being in the comfort of his room was pleasing to him rather quickly, unclicking his cloak and only leaving him in his white bodysuit that left his shoulders exposed as well as his white leggings that only went up to his mid thigh. It was rather comfortable, he made sure to attach his soul jam back onto his chest with the back clasp, only lowering his hand with a click.

There was only one thing on his mind at the moment.

His held the old book in his hand, the cover torn and worn with it practically almost falling off.

The Downfall Of The Originals.

Hm, what a mellow title.

He sighed at the thought, his smile sad at the old picture of the beasts he knows today. The original holders of the soul jam.

He sat at his desk, closing the curtains to his balcony on the way. the light that seeped through more than enough for him to read any words of the page.

To his disliking, the book was rather thin; signifying there wasn’t a lot of information to be told within. Upon turning to the actual first page, he noticed how authentic the pages looked, the old handwriting something fancy and neat on the wrinkled pages.

Virtue of Change.

Burning Spice Cookie.

He scanned the pages, how the beast that hungered for destruction was once a protector. Someone who helped shape history and inspire hope.

The picture was surprising, the smile that was held on his face not one of passion for battle, but one that was genuine.

Having fallen from grace, the once great hero and protector now something to be feared. Having turned on his own kingdoms that he swore to protect, fire and destruction rained down in his path. The neighboring kingdoms not standing a chance when facing his wrath and rage.

There is no remorse when facing this cookie, you will not win, do not engage with this beast at all costs. He is not the protector he once was but a destroyer.

Pure Vanilla examined the picture closer, skipping the rest of the text before turning the page.

What happened?

The next page was similar to the first, the next beast being shown was one he heard about before personally from one of his friends.

Virtue of Volition.

Mystic Flour Cookie.

This cookie he did hear about from one of his friends, Dark Cacao. Though from the stories he’s heard, he did not expect the beast to once look so caring in a photo.

Especially after being the embodiment of apathy.

Originally known as the master of the ivory pagoda, this cookie was known for her answering the wishes of cookies. It is known after a while she had a sort of ‘enlightenment’ after all of the wishes, seeking to rid cookie of their desires as well as their bodies; leaving them into dust.

This cookie is apathetic and long fallen from grace, she is to be avoided at all costs. She is not the wish-granter she once was.

Pure Vanilla leaned back in his chair, his hand going up to his soul jam once again; feeling it pulse once again under his fingers. He felt his vision starting to slightly spin as he presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes going towards the balcony where he could see the sky turning more orange, signifying the sun was about to set soon.

No sign of Shadow Milk still.

He grasped at his chest now, he was starting to feel the effects, the longing he’s never had before. The dizziness and weakness that wasn’t pleasant whatsoever.

Pure Vanilla turned back towards the open book.

He couldn’t even find it in him to focus on the words, the letters dancing in his vision slightly as he squinted to read them.

“Maybe not now then.” He muttered to himself, closing the book as he stood. While he would of loved to read more, especially a certain page he knew was in the book; he wanted to be in the right state of mind if he were to find some sort of backstory. It would do him no good if he were to consume information, only for it to instantly leave his head and be forgotten.

He slid the book under the bed, it wasn’t the most beat choice, but it would have to do for now.

Pure Vanilla reached forward to pull the curtain back, letting the rays of the setting sun reach in through the balcony.

Letting himself fall back to sit on the still neatly made bed, his breaths fell out in short gasps, his eyes half lidded as he used his hands to stabilize himself to keep himself from falling forward of the edge of the bed. His head bowed with his long hair covering his eyes once again.

The low energy he was feeling similar to the feeling he felt at the end of his dream earlier in the day, though it wasn’t out of sleepiness.

No, he wasn’t tired at all, he couldn’t even sleep if he tried. This was different.

His soul jam pulsed, the vibrations heavy against his chest as his vision spun just a bit more. Too caught up in his own head and feelings to notice the sun had now fully set, the moon rising once again as he was still alone.

Pure Vanilla only looked up when he caught sight of something in the night sky through the balcony, something blue and drifting closer.

He smiled, finding the energy to stand and make his way towards the balcony, not stepping outside, but making it known he was there as he fully drew back the curtains and making it a clear invitation inside.

Pure Vanilla adorned a smile on his face, his eyes soft and half lidded. “I see you recovered enough to fly again.” Pure Vanilla softly called out of him as Shadow Milk touched down on the balcony, his footsteps soft and light. “How has your day been?”

Shadow Milk mumbled something under his breath as he slowly made his way towards Pure Vanilla, slumping against him as he sighed.

This is okay, Pure Vanilla likes this.

Pulse

Their soul jam pulsed in unison, the vibrations slowing down as they hummed happily. 

Ah, so he needs to take into account proximity now.

Shadow Milk groaned again in his arms, the eyes in his hair staring up at him for a moment before closing shut one by one. The usual put together personality not seen anywhere here.

Pure Vanilla wordlessly brought them both closer towards his bed, setting Shadow Milk down first before he got under the covers next. The spinning in his vision slowed down now that he was right beside Shadow Milk. He was still dazed out of it, but not in the way he was before, it was alleviating, and almost addicting in a way. His eyes soft as he gazed down at Shadow Milk laid down next to him.

Shadow Milk opened his eyes halfway as he felt Pure Vanilla looking at him, they made eye contact; with Vanilla now being able to see the slit pupils that Shadow Milk was recognizable for. He was in the dull blue robe Vanila had last seen him in, his dark shirt being seen under, nothing having changed about his clothing.

Shadow Milk looked just as rough as him, his eyes dazed and visibly hazy as he looked up at Pure Vanilla. His silver blue hair just slightly ruffled.

Vanilla’s eyes glanced down to the flickering blue light that could be seen beneath the robe, the top half of the soul jam being just slightly seen.

When he glanced back up to the other’s face, he was also staring at Vanilla’s soul jam.

Pulse

A tug. One that Pure Vanilla couldn’t find himself to ignore.

Pure Vanilla raised his hand up to Shadow Milk’s cheek, gently caressing his thumb across it as he swiped the hair out of his face. His eyes were fond as he offered another small smile. “You didn’t answer, how was your day dear?”

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes, a small frown on his face as he leaned into Pure Vanilla’s hand, something he took into account immediately but didn’t dare comment on.

“Nothing you should be concerned about.” Shadow Milk muttered, his eyes lowering away from Pure Vanilla’s.

Pure Vanilla didn’t waver, his smile still present on his face. “Apologies.”

Shadow Milk scowled before he sighed heavily, turned slightly over to look up more at Pure Vanilla. “I was with Eclair Cookie, if you look past how nervous he gets around me, he’s actually surprisingly good company.” Shadow Milk leaned further into Pure Vanilla’s hand, moving slightly up enough to where Pure Vanilla’s hand was now resting by his jaw. “He knows his stuff, of course I already knew it, it was nice to see how much he did.” 

Pure Vanilla chuckled in amusement. “I would never doubt your knowledge on things.”

Shadow Milk huffed, his eyes closing. “Of course you shouldn’t.”

Pure Vanilla stayed silent for a moment, using his other hand to stroke through the hair of the other. He stayed at the top, knowing the other wouldn’t react well if he accidentally poked the eyes in his hair. The possibility was high considering the vulnerable and dizzy state he was still very much in.

“I had missed you.” Pure Vanilla hesitated before finally stating, his head tilted as he also closed his eyes. 

Shadow Milk didn’t respond, only glaring up at him through half lidded eyes. “I only returned because I had to, I’m sure you also felt the pull of the soul jam.” Shadow Milk leaned further up into him, from this distance; Pure Vanilla could see how Shadow Milk was also breathless, his panting being quick and shallow. “It would have gotten worse and unbearable, not good if i’m trying to regain my strength.” 

Pure Vanilla paused before he smiled, a restrained chuckle in his chest.

Pulse

“I see, then I’m still glad you returned. If not for me, then for your own health.” Pure Vanilla calmly responded, his resolve having never wavered for a second.

Pure Vanilla didn’t take offense to the statement.

He knew it was a lie the other told, one he wasn’t going to comment on.

Shadow Milk didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, a groan leaving him in response.

“What about you, what have you been doing, ‘Nilla?” Shadow Milk’s voice was soft, a type of softness he doesn’t hear a lot, or ever.

Pure Vanilla hummed in amusement, he leaned back against the headboard with his gaze now on the ceiling. He let his hand fall away from Shadow Milk’s cheek despite the small noise of protest. “I don’t know, why would you want to know?”

Shadow Milk growled low, his claws gripping the sheets just enough to where they wouldn’t tear. “So you think you’re so funny now, huh?” Shadow Milk tilted his head, an offended look on his face.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, he expected that reaction fully. “A joke, Shadow Milk. I’ve been here all day, Reading.”

Shadow Milk raised an eyebrow. “Reading what?”

Hm, he should have expected that question.

“Nothing that would interest you, you know everything there is to offer in the library, yes?” Pure Vanilla looked back down at him, bringing his hand back on the others cheek gently.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, not shying away from the hand like Pure Vanilla expecting him to. “I suppose you are right, I likely already know all about whatever it is you did read.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, it wasn’t a full lie. Shadow Milk did not all about the other beasts and everything that happened during his time, the lie being that Pure Vanilla hadn’t told him the topic of the book had him included.

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched as he felt Shadow Milk climb on top of him, the eyes in his hair that had originally been closed now all open and staring at him.

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla looked up, not fighting against him as Shadow Milk practically straddled him. 

From this angle, Pure Vanilla could confidently say Shadow Milk looked nothing like a ‘beast,’ He looked magnificent.

Pure Vanilla folded his hands on his chest as Shadow Milk didn’t respond, this didn’t seem to be the right choice either as Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes, batted away his hands.

Oh, Pure Vanilla understands now. 

He wanted a clear view of his soul jam.

“I’m sure you feel it too.” Shadow Milk leaned down, their chests touching directly where their soul jams would have been had it not been for the bath robe shadow Milk was wearing being the only thing from direct contact. “The tugging feeling, the longing.”

Shadow Milk stared down at him from above, his legs on either side of Pure Vanilla as he was effectively caged underneath. 

Pure Vanilla rested his hands above him, his head tilted to the side with his gaze locked on Shadow Milk. The fog in his mind increasing more as he became more dazed, he knew the feeling was mutual when he looked into the eyes of Shadow Milk, his eyes cloudy with something similar to Pure Vanilla.

“You look lovely with the moonlight on you.” Pure Vanilla said casually, a smile still on his face.

Shadow Milk slightly recoiled, his face showing his surprise clearly before he recovered, a very faint and soft blush on his face similar to the one Pure Vanilla was adorning now. “Don’t be sappy now Vanilla.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t react openly, his eyes still remaining on Shadow Milk above him. “Apologies, it just came out.” 

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, his claws tapping against the sheets in impatience. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Pure Vanilla blinked. “What was it”

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes, pressing closer to him. “Do you feel it?” He looked down to Pure Vanilla’s soul jam before looking back up to his face. “The tug.”

Pure Vanilla froze for a moment, contemplating his words. He felt many things from his soul jam, many things that weren’t felt before he had brought Shadow Milk back to his kingdom. “Yes, I feel it.”

Shadow Milk huffed. “I know you do, the connection we shared never truly severed itself.” Shadow Milk flashed his teeth in a smirk. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention it sooner.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eye brow. “Connection? You mean when I was Truthless Recluse?” 

Shadow Milk nodded, he took into note how the smirk faltered upon him saying his previous name. “Yes, when we were one.” Shadow Milk pressed closer, just from the closeness; Pure Vanilla could feel the vibrations from the other’s soul jam, the pulsations only being slightly blocked by the bathrobe.

Pure Vanilla narrowed his eyes downward, a frown on his face as he glared. Not directed at Shadow Milk, but at that bathrobe.

He was growing angry.

Shadow Milk tilted his head as he grinned, his soul jam flickering as Shadow Milk felt a surge quick anger flash through their connection, which Pure Vanilla felt faintly. After all, it was his. 

“Oh? And what are you angry about Vanilla?” Shadow Milk raised an eyebrow, leaning upward with a grin on his face. 

Pure Vanilla blankly looked up at him, his hands balling into fists before he grabbed Shadow Milk by his shirt underneath the robe, startling Shadow Milk as he let out a gasp.

“Forgive me Shadow Milk, but I’m sure you’ve felt it too.” Pure Vanilla reached behind the other, his fingers catching on the thick strings tied behind on the bathrobe, Shadow Milk’s eyes widened at the action.

“I know you’ve felt it, after all we are connected.” Pure Vanilla twirling the strings in his fingers. “Your desires are my desires and vice versa.” He glanced up to Shadow Milk’s face, his eyes just as half lidded and foggy like Pure Vanilla’s. “At least, some of them.”

“This connection we have, it’s strong.” Pure Vanilla pressed Shadow Milk closer, once again, the robe blocking direct contact between their soul jams. “Strong enough that it strains itself when we are far from each other.”

Pure Vanilla brought his hand up again, pressing it to Shadow Milk’s face as he once again caressed his cheek. A gentle gesture that leaves room for decline.

“I’m sorry you felt that feeling all day, with no way of peace.” Shadow Milk tilted his head into Pure Vanilla’s hand once again, his eyes dilated with the eyes in his hair closing once more. “Shall we fix that?”

Shadow Milk gave him a confused look. “Fix?”

Pure Vanilla flicked his eyes down towards their soul jams, lifting his gaze to look back up at Shadow Milk. 

Shadow Milk got the hint, his eyes closing as he fully leaned into Pure Vanilla. “I suppose, do as you want then.”

Good.

He quickly pulled on the strings between his fingers, ignoring Shadow Milk’s confused sounds as the others bathrobe loosened and fell down his shoulders. The soul jam that had been just slightly hidden underneath it now finally visible.

“There it is.” Pure Vanilla whispered, his body feeling sluggish as he splayed his fingers his fingers on Shadow Milk’s back pushing him closer until—

Pulse

They both went limp with a small gasp as the soul jams pressed against each other, the flickering glow turning into a brighter shine. The vibrations that had stirred up earlier now finally settled into a soft dull hum.

As for Pure Vanilla.

He was ecstatic.

The colors in his vision danced in as he felt into a state of content, the only thing grounding him being the hand that found its way from Shadow Milks cheek to his hair.

He felt the emotions of Shadow Milk mix and mingle with his own in a symphony of colors and stars in golds and blues. Similar to how it was back in beast-yeast.

He breathed out shakily, he relished in the feeling of finally being able to connect to the other in a way that was more personal, something that you couldn’t possibly achieve with words. He was immersed in the feeling.

It was something, intimate.

Something that Pure Vanilla would remember most definitely.

Shadow Milk was in his mind and he was in Shadow Milk’s. A temporary switch that went back and forth, but it wasn’t tiring at all. It was eye opening.

And it was freeing. 

The tugging and nagging feeling that he felt in his chest the whole time finally letting up as his soul jam buzzed happily, finally satisfied with being close to its other half.

He blinked his eyes opens as he found himself in a grassy field, he would have thought he was dreaming again had the landscape not been in color. Something that his dreams with Blueberry Milk lacked.

It was quick before he realized this was also in his head, the field of grass being filled with cream sheep that he was so fond of. This place had to be in his head as there was no sign of Shadow Milk.

He bent down before a sheep, the wool feeling so realistic under his fingers. He smiled at the feeling before pulling it into his lap happily.

“This feels familiar.” He muttered to himself, his fingers hooking under the sheep’s chin as he scratched gently. 

He turned around, looking behind a tree in the distance.

Blue wool, thin paws.

A blue cream sheep?

No.

A blue cream wolf that was wearing wool of a sheep. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, watching him intently from a distance

Where has he seen that before?

Pure Vanilla didn’t have enough time to dwell on the sight before he was snapped back to reality, his breaths coming out shallow like they had before.

He looked to his right, Shadow Milk resting beside him under the covers with only the ends of his hair peeking out. He haven’t even realized he had slept, only realizing after he had woken up.

Pure Vanilla rubbed at his face, his soul jam continuing to hum happily against his chest. The tug was no longer present, something he was pleased with.

Very pleased with.

Upon getting out of the bed with Shadow Milk just beginning to wake up after him, he came to the realization that he hadn’t dreamed with Blueberry Milk last night, having a quick dream with himself for once.

He didn’t know if that was a bad thing or good thing at the moment.

Pure Vanilla sighed, running his hands through his hair before he frowned. He felt his hands get caught in his hair as it tangled, something he deeply disliked every time it happened. Which explained why he immediately raced to the table, wanting to brush it out as soon as he could before it got worse.

He heard Shadow Milk shift on the bed, turning to glance at him just as he fixed his robe, the soul jam going back to being hidden underneath. He drifted towards Pure Vanilla with a grin, his arms folding across his chest.

Pure Vanilla turned back towards his desk, the sun shining into the room once again as the soft warm breeze filled the room through the balcony. “Good Morning, are you feeling better?”

Shadow Milk eyed him, his grin turning sly as he shifted to float in his back. “I’m feeling great, thanks for asking!” Another shift to float on his stomach. “I can finally float without strain again, which makes things easier.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, finally finishing organizing his desk like he had forgotten to yesterday. “I’m glad you are feeling better, you seem to be healing nicely.”

Shadow Milk drifted closer to him, his head tilted with an amused expression on his face. “Oh Vanilla.”

Pure Vanilla looked up, the brush in his hand as he already started to glide it through his hair. “Yes?”

Shadow Milk pointed at him—No not at him, something on his head. “Nice flower.”

Pure Vanilla paused, his gaze confused at the others words. He finally sat down in his chair, looking in the small mirror with his eyes immediately being drawn to the blue flower that was in his hair, right above his ear. He questioned if that had been there the whole time.

A blue flower, in his hair.

“Oh, did you put that there?” Pure Vanilla didn’t turn his eye sight away from the mirror, his hand coming up to lightly poke at the flower. It was definitely real and not a fake accessory.

Shadow Milk shook his head, disappointment in his face. “If I wanted to put a flower in your hair I would at least use a good one.” Shadow Milk floated slightly forward. “That one doesn’t even look fully matured and developed, plucked without a care in the world.” He waved his hand dismissively, floating towards and out the balcony away from view. “It’s even missing some of its petals.”

Pure Vanilla turned his head, a new found interest rising in him. The flower was indeed missing some of its petals, but he found it endearing in a way.

He knew he himself didn’t put it there, and Shadow Milk stating he hadn’t put it there either.

Where did this flower come from?

Chapter Text

“I still see no point to this.”

Pure Vanilla glanced up from the desk, the papers finally organized after him finally cleaning them. He has managed the flower he had pulled from his hair pushed to the side for now. He had still thought it was pretty, but Shadow Milk was unfortunately right, the flower was noticeably wilted and fallen, he wouldn’t be able to continue wearing it as a nice head accessory.

“You may not, but I do. I’m sorry if that upsets you.” Vanilla looked up to where he was floating, the other clearly lazily drifting in the air. 

Shadow Milk huffed, his arms folding down to his chest. “It does. What’s the use of them even being here? Don’t you little kings and queens have your own kingdoms to run?” He waved his hand around to enunciate his words, a scowl on his face as he peered down at Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla nodded. “They may be, but we are still comrades as well as friends.” He got up from the desk chair, walking below where the jester was hovering just out of his reach. “I can’t leave them alone after they’ve travelled quite far.” 

He glanced away to the door, his tone slightly lowering. “And, it would be a lie to say I don’t miss them myself.” Pure Vanilla laid a hand on his chest, reminiscing for a few moments before blinking the memory’s away.

Shadow Milk snorted. “Then lie.”

Pure Vanilla narrowed his eyes, his tone firm as well as his posture. “Shadow Milk.”

“Okay, okay.” Shadow Milk dismissed him, falling back towards the ground lightly. His small slowly bubbling anger hard to hide with it being reflected in his soul jam right towards Pure Vanilla. “Do as you please, by all means.” 

Shadow Milk mumbled, turning his back to Pure Vanilla, his hair slightly flared with the eyes doing everything but look at Pure Vanilla.

It was easy to tell he wasn’t all too thrilled at the mention of the others.

“I sense that this bothers you.” Pure Vanilla adjusted his staff so it was leaning against the wall, the light star in the middle fluctuates once it leaves his grasp. He took a step forward towards Shadow Milk, a test. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shadow Milk scoffed, turning his head to the side to glance partially at him. “I don’t know Pure Vanilla, do I want to talk about it?”

“I know you do not like them, there being some more obvious reasons for some, but they are my friends.” Pure Vanilla took another step forward towards Shadow Milk, a smaller step. “I cannot simply bar them from visiting because of your displeasure.” He paused. “But, I want to come to an agreement with you.”

Shadow Milk turned fully towards him, his gaze dark and heavy. The eyes in his hair firmly shutting, something Pure Vanilla knows Shadow Milk doesn’t do often. “I don’t know ‘Nilla, do I want to talk about it?” Shadow Milk hovered off the floor just an inch, his eyes dilated. “You seem to know everything about me, it must be oh so obvious, right?” He tilted his head, a mock of confusion.

He didn’t waver, not wanting the other to get the wrong idea. “I know as much as you allow me to Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla glanced down to his own soul jam before looking back up. “These things, our connection, it’s only ever an outline of what you are feeling.”

Pure Vanilla held his hands up in front of where Shadow Milk was hovering, an offering. “All I know is you are unhappy, but I personally want to hear from you why.” He held his hand up higher, a small smile on his face. “Will you allow me to understand?”

Shadow Milk looked down to him, his actions paused for a moment before grabbing Pure Vanilla’s hands, letting himself be pulled back down fully. “Maybe, I’ll comply.”

He nodded. “It will only be for a little.” Pure Vanilla remained with a smile. “Now, enlighten me?”

Shadow Milk slowly let go of Pure Vanilla’s hands, letting them go back down to his sides. “I suppose, I’m not thrilled at the idea of them coming here. For reasons that—“ His voice faded, all of his eyes looking at Pure Vanilla once more.

Pure Vanilla nodded, patient. “Yes?”

“For reasons that wouldn’t be all interesting to you.” Shadow Milk chuckled, his laugh humorless as he further masked his emotions.

“I disagree.” Pure Vanilla responded. “If it’s enough to make you feel such a way, it is interesting to me.” 

Shadow Milk walked past him, sitting on the bed with a huff. “Why should you be caring so much right now, don’t you have guests to prepare for?” 

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, his gaze soft as he approached Shadow Milk. He sat on the bed next him, making sure to not sit too close as to not overwhelm the other. 

“As of right now, you are my priority. You, as also my friend, my other half.” Pure Vanilla looked into the eyes of Shadow Milk, his words genuine and soft. He made sure he was listening. “Should I leave to greet them, I want to leave here knowing you are content.”

Shadow Milk frowned at his words. “I am not content Pure Vanilla, that’s the truth. How can I ever?”

Pure Vanilla placed his hand on the back of Shadow Milk’s, a risky move, but one that worked. “Then I want to make sure I leave here with you at least somewhat at peace. I’m sure that’s what you also want as well.”

“What I want?” Shadow Milk looked down at where Pure Vanilla’s was overlapping his, a sigh escaping him before he responded. “Do what you want, Pure Vanilla Cookie. What else can I really say?” He muttered.

Pure Vanilla raised his hand, bringing it to Shadow Milk’s face to cup his head. His warm hands contrasting with Shadow Milks usually colder features. “I want you to have a say.”

Shadow Milk sighed once more, letting the healer cup his face for this moment. “How considerate.”

“What I want, is for them to stay away.” Shadow Milk said, his voice low.

Pure Vanilla nodded, encouraging him to go on with his request.

Shadow Milk pulled away from Pure Vanilla hands, looking down at his lap. “I’ve seen their faces long enough. You can do whatever it is that you do with them, but I will not be there.”

He listened intently to the request, it was something to be expected from Shadow Milk. He didn’t think he was going to stick around much anyway. “If that is what you desire, that is okay.”

Shadow Milk looked back up to Pure Vanilla, his eyebrow raised. “I don’t want them here either.” Shadow Milk gestured toward the place, his movements dramatic. “Keep them away from here.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, he wasn’t mainly planning on it, however if it was request; he was happy to oblige. “I understand, you will not see them here but instead in the main towns area.”

Shadow Milk didn’t directly respond, choosing to hum in acknowledgment to his statement. 

Though, something in Pure Vanilla’s soul jam weighed heavy, there was something amiss.

Subtly moving closer, he peered at Shadow Milk. How he seemed to be lost in his own infinite mind with his own thoughts and ideas.

Thoughts and Ideas Pure Vanilla was unaware of.

Pulse.

His soul jams however—which were connected—were not as oblivious.

“Shadow Milk.” He kept his voice light, approachable. Something Shadow Milk seemed to be immune to at times.

Shadow Milk hummed absentmindedly, not giving him a glance.

“Is that.. all to what you want.” Pure Vanilla was hesitant.

He shot a small glance at Pure Vanilla, his expression unreadable as he responded. “That’s all I request.”

Pure Vanilla is one to notice things.

“Yes, you’ve said those, but.” Pure Vanilla moved slightly closer. “Is that all you want.” 

Shadow Milk was silent.

..

.

Shadow Milk groaned.

“You are very pushy.” He reluctantly turned his head to face him, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Pure Vanilla smile half-heartedly. “I do get that.”

Shadow Milk smirked, the expression genuine in comparison to before. “I can see why, you don’t like backing down. It’s not a thing I’m used to.”

Pure Vanilla placed a hand on Shadow Milk shoulder, leaning closer as the jester leaned slightly away, merely taken aback by the sudden forwardness. 

“Then Shadow Milk, let me make it something you are used to.” Pure Vanilla whispered, his face closer to Shadow Milk as looked to the other endearingly.

Shadow Milk groaned, composing himself quickly before he pushed the other away with a small swat of his hand. “You have guests coming over don’t you, shouldn’t you be preparing instead of slacking off.”

Pure Vanilla let himself be pushed back. “Oh, yes. You’re right.” He stood up from the bed, Shadow Milk already having floated up. “Shall we go over everything one more time?”

Shadow Milk waved dismissively, his face already showing boredom. And yet, Pure Vanilla knew otherwise. “Yada Yada, we don’t need to go over everything again.” He folded his arms across his chest, quickly leaning down to get in Pure Vanilla’s face. “You will go see your little buddies, you won’t bring them here, and I—“ Shadow Milk dramatically gestured to himself. “Will be off!” 

Pure Vanilla agreed with those terms, adjusting his cloak before he responded. “Yes, you will be gone again.”

Shadow Milk smirked. “Yes, you already miss me?”

He smiled back at him. “I do. I will miss you.”

Shadow Milk laughed loudly, throwing his hands up. “Of course you will, I’m me!” He did a small spin in the air, circling Pure Vanilla from above the room. “Anyone would, I don’t blame you.”

He fed into it. “Of course, you are very lovely.” Pure Vanilla walked to the balcony, pushing the curtains to the side to open the small glass door leading to the outside. He figured Shadow Milk would be exiting from there, like usual. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to have a talk with you later.”

The laughter paused, Shadow Milk tilting his head suspiciously. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“You will see, my friends still have a while until they get here. Could still be a day or two, likely the latter.” Pure Vanilla stepped out onto the balcony, Shadow Milk following soon after him onto the balcony. “I say this now as I know you like to wander off without much word.” 

Shadow Milk floated to step up onto the railing of the balcony, standing upright fearlessly as he walked along it with perfect balance. “Sure sure, but you still haven’t answered my question. What is it you are interested in talking about? Is it about your little friends, because if so, I don’t care.”

Pure Vanilla shook his head, leaning onto the balcony railing to look upon the kingdom. It was still very bright out, about mid-day. “And as I said before, you will see. But no, it is not about them.” He looked up to where Shadow Milk was standing on the rail, the action making him just slightly nervous. “Can you step down, it would be frightful if you fell.”

He sighed in small relief. “Well, at least it’s not about those guys, i’ve heard enough about them.” Shadow Milk looked down at Pure Vanilla amused, squatting on the railing to look at him further. “Also, no I will not step down. Do you suffer from memory loss or something, I can fly.”

Pure Vanilla leaned up looking at him back. “I am aware, it would still give me quite a scare to still see you fall.”

Thud

Shadow Milk snickered to himself as the sound of him jumping down off the railings slightly echoed. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Now if you excuse me.” Shadow Milk did a bow, he backed up into the room again until his form reached a visible shadow, body melting into the dark before his voice echoed out. “I need to go find that—Eclair Cookie.” His eyes being the final thing that was visible fading not the darkness as he dashed off away in places Pure Vanilla was not capable of following.

The simple tricks still amuse him.

And still, Pure Vanilla couldn’t help himself but still feel discontent.

Not because it was his own.

He brought his hand up to his soul jam once more, his finger hovering over the crystal membrane as he felt it weakly pulse and vibrate the further his counterpart went away from him. He won’t be feeling the effects and consequences of that until after a while, however it did fill him with instinctive unease.

This discontent he was feeling was Shadow Milk’s.

Shadow Milk wasn’t telling him something, something that was weighing heavy on the others shoulders.

Pure Vanilla sighed, making his way back into the room to sit at his now neat desk. He didn’t need to go down into the kingdom yet as his friends were not here, with Shadow Milk gone off to do his own things, presumably at the library, he had free time to himself at the moment.

Free time.

He pushed himself off the chair towards the bed, bending down to grab the old worn book in his hand, dusting it off to inspect it again. 

It was still as old and worn as before, the cover torn almost off the book. He mentally reminded himself to be careful of it in the future, one wrong mishandling looks like it could crumble the book into dust.

He looked out the balcony one last time, the sun still hanging high in the sky. Shadow Milk was already long further away from him at the moment, there was nobody around to question his acts.

After Pure Vanilla took a seat at the small desk in the corner of the room, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of guilt swell up in his chest. He knew this likely counted as snooping for past information and backstory that Shadow Milk wouldn’t be too thrilled about seeing. 

However, something in him just couldn’t resist.

Something in him was, curious. No—something beyond curiosity, something yearning for more. 

As he moved to open it slowly, his eyes scanning the old and wrinkly photo of the once happy beasts, he couldn’t help but want to know each and every little thing.

Call it obsession or simple concern, but it was something Pure Vanilla couldn’t resist. And he had not a clue on why.

Pure Vanilla paused on that, leaning back in the chair.

Why?

Why was he so curious?

He grasped at his soul jam, the constant vibrations humming under his fingers. He knew after a while those calm motions in the crystallized membrane would further develop into something unbearable.

Why did he want to become so invested in the other?

Pure Vanilla knew all about himself, his compassion, his empathy. But he couldn’t help but dwell on the exact reason for his actions.

His empathy of course.

..

He too, the cookie of truth, lies.

His eyes focused on the face of what once used to be Shadow Milk, the era of what he once was. A symbol of truth, a far difference of what he is today.

Pure Vanilla was not doing this out of his regular compassion, nor was he doing this because he pitied the other. 

What he felt could not be named or confirmed.

Though for certain as Pure Vanilla stared down at the picture, the gleeful and cheery persona of what once used to be Shadow Milk; untouched by corruption, he did feel one thing.

Maybe Shadow Milk’s loneliness could be reflected right back on him.

He halted that thought process as he turned the pages, skipping to where he left off previously. 

Virtue Of Happiness

Pure Vanilla scanned the page, noting the picture of the pink cookie. She looked nothing like you would expect of a beast, her welcoming smile and wings something that you would offer comfort.

It’s clear now in the present of the path she went down, a sad fate much like the others.

A powerful cookie that is not to be deceived by her peaceful looks. 

Once the holder of happiness, this cookie has now become a terror of the sky’s.

Wielding the power of sloth, this beast utilizes the method of sleepiness to get her way. Her bright and colorful looks are only a ruse to hide her true nature.

Do not trust her offers. If she should put you to sleep, you will not wake up.

How dreadful.

A cookie known for wielding happiness, corrupted into something like this.

He was aware of the cookie, the counterpart of his dear friend Hollyberry. Though hearing such a past of the beast he never heard a lot before, it was something unsettling to him.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but feel sympathy, powerful cookies who were looked to as hope and practically as higher beings, falling from their once respected ideals into imprisonment and exile.

He wonders, what was it like during that time? What had genuinely caused the beasts to snap and break apart? Power? Madness?

A question he could right now only get from one cookie, a cookie who was once of the beasts themselves. However, it’s unlikely he'll ever get an answer any time soon, for now he’s okay with that. He’s willing to wait on that perspective from Shadow Milk any day.

And still, he can’t help but wonder.

He turned the page once again, 

Virtue Of Solidarity

Oh, Pure Vanilla was interested in this one.

Not much is known about this cookie, glimpses of them fast and blurry as they wield a sword expertly.

One obvious thing is known about this cookie, if you were to be targeted, you would not see them coming.

Pure Vanilla huffed, untensing his shoulders as he leaned back in the chair once more. As the original holder of White Lily Cookie’s soul jam, he was hoping to see more information on the cookie.

Though, from the obvious nature that the cookie so clearly presented, it’s not surprising that even the cookies of back then wouldn’t know much.

He knew a cookie who would likely know information about them though.

..

Perhaps that’s a hasty thought.

He inhaled deeply, looking back down at the book. Pure Vanilla had already looked through the 4 sections of the beasts, meaning he had one more beast left to read about. 

The one he cared about the most.

Holding the page between his fingers, he couldn’t help but hesitate. The guilty feeling in his chest returned, knowing there could be information in these next pages he wouldn’t be able to see anywhere else other than Shadow Milk himself.

He couldn’t help but instinctively stop himself, feeling like he should stop here.

But how much he wanted to continue, how much he wanted to turn the page to read what it had to offer, what he wanted to know.

How much he wanted to know more.

Pure Vanilla breathed deeply in and out, clearing his mind.

He gently closed the book, standing up to walk back towards the bed as he kneeled to push it back under the bed.

Not today. He’s incapable today.

Another time when he’s cleared his head further maybe.

Pure Vanilla was already starting to feel the effects of being gone from Shadow Milk too long, the vibrations from the soul jam on his chest getting longer and heavier with each passing moment. Something he’s been trying to ignore for a while now.

He never could ignore this, not this feeling. 

Knowing how their everlasting connection is, it’s known to him that Shadow Milk must be experiencing the same thing. Their connection being mutual would allow that, and he couldn’t help but feel sadness for that too.

He reached for his staff, grabbing it as he walked out of the door of the room; He quickly composed himself, calming his tensions before the servants walked past him through the halls of the castle.

Some things can’t be helped at the moment, he needed to check on his kingdom as he always did. Not because he was ever worried about the protection of the kingdom, but simply to uphold his appearances. 

While he may not be a king anymore, some old habits simply don’t go away.

Making his way out of the castle he had his eyes set on the busy markets as usual, the idle hustle and chattering of the markets was something he had always found delightful in his own ways. A fast way to clear his head on short notice.

Pure Vanilla made his way there down the path hastily, wanting to make use of the free time he has at the current moment.

The Vanilla Kingdom’s market was alive with its usual rhythm—bakers calling out fresh batches, silk merchants displaying ribbons like cascading rainbows, and young cookies darting through the crowd with sticky fingers and bright smiles.

Pure Vanilla Cookie moved through the lanes at a calm, unhurried pace. Some Cookies nodded to him with quiet reverence; others offered small bows. He returned each gesture with the same warmth—gentle, never indulgent.

His gaze shifted as he passed the central square, where a modest jewelry stall had set up beneath a flowering ivy trellis. Behind the stall stood a noblecookie, tall and composed, sorting silver brooches into neat rows. Her attire is simple but elegant—a soft, cream-colored gown with delicate lace trim, the kind of clothing worn by nobles of modest means. A vanilla orchid in her hair neatly, a nice touch.

Celestine Sugarbell Cookie, someone he was acquainted with. 

She looked up, blinking as he stopped just in front of her booth.

“Lord Pure Vanilla,” she said with a curtsy. “I hadn’t expected to see you here, among the market crowd.”

“I enjoy seeing the kingdom this way,” he replied kindly. “It reminds me of what I’m protecting.” He tilted his head to the side, shifting his staff as for it to not be in the way. “And please, I am no longer king. The need for such formalities can be dropped.” He said without any negativity in his voice, a simple correction.

She smiled faintly, perhaps a little too long.

“I am aware, it is a sign of simple respect, it is a good thing.” She smiled back at him.

“Would you—might you be interested in a gift?” she asked, changing the subject quickly as she picked up a brooch shaped like a teardrop. “For someone dear to you, perhaps?”

He looked at the piece, then at her.

“It’s lovely work,” he said, voice calm and kind. “But I’m not searching for anything right now.”

She nodded, the rejection clearly understood but gracefully accepted.

“If ever you are,” she said, setting the brooch back in its place, “my stall will always be here.”

“I’ll remember that,” he replied.

He turned to leave, and as he did, he felt it, soft as a breath across his neck. The unmistakable presence trailing behind him, never close, never far. A cold weight just out of sight.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t speak.

But his hand drifted to his chest, just for a moment, right above where the soulbond stirred like a heartbeat not his own.

The energy felt familiar, something he’s felt before. Though he couldn’t place it the feeling wasn’t merely his own, manifested into something else.

Pure Vanilla stopped in his tracks, his hand falling from his soul jam to his side.

This wasn’t going to work.

Perhaps he was feeling a bit lonely.

He turns back to look at Celestine Sugarbell, finding her rearranging items behind her stall. He cleared his throat softly to get her attention, his proposal already obvious and clear as she looked up at him.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie? Sorry, I had assumed you walked off already.” She stood up, dusting off her gown. “Is there something you need?”

Pure Vanilla hesitated, a small smile on his face. “Yes, if it’s not too inconvenient for you.” He gestured to her stall, hinting to his point. He only continued his words when Celestine questioned him further.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me on my short stroll? My day is not urgent at the moment, I have lots of time today.” He supposed he was also feeling a bit lonely, the longing in his soul jam further making itself known to him the more the day passed. 

Assuming some company would soothe his soul for now, even if it wasn’t the exact company he was desiring at the moment.

Celestine’s eyes lit up, nodding in acceptance as she swiftly closed up her stall for the duration of their walk. “Of course I will, if your day is not all that urgent; I’d love to go on a stroll with you.” She folded her hands elegantly in front of her.

He turned slightly to glance at her. Her expression was mild, courteous, not pressing.

“No,” he said gently. “Not at all. This way.”

They walked in silence at first, down one of the garden paths branching off from the market, lined with low hedges and hanging flower lanterns. The world here was quieter, noisy laughter traded for birdsong and the soft rustle of petals brushing in the breeze.

Celestine was speaking, though he only realized it a few words in.

“…I imagine it must be exhausting,” she was saying. “Holding so much on your shoulders every day.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

His mind had wandered.

Or rather, it had been pulled. Drawn like a thread tugged loose from embroidery. Not harshly, but persistently. The way his thoughts always drifted in one particular direction when the wind moved strangely or the light changed too quickly across the cobblestones.

That presence again. Still distant. Still wordless.

He wondered—not for the first time—why he never said anything. Why he let it linger like a second shadow, barely visible in his periphery. Why his chest tightened with each passing heartbeat, not from fear, but from an ache too familiar to name.

Celestine looked up at him expectantly.

“…You must forgive me,” he said quietly, a touch of breath in his voice. “I was somewhere else.”

Her expression softened. “Your mind is always busy, I imagine.”

“Too often.”

She offered a small smile. “I only meant… if you ever need someone to listen, even briefly, I would be honored.”

He inclined his head. “That’s very kind of you.”

Their path curved gently around a line of hydrangeas, their blossoms heavy with early dew. The sky above was pale lavender now, the kind of color that meant the evening was quietly arriving.

Pure Vanilla slowed his steps.

He could feel it again, the gaze, or perhaps only the sense of one. The way the hairs on the back of his neck lifted, not from dread, but from familiarity.

He didn’t search the shadows.

He didn’t need to.

Instead, he looked toward the flowers, letting the silence sit between them.

Celestine spoke again, softly. “You looked troubled, earlier.”

“Only thoughtful,” he replied.

She paused beside a vine-covered arch, fingers brushing lightly against a hanging lantern. “Is it something that can be solved?”

He hesitated, then gave a slow, distant smile.

“Not everything is meant to be solved,” he said. “Some things are only meant to be understood.”

And even then, he thought, some things would never ask to be understood in return.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t turn.

But the space beside him felt heavier than it had before.

And his hand, almost unconsciously, found his chest again.

He composed himself quickly, letting his hand fall back down once more as he surveyed the surrounding area.

He’s only now realized they’ve walked down the path to a clearing not far from the end of the markets, the particular section they were in being a large patch of flowers with all sorts of docile creatures roaming around.

He guesses he’s been on autopilot for a while.

They say in the blooms for a while, the silence stretching further among them both with the only noise being the rustle of the leaves.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

It was peaceful, too peaceful, perhaps. The sort of stillness that made his thoughts louder than they should’ve been.

He found himself gazing past the flowers. Past the hills. Past the light.

A shadow—no, the memory of one—flitted through his mind like an unfinished echo. Not harsh, but sharp around the edges. Cold, bitter ink blooming in water. A gaze that had never softened, but had lingered. Always lingering.

There was a shape to it. A pull. Familiar.

He exhaled quietly, folding his fingers together.

“You seem far away today,” Celestine said gently, her tone polite. “May I ask what weighs on your mind?”

His gaze lowered to the flowers in front of him. They were small things, paper-thin petals, pale and trembling.

“It’s nothing that can be spoken cleanly,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be,” she said, plucking a loose petal from her sleeve. “But you look… burdened. As though something is pressing on your heart.”

A long silence followed.

Pure Vanilla’s thumb traced along his wrist slowly. It wasn’t discomfort—it was hesitation. That old, quiet instinct not to speak too freely. Not to reveal too much. Especially not when he already felt the weight of being seen too closely from somewhere else.

“I think,” he said at last, “that some bonds are harder to name than others.”

Celestine tilted her head slightly, listening. “What do you mean?”

He paused again, eyes still trained on the flowers.

“There are connections that don’t follow the logic we’re used to. They’re not gentle, or even pleasant. They’re not asked for, but… they root themselves deeply all the same.”

A low breeze tugged at the blossoms around them, sending petals across his sleeves.

Celestine’s voice remained even. “Is it painful?”

He didn’t answer directly.

Instead, he murmured, “Sometimes… I forget which parts of me are mine.”

He felt it again then, like a second heartbeat, not quite in sync with his own. A flicker of something cool at his back. The kind of sensation that made the light feel too warm, the sky too open.

He didn’t look.

He never did.

Celestine turned her face slightly toward the sun. “Even the kindest souls need somewhere to rest.

He nodded, almost absently.

“I know.”

But the ache in his chest was not from fatigue.

It was yearning, quiet and persistent. It lived between every breath, every choice not made. Every word he could never quite say.

“I hope,” she added after a pause, “that you find what gives you peace.”

He looked at her then, his smile soft, grateful, but distant in a way that couldn’t be helped.

“I hope so too,” he said.

But his eyes wandered again.

Toward the trees.

Toward the space just past the edge of the clearing.

Toward something he could not see—but always felt.

Now wasn’t the time to start drifting, he needed to keep himself composed.

Pure Vanilla resisted the urge to clutch at his soul jam, the pulsing in his chest starting back up again in a rhythm he could not name.

In a rhythm he did not want to name.

Here it was, the feeling was getting to him.

Pure Vanilla tapped his finger against his leg, an absentminded small movement to keep his mind grounded. Though he still found his eyes ever so drifting towards the trees, scanning every shadow, eyes wandering to every movement shown in his peripheral.

He found himself wanting, hoping.

Hoping for what, he couldn’t name yet. Not now.

At this side, he reminded himself. Celestine Sugarbell Cookie, yes, she was accompanying him.

But Pure Vanilla Cookie wasn’t truly with her.

His eyes remained on the field, but his thoughts were somewhere deeper, pulled taut like a harp string.

The soulbond ached.

Low and constant, like a second heartbeat echoing in a chest too full of silence. He could feel it now, wound tight and humming just beneath his ribs, invisible to the world but unmistakably real. It burned cold, then warm, then cold again, flickering like breath on glass.

He was there.

He didn’t need to look toward the tree line. He didn’t need to search the long shadows at the clearing’s edge. That presence pressed against the corners of his senses with a tension he’d come to recognize—frustrated, wounded, watching.

Always watching.

Celestine turned her face slightly toward him. Her voice, when it came, was soft—not prying, but searching.

“You seem… heavier with thought than usual today.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer right away.

He couldn’t.

There was a weight in him that resisted speech, that hollowed out the space between inhale and exhale. Not sadness, not exactly, but yearning. A longing that had settled in his bones like something old and unmovable.

“I have… much on my mind,” he said at last. “But I’ve grown used to the quiet company of my thoughts.”

It was kind. Measured. Final.

Celestine gave a gentle nod, accepting it without question. She returned her gaze to the petals around them, hands resting lightly in her lap.

They sat in the stillness.

And still, Pure Vanilla did not move.

He didn’t dare.

Any motion might feel like turning away. And though no voice had called for him, no figure had emerged from the shadows, he felt seen. Not by Celestine—but by the bond. The tether.

By him.

The one who would never say what he felt, but felt it all the same.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes for a breath.

The ache remained.

A silence louder than words.

And beside him, Celestine Sugarbell Cookie sat, unaware of the way her presence made the air feel thinner. Unaware that no matter how kind her company was…

His heart as well as his mind was already elsewhere.

Already spoken for. Accounted for.

Pure Vanilla, too lost in his own thoughts, hadn’t even realized the sun was beginning to set. The warmth of the orange glow turning into something more cold as time went on.

In truth, he had no sense of how long they had truly been there, most of the time he spent being somewhere far from here.

He knew from an outside perspective, this was unlike him. Though, it was simply something he could not help, something he didn’t have the energy to change.

And still, the silence between them lingered.

Celestine said nothing. She didn’t leave, nor shift closer. She simply sat there in the sunlit field, her hands resting lightly over her gown, the wind teasing a few strands of her neatly kept hair.

Pure Vanilla Cookie hadn’t moved either, but the stillness in him had changed.

His composure remained—graceful, dignified—but the quiet grace had begun to fade into weariness. Not the kind born of sleepless nights or long travels, but the heaviness that came from a bond stretched too far, from yearning that had no place to land.

The soul connection still tugged, soft and persistent. A distant thread winding through him like silver light in a dark ocean, pulsing gently, not close enough, not yet.

He didn’t speak. His gaze drifted somewhere beyond the blossoms, far past the gentle sway of the meadow. His shoulders, usually straight, sagged by a margin so small that only someone truly watching might notice.

Celestine was watching.

But she said nothing of it.

Perhaps she mistook his distance for calm. Or perhaps she sensed, with the quiet intuition of someone who often sat beside lonely things, that whatever stirred inside him now was not for her to mend.

She plucked a pale petal from the grass and turned it gently between her fingers.

“I used to come here as a child,” she said quietly, not to distract him, but to soften the silence. “I’d pretend the flowers were little boats, and the wind would take them somewhere better.”

Pure Vanilla hummed, barely audible. Barely present.

He hadn’t heard her words so much as felt them, but his mind was far away. Caught in a memory that hadn’t happened yet. Of a presence just beyond the hill, tucked behind a tree, watching with the intensity of something that refused to be seen.

His heart ached.

A soulbond should have comforted. But the distance between them now—emotional, spiritual—felt like being lost in his own sanctuary.

He shifted slightly, the motion subtle. His hand grazed the grass beside him, brushing a cluster of small sugarblossoms.

Celestine tilted her head toward him, waiting, perhaps hoping he might speak.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

His throat had tightened without warning, held fast by a longing so deep and old it had no name.

So instead, they sat.

In silence. In soft sunlight. In a field that carried the scent of summer and regret.

Celestine Sugarbell Cookie remained at his side, patient and unaware.

And from the edge of the clearing, where the shadows bent around bark and branches, something unspoken watched him with an intensity he didn’t need to see to feel.

His fingers closed gently over the flowers in the grass, grounding himself against the weight of absence.

And still… he said nothing.

Not yet.

How could he?

He planted his hands firmly in the swaying grass below, the blades poking through his fingers as he let his long flowing hair fall to cover his face.

For once, his mind was empty, something he forced himself to do. 

A small moment of peace he allowed himself.

And yet he started to think, maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe he’s not in the right mindset to be walking with company right now yet, his usual talkative self was not here.

Not now.

But Pure Vanilla sat as if caught beneath a gray sky, his light dimmed, not extinguished.

Celestine glanced at him again, her expression unreadable.

Then—

“I’m sorry,” he said.

His voice was soft. So soft, it barely disturbed the air. But it was also worn, the gentleness fraying at the edges like parchment long handled. Tired. Honest.

Celestine blinked. “For what, my lord?”

He didn’t look at her right away.

His gaze remained on the sugarblossoms at his feet, as though the little white petals could help him find the words that had been slipping from him all day.

“For being… far away,” he murmured. “Even while sitting here.”

She was quiet a moment. Then, lightly, “Your mind is elsewhere.”

He gave the smallest nod, a movement so slight it might’ve been mistaken for the wind.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice no louder. “And my heart with it.”

There was no romantic weight to his words, no invitation, no ambiguity.

Just truth. Quiet and aching.

A confession wrapped in silk, spoken not to elicit understanding, but simply to be spoken.

Celestine didn’t press him. She only folded her hands neatly in her lap and turned her gaze to the field again, accepting the answer for what it was.

And though Pure Vanilla didn’t turn his head, his eyes softened in the direction of the forest’s edge, distant and half-veiled by sun-dappled shadows.

The ache in his chest pulsed again, like the echo of footsteps never taken.

He missed him.

Him. His other half.

More deeply than he had allowed himself to admit until now.

But even in the silence, even in the separation, the bond remained, a quiet pull, a promise.

And he clung to it, even as the light within him flickered low with exhaustion. 

Exhaustion not from simply being tired, but exhaustion of the mind. 

It never seemed to stop, these thoughts running through his head evermore becoming in his routine. 

And still, he wondered if Shadow Milk felt all the same? Was the feeling mutual between them? Was this turmoil he was going through something Shadow Milk was similarly experiencing at the moment.

Is that the reason he has been feeling eyes on him this whole time, a faint feeling of being watched but from a presence he is familiar with?

Or perchance, a different reason.

He let his soul jam pulse once—twice, the emotions flowing through him as they always did. Emotions that he could now distinguish weren’t his own.

A different reason.

Jealousy. Intensely so.

He gets it now. And yet,

He still can’t help but feel that familiar guilt in his chest, not all that different to the guilt it was feeling earlier up in the castle.

His longing for another presence while already being accompanied by one, how he imagined, even for a split second, that Celestine Sugarbell Cookie was another. Another he was truly longing for.

He had the cruel question in his mind prepared already.

Why had he let her actually accompany him? 

Was it simply just out of loneliness or some other selfish reason hidden away beneath him? A question he wasn’t able to answer on his own, however he didn’t seek an answer, not right now.

But he knew, this wasn’t just of him, this wasn’t right.

And it certainly wasn’t healthy.

Celestine shifted slightly, her eyes catching the faint sadness in his gaze. She wasn’t oblivious to the weight he carried. She had seen the way his shoulders slumped as though burdened by something unseen. His quiet had told her more than words ever could.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, her voice soft and careful, as if feeling her way through the unspoken.

“You know, you’ve been lost in thought for a while now.” Her tone was gentle, not prying, just seeking to bridge the distance between them. “It seems like you’re thinking about someone important.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still distant. The words she spoke felt too close to the truth. Too near to what he was trying so desperately to keep buried.

He could feel her gaze on him, waiting. But his thoughts… they kept drifting back to the same place—into the shadows where he waited. Where Shadow Milk remained, just beyond reach.

He wasn’t sure how to answer.

Her voice broke the quiet again, almost hesitantly, as if trying another path. “Could it be… someone dear to you? A close friend, perhaps? Or… someone even more important?” The pause after “more important” felt too heavy, as if she was daring him to speak, to share something he wasn’t ready to give.

But the words caught in his throat.

He couldn’t speak of it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

The truth was too complex, too fragile. His connection to Shadow Milk Cookie—so deep, so intertwined—was not something he could put into words without breaking something inside him. He couldn’t risk it.

So, instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, drawing a deep breath, trying to still the tremors in his chest.

When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, careful and kind as always, but tired.

“I… I cannot speak of it, Celestine,” he said softly, his eyes not meeting hers. His hands rested loosely in his lap, betraying the faintest tremor. “Not yet.”

The air seemed to hold its breath.

Celestine’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of something that passed behind her gaze, concern, perhaps, or a hint of something deeper. But she didn’t push. She understood the weight of silence.

“I see,” she said quietly, nodding as she turned her gaze to the flowers around them, no longer pressing him with questions.

But the air had changed. It was no longer as light. The question hung there, unanswered.

The bond that stretched between Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk—silent, aching—had not lessened. And in that moment, it was all that he could hold onto. He didn’t need Celestine to understand. He didn’t need her to know.

What he needed… was a space where he could just exist, without the ache of separation.

But even in this quiet clearing, surrounded by blooms and soft light, the distance between them was still too great.

And in the shadows, just beyond the field, something unseen observed, quiet, waiting.

This was not what he desired, not at all.

He may have come to a few realizations in that moment, though he knew he would never have the confidence to voice them immediately.

Celestine hadn’t pressed him again. She sat still, poised and patient, the sunlight catching faint threads of silver embroidery in her sleeves. She was kind. She was graceful. Her presence held no harm.

And yet… she wasn’t him.

Pure Vanilla Cookie lowered his gaze, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every heartbeat. Not because of anything Celestine had done. Not because she had offered too much.

But because he couldn’t give her even a sliver of what she may have quietly hoped for.

His soul, his longing, his thoughts, every piece of him was already spoken for.

And it ached, this truth. Not because he regretted it, but because he couldn’t help but feel unkind for holding it in silence beside someone who meant no harm.

His fingers gently touched the petals beside him, brushing a few into his palm. The flowers were soft and yielding, nothing like the quiet intensity of the presence that had never truly left his side.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured at last.

Celestine turned toward him, brows gently furrowed, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.

For the silence? For the distance? For the fact that her presence—peaceful as it was—only made him ache more for the one who wasn’t here?

He didn’t say it aloud. He couldn’t.

But deep inside, he knew: it wasn’t her fault. She simply wasn’t him.

Celestine gave a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment, though she didn’t fully understand what he meant. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said kindly, though her voice carried something faint and uncertain beneath the calm.

Pure Vanilla smiled gently, but the weariness in it could not be hidden.

And somewhere, faint and cold like the brush of shadow against sun-warmed stone, the bond tugged again. Not enough to bring him to his feet.

But enough to remind him of who he truly longed for.

Even in the silence.

Even with someone beside him.

With that in mind, he came to the conclusion that he should end this here, finally.

The quiet between them settled once more, but this time, it was not companionable. Not strained, either, just inevitable.

Pure Vanilla Cookie rose slowly, brushing stray petals from his robes. His movements were graceful, but faintly sluggish, as though the air itself had grown heavier around him. He turned to Celestine with a soft look, one that held both apology and gratitude.

“You should return before the markets close,” he said kindly. “The sun will dip further soon, and the fields lose their warmth fast.”

Celestine stood as well, brushing the folds of her gown into place. She didn’t argue or try to linger. Perhaps she sensed it too, that this moment, whatever it had been, was already over.

She gave a slight nod. “Thank you for the walk, my lord.”

He offered a gentle smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Goodnight, Lady Sugarbell.”

And with that, he turned.

The walk back to the castle was not long, but it felt longer than it had earlier, as though his feet carried more weight now, unspoken words, unshed longing.

The warmth of the day had softened into something dimmer, the shadows stretching long behind him. The market sounds faded behind the tree line, and he walked alone on the stone path, the wind pressing faintly at his back.

But he was not alone. Not truly.

He didn’t look over his shoulder. He didn’t need to.

The bond pulsed faintly in his chest, soft and deep and unmistakable. A presence lingering just at the edge of perception. Quiet, close. Watching.

Following.

And though Pure Vanilla said nothing, his hand lifted briefly to his chest, fingers curling just slightly over the spot where that invisible thread tugged gently, reminding him, grounding him.

He let out a soft breath, weary but steadied.

His pace was slow, his movements were calculated in how he walked. He was intent to listen, to observe.

The markets were relatively empty at this time, with the moon just starting to make herself further known in the sky as it darkened, he relished in the moonlight.

It reminded him something, someone.

It soothed the burden upon his soul jam, albeit just slightly.

Such feelings could never compare to an actual presence.

Presence. 

Pure Vanilla slowed his movements further, the only noises he could hear now were the night critters as well as his own quiet heavy breathing.

He hadn’t even been aware he was panting as such, the tension in his shoulders building up as his mind continued to wander. 

This brought confusion, he hadn’t been acting in such a way before, he wasn’t aware what was happening to him, what was changing him so.

Scarily enough, he wasn’t concerned.

His eyes darted to the right, his gaze quick as he looked around.

How quaint, he was seeing things the shadows.

..

Or maybe not.

Perhaps it was the cookie he was longing for, searching for. 

Hoping for.

He shakes his head, relinquishing the thoughts.

He needs to get back in the castle quicker.

Pure Vanilla was tired, awfully so. His vision swirling and dancing as he made his way up the steps—which always seemed to get longer—and through the main entrance. The guards that were there day in and day out not questioning his daze as he still tried to bow in respect to them just as they did to him.

He just needed to get to his room.

Inside, the castle walls welcomed him with a hush that felt far too loud in his current state. No court attendants approached him; no servants bowed or offered words. They had long learned to recognize when he needed stillness, and tonight, that silence was a mercy.

Pure Vanilla Cookie moved slowly through the marble halls, his pace unhurried, not out of peace, but weariness. His steps echoed faintly against stone, each one dragging just a little more than the last. His mind was clouded, distant, moving sluggishly beneath the ache of absence.

The bond ached again, low and persistent. Like the dull throb of something half-healed and pulled too far.

By the time he reached his chambers, his hands trembled faintly as he closed the door behind him. The gentle click echoed in the dimness like a seal, shutting the world out.

He crossed the room without thought, robes whispering against the floor, and stepped onto the moonlit balcony.

The night air met him softly, cool, but not cold. The moon hung just above the castle gardens, her light spilling silver across the stone floor and over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, as though he could breathe the distance away.

But it didn’t fade.

The ache only deepened beneath the quiet beauty of the sky.

He stepped further into the moonlight, his hands coming to rest on the railing. Somewhere, far beyond the castle, beyond the trees and quiet valleys, he knew Shadow Milk was still near. Not far—but not close enough for the bond to be satisfied.

The bond between them pulsed gently beneath his skin. Not painful, not urgent.

Just… hollow.

As though something essential had slipped just out of reach.

“I miss you,” he whispered, though no one was there to hear it. He was not there to hear it.

The moon gave no answer.

He bowed his head slightly, resting his arms on the rail, the soft strands of his hair falling forward as his posture slowly slumped. It was rare for him to let himself feel this openly. But tonight—alone, under her moonlight—he let the yearning show.

No tears fell. It wasn’t grief, far from it.

It was simply need.

The deep, unspoken kind. The kind that ached through the soul and breath and silence.

And still, the presence remained, hovering at the edge of his senses. Close enough to feel. Too far to touch.

He stayed like that for a long while.

Waiting.

Not for answers.

Only for a response.

A response he was watching for, a hope within him.

Pure Vanilla was not surprised at these reactions within him, he had gotten spoiled, spoiled with the close distance he’s always been towards Shadow Milk. How they’ve always been somewhat within reasonable distance of each other.

Never too far.

But today, today was different.

Today, he had been far. And Pure Vanilla of course neared the weight of it, he always will. 

And still, he's not mad, he’s not disappointed, he’s not even sad.

He’s simply waiting, patient. 

He knows Shadow Milk is not one to give in easily, being the stubborn cookie he is; he will likely endure the aching in his chest simply to do as he pleases.

And Pure Vanilla will never be one to get mad at that.

He knows Shadow Milk, better than anyone could understand. 

And Pure Vanilla knows Shadow Milk is not one to give in so easily, especially to any sort of connection. He knows the cookie deep down is a frightened and hurt beast who’s not heard such words of encouragement in a long while. Far too long.

Pure Vanilla simply hopes he’s approachable enough.

He hadn’t moved much from the balcony.

The moonlight poured across the stone and onto his figure like silk, cool, constant, and unjudging. It caught in his hair, in the creases of his robes, in the tired lines that now weighed down his shoulders. He barely seemed to register it.

He was sluggish now.

Worn.

His arms rested on the balcony railing, supporting more of his weight than they should have. His head bowed slightly forward, eyes half-lidded, gaze lost somewhere far past the gardens, past the hills, past what could be seen.

There was no one else.

No voices in the hall, no courtly interruptions, no servants fussing. Just the stillness. Just the night. Just her.

The moon.

She watched him, silent and pale, her light cool on his skin like a touch that neither soothed nor stirred.

The ache in his chest had grown dull and heavy. Not sharp. Not painful. Just present. An absence shaped like another soul.

He didn’t need to name it.

He knew what it was.

The bond still stirred beneath his ribs, soft, searching, unsatisfied. His magic didn’t flicker. His strength didn’t fail.

But his will to carry on without that presence near… it was fraying.

He leaned forward slightly, eyelids slipping lower, as though the very act of standing were something he had to remember how to do. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t despairing.

He was simply… empty. Empty without his other half.

His breath left him slow and shallow, the kind of exhale that didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. Like it belonged to someone who wasn’t there.

His fingers curled loosely around the railing. His heart reached out for a shadow that wasn’t close enough to answer.

Still, the moon remained.

She made no sound. No movement.

Only watched, as he stood there, unmoving in the silver light, waiting for something he could not summon.

The wind stirred just enough to brush past him, lifting the edge of his sleeve, tousling a lock of pale hair across his face. He didn’t move to fix it.

His eyes stayed on the moon.

She hung high and distant, untouched by anything he felt. And yet, something in her silence made it easier to speak, because she wouldn’t answer. Because she simply listened.

So, at last, he let his voice rise into the quiet.

“…What does he need from me?” he murmured, barely louder than the wind. “What is it he wants… that I haven’t given yet?”

The question wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t broken.

Just tired.

Earnest.

He lowered his gaze for a moment, watching how the moonlight caught the gold trim of his sleeve.

The castle was hushed, wrapped in night’s embrace. Beyond the open doors, the moon spilled silver across Pure Vanilla’s chambers, pooling gently at his feet like water.

He stood at the balcony, still and worn, his silhouette drawn in pale light.

The garden below was quiet.

Only the moon saw him.

His hand rose slowly to his chest—over the faint, aching tug of the soul jam. It throbbed like a bruise beneath his ribs, ever present, ever reaching.

He let out a breath.

“…Tell me,” he murmured, eyes lifted to the sky. “How do I reach him?”

The words barely left him, hushed like prayer. The moon, round and glowing, offered only silence.

“How do I show him that my care is real?” His voice cracked, gentle but fraying. “That it’s not… hollow or soft or fake, but something sincere.”

His fingers curled slightly against his chest. The soulbond pulsed.

“I want him to feel it,” he whispered, “so much it shakes him. So much it stays.”

Another pause. He shut his eyes.

“I want to love him the way he deserves. Love so severe.”

The breeze pressed against him gently. The moon watched, unblinking.

No answer came.

But he found himself okay with that, with the weight on his own words falling back down on him.

That was enough.

He slowly rose from leaning against the railing, slowly walking over to walk back into the room. His one goal now was to lay down to rest, he may even have a nice dream—

Pulse

He doubled over with a sharp gasp, his hand flying up to grab at the door of the balcony; shaking it so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if it fell off its hinges.

Pulse

Clutching at his soul jam heavily as it pulsed against him not in pain, but something similar to the sort.

Something he couldn’t name for sure, but it wasn’t his will.

His breath became heavier quickly, his eyes wide in response to the free feeling within his very soul. 

Pure Vanilla’s body didn’t feel like his own, his legs weak and trembling under an invisible strain he couldn’t see or fight back against. His legs gave out quickly right as he reached the edge of his bed, each breath a shallow imitation of the last.

He let himself collapse onto the bed, his back hitting the soft sheets while he let out a sigh. His hand resting on his chest just above his soul jam.

Eyes half-lidded, he turned his head just slightly, facing the open balcony where the moonlight continued to pour in.

The bond throbbed again, heavy, unanswered, yearning.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

The castle walls around him stood strong. His kingdom slept in peace.

And he, the one meant to safeguard it all, lay small and hollow on his own bed, weakened not by blade or curse, but by the simple, aching absence of the one soul he could not reach.

The one soul he’s been looking for.

He felt the pull of exhaustion calling for him once more, the seconds ticking by making it harder for him to resist.

The change was sudden at first, a faint flicker of lightness felt throughout him.

A change of pressure in the air, in his chest, in his mind.

The heavy ache in his soul jam letting up for just a moment, feeling like the weight was directly taken off of him. It was freeing, it was relieving. 

A long shaky breath.

Then another.

His own.

The ache in his soul didn’t let up completely, only mildly ceasing for just a moment as he took the moment gratefully to breathe fully. To recollect himself.

But another feeling stirred itself inside of him, something a lot more hopeful.

His gaze, half-lidded and exhausted, dragged itself over towards the balcony. The wide open door causing the air to blow further in the room as the curtains flowed steadily.

That wasn’t what he was concerned about however.

There—just beyond the pale glow of the moonlight—was the faintest trace of movement.

Not a sound. Not a word.

But the bond pulled taut again, this time with something almost tender. And Pure Vanilla knew, without needing to see clearly, without a single confirmation—

He was there.

Shadow Milk Cookie.

Watching.

Close.

He was here.

His heart gave a tired, aching thump, this time not from pain, but something else.

Relief. Longing. Something he couldn’t name.

Still collapsed on the bed, Pure Vanilla didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He only closed his eyes, his fingers curling faintly over his soul jam.

He didn’t speak, he didn’t have the energy in him to, not yet.

The breeze answered for him, gentle as breath.

And in the stillness between them, the bond pulsed again, quiet, alive.

Strengthening

The bond between their souls was getting stronger.

At first, there is no sound of footsteps, only the gentle breeze to be the sound in the night.

And then, a shift in movement at the balcony. A faint shadow, 

Just the faintest shift of shadow, an absence of light where there should have been none.

And then, through the curtains, a figure emerged.

Slow. Unsteady.

Shadow Milk Cookie stepped into the room like a ghost returning home. His form flickered faintly at the edges—unstable, like it took effort just to stay solid. He stood for a moment in the moonlight, hollow-eyed, gaunt, barely more than a silhouette of himself.

He was drenched in quiet.

Pure Vanilla didn’t lift his head, he didn’t have to.

The soulbond surged weakly between them, fragile but yearning. As if both threads had frayed nearly to breaking.

Shadow Milk took a step forward. Then another. He swayed, shoulders hunched, breath shallow. His gaze locked onto the figure sprawled across the bed—drawn there by something he didn’t understand, but couldn’t resist.

He reached the edge and stood, trembling, saying nothing.

And for the first time, Pure Vanilla looked up at him.

Their eyes met.

Two kinds of exhaustion. Two halves of the same soul, worn thin, weathered by distance, but still reaching for each other.

Shadow Milk’s voice, when it came, was rough and low. Barely there.

“You seemed to have missed me.”

Pure Vanilla, still breathless, still weak, offered the smallest smile.

“I did.”

Their reunion was not grand nor dramatic, simply an acknowledgment of their shared troubles together, how their longing was reflected in each other. 

For a moment, Pure Vanilla wondered if this yearning was truly his.

Shadow Milk stood at the foot of the bed, unmoving.

He was ragged, his form slightly unstable at the edges, like smoke held together only by will. The moonlight caught in the tattered folds of his cloak, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, exhausted breaths. His gaze was fixed—not on the room, not on the floor, but on Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Or more precisely, the soft thrum of the soul jam pulsing just beneath his hand.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

The bond between them ached, drawn tight, stretched far too long. Pure Vanilla felt it sing, faintly but insistently, begging for closeness, for contact.

But still, Shadow Milk didn’t move.

His shoulders were tense. His hands hung loose at his sides, trembling slightly. His eyes, bright and dim all at once, held the weight of someone who didn’t know if he was welcome.

And Pure Vanilla… smiled.

Not brightly. Not pitying.

Just warm.

Tired, but sure.

Wordlessly, he shifted on the bed and extended both arms, slow, open, without expectation. A space made just for him.

The moonlight kissed his face, and the soul jam gave a hopeful flicker.

“I’m here,” Pure Vanilla whispered. “If you want to be.”

Shadow Milk’s breath hitched. Not loud. Not obvious.

Just enough.

He didn’t step forward.

Not yet.

But he didn’t turn away.

Pure Vanilla considered that progress.

With them being so close together once more, he found it much more easily to think and move, shifting to sit further up on the bed to see Shadow Milk better.

He kept his arms extended, he wasn’t expecting much, but he wanted to leave a clear invitation. 

Pure Vanilla knew the other was tired, aching, wanting. He knew the other wanted this just as much as he does.

But instinct will always beat choice.

“I won’t force you to come to me.” Pure Vanilla let his features soften just a bit more, eyeing how Shadow Milk’s form seemed to struggle to hold its own form. “But I want you to know you are welcome here.”

Shadow Milk was still silent, now hovering at the end of the bed with half lidded eyes. He looked weak in a way Pure Vanilla had never seen, a type of vulnerability that reflected in each of them.

Then,

Shadow Milk stepped forward, a slow steady step, a test.

Another step.

Another.

The footsteps were silent, barely a shuffle.

Each step was sluggish, unsteady, as though the weight of his own form threatened to pull him back into the shadows that now make up the corners of the room. He didn’t look up, not at first. Just kept his eyes half-lidded, his breathing shallow and uneven, matching the same strained rhythm as Pure Vanilla’s.

Pure Vanilla kept his arms open for him, hope making itself known in his chest.

Pure Vanilla observed the form of the Shadow Milk, how his body seemed to subtly shift and morph as it fought its own collapse into shadows. A common tactic that Shadow Milk used to run.

His smile widened letting Shadow Milk collapse in his arms completely as the momentum dragged them into laying down completely on the bed.

Pure Vanilla exhaled.

Not just a breath, but something deeper. A tremor of quiet relief, sinking through his chest like warmth after endless cold. His arms wrapped around the other cookie instinctively, one hand splaying gently across Shadow Milk’s back, the other rising to cradle the back of his head

Shadow Milk exhaled after him, feeling the relief similarly to how he felt. 

Had Pure Vanilla not been completely exhausted at the moment, he might have expressed his joyousness just a bit more. 

His hand rubbed up and down Shadow Milk’s back, offering comfort to the jester in the only ways he could at the moment, the lull of fatigue pulling at him far too strong to form something meaningful like he likes.

Pure Vanilla adjusted the blankets around them with slow, deliberate care, never loosening his hold. Shadow Milk lay utterly still in his arms, silent, not out of resistance, but weariness. The kind that seeped into bone and soul, hollowing from the inside out.

Pure Vanilla felt it, all of it.

The heaviness in his own limbs mirrored in Shadow Milk’s weight against him. The quiet ache that had taken root days ago, growing sharper with each hour apart, now dulled slightly, but not gone. Only softened by reunion.

He didn’t need words.

Their soulbond pulsed slow and deep, like a heartbeat underwater. He could feel Shadow Milk’s fatigue pressing into his own, echoing through the connection they shared. That tiredness wasn’t just physical. It was grief. Longing. Emptiness that had become too familiar.

Pure Vanilla shifted, just slightly, tucking Shadow Milk closer. One hand moved in slow, soothing circles along his back.

“You’re tired,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I know.”

There was no answer. Just the faint hitch of breath against his chest, like a ripple through still water.

“And I’m here.”

His voice remained soft, steady, gentle as a lullaby not meant to be heard, only felt. He didn’t ask for anything in return. Didn’t reach for a response.

Shadow Milk didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

But he didn’t pull away either.

That, to Pure Vanilla, was enough.

Shadow Milk was accepting him for now, letting him be come and provide him with relief of the ache in his soul that only he could soothe. 

It was something he would have smiled wider at, if he could.

At the moment, Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but feel utter bliss, the relief he gets to experience finally able to be dissipated.

And he gets to see his other half.

He may have even said it was worth it.

Shadow Milk huffed unhappily into his chest face down, his voice muffled from being planted in Pure Vanilla’s chest. “We have a bit to talk about later.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, even knowing the other couldn’t see it. “Yes, I haven’t forgotten earlier.” 

“No, not that.” Shadow Milk groaned, his fingers curling up in the sheets. 

Oh?

“May I ask what it is you want to talk about?”

Silence. Shadow Milk didn’t say anything for a few moments, Pure Vanilla let the silence stretch for a slight moment. 

“Who was that you were walking with?”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion making his way through him. He recalled back to earlier in the day—

Oh.

So he was watching.

“Lady Sugarbell Cookie, she is quite interesting company.” Pure Vanilla recounted the cookie as well as the small walk they had past the markets.

Shadow Milk took another moment to respond. “I see, you have something for her or what.”

Pure Vanilla paused, feeling a hint of anger and jealousy breach its way to him with their connection. Emotions that weren’t his own.

So that’s what this is.

“She is a past acquaintance of mine—“

“And what of it?” Shadow Milk interrupted, his tone accusatory. “Some type of fling?”

Pure Vanilla chuckled, not flinching at the sudden shift of attitude. “None of the sort, she is simply company that we know of each other.” Pure Vanilla was not oblivious to how Shadow Milk had been watching from unseen shadows, his gaze that was ever studying the two earlier. “Forgive me for saying this, but I found myself wishing for some different company while on my walk with her.”

Shadow Milk lifted his head slightly from his chest, his eyes making contact with Pure Vanilla’s. “Is that so. And who is it that you were wanting?”

“I found myself wishing to see the eyes that were watching us, emerge from the shadows.”

Shadow Milk froze, his gaze confused but calculated all the same. It was a brief pause before the tension escaped his shoulders and he relaxed back into Pure Vanilla’s chest again, a sigh coming out of him. “How un-kingly of you.”

Pure Vanilla laughed, the softness returning. “I did say I am no longer king.”

“But while we are here talking about things we desire..-“

Pure Vanilla cut himself off as Shadow Milk’s breathing remained shallow and uneven, his form heavy in Pure Vanilla’s arms—but then, slowly, he moved.

A faint shift. The faintest tension curling in his limbs. And then, without a word, he pushed himself up from Pure Vanilla’s chest, arms braced on either side of him, now hovering above. The motion was sluggish, like it took everything in him, but it brought their faces close—so close the weight of their breaths mingled in the still air between them.

The room was silent. Moonlight framed Shadow Milk from behind, casting a soft silver glow around his outline, leaving his expression in shadows.

Still, Pure Vanilla could feel it.

The strain in his body. The lingering jealousy, quiet and unspoken, but there. A bruise that hadn’t quite faded, left behind by a noble cookie’s gentle voice and hopeful gaze. Shadow Milk didn’t say it. He wouldn’t. But it pressed against the soulbond like a whisper carried through smoke.

Pure Vanilla only looked up at him, eyes warm, steady, unafraid.

“…Shall we?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle offering. His hand rose between them, fingers brushing against the center of Shadow Milk’s chest. “We’re both fraying. Let’s mend what we can.”

His own soul jam glowed faintly at his chest, steady and inviting.

Shadow Milk said nothing—but his breath hitched.

Still tense. Still unreadable. But then, slowly, achingly, he leaned in.

Their foreheads nearly touched.

Their soul jams hovered, then met, pressing together like two halves of a single flame, a quiet, pulsing heat blooming between them.

The connection snapped into place.

Not violently. Not overwhelming. Just real—whole.

A long, shuddering breath left Shadow Milk as the bond flared between them. Warmth. Safety. A place to rest.

Pure Vanilla kept his hand lightly over the place where their soul jams met, grounding him. His voice was barely audible now.

“You don’t have to say it,” he whispered, “but I know. And it’s always been you.”

Shadow Milk still said nothing.

But he didn’t move away.

That’s all Pure Vanilla needed for right now.

This connect was different from before, something softer—yet a hint of desperation coating it.

They didn’t relax fully, not yet, but they relished in the needed company of each other finally.

Pure Vanilla didn’t dream that night.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like him to wake up in the middle of the night.

But there he was, sitting up in his bed to peer out the window. The moon still shining bright onto them, only blocked by the curtains just enough.

His hair was messy, his vision still clouded with the remnants of sleep he couldn’t find in himself to shake off. He assumed it wouldn’t be long before he goes back to sleep again, not wasting energy on keeping himself awake.

However..

Pure Vanilla glanced down to Shadow Milk, clearly sleeping soundly sprawled out on his bed. The eyes in his hair calm and closed with his features being delicately peaceful.

And he flourished with the moonlight shining down on him.

Maybe he will stay up for just a while longer.

He sunk back down on the bed slightly, his fingers clasping each other on his stomach. So much did he want to reach out, to run his fingers through his hair—

What?

He abruptly rose up back into a sitting position. Why exactly had he been wanting and hoping for more of Shadow Milk? Could it be the soul bond that was inevitable between them, or i could it be simply his compassion twisting into something else?

He focused his attention back down to his—now calmly—pulsing soul jam. The object content with the close distance it was to the other.

Was it simply something unavoidable, something they were destined to be? Tethered to each other in a song and dance of light and dark.

Pure Vanilla turned his gaze back towards Shadow Milk, his eyes looking all across his face, his features.

And somehow, he still found himself with a rising adoration, and adoration that he questioned only once. And why was he okay with that?

The adoration didn’t last.

It flickered—like a candle’s flame touched by doubt—and Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened, then faltered. His brow knit slowly, the stillness in his chest rippling with quiet unrest.

Why?

Why did he ache like this when they were apart? Why did Shadow Milk’s presence feel like oxygen in a flame—both soothing and all-consuming?

His eyes lingered on the way Shadow Milk’s lashes rested against his cheeks, the faintest tension still clinging to his brow even in sleep. That familiar heaviness pressed against his heart again, not painful, but puzzling. Deep and wordless.

He turned onto his back slowly, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight drew soft lines across his collarbone. His soul jam hummed against him, low and alive, resonating with the one beside it. And yet, beneath it all… confusion.

Confusion in the way his mind worked.

Mainly, he felt something else stir up within him, something hidden, a certain type of doubt that stained his heart, their bond.

And yet, it felt like his own, his doing.

He flopped back down onto the bed once more, his eyes half lidded as he stared up at the ceiling. His mind was heavy with thoughts he didn’t feel like thinking about at the current moment; especially at this time.

He still had some hours until the sun would come up, until then, he would fall back asleep.

Maybe this time he will finally have a certain dream, a dream he hasn’t had for a bit now. Maybe too long.

It wasn’t long before he fell into the greyscale dream, the grass soft below him as he came to.

He was back in the dream, a dream he missed.

Pure Vanilla sat upright and quickly got to his feet, surveying the area he had landed in this time. 

He was far from the broken down kingdom this time, landing in a clearing that wasn’t all too far away. He was quick to start making his way towards the kingdom, his soul jam being dead silent for once. Something he realized only happens here.

For once, his mind was quiet, not out of purely content perse, but quiet nonetheless.

Momentarily, Pure Vanilla stopped in his tracks, he knew it wasn’t necessarily truly here; but the presence was. He could feel it. He swiftly turned around more into the open clearing he was in.

When his eyes met Pure Vanilla’s, he smiled.

“Didn’t expect company today.”

Pure Vanilla felt the usual flutter in his chest. It was soft, barely there, but warm. Familiar.

“I was walking,” he murmured, glancing around. “My feet brought me here again.” An unharmful lie.

Blueberry Milk stepped down from the slight hill, his movements easy and graceful. “Then I suppose I should be glad you didn’t lose your way.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled faintly. “Would you have waited long if I had?”

Blueberry Milk tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t mind the silence here.”

Neither of them said more. They didn’t need to.

He followed Blueberry Milk down a side path, where the smooth gave way to withered grass and silvery moss, soft underfoot. The garden they arrived at was small, half-sunken into the ground, but still held shape. A stark contrast to the garden they had visited last time. Even in monochrome, flowers bloomed here—petals pale as ash and blue-tinted ice. There was no wind this time, only stillness.

Blueberry Milk sat first, smoothing the edge of his robe. “You look like you haven’t rested.”

Pure Vanilla slowly joined him on the cracked stone bench. “I haven’t.”

“I figured.”

Silence stretched between them again, gentle and unbothered. Pure Vanilla found himself watching the way Blueberry Milk traced the tip of his staff against the earth, leaving tiny trails in the dust. He always looked like he knew more than he said. Not proud of it. Just… aware.

“I think I’ve missed this,” Pure Vanilla admitted. “Missed you.”

Blueberry Milk didn’t look up, but his voice was light. “Even the quiet?”

“Especially the quiet.”

There was no reaction at first. Then: “You’re troubled.”

It wasn’t a question, just a truth laid bare.

Pure Vanilla didn’t deny it. His eyes drifted to the horizon, where the lone castle loomed untouched. “I don’t know what I want sometimes,” he murmured. “I thought I did. But now…”

The ache returned—deep, old, but sharpened recently. He felt it whenever they were apart. He could never say why. He wouldn’t say it now.

Blueberry Milk’s voice came softer. “Is it someone you lost?”

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. “No,” he said. Then, quieter: “He’s still here.”

There was a long pause, then Blueberry Milk offered a quiet nod. “I hope he’s kind to you.”

Pure Vanilla’s throat tightened. His hands folded over his lap, fidgeting faintly with the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t know if I’m giving him what he needs. Or if I ever could.”

“You’re gentle,” Blueberry Milk said, as if that was answer enough. “Some Cookies are frightened of that.”

“Why?”

“Because gentleness asks them to stay.”

He looked at him then, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla saw the shimmer of thought behind those calm eyes—like Blueberry Milk knew more than he let on. But he didn’t push. Didn’t say a word more.

It’s not secret Shadow Milk isn’t one for affection, his counterpart more used to the harsh reality and destruction, that was all he’s ever known. A cookie, baked to be doomed to fall into corruption and slander, a cookie made of despair and loneliness. A natural born—

Beast.

..

No, No Shadow Milk was much more than simply a beast.

He glanced slowly to the cookie beside him, a direct living example of what Shadow Milk once was. Blueberry Milk Cookie. 

His elegant and put together form something you would never hope to imagine in the cookie he is today. 

Is he even aware of what he will become in the future?

Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but feel remorse. How such a bright and well-intentful cookie could fall into such a dark path. Change so much is such a short amount of time.

And, instead of being offered forgiveness and safety, he had been cast away further into the darkness, into imprisonment.

And Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but feel.. grief. 

Had he been there to offer his friendship much sooner, had Shadow Milk’s fate ended up much different? Would he have had a chance to be spared of such a fate even then?

Blueberry Milk smiled softly as he raised a finger to greet the butterfly slowly coming down to him, the bright glowing butterself a beautiful pattern of white and black. Something you likely wouldn't see in the real world.

Perhaps he’ll never know what such a fate could have been, only focusing on what is now.

Maybe he is starting to understand, this, bond they have. Not with Blueberry Milk, but instead with Shadow Milk.

Pure Vanilla really does have quite a bit to talk about when he wakes up from this dream.

Blueberry Milk gets up from the stone bench, the butterfly that had previously been on his finger circling him once before flying off.

The garden still breathed in its quiet ruin—ferns pushing through the stone, petals curling with age and colorlessness. Pure Vanilla sat on the crumbling bench, hands loosely folded in his lap, as if waiting for a question he already knew wouldn’t have an easy answer.

Blueberry Milk walked the edge of the path in front of him, pausing to inspect a vine that had overtaken a cracked sundial. He knelt briefly to brush away some moss with precise fingers, and then looked back over his shoulder.

“It’s strange how some things endure,” he said, not unkindly. “Even when everything around them collapses.”

Pure Vanilla watched him with a soft, unreadable expression. “You mean the ruins?”

“I mean what remains inside them.” Blueberry Milk straightened, the folds of his robe whispering against the ground. The gold that outlined his clothes shining in whatever light the moon provided. “The way a question can linger long after the answer’s gone. The way we carry things, even after we no longer need to.”

He returned to the bench and sat beside Pure Vanilla once more, gaze turned toward the pale horizon.

“I’ve always wondered if we seek truth… because we think it will heal us. Or if we seek it because we fear being deceived.”

Pure Vanilla looked down.

It was easier to study the pattern of vines cracking through the garden stone than meet Blueberry Milk’s eyes. Because he did fear being deceived. Not by others—no, he had long since learned to forgive that. It was his own heart that frightened him. The way it pulled toward something that once tried to destroy him, yet now stirred with longing and warmth so deep it made his soul jam tremble.

He realized too late that Blueberry Milk was still speaking, voice as smooth and thoughtful as the breeze that moved through the garden.

“…but truth is never whole, is it? Even the kindest truths are shaped by omissions. And sometimes, deceit isn’t meant to harm—it’s a shield. A refusal to let the world see the vulnerable parts.”

Pure Vanilla’s hands tightened faintly in his lap.

Shadow Milk came to his mind unbidden—his shifting, guarded face… the way he deflected softness with sharpness. A being carved from withheld pain.

“Do you think…” Pure Vanilla began, voice soft, uncertain, “truth can survive alongside that?”

Blueberry Milk Cookie looked at him, and smiled faintly.

“I think they need each other,” he said. “You don’t recognize truth unless you’ve been made to question it. And you don’t lie unless you want something to be real.”

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, just for a moment.

Blueberry Milk Cookie plucked a pale blossom from a creeping vine and turned it slowly in his fingers, as if the spiral of its petals might offer another riddle to untangle.

“You say they need each other,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “Truth and deceit.”

Blueberry Milk didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched in quiet amusement. “It’s an unpopular opinion.”

“I don’t disagree,” Pure Vanilla murmured. “But I wonder… if truth relies on deceit to define itself… can it ever truly be pure?”

Blueberry Milk finally glanced his way, eyes calm and deep like starlit water. “Does it need to be pure to be meaningful?”

Pure Vanilla blinked, gaze distant. The echo of another set of eyes flickered through his mind—haunted, guarded, shimmering with unspoken want. He clasped his hands together loosely in his lap, his posture still but not tense.

“If we tell someone the truth… but we know they’ll misinterpret it,” he said, “and we don’t stop them… is that still truth?”

“It’s still honesty,” Blueberry Milk replied. “But maybe not kindness.”

Pure Vanilla’s throat tightened.

Shadow Milk had deflected questions with silence, pushed away warmth with shapeshifted masks, and yet—his pain had always felt like a kind of truth. A cry without a voice. Something not said, but undeniable.

“I’ve loved someone who hid behind many faces,” he said quietly, barely above the wind. “Sometimes I wonder if I ever saw his truth. Or just the reflection of what I hoped was there.”

Blueberry Milk didn’t press, but there was a softness to the way he tilted his head, the way he replied after a beat.

“If what you saw stirred something real in you,” he said, “then perhaps that reflection was truth enough.”

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes briefly.

There was no comfort in it. Not exactly. But it steadied him.

Blueberry Milk set the flower down beside them, its pale petals catching in a breeze that passed without sound.

“Truth and deceit are like twin threads,” he said gently. “Woven through every soul. And maybe… it’s not about unraveling them, but learning how to follow the pattern they create.”

Pure Vanilla looked over at him at last, and smiled faintly, though there was a grief to it—quiet and bone-deep.

Ah, that's what makes them so different. The two of them, the parallels between that of Shadow Milk and Blueberry Milk.

One saw reason where the other saw doubt.

A shell of his former self, someone clouded with deceit not because he takes pleasure in it, but because a lie is a lot easier to grasp and understand then that of a hard truth.

Pure Vanilla felt the tension creep up his shoulders, a frown now on his face thinking about the two.

And still, he found it in himself to speak. “You speak of deceit able to exist peacefully alongside truth, but what if said deceit was too deep into its own lies. Its own shield of distrust of anything else that it didn’t want to change.”

Blueberry Milk tilted his head, a gentle smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about it being a peaceful thing?”

Pure Vanilla shot him a confused glance, letting the other continue.

“Deceit is a fickle thing, ever interchanging because that is simply what it is. It's never a solid concept or idea to grasp, changing to hide it’s one true dark nature.” Blueberry Milk rested a hand on his hip, the other still holding onto his staff.

“And what is that one true dark nature?” Pure Vanilla questioned.

“It never changes.”

Pure Vanilla frowned deeper, that was not the answer he wanted to hear. “I see.”

He supposed that’s an answer he should of expected, deceit was never really something that could be changed, something that—

A chuckle interrupted his forming thoughts, pulling his gaze back to the cookie that wasn’t looking at him, but at his hands.

“Let me finish, my friend.” Blueberry Milk cleared his throat, his staff disappearing so he could lift both of his hands in front of him. His palms started to glow as he spoke. “Deceit never changes, without truth.”

Two different glows of light rise from his hand, one blue, the other shining gold. “You would never be able to call something a truth had you not embraced the deceit of it first. Blueberry Milk slowly closed his fist around the blue glow of light, only the gold light remained.

The truth.

“Truth won’t last long, and eventually,” The golden light flickers out, leaving both balls of light to dissipate into the wind. “They both would be meaningless.” Blueberry Milk dropped his hands, turning to look at Pure Vanilla directly.

You speak of truth as though it is a light,” Blueberry said gently. “But light is only visible where there is something to contrast it. Without shadow, you wouldn’t see it at all.”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze lowered, following the broken mosaic pattern beneath their feet. “Still… I believe truth should be pursued. Even if it’s difficult. Even if it wounds.”

Blueberry tilted his head faintly, thoughtful. “And what happens when the truth is incomplete? Or when it’s shaped by the one who speaks it?” He paused, letting the thought breathe. “Deceit doesn’t always wear a villain’s face. Sometimes it believes it’s doing good.”

Pure Vanilla looked up at him. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Blueberry agreed softly. “But it does make it real.”

A breeze stirred the curled petals at their feet, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Truth without the existence of deceit,” Blueberry continued, “wouldn’t need to defend itself. It wouldn’t grow. It wouldn’t choose to be kind. It simply would be—and that’s not always enough.”

Pure Vanilla blinked slowly. His chest felt heavier than it should in a dream. “So you think they need each other.”

“I think truth is shaped by its struggle with deceit,” Blueberry said. “And in that struggle, it becomes something greater. Something chosen.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer immediately. He was quiet, brows faintly knit in thought, his mind drifting—though he fought to keep it anchored here, in the conversation. The ache in his chest stirred, old and familiar.

Blueberry watched him calmly, not pressing, not prying. “Does that trouble you?”

Pure Vanilla shook his head once. “No. Just…” He hesitated. “It reminds me how fragile it all is.”

“Perhaps,” Blueberry said, “but sometimes the most fragile things are the ones most worth protecting.”

Pure Vanilla started to feel the weight of the soul jam become heavier, the words sinking into his head as he continued to think on future actions.

And yet, his mind went blank. 

All he could do was stare up at Blueberry Milk Cookie, the version of Shadow Milk that will never be again. Not exactly.

The sky churned in slow, solemn greys. And yet, Blueberry still looked serene, the silver trim of his cloak glinting like frost beneath a forgotten moon.

“I hope I didn’t say too much,” Blueberry said quietly, gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of the slightly broken castle beyond the horizon. “You looked… far away, for a moment.”

Pure Vanilla lowered his gaze, heart a steady throb against his ribs, soul jam aching in a way he couldn’t name. He couldn’t speak, not from restraint, but from wonder. From the ache of recognition and the pain of knowing.

How could this cookie—so calm, so thoughtful—ever become what waited for him back in the waking world?

So much of him was the same. The way he listened, the quiet intensity in his gaze. The way silence never felt heavy when he was near. But… there were no sharp edges here. No bitterness in the pause between words. No anger buried beneath grace.

Blueberry Milk was whole. Not hollowed, not clawing for a place to belong.

And still, there were shadows in his silhouette.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes lingered on the slope of Blueberry’s shoulder, on the glimmer of moonlight caught in his hair. The resemblance to Shadow Milk Cookie—the one who fought, twisted, survived—was undeniable. But it was a resemblance softened, as if someone had reached into the very soul and gently unwound the threads of grief and fury.

He didn’t know if it was mercy or cruelty that he could see both of them so clearly now.

Blueberry Milk glanced over, his expression open, curious. “You’re being very quiet again.”

“I’m thinking,” Pure Vanilla replied gently, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. “You remind me of someone.”

“Someone dear to you?” Blueberry asked, not pressing, only wondering.

“Yes, someone dear to me.” he admitted after a beat, his chest tight.

Blueberry gave a small nod, satisfied by the answer, and looked back toward the horizon.

And Pure Vanilla continued watching him, not as a stranger, but as the past preserved, a flicker of what once was, untouched by time or suffering.

The same, and not the same. Like twin reflections in still water… and broken glass.

Pure Vanilla leaned back against the bench, his gaze not finding the cookie beside him, not right now. “Sometimes, I find myself wanting something that seems so unreachable, something that doesn’t want to be found.” 

Pure Vanilla sighed, letting his shoulders slack. “Someone.”

Pure Vanilla wasn’t naive, he knew the difference between love and something more, corrupt. 

Still, he found himself increasingly worried about himself and Shadow Milk. This bond between them went father past the confines of their hearts right into their soul and seemed to feel like a rope and tether, not just for him but also for Shadow Milk. One that he struggled to relieve for the both of them.

There’s a fine line between love and.. whatever the soul jam was feeling. 

And yet, he feels confusion.

“Sometimes I am lost on what to do on things, and it can’t seek guidance simply because these concerns are not for another to bear.” Pure Vanilla turned to glance at Blueberry Milk finally, finding the scholar turned away from him. “It’s not out of shamefulness, but rather—unconcern. Unconcerned in a way that is unfamiliar.”

Blueberry Milk nodded, signaling he heard the statement. 

Blueberry Milk smiled gently at him, nodding along to his words before he spoke. 

“I understand what you are coming from.” Blueberry Milk looked up to the sky, the pale moon everlasting in the sky, never moving from its position. “I’ve once too held my hand out to something untouchable.”

Pure Vanilla follows his gaze, looking up at the moon as well before back at Blueberry Milk. The moonlight shining back down on his features, reflecting in the blue and silver in his clothes as well as the gold lining. “How so?”

Blueberry Milk sighed, not in sadness, more in simple discontent. “The moon, she used to speak to me and keep me company for a while, before she too went silent.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow, in his own experiences, the moon simply watched. Never responding to his own calls, but he was alright with that himself. 

This though, this was new to him.

Blueberry Milk continued. “She kept my company, before they went silent.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head. “They?”

“There was a time,” he said, “when I could hear the Witches speak. Not in words—but in knowing. In moments of silence when the stars aligned just so, or when the pages of my tomes turned themselves as if guided by invisible hands.”

Pure Vanilla blinked, slowly lifting his head.

“I thought they would never leave me,” Blueberry continued, tone even, but something raw curled just beneath it. “But one day, they stopped. No signs. No whispers. Just… absence.”

His hands, folded in his lap, tightened faintly.

“At first, I thought I’d done something wrong. That I’d misunderstood, misstepped, misread the truths they had left behind. So I chased them harder. Dug deeper. Sought meaning in silence.” He paused. “But there comes a point where even a scholar must ask—how much of this is faith, and how much is longing?”

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught.

“I don’t know if they’ll ever speak again,” Blueberry said gently. “But I’ve learned that silence doesn’t always mean abandonment. Sometimes it means we’re meant to listen differently.”

He looked back to Pure Vanilla then, his silver-blue eyes soft and still.

“You understand that, don’t you?”

Pure Vanilla did. Not in the way Blueberry imagined—but in the hollow ache where a bond once pulsed too loudly. In the quiet weight of love that didn’t heal, but burned.

“Yes,” he said, barely above a breath. “I do.”

Pure Vanilla, about to continue, fell slightly forward. Feeling the familiar sleep about to pull him out of the dream. However, he didn’t fight it this time.

He felt like he had said and received all he needed to.

Blueberry Milk smiled gently down at him, a type of hidden recognition in his eyes that Pure Vanilla could not determine.

He felt himself be pulled briefly, noting how he was now leaning  against Blueberry Milk, his eyes heavy as he tried to make sense of his surroundings again.

“Forgive me, I’ll have to leave.” Pure Vanilla muttered, fighting the sleep in his eyes. He didn’t necessarily want to go, but there was no choice in it.

Blueberry Milk let Pure Vanilla lean against him, his hand finding its way to his head, his fingers coiling random strands of his blond hair.

Blueberry Milk Cookie had gone quiet. But his gaze had shifted, steady and low, as if observing something far beyond the garden.

“You seem tired,” he said, voice as soft as always. “Perhaps this moment is beginning to pass.”

Pure Vanilla swallowed lightly, his throat dry. He didn’t speak, not right away. A strange ache stirred in his heart.

Blueberry Milk tilted his head just slightly, as if listening to something Pure Vanilla couldn’t hear. “Time moves strangely, doesn’t it?”

Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, Blueberry’s expression softened further, not sad, not knowing, just simply still.

“If you find yourself here again,” he added gently, “I’ll be where I always am.”

A breeze moved through the withered garden, quiet as a sigh. The dream gave another tug.

And Pure Vanilla, blinking through the growing haze, didn’t know if he managed to nod before the waking world took him back.

—

“You know, I hadn’t realized how different you’d look with longer hair.” Shadow Milk ran the brush slowly down Pure Vanilla’s hair, his movements not pulling at all. “I’m amazed how you haven’t tangled it at all, seeing as I never see you put it up.” 

Pure Vanilla relaxed against the others movements, letting himself lean back into the chair. “I haven’t seen you put yours up either. Maybe we have that in common.”

The movements paused in his hair, Shadow Milk’s sputtering in response causing Pure Vanilla to lightly chuckle.

“Listen,” Shadow Milk continued to brush Pure Vanilla’s hair, his movements just a bit faster now. “It’s different, are you not aware of the eyes that need to see in my hair?”

“Yes, but you’ve told me they don’t really work like eyes, no?” Pure Vanilla responded with a soft smile, his eyes closed.

Shadow Milk hummed. “Well have you considered that I haven’t told the whole truth?” Shadow Milk paused. “Actually, I have, just left a few things out just because.”

“Of course I considered, what is it you’ve left out?” Pure Vanilla turned his head to look at Shadow Milk—at least he tried to before Shadow Milk swiftly made him turn his head back forward.”

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Stop moving. And, the eyes on my hair I can choose to not directly see out of, but should they be covered or jostled with it would be quite uncomfortable for me.” Shadow Milk rose up slightly behind him, letting the bathroom mirror in front of them both be able to see him.

“Should they be covered, it’s almost like my main eyes were covered, they are quite connected.

Pure Vanilla lifted his head interest. “So should you lose the eyes in your hair, you are almost basically blind?”

“Not exactly, but something similar I suppose.”

Pure Vanilla hummed in response. “I see, in that case, when was the last time you brushed your hair too?”

“Don’t remember.”

Pure Vanilla turned around to look at Shadow Milk directly, momentarily ignoring his protests to turn back around. 

“Apologies but, have you ever simply just, taken care of yourself?” Pure Vanilla hid the concern in his voice quite well, however, it didn’t escape the woven threads between them that was their soul bond. Shadow Milk rolled his eyes as he felt it.

“I don’t need to take care of myself like you cookies do.” Shadow Milk said, almost condescendingly. “My magic does it for me.”

Pure Vanilla rose up to stand with Shadow Milk, holding out his hand to Shadow Milk but not quite touching yet. “Shadow Milk, it’s not about simply the action, but the joy. Something you wouldn’t get from it being just magic induced.”

Shadow Milk crossed his arms, pushing the brush in Pure Vanilla’s hand as he floated just a few inches off the tile floor. 

“Here,” Pure Vanilla continued. “Let me show you.” 

He offered a small smile, watching as Shadow Milk sighed but ultimately sitting in the chair Pure Vanilla had been in 

Pure Vanilla slowly ran his hands down the tendril like hair that Shadow Milk had, the active strands moving idly and coiling briefly around his wrist before letting go.

“Do you control them, or do they move on their own?” Pure Vanilla paused, staring into an eye that was looking right at him lazily.

Shadow Milk huffed before remarking sarcastically. “Does your hair move on its own?”

“No, your magic never ceases to amaze me.”

Pure Vanilla gently runs the brush down his hair, the hair surprisingly starting to act like actual hair as individual strands rose up.

It was fascinating, he always learns something new. 

“Can you close the eyes, I don’t want to accidentally poke them.” 

“If you think you are going to hurt me with that then you’re mistaken.” 

He pulled the brush away, his hand lifting up to look at the other side of Shadow Milk’s hair, his eyes half lidded and actively looking different areas in the bathroom. Seemingly processing information for Shadow Milk.

“That must get tiring does it?” Pure Vanilla looking down at the wandering eyes, his gaze not quite sadness or remorse, but understanding. “Constantly keeping them open and processing information at such a high rate must be exhausting.”

Shadow Milk snickered. “You forget yourself, I am not like you.” He closed his eyes, letting his remaining eyes lazily scan whatever there is to look around in the bathroom, including Pure Vanilla himself. “I am built to accept mountains of knowledge and information, I am made to retain it. Such hoarding of information would very likely exhaust you.”

“I have no doubt about it.” Pure Vanilla brought the brush back down to Shadow Milk’s hair, letting the brush lightly graze his hair once more. “But, you’ve been doing this for a very long while, yes? Centuries even.” Pure Vanilla winced as the brush got caught on a particular strand, it swung wildly for a moment as the eyes went wide before falling back down idly. And yet Shadow Milk himself seemed calm.

“I’m sure doing that for that many decades would exhaust even your mind.”

Shadow Milk groaned, flicking his hand dismissively. “I don’t need to sleep either, I only do so out of there being nothing else to do. It’s not needed for me.”

Vanila continued to brush Shadow Milk’s hair, now mindful for certain spots that could tug or brush up against the eyes. “I’m aware, but wouldn’t you believe that it would be relieving to finally not have to process information constantly around you? To have your mind blank.”

“To have my mind blank would mean to let my guard down, a beast is never not on their guard.”

“Perhaps you are no beast.”

Shadow Milk froze, his eyes going wide before he quickly regained himself. His eyes looking down at his hands as he went quiet, his eyebrows furrowed.

The brush kept moving, each motion a tether. Pure Vanilla didn’t press him.

Shadow Milk didn’t argue again. Not yet. He only sat there, still, eyes heavy and uncertain, his silence saying more than defiance ever could.

“You’re not falling behind,” he said gently, “not with me. The world can wait. Even your mind can wait.”

“You’re still looking,” Pure Vanilla murmured after a while, brushing aside a lock that had fallen over one of the smaller blinking eyes. His voice was soft, careful not to startle. “Still listening to everything.”

Shadow Milk said nothing, but the faint twitch in his brow was answer enough. One of the eyes flicked to glance at him in the mirror.

“I know it’s not easy,” Pure Vanilla continued, fingers pausing briefly to stroke the strands instead of brushing. “But… you don’t have to be alert right now. Not here. Not with me.”

Still no response.

He bent slightly, his breath warm against the crown of Shadow Milk’s head. “I don’t see you as a beast,” he said, quieter now. “You can let your guard down. Just for this moment.”

There was a long pause.

Then, one by one, the eyes in Shadow Milk’s hair began to slowly blink shut, reluctant but trusting. He didn’t speak. But his arms dropped to his sides. His posture eased. The tension in his shoulders began to melt beneath Pure Vanilla’s hands.

Pure Vanilla resumed brushing, gentler than before.

He took a risk, bending down to Shadow Milk to plant a kiss on the back of his head.

“Thank you for trusting me Shadow Milk.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t get a response, but he was alright with that.

He was the one to break the silence however. “You’ve been off with that Eclair Cookie pretty often, what is it you guys do?” 

Shadow Milk hummed, about to start explaining with a new smirk in his face.

Pure Vanilla was ready to listen intently, until a knock on the door took both of their attention.

Pure Vanilla set the brush down, his gaze just missing the annoyed look in Shadow Milk’s face. 

He quickly made his way out of the bathroom to open the door, finding one of the staff of the castle at the door, a smaller cookie that looked up at him as he greets Pure Vanilla.

“Excuse me for disturbing you, but there is a visitor for you I believe.” The cookie bowed lightly in respect, something Pure Vanilla gently corrected them that they didn’t need to do right now. 

Pure Vanilla opened the door wider, smiling down at the cookie as he urged them to go on.

“Golden Cheese Cookie, sir.”

..

Golden Cheese Cookie?

Pure Vanilla looked down at the cookie confused, and hand on his chin as he frowned. He wasn’t prepared for his friends to make their way into the kingdom today, he hadn’t expected them so soon.

“Is it just her? No Dark Cacao nor Hollyberry , or..” 

The cookie shook their head, affirming that it was just Golden Cheese. 

Pure Vanilla sighed, his shoulders slacking. He closed his eyes in response to the information, thinking internally of what he was going to do next. “She must have come earlier than everyone else.”

He thanked the cookie, watching as they scurry off down the halls and out of view, leaving Pure Vanilla dumbfounded at the revelation.

Now he has some explaining to do.

Clicking the door shut; he calls for Shadow Milk, gathering his thoughts while Shadow Milk floats out lazily through the room.

Pure Vanilla sat on the edge of the bed, gently adjusting the cuffs of his robe with a composed, almost absent expression. Across the room, Shadow Milk floated lazily above the bed’s footboard, his posture loose but his gaze sharp behind a veil of feigned indifference.

“She’s only visiting,” Pure Vanilla said after a quiet pause. “Golden Cheese Cookie, I hadn’t expected her to arrive just yet. And so soon.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer, but one of his eyes, just one, peeled open, angled toward him in an unreadable way. The others remained shut, drifting somewhere between disinterest and weariness.

“I accepted her proposal to visit,” Pure Vanilla continued, his tone light but cautious. “It’s been some time since we’ve last spoken, and she, well, she has a fondness for the kingdom. I couldn’t turn her away.”

Shadow Milk let out a low, quiet exhale, his arms folded behind his head like he couldn’t be bothered to properly sit up. “Fondness for you, maybe.”

Pure Vanilla’s fingers stilled where they rested on his knee. His expression didn’t change, but a flicker of something, faint amusement, perhaps—passed behind his eyes.

“She’s kind,” he said simply. “And loud.”

Shadow Milk let out a barely audible huff, one of his hair eyes twitching. “Obnoxious.”

“She means well,” Pure Vanilla offered, a smile curling softly on his lips. “You’d know that, if you let yourself.”

“I don’t need to know her.” Shadow Milk rolled over so his back faced the ceiling. “I already don’t like her.”

Pure Vanilla said nothing at first, only watching him. 

“I’ll greet her outside, by the center plaza. Only for a while.”

Shadow Milk floated lower now, only a few inches above the bed. His voice was lower, quieter.

“You’re not obligated to keep her close just because she is kind to you.”

Pure Vanilla paused as he stood. Then, gently—more like a confession than a retort—he replied:

“She’s not the one I keep close.”

Shadow Milk floated back up, a method Pure Vanilla knew to hide any expressions on his face.

He didn’t receive much after that, a quiet acceptance of his words.

Pure Vanilla looked down at his hands in his lap. “Though, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, it’s good to go out and reconnect. I should go greet her.”

Shadow Milk hovered nearby, sprawled lengthwise in the air like a wisp of drifting smoke. He didn’t look at Pure Vanilla, his eyes half-lidded, his arms crossed in loose tension.

“Hm,” was all he offered, tone unreadable.

Pure Vanilla turned fully to him now, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “She’s only visiting for a short time. A friend’s visit. I accepted the proposal weeks ago.”

“I know,” Shadow Milk murmured. “You told me.”

Shadow Milk tilted slightly in the air, hair swaying like ink in water. “She’ll ask questions. About the kingdom. About me.”

“She might,” Pure Vanilla said gently. “But you’re under no obligation to entertain her.”

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue softly. “It’s not her presence I mind. It’s what comes with her. That… ancient smell of gilded pride.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled. “Maybe, but that’s what makes her, her.” He kept his soft smile present. “Besides, you are a bit prideful yourself aren’t you?”

Shadow Milk grunted, not looking at him. “It is not the same.”

“Of course not.”

A corner of Pure Vanilla’s mouth quirked, the faintest trace of amusement. “You’ve always had strong opinions about the others.”

“They earned them.”

Pure Vanilla approached slowly, reaching to brush a hand along Shadow Milk’s sleeve in passing—a quiet reassurance.

“She’s not here for council or ceremony,” he said. “She’s only here for company and stories.”

“And to see you,” Shadow Milk muttered, not bitter, just blunt.

Pure Vanilla gave a soft hum. “She can see me. But she won’t see you, unless you allow it.”

He didn’t say it like a challenge. Just an invitation. An open door.

Silence came from Shadow Milk, his form less tense then it was before. He floated down just enough to Pure Vanilla, his expression neutral while still being a mix of displeasure.

“You remember what we talked about last time?” Shadow Milk muttered.

“Of course, do your terms still stand?”

“Yes.” Shadow Milk’s tone was blunt. “Don’t let her linger for too long.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, looking up at Shadow Milk floating slightly above him. “I won’t, you will only see us if you seek us out.”

Pure Vanilla walked around Shadow Milk, making his way towards the desk where his staff was leaning against the wall. The day was now approaching early evening, the yellow light of the sun now changing into something more orange.

Thankfully, he was already partially ready in his attire, not needing to change or get ready much.

Shadow Milk floated higher, his eyes following all of Pure Vanilla’s movements. 

“I still don’t see why you need to go right now, she came early, let her wait.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t sigh, didn’t frown. He simply buttoned the front of his robe with practiced calm, like he’d already expected this. “She’s my friend. She came a long way because I agreed to see her.”

A pause. Then, dryly; “She came to see you.”

“That’s what friends do.”

Shadow Milk shifted just slightly, the way a cloud darkens when it gathers in on itself. “You know I don’t want them here.”

“I do,” Pure Vanilla said, finally turning to face him. “And you know I won’t ask you to see them. We agreed on that. This visit is just for me to keep my word.”

Shadow Milk floated down, arms crossed now, legs tucked under like he was curling in on himself.

“You could stay here,” he said softly, like a suggestion—but really it was a hope, and they both knew it.

“I could,” Pure Vanilla said, gentler now, but not yielding. “But I won’t. Not every hour belongs to us. That’s not what this bond is meant to be.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond. He only stared down at the floor, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his form gave him away.

Pure Vanilla crossed the space slowly, and without hesitation, brushed his fingers along the dark folds of Shadow Milk’s sleeve.

“You’ve asked that they don’t enter the castle,” he said. “And I’ve honored that. I’ll keep honoring that. But I can’t be hoarded. Not even by you.”

His voice was softer now, affectionate—but there was firmness beneath it, the unshakable calm he always carried.

“I’ll return before the moon is high in the sky. You’ll have me again soon. Promise.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer, not really. He just hovered in place, letting his silence fill the room.

But Pure Vanilla leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the side of his knuckles. He had wished he could plant a kiss up top the others head, however, with the jester floating it was quite hard to reach up without pulling.

Shadow Milk tilted his head down at him, a continued unreadable expression on his face. 

Pure Vanilla pulled away slowly from him, savoring the last bits of close contact between them so the soul jam could harvest it greedily. The soul bond disapproving of their separation from each other. However, he found himself finally resisting it.

The bond tugged.

He tugged back.

The remnants of their yearning echoing within eachother a silent moment that he had to pull away from.

Pure Vanilla made his way towards the door, opening it slowly without looking back. Only pausing as he heard Shadow Milk’s low voice ring out.

“If they are all eventually coming, does that mean..”

“No,” Pure Vanilla started, still not turning around. Less he give into his desires. 

“She will not be coming.”

Shadow Milk huffed, a pulse of emotion flowing through their connection back into him.

Content

Hm. 

Pure Vanilla clicked the door shut, leaving Shadow Milk to his own devices at he walked down the corridors, his staff lightly tapping against the marble floors. The orange light of the dipping sun shining through the large windows on his face. The sight was quite beautiful.

The bond tugged and he resisted it.

The words of Blueberry Milk ringing in his mind.

Progress.

He made his way out of the castle quickly, walking through the entrance and making his way down the steps. The light from the sun was fading faster then he liked already, having spent a lot of time up in his chambers.

The air had shifted into early evening’s hush, the kind that draped the town in soft oranges and cooling blues. The scent of baked bread and warm spices still lingered faintly, carried by the wind as Pure Vanilla made his way past the heart of the marketplace. Shops were beginning to shutter, children skipping off toward home, and lanterns were slowly being lit one by one.

He walked with measured steps, his expression calm as ever, though the pull in his chest hadn’t eased. It throbbed quietly, distant, but ever-present.

Eventually, he reached the center plaza, where the town’s grand fountain murmured with the steady rhythm of water over polished stone. It glowed faintly beneath the fading sunlight, scattering droplets in the air like soft crystal dust.

There she was.

Golden Cheese Cookie lounged with casual grace on the edge of the fountain’s wide base, her legs crossed, back relaxed. The golden filigree of her clothes caught the light, gleaming like embers, while her wings—broad and regal—hung loosely behind her, resting.

She hadn’t changed a bit.

Her gaze flicked toward him before he could even greet her.

“You’re late,” she teased, voice rich with amusement.

Pure Vanilla allowed a small smile to rise.

“You arrived early.”

Golden Cheese tilted her head, grinning. “Details.”

He approached slowly, the kind warmth in his eyes never faltering, though a thin current of distance hummed quietly within him. He stood in the soft glow of the fountain light, hands loosely folded in front of him.

“Still, I’m glad to see you,” he said gently.

She leaned forward just slightly, a hint of fondness in her eyes. “Even if you’re clearly somewhere else in your head?”

He paused—only for a breath—then simply looked down at the water. The reflection rippled softly with the golden dusk light, but in his own gaze, there was something subdued. Something reaching across a distance that even she couldn’t see.

And still, she said nothing more.

She didn’t need to.

They both simply let the moment rest between them, the sound of the fountain murmuring quietly beneath the hush of the coming night.

Pure Vanilla glanced up at the sky, the swirling colors or blue and orange something to be mesmerized with.

“Would you like to accompany me to an inn, we could sit there?” Pure Vanilla held out his hand towards her.

Golden Cheese took his hand to be pulled from the fountain edge, an amused smile on her face. “Such hospitality, would be a shame for me to turn it down.”

The gentle sound of their steps echoed softly as Pure Vanilla led Golden Cheese down a quieter path that branched from the plaza, the golden hues of dusk warming the stone roads. The inn was tucked between ivy-covered brick buildings, its windows aglow with amber light and the soft scent of baked barley and herbs drifting into the street.

A wooden sign above the door read “The Verdant Cup”, painted with faded green script and floral embellishments. Pure Vanilla held the door for her, and a small chime rang out as they entered.

Inside, it was warm and familiar. The space wasn’t grand, but it was comforting in the way only lived-in places could be. Candles flickered at every table. The long wooden counter was tended by Herb Cookie, sleeves rolled up, a calm smile on his face as he carefully garnished a steaming cup with fresh mint. The young healer was ever gentle, moving with slow purpose as he served a few guests gathered at the far end of the inn.

A soft melody drifted in from the front corner of the room, where Clover Cookie sat near the windows, strumming his lute. His songs were quiet tonight, absent of words, just meandering notes that filled the room like spring breeze. His eyes caught Pure Vanilla’s, and he gave a friendly, knowing nod without missing a beat of his song.

Golden Cheese took in the scene, arching a brow with amusement. “You always did like the quiet places.”

“They have a way of revealing what loud places hide,” Pure Vanilla said softly, his eyes already wandering toward the long table near the hearth.

They took a seat there, the bench creaking faintly beneath the weight of old conversations and new ones waiting to unfold. Golden Cheese accepted a cup of brewed flower tea from Herb Cookie with a grin of thanks. He offered one to Pure Vanilla as well before returning to his work.

For a time, they simply listened to Clover play—his music weaving through the inn like a gentle thread. It wasn’t until halfway through their drinks that Golden Cheese finally spoke again.

“You’ve always been a little quiet when something’s on your mind,” she said, glancing sidelong at him.

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer at first, simply watching the soft rise of steam from his cup. His hands were steady. His eyes, less so.

“My counterpart,” he murmured.

Golden Cheese raised a brow. “The dark one?”

He nodded slowly. “Shadow Milk.”

A pause.

Golden Cheese leaned forward slightly, propping her chin on one hand, her expression neither mocking nor surprised—only patient.

“You care about him.”

“I do,” he said, not flinching.

Clover’s music shifted subtly—still gentle, but slower now, more pensive.

Pure Vanilla’s voice dropped a little. “He is… difficult. His presence is heavy, like a shadow that’s too large to fit in the world around it. But he is not cruel. Not truly. Not anymore.”

Golden Cheese didn’t speak for a while. Then, simply, “He’s still angry though, isn’t he?”

The silence between them settled again, not uncomfortable, but weighty.

Pure Vanilla sighed, gaze falling to his hands.

“Yes.”

Golden Cheese sipped from her cup, her golden eyes watching Pure Vanilla over the rim. The quiet of the inn lingered around them—Clover’s gentle lute playing, the faint clinking of dishes as Herb moved behind the counter. Yet, despite the calm, there was a tension in Pure Vanilla’s posture—an invisible thread pulled taut between his heart and something far away.

Or someone.

“You speak like he’s still with you,” Golden Cheese remarked, voice casual but edged with curiosity. “Even when he’s not.”

Pure Vanilla paused, his thumb gently circling the rim of his untouched cup. “He is,” he said, soft and distant. “In many ways.”

Golden Cheese tilted her head. “You’ve grown close?”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes flicked to hers for a brief second, then drifted away again.

“It’s difficult to explain,” he murmured. “There’s a… link between us. A closeness that doesn’t quite fade, no matter the distance.” His fingers curled slightly, resting lightly against his chest where his soul jam lay beneath his robes. “It’s more than emotion. Something deeper. Older.”

Golden Cheese smiled a little, misinterpreting the weight behind his words. “You always were the poetic type. Sounds like you’re just entangled in his mess.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t correct her.

He couldn’t, not when the truth was so much heavier. Not when the ache in his chest never truly left unless Shadow Milk was near. Not when the bond they shared went beyond mere closeness. Not when his soul had reshaped itself around another’s.

“He’s, complicated,” Pure Vanilla said instead. “He carries so much within him. Too much. I think it’s easier for him to lash out than it is to open up.”

Golden Cheese chuckled under her breath. “Sounds like most Cookies I know.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile was faint, but genuine.

“I only wish I could do more for him. I feel as though I’m always chasing something just out of reach,” he confessed quietly, his voice barely above the melody of Clover’s playing.

Golden Cheese leaned back, arms crossing.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be reached,” she said.

“…Maybe,” Pure Vanilla replied.

But he didn’t believe that. Not really.

Because he still remembered the way Shadow Milk collapsed into his arms. The way his soul jam had hummed when they drew near. The way even silence between them had spoken volumes.

No, Pure Vanilla knew, Shadow Milk wanted to be found.

He was just too afraid of being seen.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re brooding.”

“I’m thinking,” he corrected gently, hands folded around his cup.

“That’s just brooding with better posture,” she said, smirking.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stared into the cup, not drinking, just listening to the sounds of the inn, the soft hum of Clover’s lute, Herb humming quietly as he wiped down glasses behind the bar.

“I’ve been… wondering lately,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “How one knows when a bond, no matter how meaningful, is still healthy. When it’s right to stay close… and when it’s kinder to take a step back.”

Golden Cheese blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness of the question. She leaned in, setting her drink down.

“Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

He didn’t confirm or deny it. “There’s a history,” he said simply. “One that’s deeply rooted. And despite all we’ve been through, I still find myself trying to protect, even when it hurts.”

Golden Cheese squinted. “Hurts, how?”

Pure Vanilla hesitated. Then, with quiet honesty: “Not because he means to hurt me. But because I lose parts of myself, sometimes, trying to reach him. Trying to be everything he needs.”

Golden Cheese was silent for a beat. Then she exhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair.

“You care about him. A lot, sounds like. But you’re also scared you’re crossing the line between support and sacrifice.”

He glanced at her, surprised by her insight.

“I may not be the heart-healing type,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “but I’ve seen enough companionships go sideways to know one thing, if you lose yourself trying to save someone else, neither of you ends up whole.”

Pure Vanilla looked down again, his thumb brushing over the rim of his cup.

“I suppose I just don’t want to give up on him. On.. us. Whatever ‘us’ really is.”

Golden Cheese shrugged. “Then don’t. But don’t make yourself smaller just to fit into his shadow. If he really needs you, if there’s something real between you, he’ll learn how to meet you where you are, too.”

For a moment, Pure Vanilla didn’t speak. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Golden Cheese raised her cup in mock salute. “Anytime, your holiness.”

He smiled at that, genuine this time, though the ache in his chest remained, a quiet thing, dulled for now by the comfort of being heard.

Golden Cheese swirled her cup again, then shot him a sideways glance. “You know, for someone who used to write poetry about sunrises and dew drops, you’ve gotten awfully broody.”

Pure Vanilla gave a soft laugh, the sound like a breeze through glass leaves. “I still write those things… just with a little more restraint.”

She snorted. “You say that, but I still remember that line about moonlight ‘draping the mountains in a cloak of silver longing.’ You made half the palace swoon and the other half gag.”

“I was younger then,” he said with a shake of his head, the smile now fully blooming on his face. “And more prone to..  romantic dramatics.”

Golden Cheese leaned forward, grinning. “Come on, don’t pretend you don’t miss being chased around by a dozen admiring Cookies with love letters and flowers.”

He gave her a look of patient amusement. “It was twenty-two. I counted.”

She barked a laugh. “And you say I’m vain.”

“Hard to be vain when you spend most of your time trying to disappear into your own robes.”

Golden Cheese waved her hand. “No one believes that act. You still glow every time someone compliments your tea blends.”

“That’s just good manners.”

She raised a brow. “It’s preening. Subtle preening.”

Pure Vanilla shook his head, chuckling, and for the first time that evening, the weight behind his eyes eased a little. It wasn’t gone, but softened, like frost under morning sun.

Golden Cheese took another sip, letting the mood settle.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you might not have all the answers yet. But I think you’re doing fine.”

He looked at her, warm and grateful.

“You’re kinder than you let on.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said with a wink. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled, watching as Golden Cheese talked with the other cookies around. Her natural talkative and sassy exterior drawing in cookies to her alike, listening intently to her rambling on stories.

Though, Pure Vanilla wasn’t entirely paying attention now. He glanced out a nearby window, catching not even a sliver of that orange light. A sign it was now nightfall—He had overstayed past the time he told me himself he was going to stay.

Oh goodness.

Quickly, he turned to Golden Cheese, hurriedly explaining the time and how he had to depart, the cookie seeming to wave him away as she was caught in many conversations. Still, he was able to catch a short ‘goodbye’ from her while he got up.

And still, he allowed himself to fondly look at the scene before him, how easily she interacted with cookies in the inn. Even Herb Cookie had stopped to ask her a few questions.

It reminded him of older days, long forgotten and lost to time.

Oh, right. He has to go.

Pure Vanilla turned away from the scene with a smile, waving goodbye to Clover Cookie as he passed by towards the exit. He sighed at the quietness of the outside, less cookies roaming the streets at this hour.

He might get an earful from this.

Something that Pure Vanilla noticed was that he wasn’t as sluggish and worn as he was last time he had been separated from Shadow Milk. The aching that he was familiar with in his soul jam something that very much still existed—yet it was duller, more bearable to the point he was just able to continue on with his activities.

 And Pure Vanilla found it fascinating, being interested in why the difference had occurred.

He pushed on, walking slowly down the path that led to his castle. He was still tired, but less so. The sounds of the inn faded in the distance behind him, remnants of meeting up with Golden Cheese still present clearly in his mind where they’ll stay.

Pure Vanilla walked up the steps into the castle, the moonlight shining onto him like she was quietly scolding him. 

He knows, he didn’t mean to stay out as late as he did. 

He did make a promise.

Pure Vanilla was slow to walk towards the room, the room he knew Shadow Milk was in right now, he could feel it. And Shadow Milk didn’t seem all that happy.

His pace wasn’t slow because he didn’t want to see the other, but more so gathering what to say.

The door opened easily under his light touch, pushing it open to look inside. His gaze found the bed—which was empty—which then found the open door of the bathroom, which was also empty.

His eyes scanned the whole room, nudging the door closed with his foot as it clicked shut. He then assumed that Shadow Milk wasn’t in the room, which he found himself being really disappointed at. The jester had been waiting for him, he knew.

Pure Vanilla sat his staff down for it to lean against the wall. 

..

That didn’t make sense though.

He turned back around to look around the room, it was empty but Shadow Milk was definitely in here, the soul bond they have is never wrong when it comes to them.

So then where is he—

Oh. 

How could he miss that?

Pure Vanilla looked at the balcony, the curtains flowing from the wind blowing through the open balcony. The pull of the soul jam finally tugging him in that direction towards where Shadow Milk was, and for the first time that day, he did give in to it.

He wasn’t ashamed to say he did feel relief at finally getting to at last, but he let himself after a bit of self discipline.

Taking a small step forward, the words of Golden Cheese echoed in his mind earlier, never forgetting her words of advice that she offered. She was very much right.

He approached the balcony, pushing the curtains aside. He didn’t need to open the door to the balcony as it was already open.

Shadow Milk stood there, arms crossed, his form framed by moonlight. He didn’t turn when Pure Vanilla stepped in. Didn’t speak.

Pure Vanilla’s heart tugged.

He stopped in the doorway for a moment, taking in the view—Shadow Milk’s silhouette outlined against the sky, hair shifting slightly in the breeze, still and waiting.

Not waiting.

That’s what he’d say.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla said softly as he stepped out onto the balcony.

Shadow Milk’s posture tensed just slightly, but he didn’t move. “You said you’d be back before nightfall.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know,” Pure Vanilla said again, his voice quieter this time. He stepped to the railing beside him, not too close, but not far either. Just enough to be near.

The night air was cool, touched with the faint scent of pine and something sweet from the garden below.

“I lost track of time.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes flicked toward him, brief but sharp. “You don’t lose track of things. You’re the one who keeps everything on schedule. You’re always on time.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward on the railing, looking out at the trees far out below, their leaves swaying under the moonlight.

“I wasn’t trying to break my word,” he said. “I stayed a little longer than I meant to. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“I wasn’t waiting,” Shadow Milk muttered, looking away again.

Pure Vanilla didn’t argue. He didn’t smile either, not this time. His expression was gentle, open, but honest.

“I would’ve come back sooner if I realized how late it was,” he said. “I should’ve known it would bother you.”

There was silence. Not angry. Just quiet.

“I don’t need you to stay glued to my side,” Shadow Milk said eventually, voice low. “I just don’t like it when you say something and then you don’t do it. It, throws things off.”

“I understand,” Pure Vanilla said, turning slightly toward him. “You like knowing what to expect.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer, but he didn’t deny it either.

The breeze passed between them. A strand of Pure Vanilla’s hair shifted over his shoulder, and without thinking, he tucked it back behind his ear, fingers brushing the side of his face.

Shadow Milk glanced at him again, something flickering in his expression—too brief to name.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “Your time matters too.”

A pause. Then, barely audible—

“I didn’t say I was upset.”

“I know,” Pure Vanilla replied. “You didn’t have to.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Not brittle. Just, full.

Pure Vanilla stood beside him, watching the trees. He didn’t speak again right away. He didn’t press or try to explain further. He was just there—close, steady, and present.

And after a while, Shadow Milk didn’t move away.

Pure Vanilla held the railing tightly, leaning against it just like Shadow Milk was. Their sides very faintly almost touching, that distance that Pure Vanilla didn’t want to close, not yet.

“..How was your time with your little comrade?” Shadow Milk broke the silence, his blunt question still counting at progress in Pure Vanilla’s eyes.

“It was nice to see her well, the people of the kingdom took nicely to her again.” He looked up at the moon, his eyes falling shut as he reminisced. “She’s visited many times in the past, she’s nice company.”

“Hm.” Shadow Milk hummed, leaning further against the railing, his head in his palm.

“I thought about you also.”

“Not enough for you to come back earlier, hm?” Shadow Milk hummed again, his tone neutral, yet Pure Vanilla knew how he really felt through their connection. 

“I didn’t mean to be late,” Pure Vanilla added, calm and light. “Golden Cheese has a way of stretching a short talk into a full-length conversation.”

“She always talks too much,” Shadow Milk muttered.

That earned a soft chuckle. “She means well. I just should’ve kept track of the time.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer.

Pure Vanilla let the quiet settle again, then said, gently, “I know I said I’d be back before nightfall.”

“You weren’t,” Shadow Milk said simply.

“I wasn’t,” Pure Vanilla agreed. “But I did come back.”

“You were late.”

“I was.”

“You said you wouldn’t be.”

“I did.”

Shadow Milk finally glanced at him, frowning. “Are you just going to agree with everything I say?”

Pure Vanilla smiled, small and sincere. “Only when you’re right.”

That drew a short huff from Shadow Milk, quiet but not angry. He looked away again, but the stiffness in his shoulders eased just slightly.

Pure Vanilla let the breeze speak for a moment before adding, “You didn’t have to wait out here.”

“I didn’t.”

Pure Vanilla nodded. “Ah, right. You just happened to be standing exactly where I’d find you. For a few hours.”

Shadow Milk scowled at the sky, but didn’t refute it.

A pause.

Pure Vanilla tilted his head toward him, voice soft again. “I’m sorry I made you wait. I really do want to be the kind of cookie you can rely on.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer.

Pure Vanilla finally pressed against him, scooting just a bit so that his side was touching Shadow Milk’s. Their hands that were resting over the railing just touched, only slightly.

“It’s late, I know you have already said you don’t need sleep to go on, but I’d like to escape the gradually getting colder breeze.” Pure Vanilla stated finally, his eyes locked on the closeness of their hands. Their knuckles almost touching.

“Already demanding things? Now that’s something that’s kingly of you.” Shadow Milk still didn’t look at him. “Your highness.”

Pure Vanilla shakes his head. “Not a demand,” He corrected. “A suggestion.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Pure Vanilla frowned, his patience still never wavering. He would admit, he did feel guilty, rightfully so.

He did make a promise, even if it had been quite small.

Not small to Shadow Milk—that much was clear.

“I know you are mad—“

“I’m not mad.” Shadow Milk scoffed.

“—And, that’s reasonable.” Pure Vanilla tapped his soul jam lightly, a hint that Shadow Milk’s emotions can’t truly be hidden, even if he wanted to.

Shadow Milk closed his eyes, all of them. “Splendid for you to come to that conclusion, want a pat on the back.”

Pure Vanilla laughed softly despite Shadow Milk’s tone of voice. “Perhaps not, but I do desire your company.” 

“You had an odd way of showing it.”

“Would you like proof?”

Shadow Milk swiftly turned in the opposite direction of Pure Vanilla, the slight blush adorning his face something that Pure Vanilla only slightly got a glimpse of.

“You’re so stupid.” Shadow Milk muttered.

Pure Vanilla leaned up from the railing. “Yes, sometimes.” 

The breeze drifted between them, cooler now as night settled fully around the castle. The silence had softened, no longer edged with frustration, just quiet, lingering.

Pure Vanilla turned his head slightly, his voice low as he finally broke the silence yet again. “How may I make it up to you?”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond right away. His eyes were fixed ahead, his expression unreadable in the silver light.

“You don’t need to,” he said eventually, almost too quiet.

“I know I don’t need to,” Pure Vanilla replied gently. “But I want to.”

Shadow Milk’s fingers twitched at his sides, a small movement. “It was just a few hours. It’s not important.”

Pure Vanilla watched him. “Then why did you wait?”

That earned a glance—sharp, almost defensive—but Shadow Milk looked away again just as quickly.

Pure Vanilla didn’t press. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “I don’t like leaving you waiting. Especially not when you expected me back.”

He waited a beat, then leaned just a little closer, his tone lighter but still sincere. “So, tell me. What would make it better? Anything, within reason,” he added with a quiet smile. “I’m at your mercy.”

Shadow Milk gave a soft scoff, but it lacked bite. “You’re not as clever as you think.”

“True,” Pure Vanilla agreed, unbothered. “But I’m very good at following instructions, so tell me Shadow Milk, how may I make it up to you tonight?” His voice was low, telling.

There was a pause. Long enough that the moment could’ve passed.

But then—quietly, without looking at him—Shadow Milk muttered, “You could’ve just said you missed me.”

Pure Vanilla blinked, the faintest surprise brushing his expression.

Then he smiled.

“I did,” he said softly. “I do.”

Shadow Milk didn’t move. But his voice came again, barely audible.

“…Say it like you mean it.”

So Pure Vanilla did.

Turning toward him, with no hesitation, he murmured, “I missed you.”

That silence after wasn’t tense this time. Just full.

And this time, when Shadow Milk finally looked at him—he didn’t look away.

“Are you willing to come back inside with me now?  it's a bit cold out here, don’t you think?” Pure Vanilla reaches to softly hold the hand of Shadow Milk, hesitant at first before gaining confidence. “Unless, you want to stay out here, but you’d have to forgive me, I don’t do well in the cold.”

Shadow Milk hummed, looking at him in a usual unreadable expression. “I’m aware, you are a cookie naturally made of warmth.”

Bringing Shadow Milk’s hand up closer, resisting a smile when he realized he wasn’t pulling away. Pure Vanilla dropped graciously down to one knee, feeling Shadow Milk’s gaze following him down as he brought the other’s knuckles to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on them. His eyes closed slowly as he spoke.

“I’m not built like a cookie such as yourself, I'm quite weak against cold.” Pure Vanilla opened his eyes half way, however his gaze did not travel up to Shadow Milk’s, not yet. “Apologies, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Shadow Milk huffed. “And I answered a similar one of yours before, I said i’ll think about it.”

“There is only so much time in the night, i’d like to spend it with you comfortably.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond for a moment, a quiet laughter escaping him for a second. “This isn’t very kingly of you to kneel in front of a person such as I.” Shadow Milk then shrugged after a bit, letting his words finally process in his own mind. “I mean, I know I'm magnificent, but this is a bad look for you.”

Pure Vanilla still didn’t glance up at Shadow Milk, though, a smile did creep onto his face. “Yes, It is a good thing I abdicated a while ago.”

A sigh from above him. “Right, that.”

“If you would allow me Shadow Milk Cookie, I’d like to dedicate this night to just you.” Pure Vanilla finally looked up at Shadow Milk, finding the other already staring down at him. A type of expression that Pure Vanilla couldn’t identify, though he knew it was anything but negative. “My apology for making you wait, for tonight, you shall have my full attention.”

“Full attention, hm.” Shadow Milk hummed. “You make a strong argument.”

Pure Vanilla felt Shadow Milk lightly squeeze the hand he was using to hold his. “Consider me intrigued.” Shadow Milk lowly stated.

Shadow Milk stared down at him, his expression unreadable. For a long, still second, the moonlight caught the edges of his face, softening the usual sharpness in his eyes.

Then, just as Pure Vanilla began to rise, Shadow Milk leaned down, their faces suddenly close, his hand still caught in Pure Vanilla’s.

“..You’re lucky I like when cookies beg me for things,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, just shy of teasing. “Otherwise, I might’ve stayed out here all night.”

Pure Vanilla blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift in tone. The words weren’t harsh. No, they carried something silkier—drawled just enough to make his heart skip.

“I wasn’t begging,” Pure Vanilla said softly, but his voice lacked its firmness. His hand still held onto Shadow Milk’s.

Shadow Milk tilted his head, the faintest smirk playing at his lips. “No?” He let his thumb graze Pure Vanilla’s in return. “Then what was that on your knees?”

Pure Vanilla smiled gently, not flustered, just fond. “A promise.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes lingered on him, unreadable again, but there was something else in them now. He pulled their joined hands toward himself, slowly, and pressed his forehead to Pure Vanilla’s for just a second—brief, electric.

“You’re forgiven,” he whispered, breath warm.

Pure Vanilla inhaled, the closeness making his chest tighten. “That easy?”

Shadow Milk’s voice dropped, velvet-smooth. “I never said it was easy.”

Then he stepped back, tugging Pure Vanilla gently toward the open doors.

“Come on,” he said, turning without letting go of his hand. “You owe me time. And you’re going to make good on it.”

Pure Vanilla followed without hesitation, lips parted, heart full—and that thread between them, whatever it was, thrummed like a heartbeat in his palm.

For the moment, he embraced the ache in his chest as it flourished into something better. The pull finally satisfied being close again to its other half. And himself, he was also satisfied. Letting himself see that familiar mix of colors and swirls in his vision the moment they were in super close proximity.

Pure Vanilla let himself take in all the emotions of their soul bond, the thread woven between them finally not overbearing, but giving. It wasn’t a tug or drag, but more like a nudge.

And in just a moment, it felt lighter almost.

Chapter Text

Seeing Shadow Milk interact without any sort of underlying reason was new to Pure Vanilla, he hadn’t really seen him interact with anyone besides himself.

The library was quiet as usual; making it really easy for Pure Vanilla to hear the hush tones of Shadow Milk and Eclair Cookie. The two had really seemed to take a liking to each other, and for good reason.

They were alike, always striving for more to learn. Eclair Cookie mainly being interested in history, who better a friend then a cookie that is history himself?

He sat comfortably in the chair, smiling at the clear display only a bit away from him.

Shadow Milk dramatically and enthusiastically proclaiming details of a long forgotten time, basically a millennia. Eclair Cookie looking up at Shadow Milk cookie sat on the reception counter, stars practically in his eyes at the proclamations. 

And somehow, Pure Vanilla knew Shadow Milk wasn’t lying about the details he was saying. Something in him just knew. And it seems Eclair did too as he listened closely.

So this was probably how Shadow Milk spent his time when he wasn’t with him.

Pure Vanilla found it endearing, how Shadow Milk was able to go out and make a friend with similar interests, someone who isn’t scared of his title as ‘Beast.’

Someone who could understand him.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t help his smile growing, the progress of Shadow Milk finally showing itself.

Both cookies seemed to bounce off each other, Shadow Milk sharing information while at the same time asking Eclair on things he missed while he was sealed. An equal conversation.

While Shadow Milk was talking about details of things that consisted in his past, it wasn’t the exact information Pure Vanilla was looking for. Prompting him to tune out the conversation; he looked down towards the book in his hand as he dragged his hand slowly through the pages.

Though the book was braille, it wasn’t something he needed. His vision was more than capable of seeing the words from this close up, however, he grabbed a random book on the shelf that looked interesting.

But, he wasn’t all that interested in the book either, his mind elsewhere

His mind wandered to his friends, they had arrived already and greeted them all, staying in different parts of the kingdom where they were welcomed with open arms. Their reunions had been warm, even if a bit heavy with old memories. He had welcomed each of them personally.

But not White Lily.

She had not come.

There had been no letter. No word. Just her absence—quiet and distant. Like a silence that chose to stay.

His fingers stilled.

There were things between them—things that had never been fully spoken. And perhaps that was why she hadn’t come. Perhaps it was easier that way. For both of them.

Still, her absence pressed faintly at the edges of his heart.

A book closed gently beside him. Pure Vanilla blinked up from his thoughts.

Shadow Milk had reappeared at his side, Eclair left somewhere behind.

He said nothing at first, just looking down at him with that unreadable expression he always wore when he was thinking more than he let on.

“You’ve been quiet,” Shadow Milk said eventually, voice low.

Pure Vanilla gave a soft, apologetic smile. “Just thinking.”

Shadow Milk raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “About?”

There was a pause. Pure Vanilla’s gaze flicked briefly toward the far windows—toward the horizon, where the towers of the kingdom didn’t quite reach.

“..Old friends,” he said gently.

Shadow Milk didn’t reply right away. His eyes searched Pure Vanilla’s face for a long, quiet moment.

Then, “She’s not here.”

It wasn’t a question.

Pure Vanilla’s smile faded slightly, but he nodded. “No. She isn’t.”

Shadow Milk went quiet again, his fingers fidgeting idly. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” He stated bluntly.

Pure Vanilla closed the book slowly, setting it aside. “Perhaps.”

Shadow Milk shifted in his seat, looking away. “You could’ve just said no.”

“I don’t lie to you,” Pure Vanilla replied simply.

That made Shadow Milk pause.

The tension in his shoulders didn’t vanish, but he stilled.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t cold. It was the kind of quiet where something real hovered just beneath the surface—raw and unsaid, but not unwelcome.

“I don’t regret your presence here,” Pure Vanilla added, voice low. “If she didn’t come because of that, then… I can only trust that she needed space. As I trust in the path we’re on.”

Shadow Milk gave a quiet huff, like he wanted to scoff but didn’t have the energy to do it properly.

“I’m glad she didn’t come here anyway.” Shadow Milk floated briefly in the air. “Her being the new guardian of the tree, means with the right timing and energy she could probably seal me back any time.”

That caught Pure Vanilla’s attention. “She can do that?”

Shadow Milk tilted his head, an unbothered look on his face; something Pure Vanilla knew was simply a mask. “You didn’t know? She is the new guardian after all, there must be some sort of abilities that come with that.” Shadow Milk paused to think for a moment. “At least, that’s what I felt.”

Pure Vanilla looked fully towards Shadow Milk now. “No, I had not known that.”

“Scared for me?” Shadow Milk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting for a short moment as he grinned.

“A bit, yes.”

Shadow Milk sighed, floating slightly away. “How flattering of you.”

Pure Vanilla started to think, a new type of anxiety creeping up through him. 

“Still though,” Shadow Milk started, his voice low and tone unreadable. “I wonder, do you regret it?”

Pure Vanilla looked back towards Shadow Milk, his mind already racing with more thoughts he rather not think about. The silence of the library around them doing nothing to soothe his running thoughts. “Regret what?”

“Taking me back to your kingdom.” Shadow Milk floated to face him, his arms folded across his chest with a blank expression, and yet; his eyes narrowed with something Pure Vanilla could grasp.

And Pure Vanilla looked up to greet those eyes with warmth.

“And why would I ever regret such a thing?” Pure Vanilla stood up from the chair, turning to face where Shadow Milk was hovering. “You are my, companion. My counterpart.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes swiftly, floating down to Pure Vanilla. “Yes, but that caused a drift between you and your precious White Lily Cookie. Did it not?” Shadow Milk’s tone was low and serious, something Pure Vanilla didn’t see often. “Do you not regret it? Regret me?”

Pure Vanilla’s voice remained steady, never wavering under the pressure of the questions as he easily answered.

Pure Vanilla watched him carefully. Shadow Milk’s face was blank, but his eyes—they said more than his tone allowed. There was something behind the question. Something deeper.

“You’ve lost her,” Shadow Milk continued, quieter now. “Or rather—she left, didn’t she? White Lily Cookie.” His eyes narrowed slightly, watching for any flicker of pain. “I’ve seen the way you look when her name comes up. The way you pause when her absence lingers too long.”

Pure Vanilla stood slowly from his seat, turning fully to face him.

“And why would I ever regret such a thing?” he asked softly. “You are my companion. My counterpart.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes at the word, but didn’t look away. “She was part of your soul once, wasn’t she? You chose me.. and she hasn’t come back.”

Pure Vanilla was silent, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“I didn’t choose you instead of her,” he said. “I chose not to abandon someone just because they were misunderstood. Or feared. That was never what our ideals stood for. Not mine. Not hers.”

“But she’s not here.”

The words were quiet, almost too quiet.

“No,” Pure Vanilla admitted, and for the first time his voice trembled just faintly. “She isn’t.”

Shadow Milk hovered a bit closer, still unreadable, still somehow guarded even now. “So.. do you regret me?”

Pure Vanilla looked up to meet his gaze. No mask. No hesitation.

“No,” he said. “Even if she never forgives me.. I would still make the same choice.”

A silence followed, heavy as stone.

Shadow Milk didn’t smile. But something in his posture eased—his shoulders dropping just slightly, as if the tight coil within him loosened a fraction.

“..You’re a fool,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” Pure Vanilla replied gently, “but I’d rather be a fool than a coward.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond at first. The library’s stillness pressed in between them—soft, but heavy. He hovered just above the floor, arms crossed, his eyes unreadable in the low light.

Pure Vanilla stepped closer, slow and deliberate.

“I won’t lie,” he said gently. “White Lily and I.. we shared something real. I won’t pretend it didn’t mean the world to me.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze flicked toward him—sharp, narrowed, almost expectant.

“But…” Pure Vanilla continued, voice lowering, “if staying by your side meant letting her go.. then I already have.”

A pause. The silence between them felt different now. Denser.

“I would do it again,” Pure Vanilla added. “If this—” He lifted one hand slightly, as if gesturing to the strange, quiet bond between them. “If you were the price.. then there is no regret.”

Shadow Milk blinked slowly, his expression unreadable.

“You threw away a history with her. Years.”

“I didn’t throw it away,” Pure Vanilla said. “She simply chose to walk a different path. I.. didn’t follow.”

He stepped closer until they stood only a breath apart. “Because I couldn’t leave you.”

The look Shadow Milk gave him was still guarded—but something in it cracked. Like a wall had shifted behind his eyes.

“You sound ridiculous,” he muttered, a little rougher than before.

“Maybe,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “But it’s the truth.”

Shadow Milk was quiet, matching the silence of the library; both of their voices remaining hushed.

“You and her were close, were you not?” Shadow Milk mumbled, his face dark with something unrecognizable. “She is my adversary, my enemy. She is everything I am not, and I will never befriend her.” Shadow Milk got slightly closer to Pure Vanilla, his voice dipping even lower.

“And yet, knowing this, you would still choose to walk with me? Still try to change my ways despite them being written into me since my eyes first opened?”

Pure Vanilla smiled softly. “If it means for my ideals with White Lily to no longer line up, with her leaving my side and departing from me, then I will embrace that fate with open arms.” 

Shadow Milk’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape at the absence of hesitance in his voice.

“It is true I miss the close friendship I had with White Lily, however, our split was unfortunately inevitable.” Pure Vanilla placed a hand on his soul jam, the light humming under his fingers fueling him to go on. “It is indeed a shame, but it cannot be helped.”

“It could be helped, couldn't it?” Shadow Milk looked away from Pure Vanilla, a new emotion sparkling in his now wandering eyes. “You simply giving me up, the beast, they would all trust you again wouldn’t they?”

“You misunderstand, it is only White Lily among my friends who have such a problem with you. For her own right reasons of course, but it is not everyone.” Pure Vanilla was quick to state.

“Isn’t she the one you care about most?”

“..I care about her deeply—”

Shadow Milk started to turn away, his face further hidden at the implication of Pure Vanilla’s words.

“—but she is not the one I care for most.” Pure Vanilla finished.

Shadow Milk swiftly turned back to look at Pure Vanilla, his expression in genuine surprise, a question lingering at the back of his throat.

“I do still care deeply for her, but it is not the same as it once was. Not anymore.”

Pure Vanilla held his gaze, calm and unwavering. He didn’t take back what he said. Didn’t soften it.

“You… don’t mean that,” Shadow Milk said at last, but his voice lacked the usual bite. “You’re only saying that because I’m standing here.”

“I’m saying it,” Pure Vanilla replied gently, “because it’s the truth. Whether you believe it or not, it remains unchanged.”

Pure Vanilla stepped closer, kneeling carefully in front of him so they were eye to eye.

“I didn’t lose her because of you. I lost her because our ideals changed. She… changed. And so did I.”

He reached out, hand hovering in invitation, not command.

“I chose to stay. I chose you. Not because it was easy. Not because it was expected. But because something in me—” he touched his chest again, his soul jam glowing softly against his robes, “—knew I would never turn away. Even if no one understood why.”

Shadow Milk stared at him, unmoving, that question still shimmering just behind his expression. But now.. his fingers inched forward, slowly brushing against Pure Vanilla’s outstretched hand.

“You’re a fool,” he whispered.

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly. “So I’ve been told.”

Shadow Milk’s hand gripped his gently, not tight—but with a kind of quiet desperation.

“..And if she comes back? If she tells you to choose again?”

Pure Vanilla’s voice was steady, quiet. “Then I will.”

Another pause.

“And it won’t be her.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze shined with something else, his breath slightly shaky. Something that was unnoticeable, but Pure Vanilla noticed it, he always did. “And, what would you choose?” Shadow Milk whispered.

Something vulnerable.

Pure Vanilla’s hand tightened gently around his. Not to hold him in place—but to remind him he was there.

“I would choose the one who never asked to be chosen,” he said softly. “The one who tried to make himself easy to hate, rather than risk being wanted.”

Shadow Milk’s lips parted, but no words came.

“I would choose you.” Pure Vanilla’s voice barely rose above a whisper, but it was certain. Steady. “Even if you never believed you deserved it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pulsed with emotion, quiet and thick between them.

Shadow Milk’s fingers curled tighter into Pure Vanilla’s hand, but his gaze dropped. Not from shame—but to steady himself. His breath trembled again, and the shadows clinging to him stilled.

“…You’re a terrible healer,” he murmured, the faintest quiver in his voice betraying the weight of it all. “You let feelings get in the way.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, the kind he only gave when he meant something deeply. “It’s how I know they’re real.”

And in that hush, where nothing more had to be said, Shadow Milk didn’t pull away.

Shadow Milk looked at their touching hands, pulling away as he returned to floating.

“Feeling romantic today hm?”

Pure Vanilla chuckled, bringing his hands back down to his sides. He picked up his forgotten book, bringing it up to the shelf to put it back. “I suppose, if you want to look at it like that.”

He stretched, turning to face Shadow Milk as he took a step back. “I do have to go see Hollyberry however.”

Shadow Milk groaned exasperated. “Haven’t you already greeted them all already?” He waved his hand, rolling in the air once. “Why do you need to talk to any of them again?”

Pure Vanilla looked at him fondly. “Because they are my guests here in the kingdom, it would be rude of me to ignore them on my own grounds, would it not?”

Shadow Milk groaned more deeply at his words again.

“You don’t need to come see her with me, you may stay here with Eclair Cookie if that makes you happier.” Pure Vanilla started, already turning to start walking to the exit of the library. “I will come and see you after should you be here or in the castle.” He paused for a moment. “And—I won’t be late.”

Shadow Milk smirked, floating after him slowly. “Remembering the last time you were late to little ol’ me?” He giggled deviously, his hair spiking up. “Guilty?”

Pure Vanilla looked towards him, a sheepish smile on his face. “Maybe, but it will not happen again.”

The other shrugged, closing his eyes. “Whatever you say ‘Nilla.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, turning back forward to continue walking towards the exit. He waved to Eclair Cookie, pushing open the door to the exit until—

“Wait.” Shadow Milk called after him, his voice softer and more, hesitant than usual.

He turned around, pausing his movements to question Shadow Milk, his eye brow raised slightly.

“I know about our terms but..” Shadow Milk’s voice trailed off, a frown on his face as he avoided Pure Vanilla’s gaze.

Pure Vanilla looked at him patiently. “Go on.” He gently encouraged.

“But, I want to come.” Shadow Milk quickly added on to his words, masking his emotions by putting up a front of being uninterested. “Well, I’ve seen all there mainly is to this library and, I much rather have something new to do.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, holding out his hand towards Shadow Milk once more.

“Sure, you can join me. It’s about time you do meet my friends up clos—“ Pure Vanilla’s words were cut off in surprise as Shadow Milk’s form started to melt into shadows, the many eyes in his hair falling shut as his form changed shape there too.

His words halted as Shadow Milk’s body began to shift.

Darkness lapped at the edges of his silhouette like water spilling across stone, until his form collapsed inward, dissolving into thick coils of shadow. The eerie blue glint of his many eyes faded as they shut, merging into smooth obsidian scales. In his place, a pitch-black snake now rested where he stood—sleek and fluid, his form long and glinting subtly in the light, with two piercing, slit blue eyes blinking up at Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla blinked back in surprise, then let out a breathy laugh. “I take it you’re not in the mood for introductions.”

The shadow-snake let out a low, soft hiss, almost like a scoff, before slithering forward and smoothly coiling around Pure Vanilla’s outstretched arm. His movements were deliberate—tight enough to be felt, but never uncomfortable. Just enough to be grounding. Possessive in the quiet way Shadow Milk always was when he didn’t want to say the truth out loud. “I never did say I wanted to have to interact with her.” Shadow Milk quietly hissed.

“My mistake, I shouldn’t have assumed so.” Pure Vanilla lifted his arm slightly, marveling at the quiet weight of him. “You know they’ll probably notice, yes? Hollyberry might be loud, but she’s sharp.”

The snake’s head turned slightly, tucking itself under Pure Vanilla’s sleeve and resting just above his wrist, as if to say let them try.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, drawing his robes a little tighter to shield his stowaway companion. “Very well,” he whispered, “but don’t blame me if she insists on petting you.”

A low, warning hiss vibrated faintly along his arm.

Smiling quietly to himself, Pure Vanilla stepped from the quiet of the library and into the kingdom, making his way through the crowds of cookie and into a tavern he knew all too well. 

Something and his friends somehow always meet in places that were alive and busy with cookies. With not being able to bring them back to the castle, such locations like inns and taverns had to do as meeting spots for now.

And, the tavern was alive with sound.

Laughter spilled from crowded tables, tankards clinked in celebration, and the smell of spiced cider and roasted sweets filled the air. A bard strummed a jaunty tune in the corner, half-drowned by the hearty cheer of warriors and travelers alike. It was warm, loud, and very much Hollyberry.

Pure Vanilla stepped inside quietly, letting the energy of the room wash over him like a wave. The shift from the stillness of the library to this bubbling, golden chaos was jarring—but not unpleasant.

He spotted her immediately.

Hollyberry Cookie was hard to miss, after all—her bright hair braided back, laughter ringing out like thunder as she slammed down a half-finished mug onto the table. She stood at the heart of the tavern like a sun, already surrounded by a half-dozen Cookies, all equally captivated by her larger-than-life presence.

When she spotted him, she lit up.

“HAH! There you are, you leaf-cloaked ghost!” Hollyberry bellowed, waving him over with a broad grin. “I was about to send out a search party! Sit, sit!”

Pure Vanilla smiled warmly, slipping through the crowd with graceful ease. The subtle shifting weight beneath his cloak reminded him of who still nestled there—and he gave his arm the faintest reassuring pat before sitting down beside her.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said gently. “You’re… well surrounded.”

“Of course I am!” she beamed, throwing an arm around his shoulder without hesitation. “You think I’d travel all this way and not take over the first tavern I found? Please. You’ve been hiding in your castle too long. Tell me everything. Everything!”

Pure Vanilla chuckled under his breath, eyes soft. “Perhaps not everything, just yet.”

The shadow beneath his sleeve shifted slightly, a barely-there press of smooth scales against his wrist.

Hollyberry leaned in, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Hmm? What’s this, you're very hesitant today. Let me guess, don’t tell me you’ve gone and got a secret lover or anything!

Pure Vanilla choked gently on his breath, adjusting his sleeve with practiced calm. “N-no such thing. Merely… a bit of warmth I brought along with me.”

He felt the snake—Shadow Milk—tighten—just a little.

Pure Vanilla’s hand twitched slightly on the table as he tried to focus on Hollyberry’s laughter—but the movement beneath his robes gave him away.

A soft brush of something smooth and cool slid up the inside of his sleeve, then traced along the edge of his collar. Before he could react, a sleek black head with vivid blue slit-pupil eyes peeked out from under his hair, pressing itself delicately against his neck.

Hollyberry paused mid-sip of her drink.

The snake didn’t stop there.

Shadow Milk slithered with quiet purpose, curling lazily around Pure Vanilla’s throat like a scarf of ink, his body loose but clinging in all the ways that made the elder healer’s breath catch just slightly. Then, with no regard for subtlety, the tip of his tail lifted to gently run along Pure Vanilla’s cheek, slow and deliberate. Almost smug.

Pure Vanilla stiffened, posture still perfect but the faintest tinge of pink brushed his ears, the movement was rather ticklish. Something that wouldn’t be felt had Shadow Milk simply remained with staying in his shadow rather then something more physical.

“Ah,” he managed, clearing his throat as naturally as possible, even as a part of him wilted beneath the weight of Hollyberry’s very obvious stare. “It… seems I was followed.”

Hollyberry blinked once. Then her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in, peering at the snake coiled so lovingly around his shoulders.

“Well, well,” she said slowly, a grin curling at the corners of her lips. “Isn’t this little shadowy thing affectionate. Yours?”

The snake blinked, then nestled further into Pure Vanilla’s neck in response—clearly satisfied with the chaos he was causing.

Pure Vanilla’s smile was gentle, though undeniably tight. “In a manner of speaking.”

Hollyberry raised an eyebrow. “You brought a serpent to a tavern?”

“I didn’t intend to,” Pure Vanilla said delicately, lifting a hand to very softly nudge at the tail brushing his cheek—though not to push it away. “But… he insisted.”

The snake’s eyes gleamed, and his coils gave a contented squeeze.

Hollyberry’s grin turned wide, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything more. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and downed the rest of her mug with gusto.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got your secrets. For now.” She smacked the mug down. “But if that creature eats anyone, I’m not paying for the damages.”

“I assure you,” Pure Vanilla said softly, the smile returning to his lips as the snake pressed even closer, “he only bites when threatened.”

The tavern carried on around them, warm and bustling, but for a moment it felt as though the little space they occupied had softened—quiet and delicate in the center of all the noise.

Shadow Milk curled tighter.

And Pure Vanilla let him, starting to slightly regret bringing along Shadow Milk. Just a bit.

Hollyberry let out a hearty sigh, wiping the foam from her lip with the back of her hand. “Well, I’ll say this—your life’s gotten a lot more interesting since I last saw you. You used to get flustered if someone offered you tea too strongly.”

Pure Vanilla laughed softly, the sound a gentle chime under the tavern’s rowdy melody. “Some things change with time… and circumstance.”

The snake gave a small flick of his tongue near Pure Vanilla’s jaw, as if to agree. Pure Vanilla reached up and idly touched his smooth scales, fingers calm and careful. He wasn’t used to having company like this. Not in places like this.

Hollyberry eyed him for a moment, then tilted her head, voice lowering only slightly. “You seem more grounded now. Still a little too gentle for your own good, but… stronger. I can see it.”

Pure Vanilla looked surprised at that, but he smiled nonetheless, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Thank you… I think I’m trying to be. For their sake.”

Hollyberry leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, still watching him with that curious warmth. “And how are they doing?”

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to answer—but because he wasn’t sure how to answer. Shadow Milk’s form remained still around him, a soft weight at his collar, but Pure Vanilla could feel the faint shift of breath against his neck. Listening.

“He’s… learning,” Pure Vanilla said at last, and his voice was kind. “It’s not always easy. But he’s trying. And I think he’s doing well.”

Hollyberry didn’t press further. She reached for her next drink instead, content with that. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ve always seen the best in others, even when no one else could.”

She raised her mug toward him.

“Just don’t lose yourself in the process.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes softened. He reached for his own cup—barely touched—lifting it politely in return.

“I’ll try not to,” he said. “He wouldn’t let me, anyway.”

And the shadow on his shoulder shifted, quietly pleased.

The tavern glowed with lantern light and laughter, the air tinged with honeyed cider and roasted berries. Pure Vanilla sat across from Hollyberry Cookie, his cup warm in his hands, the weight of Shadow Milk’s coiled form still resting on his shoulders like a scarf of silk and shadow.

“So.” Hollyberry set down her drink with a hearty clack. “These ‘beasts’ I’ve been hearing more about—what’s your take on them, Pure Vanilla?”

Pure Vanilla lifted his eyes, already tensing slightly. “They’re not as they appear. Many are… misunderstood.”

Hollyberry snorted. “Misunderstood? Eternal Sugar Cookie, now there’s one I wouldn’t trust for a second. Creepy, that one. Never speaks unless she’s sure it’ll make the ground shake.”

“She’s…” He tried to choose his words carefully. “Measured. Reserved. But I don’t believe she’s cruel.”

“Maybe not,” Hollyberry allowed. “But that kind of power—power that comes from some ancient force older than we can name? That’s not something a Cookie should wield alone. And you know what bothers me more?”

She leaned forward.

“They hide. All of them. Cloaked in riddles, secrets, shadow. Like they’re above us. And when they do show up, it’s like the wind itself bows.”

Pure Vanilla’s throat tightened.

He felt it then—the sudden stillness. The air around his collar turned cold as Shadow Milk’s form, once subtly moving with each breath, froze completely.

“Even if they don’t mean harm, I don’t see how they belong among us,” Hollyberry continued, her voice firm, not cruel, but resolute. “They’re not like us. Not anymore.”

“Hollyberry,” Pure Vanilla said quickly, trying to keep his voice level. “They—”

But she kept going.

“I mean, what kind of life do they even live? Drifting through the skies or hiding in corners of the world like ghosts. Eternal Sugar Cookie’s been around longer than some kingdoms. You can’t tell me she remembers what it’s like to be one of us.”

There was a shift—so subtle most wouldn’t notice. But Pure Vanilla felt it.

Shadow Milk’s weight disappeared, the coolness around his neck vanishing like a wisp of smoke. He looked down quickly, then to the shadow cast under the table.

Empty.

The snake that a moment ago was coiled nicely and partially hidden in his neck now gone in a blink, Shadow Milk having silently sank into the shadows below and wherever he may be.

He didn’t say a word as he slowly set down his cup.

He straightened subtly, smile steady. “Thank you for the company, Hollyberry. I think I’ll get some air.”

She blinked. “Leaving already?”

“Just for a while,” he said, rising from his seat. “The night is clearer than I expected.”

He stepped through the door without another word, the warmth of the tavern giving way to the quiet hush of the outside. The breeze touched his robes gently. No shadow greeted him when he looked to the corner of the stone path.

He didn’t call out.

Didn’t chase.

Only pressed a hand softly to his chest, where his soul jam stirred with something quiet and aching.

Looking around; much of the day had already passed. The sky reflected with the late evening sky so quickly, it would just be a few moments before it blackened completely to be filled and replaced with stars.

And still, even the pretty sight did not calm him in the moment.

He clutched at his soul jam, the emotions spilling through from their connection bouncing back into his own as they mixed.

Distress, anger, sadness.

All of them were made known to him.

And all of them had a trail to follow, something that was not exactly visible, yet something Pure Vanilla could sense.

And so, he followed it.

Through the dark alleys of the kingdom, down quiet paths; and behind taller buildings, he followed it. Interestingly enough it did not lead back to the castle, but rather away further from it.

The time he had spent following the trail was enough as the sky was now blackened.

More so, he realized it led to a clearing, far from the main areas leading toward the kingdom

He recognized it as the clearing he had been in with Lady Celestine Cookie. Pure Vanilla found this interesting, but hastily brushed it off upon seeing the figure sitting in the moonlight—his soul jam pulsed in recognition of Shadow Milk Cookie.

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla’s voice called softly, the only noise being the critters of the night. 

Shadow Milk had shifted back into his normal form, his back being turned away from Pure Vanilla; his head turned down with his expression being hidden.

He wasn’t able to keep his emotions hidden however, Pure Vanilla knew. He always knew.

Pure Vanilla was slow in his movements to walk towards Shadow Milk, keeping a considerable distance from Shadow but never moving away.

Shadow Milk was there, hunched slightly forward with his arms resting on his knees, his head low. The shadows around him clung close, pooling at his feet like ink. He didn’t look up when Pure Vanilla approached. He didn’t need to.

“I didn’t tell her you were there,” Pure Vanilla said softly, standing a few paces behind him. “I didn’t want you to hear that. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

A breeze passed between them.

Shadow Milk’s voice came barely above a whisper. “Go away.”

Pure Vanilla exhaled slowly, but didn’t move. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I don’t want you to be here right now.” His tone was quiet. Not angry—just tired. Empty. “I don’t want to hear you say something gentle to smooth it all over. Not this time.”

His fingers curled slightly, digging into the earth beside him. Still, he wouldn’t look up.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened, the ache behind his ribs quiet and steady. “Then I won’t say anything,” he said, just as softly. “But I’ll stay.. for a little while.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer.

So Pure Vanilla sat down in the grass a small distance away, his hands folded in his lap. Not close enough to crowd him. Not far enough to be gone.

He just sat, letting the silence stretch between them, unbroken.

The silence stretched, long and quiet—until Shadow Milk broke it.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, voice low and sharp as a blade dulled by use. “You should be afraid of me.”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze lifted gently toward him, calm and unwavering.

“I’ve done terrible things,” Shadow Milk went on, his voice rising just slightly, like the tremble of a wind before a storm. “I hurt your kingdom. I hurt you. I am not someone you should sit beside like this.”

He finally looked up, his eyes catching the moonlight—bright and bitter, filled with something wounded. “I’m not a Cookie anymore. I’m something else. Something worse.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back.

“You say that like I don’t already know,” he said softly.

That seemed to stop Shadow Milk for a second. He stared at Pure Vanilla, jaw tight, breath shallow. The shadows pulsed faintly under his skin.

“You should be scared,” he hissed. “You should want nothing to do with me.”

“I am scared,” Pure Vanilla replied, his voice still warm, still steady. “But not of you.”

He placed a hand over his chest, over the soft pulse of his soul jam beneath his robes.

“I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of what it would mean if I let you believe you’re nothing but the darkness you carry.”

Shadow Milk looked away, his mouth set in a hard line, his expression unreadable.

“You are not the sum of your worst moments,” Pure Vanilla whispered. “No matter how much you believe that’s all that’s left of you.”

For a long moment, the clearing was quiet again. The wind stirred the grass, and the moonlight shifted.

Shadow Milk said nothing, but his shoulders had lowered slightly, just barely. His hands had stopped shaking.

“You’re not listening to me,” Shadow Milk snapped, pushing himself to his feet in a sudden movement that stirred the shadows around him like smoke. “I’ve hurt people. I’ve destroyed cities. I’ve corrupted lands that will never heal again.”

His voice cracked in the stillness of the clearing, slicing through it like a knife. “And you’re standing there—acting like none of that matters just because I curl around your hand or let you read stories to me.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t flinch. His hands were folded gently in front of him, his expression unreadable but kind. “It does matter. It all matters,” he said softly.

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Shadow Milk growled, taking a step closer, shadows clawing out at the earth like tendrils. “Why do you look at me like I’m—still worth something?”

“Because you are,” Pure Vanilla said, calm and certain.

Shadow Milk’s fists clenched at his sides. “You think your faith can wash it all away? Is that what this is? You pity me?”

“No.” Pure Vanilla’s answer came without hesitation. “This is not pity. This is.. knowing. I’ve seen the worst of you, and I stayed.”

“That’s the problem!” Shadow Milk shouted, voice echoing across the clearing. “You shouldn’t have! You shouldn’t have let someone like me into your kingdom, into your life, into you.”

His voice cracked again, not with rage now, but with something more desperate, something almost like pain.

But Pure Vanilla remained unmoved. He took a small, careful step forward, though still left space between them. His voice was quiet, but every word was clear.

“You are not a mistake. You are not a burden. You are not a curse I regret carrying.”

Shadow Milk’s jaw tensed. His breathing was uneven now, chest rising and falling with each word left unsaid.

“I’m not leaving,” Pure Vanilla said gently. “Not until you know that.”

And though Shadow Milk turned away, hands trembling, shadows curling tighter, he didn’t scream again. Didn’t vanish.

He stood there, breathing heavily.

Something seemed to snap in the air.

“You don’t get it,” Shadow Milk hissed, his voice trembling with frustration as he turned fully toward Pure Vanilla. “You never get it!”

The air grew heavier as his shadows deepened, spilling across the ground in a slow, creeping wave. His figure shuddered—twisting, contorting—until it gave way completely. Darkness consumed him, unraveling his form into a massive serpent, obsidian-black scales shimmering with an unnatural sheen under the moonlight. His long body curled and coiled around the edges of the clearing, his blue slit eyes glowing from the shadows like twin stars, piercing and cold.

His voice echoed now, deeper, rougher—laced with something ancient and hurt. “Look at me! LOOK AT ME! This is what I am! This—beast. THIS THING! Do you still want to stand there and speak softly to THIS?”

Pure Vanilla had frozen for only a second when the transformation began, but his gaze remained unwavering, fixed on the glowing blue eyes. His heart beat louder in his chest, yes—but not out of fear.

“I see you,” he said quietly, stepping forward even as the serpent’s massive body shifted with tension around him. “And I do not fear you.”

Shadow Milk’s tail slammed against the earth behind him, leaving a jagged mark in the soil. “Why not?!” he roared, voice vibrating through the clearing. “You’re a fool if you think you can tame something like me! You think your soft words and quiet presence can fix what I’ve done? You think they’ll protect you?”

Pure Vanilla placed a hand over his chest, where his soul jam glowed softly beneath his robes. “I’m not here to fix you,” he said gently. “And I do not need protection from you.”

He took another step forward. The ground beneath him cracked faintly from the weight of the serpent’s presence.

“I’m here because I chose to be. Not in spite of who you are, but with all of who you are.”

The glowing eyes narrowed, breath hissing out between Shadow Milk’s fangs. The energy around him coiled, dense and wild.

But Pure Vanilla’s next words cut through it like a thread of light:

“I am not afraid of what you become when you’re angry. Because I’ve seen what you become when you’re not.”

There was a tremor in the air, something heavy, held back, straining at the edge of Shadow Milk’s chest.

But he didn’t speak.

He only stared, breathing sharp and uneven, coils twitching in hesitation.

And still—Pure Vanilla didn’t look away.

Shadow Milk only stared down at the small form of Pure Vanilla in comparison to his own, his heavy breathing able to be heated even in the new serpent snake form he had shifted into.

And yet, Pure Vanilla could sense it. Underneath all the anger and hatred was that same lingering sadness Pure Vanilla had sensed even back at the time when he was at the spire.

“Shadow Milk, listen to me.” Pure Vanilla took a few steps forward, bringing his hands slightly up. “I desire your company not because I pity you, but because I simply want to be close to you.”

Pure Vanilla looked up at the huge form of Shadow Milk, the serpent scales reflecting the moonlight as he blankly stared down at Pure Vanilla. 

“No matter what words you may hear; consider my words above them all. For it is my choice to be by your side.”

Shadow Milk was silent, only the quiet hissing from above able to be heard.

The clearing was quiet, save for the distant hush of wind through the trees and the occasional flutter of leaves. The sky above was a canvas of deep night blues, faintly lit by stars, their pale light casting a silver sheen over the dark coils that lay still in the grass.

Shadow Milk was massive in this form, a great obsidian serpent with scales that shimmered faintly with shadow. His coils lay wound tightly in the clearing, tension clear in the way his muscles curled. His head was lowered close to the ground, but his eyes—those slit, glowing eyes—remained fixed on Pure Vanilla.

And still, Pure Vanilla stood there, a short distance away. Unmoving. Unshaken.

The wind pulled gently at the edges of his robes as he stepped forward—slow, deliberate steps. No caution, no fear, only care. He approached until he was near enough to be bathed in the cold presence of the serpent’s breath. The air was heavier here, thick with barely restrained emotion, with something coiled not just in Shadow Milk’s body, but within his soul.

Pure Vanilla looked up into those eyes and saw the rage, the hurt, the echoing self-loathing struggling beneath them.

He did not speak at first. Instead, he lifted his hands with reverence and placed them gently on the top of Shadow Milk’s lowered head. His fingers sank into the chill of smooth scales. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead to that same space—his own warmth pressing into the cold stillness of Shadow Milk’s form.

“I’m not leaving,” he whispered into the silence. “Not when you’re like this.”

Shadow Milk didn’t move, but the tension in his body shifted subtly. A twitch. A breath. A blink too slow to be careless.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, letting the hush between them stretch, letting his presence speak what words could not.

“You can shift into whatever shape you want,” he murmured, his voice barely above the wind. “But none of them will ever scare me.”

“You will always be a fool.” Shadow Milk whispered, voice low and cold against the night air, but his breath hitched—so quietly it almost went unnoticed.

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly, still resting his head against the serpent’s. “Maybe,” he murmured, his tone laced with that soft, stubborn warmth he always carried, “but for you, let us both jest then.”

A long silence passed. The wind moved through the clearing again, rustling the trees gently, but the space between them stayed still. Shadow Milk didn’t pull away. Didn’t speak. His coils remained tightly bound, but the part of him beneath Pure Vanilla’s touch softened, if only slightly.

“You come to me like this,” Pure Vanilla continued, voice quiet but steady, “so sure I’ll turn away when I see your teeth. But I know you, even when you hide.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes narrowed, but there was no venom in them—only something unreadable, flickering between disbelief and something far more fragile.

”You were always a creature of violent nature, and still, I never blamed any of that on you.” Pure Vanilla whispered, closing his eyes to bow his head on the massive serpent snout of Shadow Milk. “Look at how you were made, the way you were raised, no one would come out normal after that.”

”Nobody would.” Pure Vanilla continued to whisper against his scales as he repeated. “Nobody.”

“Then maybe you don’t know me well enough,” he muttered, his voice finally hushing lower.

Pure Vanilla’s fingers brushed gently along the dark scales. “Or maybe I’ve simply chosen to see the parts no one else will.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away, either.

Pure Vanilla slowly ran his hand across the serpent muzzle of Shadow Milk, caressing the scales gently. He jolted slightly as he felt a huff of hair in his face through Shadow Milk’s nostrils, chuckling briefly.

“Shall we go back to the castle now? The moon is already present in the sky.” Pure Vanilla looked up.

Shadow Milk stared at him before shadows enveloped him once more, shifting back normally as Pure Vanilla caught him briefly in his arms.

“I suppose, I’m tired anyway.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow, looking down at Shadow Milk hunched over in his arms. “I thought you said you didn’t need sleep?”

He pushed out of his arms, swiping at the air before the portal ripped through the space. “Normally I don’t, transformations aren’t something that is necessarily easy and priceless, at least for this body.” 

They both walked through the portal into the room, Shadow Milk promptly flopping down on the bed facing away from Pure Vanilla as he sat neatly on the edge.

Truthfully speaking—he wasn’t tired. Too much was on his mind for him to tired, though they weren’t all bad.

He looked over to face Shadow Milk, his form already appearing to be sleeping with the eyes in his hair almost all the way closed, a good sign.

The moonlight still shined brightly upon them both, and all Pure Vanilla could do was admire, admire deeply.

For a cookie to have so many forms, and for Pure Vanilla to admire them all. 

His soul jam hummed to life, pulsing heavily against his chest.

..Maybe he was pushing it, he should tone it down.

Shaking off the outer layers of his robe, he shuffled into bed, making sure to keep a gap between him and Shadow Milk.

He still could sense the underlying anger more within Shadow Milk through their bond, something he knew the jester pushed down often.

“I know you aren’t asleep.” Pure Vanilla mumbled, almost reaching out to smooth through Shadow Milk’s hair. He stopped himself at the last moment.

Shadow Milk remained blunt. “I’m tired, leave me be.”

“I’m curious.”

“Be curious somewhere else.”

He chuckled. “Understood, rest well.”

..

.

“What is your question.” Shadow Milk turned to look over, his eyes half lidded and indeed ridden with sleep.

“..How many forms do you have? Is the one i’m looking at your real one?” Pure Vanilla sat up, resting against the headboard.

Shadow Milk also sat up. “Technically, this form is a vessel, so, no? I believe?”

He stretched slightly, leaning forward slightly in a hunch. “To answer your other question, I can have as many forms as I desire. Though I guess if you’re talking about officially, then I would say two. The snake and the fox.

Pure Vanilla perked up at that, he had only really seen one so far. “And they take a toll on your body?”

Shadow Milk nodded. “This body wasn’t made for such powerful transformations, it was a problem with the other beasts as well.” 

“The other beasts.. you don’t talk about them much, what were they like?” Pure Vanilla questioned, his finger thrumming against the bed. “What were they like?”

A pause.

Shadow Milk was silent for a moment, avoiding Pure Vanilla’s eyes like it was the hardest thing to do.

Okay, changing the topic back.

“May I see them? Your forms.. the serpent, and the other you stated to have?”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer at first. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, the subtle movement of his chest the only sign of breath. When he did speak, it was almost a whisper. “Why? They’re.. not easy to look at. Not gentle. Not like you.”

Pure Vanilla’s hand twitched, but still, he didn’t touch. “I want to see you. All of you. Not just the parts you think I’ll find palatable.”

A pause. The kind that teetered on something fragile.

“You’re not afraid?” Shadow Milk murmured, his voice heavier now, more weighted with old things, shame, doubt. “You’ve seen the form before, one a more monstrous time than the other.”

“No,” Pure Vanilla said, without hesitation.

The shadows around Shadow Milk stirred, curling like smoke. His body began to melt into black mist, his limbs folding inward, his features shifting until a much smaller serpent lay coiled on the bed where he’d been—a ribbon of ink and night, with narrow, brilliant blue eyes that caught every ounce of moonlight.

Pure Vanilla drew in a breath. Slowly, reverently, he shifted forward. His fingertips hovered inches from the serpent’s smooth scales.

“You’re.. ” His words caught, his voice trembling faintly. “You’re breathtaking.”

Shadow Milk’s serpent form didn’t move, save for the faint flick of his tongue, testing the air. He didn’t speak. But his gaze—those twin, glinting slits—watched Pure Vanilla with something raw and exposed.

Pure Vanilla’s hand lowered at last, his fingers brushing lightly over the top of Shadow Milk’s head. The contact was feather-soft, careful. His other hand came to cradle under the serpent’s chin, lifting just slightly.

He brought his forehead down, resting it against the serpent’s brow. The hush between them deepened, as if the whole castle held its breath.

“You never have to hide from me,” Pure Vanilla whispered, barely audible. “Not like this. Not ever.”

And in the dark, beneath the soft silver glow, the beast said nothing, but didn’t pull away.

Pure Vanilla lightly ran his fingers tips up top the scales near Shadow Milk’s head, his eyes slightly wider and yet, raw admiration in his eyes.

“If you were yourself, or another creature, I'd care for you all the same.” Pure Vanilla muttered.

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes up at him, the moonlight bouncing off the void like scales, a beautiful mix. “A fool you will always remain then.” Shadow Milk hissed, repeating his previous claim he’s said before.

“Then the fool you will always make me.” Pure Vanilla smiled down at him.

The serpent looked away, though—he didn’t move.

The bed dipped as Shadow Milk shifted beside him, his serpent form still coiled in loose rings over the sheets. Pure Vanilla’s fingers grazed along the smooth curve of scales one last time before he spoke, soft and thoughtful.

“You mentioned… a fox before.”

Shadow Milk stirred at that, his eyes blinking slowly, like a cat trying to gauge the sincerity behind the words. “I did.”

“Can I see it?”

A flicker of hesitation flashed through the slit pupils. The serpent’s head lowered slightly, eyes narrowing—not in malice, but in doubt. “It’ll take too much out of me,” he said quietly. “Too many changes. I’ve… done too much today.”

Pure Vanilla reached out with both hands, cupping the serpent’s face as if to cradle it in the gentlest hold. His thumbs brushed over the sides of Shadow Milk’s head. “You don’t have to, truly. Only if you want to.”

There was a long pause, clouded with thought. Then, without a word, the shadows twisted again.

The serpent unraveled, dark mist spiraling in wisps and threads, until fur began to bloom from the darkness—sleek and long, pitch black with a violet sheen where the moonlight touched. Four glowing blue eyes blinked open, layered in pairs. A grin stretched across the long, angular face, full of sharp teeth, curled just enough to seem mischievous even when still. Around the wrists and neck, white ruffles of fabric fluttered softly, catching on the night air that filtered through the open windows. How soul jam still placed in the center of the ruffles.

The fox sat quietly on the edge of the bed, smaller than it could have been, its form compressed and weary. But still, it held a presence that nearly stopped Pure Vanilla’s breath.

He sat frozen, lips parted, a flush dusting over his cheeks not from the creature itself,but from the weight of what it meant. The trust, so rarely given. The vulnerability so carefully tucked beneath that sly smile.

“You..you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

Shadow Milk didn’t answer. His four eyes simply blinked slowly, studying Pure Vanilla with unreadable calm.

Pure Vanilla reached out, fingers trembling just slightly, and touched the fur at Shadow Milk’s cheek. It was soft—impossibly so—and warm, despite the cool palette of his form. The fox tilted his head subtly into the touch, an almost imperceptible lean, but Pure Vanilla noticed it like he always did.

His hand smoothed down the side of Shadow Milk’s neck, over the white ruffle there, the plush curve of his shoulder.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he whispered, his voice caught between awe and something tender. “But I will never take it for granted.”

Shadow Milk’s ears twitched, his expression unreadable even in this form, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned just a little more into the hand.

Shadow Milk’s four eyes blinked slowly, watching Pure Vanilla from where his head lay in the other’s lap. The faint rustling of the sheets was the only sound for a while, until Pure Vanilla’s soft voice filled the quiet.

“You’re.. incredibly graceful for something so large,” he murmured, awe still coloring his words. “A fox, you said?”

Shadow Milk let out a low exhale, something between amusement and fatigue. “Wolf,” he corrected, his voice quieter now. “I just call it a fox sometimes. Sounds more bearable that way.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, fingers pausing just briefly against the thick fur. “Bearable.. for you?”

The great beast gave the smallest nod, four eyes dim with something old and unreadable. “There’s always been something wretched about the word wolf when it comes from me,” he said, his tone dry. “Too many fangs. Too much blood. Fox is easier to live with.”

“I see,” Pure Vanilla whispered, resuming the gentle brushing of his hand through Shadow Milk’s fur. “Even still, I find nothing about this form unbearable. You look…”

He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence, not because there weren’t words—because there were too many.

Shadow Milk’s ears twitched slightly, one of them leaning into the touch before he caught himself. “Careful. You’ll make me think you like seeing me like this.”

“I do,” Pure Vanilla answered, almost instantly. A blush threatened his face, but his tone was steady. “Not because you look impressive. Not because you’re different. But because… you trust me enough to show me this.”

The wolf was still. His tail, once idly flicking, now laid quiet beside him.

“Even like this,” Pure Vanilla continued gently, “you let me close. That means everything.”

Shadow Milk didn’t say anything at first. But his head shifted ever so slightly, leaning deeper into the cradle of Pure Vanilla’s lap, and one of his many eyes closed—almost as if in surrender.

“You always say things like that,” he muttered. “Soft, foolish things.”

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly. “And yet you listen to them.”

A small, low rumble pulsed from the wolf’s chest—not quite a growl, not quite a purr.

“Only when they come from you.”

Pure Vanilla paused for a moment before continuing to run his fingers lightly over the dark fur of Shadow Milk. His hands never travelling further than the fur of his head. 

“I’d tell you those words all the time if it meant you would listen and take them.”

A huff. “Then don’t, they would lose meaning and weight.”

“Then consider it a reward.” Pure Vanilla mumbled, his hand now drifting a path below towards the fur of Shadow Milk’s chin.

Shadow Milk growled softly, the cool bouncing off Pure Vanilla’s arm. “I’ve given you what you asked, let me sleep, I’ve changed too many times.”

And Pure Vanilla was more than fine with that, joyous even. “Oh, yes. Sleep well.” His sight remained on Shadow Milk who was now draped across his chest, effectively holding him down with his bigger than most wolf form. The fangs that protruded from his lip glinting, and yet Pure Vanilla had no fear, not and inch of it. “I might stay up a bit longer.”

“Do what you want.” Shadow Milk muttered, the pairs of eyes in his face finally falling shut.

It wasn’t like Pure Vanilla could do much, not with Shadow’s heavy sturdy weight on his body.

Not like he wanted to move all that much anyway.

The soul jam pulsed lightly, feeling Shadow Milk’s own respond to his own. It wasn’t entirely light; the lingering feeling of doubt and anger still present in the other, but it was a good start.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes to relax back fully, while Shadow Milk form was a bit heavy upon his chest, it wasn’t anything that hindered his breathing. Still, he heavily appreciated being able to see the form.

Maybe he just really liked seeing what other forms he could have.

Pure Vanilla silenced those thoughts for now, the slight blush to his face as he shifted his sight to the window.

He stared for a second at the moon, her light still continuing to shine down on the both of them.

Maybe she accepted Shadow Milk’s nature just as much as he has.

Chapter Text

The bond wasn’t anything that was too straining, nor was it something that could be ignored for too long.

Running his fingers lightly over his soul jam, he could feel the steady pulse that seemed to always be present in some way. It was nice, like a second heartbeat.

Though, today it felt just a bit heavier. Pure Vanilla wouldn’t be able to explain it.

And he wouldn’t have to, it was night with most of the kingdom already sleeping soundly. He’d easily be able to roam around without any questions from curious cookies for now.

He wasn’t exactly in the most joyous mood.

With only the company of the night critters as well as the moon shining down softly on him, even the grass was quiet under his feet.

The quiet only served to amplify his thoughts, thoughts he couldn’t swat away anymore.

Pure Vanilla sighed as he slowed his footsteps, his chest heavy—not exactly from sadness—but from something more intense than just discontent.

At the moment he felt, disconnected. Disconnected from his senses for just a moment. He was aware, and yet, he wasn’t.

Walking up the small hill, he overlooked the sleeping kingdom, his kingdom.

He should be grateful for everything, for every decision he’s made in the past to have led up to this very moment. And he very much was grateful, but he couldn’t help but feel something brewing inside him.

Nostalgia? He couldn’t name it.

He may not see himself as king anymore, though he knows most of the kingdom looks to him as such. Something he couldn’t deny himself. Though, he’s fine with that, he is glad the kingdom could look to him as a reliable cookie in that way. Much like his friends.

Even though he wished a certain cookie would also feel the same.

..

Hm. His friends.

Pure Vanilla sat on a fallen log at the top of the hill, the wood smooth under him.

His shoulders were hunched and heavy at the same time, his staff resting against the log he was sitting on. Forgotten for now, not like he was using it much right now.

He wasn’t sad, not quite.

He was simply quiet, basking in the night air.

However he couldn’t help but simply think. Think about everything and nothing. The quiet doing nothing to soothe or relieve him of his wandering thoughts. Though he couldn’t help but simply play over and over differently. But, one thing remained consistent in his mind, one name.

White Lily Cookie.

..

Hm, two names.

White Lily and Shadow Milk Cookie.

The two would never befriend the other, content to forever remain tense enemies of each other. Pure Vanilla understood why, he would never ask the two to actually befriend each other knowing their history. A beast and the guardian, there was nothing friendly to become of the two other than simple tolerance.

And Pure Vanilla found himself okay with that, something that he wouldn’t have back then.

How much did he change?

His eyes wandered skyward, where the stars lingered like memories etched into the firmament. Somewhere between the constellations and silence, a name surfaced—White Lily.

He had thought about her often, in seasons past. She had been so dear to him, more than just a companion of research and discovery. Their dreams had been so tightly wound, one voice finishing the other’s thought, their ideals once indistinguishable from one another.

He remembered the way she smiled when she spoke of hope. How her fingers brushed the petals of every bloom as if the world itself could be healed by tenderness alone. Once, he might have believed that too.

And yet..

Now, there was no ache in her absence. No bitter longing. Only a soft, strange acceptance.

He loved her. Or at least, he had. But now, sitting here under the hush of midnight, he realized he didn’t miss her in the way that mattered. They had drifted. Quietly, steadily. Like leaves separating in a stream, with no argument, no final word. Just time.

His thoughts slowed, and shifted.

To another.

Not her.

A presence that pulled at the deepest roots of his being. Less like a breeze and more like gravity itself, inescapable and silent. Where White Lily had been light and clarity, this one was shadow and weight, a storm in his chest.

No name passed his lips, but the way his brows furrowed, the way his hand tightened softly around the fabric at his knee, spoke volumes. The thoughts came unbidden and stayed, curling inside him like smoke. Messy. Uncertain. But alive.

He closed his eyes.

He did not understand it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But the thoughts of her—the past—were fading like old parchment under the moon. And what remained now, in the stillness, was something else entirely.

Something he couldn’t shake. And perhaps.. didn’t want to.

The stars shimmered high above, but Pure Vanilla wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were lowered, half-lidded with thought, fixed on a blade of grass between his fingers he’d idly plucked from the ground.

He twirled it slowly. Over and over.

A breeze passed by—cool, soft, brushing against his cheek like a memory that refused to fade. He didn’t shiver, but something in him stirred.

There was someone he thought of often lately. Someone who lingered in the space between his thoughts, in the stillness between breaths. It was never deliberate. This pull, this presence—it always found him first.

They didn’t speak much today. And sometimes not always kindly. And yet..

His fingers stilled around the grass. A quiet weight pressed against his chest.

It wasn’t like how it was with White Lily. That had been warmth. Idealistic, clear. This was.. murkier. Uneven. A presence that scraped and soothed in equal measure. A presence that made him feel something raw and unnamed.

It didn’t matter what words were or weren’t said. Their silences spoke loudly enough.

Pure Vanilla let the blade of grass fall from his hand. He looked out toward the woods far below the hill, dark and restless, as if something watched from within. But he knew nothing would come. Not yet.

Still, he felt it. The tug.

Like a cord gently pulling him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go. Or maybe he was. Maybe he had already gone.

He closed his eyes, head bowed slightly as if in silent apology or quiet yearning. It was hard to tell.

No name passed his lips. But in the steady ache of his soul jam, and the way he leaned ever so slightly into the night air, it was clear:

He missed him.

Even if he couldn’t say it aloud.

That was difference between the two.

One he had acceptance of letting go, and one he had longing for. A different type of longing he’d never experienced before.

Perhaps the beast was right in the past, there was something about the beauty in having comfort in someone who was essentially your soulmate, literally. Your own counterpart, your other half for eternity.

But no, it is not just that, not anymore.

He finds comfort in the other because of his own volition, his own choice. It’s not some strange attraction of souls but yearning.

He does not feel that with White Lily.

He does not feel that with the past beast either.

He is here now, in the present time.

Pure Vanilla trailed his fingers through his long hair, a type of way to keep himself grounded. 

He thought about his time as Truthless Recluse, how different he was, how—wrong—he was. It was his lowest point and yet he couldn’t help but reminisce.

It was his first time he had gotten a good look at Shadow Milk, their first connection. That connection had opened his eyes likely, the connection that Shadow Milk had so deeply craved; reflected back in him.

Other cookies would call it influence.

He would call it mutual.

Still, he felt guilty. Having ripped that connection away from Shadow Milk. 

He wanted Truthless Recluse, and he wasn’t Truthless Recluse, not anymore. He couldn’t be, that wasn’t him. But even then, he wished he was able to provide that same connection that Shadow Milk wanted.

Pure Vanilla looked down at the long hair in his hand, the blonde color looked duller than usual.

Pulse.

He looked down at his soul jam, he had to calm down a bit.

Pure Vanilla frowned, looked back up towards the kingdom, some lights being on and some being off.

He wonders though, what if had stayed Truthless? What if he hadn’t had that ‘awakening’.

If he could change that much to such a persona, is it possible for Shadow Milk to change in such as way as well? Is there a possible timeline out there where maybe Shadow Milk had changed not for the worse, but for the better? Would that be possible?

Pure Vanilla thinks so, that should be possible. Pure Vanilla would make sure it is possible, at least so an extent.

Fount Of Knowledge. 

Such a pretty title for a pretty cookie Blueberry Milk was. 

Pure Vanilla brought his hand up towards his face, his palm covering part of his face while he closed his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed with a faint hint of a blush coming onto his face.

Had such a cookie that looked like that existed in his time..

His eyes snapped open, no time for thoughts like that.

But Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but think about the pre-corrupted time that was Shadow Milk, the gentle nature he had back then something that was now long gone. You wouldn’t think them to even be the same cookie. 

Pure Vanilla knew he would never have the power to bring that side back, no matter how much kindness and comfort he would show. Pure Vanilla was fine with that however, he’d accept any side of Shadow Milk, no matter the nature.

A faint smile tugged at Pure Vanilla’s lips before he even realized it was there.

His thoughts had drifted again—back to that dream. That strange, grey-toned garden where time felt folded and strange.. where a soft-spoken cookie with eyes like moonlight and voice like riverglass had sat beside him with such ease.

Blueberry Milk Cookie.

The name tasted of something old and delicate. A memory, perhaps. Or a possibility.

He remembered the way he’d spoken—gentle, poised, and terribly, terribly brilliant. With such composure and a stillness that didn’t demand silence but invited it. He’d looked at Pure Vanilla not with reverence or judgment, but understanding.

The kind of understanding that felt rare in this time.

A breeze stirred his robe. He looked down at his hands, resting in his lap, thumbs brushing idly. His cheeks warmed, color blooming like soft petals.

What would he do.. if someone like that existed now?

Someone so unafraid to speak with conviction, but so gentle in the way they unraveled truth? Someone who carried curiosity like a lantern, illuminating the shadows of his mind rather than fearing them?

Pure Vanilla blinked, slowly. His smile faded into something more wistful. The blush stayed.

He told himself it was just a dream. That such a cookie.. belonged to the past. If he even belonged to any real time at all.

Still.

The thought remained nestled in his chest like a glowing ember. Not quite longing. Not quite grief.

Just something unspoken.

And in the hush of the hilltop, where only the stars dared listen, Pure Vanilla wondered if he’d ever meet a cookie like that in the waking world—and if he did, whether he’d be brave enough to reach for him.

Pure Vanilla sighed, the heavy feeling returning to his chest.

How difficult and unfortunate.

White Lily would likely remain keeping a distance if Shadow Milk were to remain.

And Pure Vanilla is not kicking Shadow Milk out.

Pure Vanilla was content for White Lily to remain at a distance, it is not that they had tense relations, simply respecting each other from a distance while still being friends.

Perhaps the spire really did change him, he would have cared a lot more back then. More than he does now.

His affections have shifted.

Leaning forward with his legs crossed; he let out another sigh. Despite it being midnight, he was not tired at all. The opposite from it. 

Pulse

He might come looking for him soon, Pure Vanilla is fine with that for now.

A familiar pull in the air came before the sound—soft, barely there, like the ripple of fabric or the hush of a breath drawn close. Pure Vanilla didn’t turn his head.

He already knew.

Shadow Milk’s presence seeped into the space around him like a slow-moving fog. Uninvited, but never unwelcome.

“Hiding again?” came the low voice, curling like smoke. There was no real bite to the words. Only habit.

Pure Vanilla said nothing.

A light push nudged at his shoulder, not rough, not gentle either. Shadow Milk always had a way of making himself known through proximity, never simply standing still. A hand grazing over his back, a bump to his knee, a looming closeness.

When none of it earned a reaction, Shadow Milk gave a soft huff, as if annoyed.

“You’re getting boring.”

Still, Pure Vanilla didn’t respond. His eyes remained cast over the moonlit sprawl of his kingdom below, lights flickering like fireflies in glass jars.

Shadow Milk hovered for a moment longer. Then, slowly, he eased down beside him onto the fallen log.

He didn’t say anything.

The silence stretched—long, but not uncomfortable. The breeze wound between them like a thread, and for once, Shadow Milk didn’t try to break it.

He sat there, arms resting on his knees, face partially turned toward the horizon, his many eyes blinking at uneven intervals before slowly settling.

Pure Vanilla let out a small breath, not quite a sigh. The quiet was enough. Having him there was enough.

And Shadow Milk, for all his sharpness and noise, didn’t seem to mind being quiet either. Not tonight.

Not when their closeness spoke louder than words.

Pure Vanilla didn’t say anything for a moment, basking in the silence between them that didn’t come often. It wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t soft either. Pure Vanilla was fine with that, rather grateful for it actually.

Shadow Milk was being considerate.

A faint smile pulled at his lips. 

Progress.

“I thought you would find me sooner.” Pure Vanilla hummed, his eyes now closed as he thrummed his fingers in his lap.

A snort form next to him. “So you wanted me to find you? Some type of hide and seek you got going on here?” Shadow Milk muttered, his head resting in his palm.

“Maybe I did, but I’m glad for now.” 

It was silent for a bit after that short exchange, the silence a new comfort instead of a heavy weight on his shoulder finally. He found the company nice, especially from Shadow Milk.

Some thoughts couldn’t be ridden however.

“Shadow Milk.”

A hum of acknowledgment, absentminded.

“Do you,” Pure Vanilla hesitated, a frown tugging at his lips again. “Do you miss Truthless Recluse?”

That got Shadow Milk’s attention.

“My my, where did such a question come from?” Shadow Milk leaned back, a grin now on his face. He leaned close to Pure Vanilla with his eyes squinted. “I’m curious, what has you wondering all of a sudden?”

Pure Vanilla didn’t glance to Shadow Milk, letting him lean closer. “I suppose curiosity.”

“I’m supposed to be doing the lying.” Shadow Milk folded his arms.

“That was not a lie.”

“It certainly wasn’t the full truth either.” 

Pure Vanilla forgets this cookie was once the Blueberry Milk. 

Some aspects never change.

“I’ve thought back to it, how you were with Truthless Recluse.” Pure Vanilla opened his eyes, folding his arms closer to him. “How much you seemed to want his connection, his company.”

Shadow Milk didn’t say anything; letting him finish.

“You seemed to welcome him a lot easier, a lot quicker. You seemed happier,” Pure Vanilla paused. “even with that broken type of love.”

Shadow Milk listened intently, his head tilting slightly. The grin he had on his face having since fallen off, replaced with something Pure Vanilla couldn’t place. “Where are you going with this?” A careful question.

Pure Vanilla finally turned to Shadow Milk, his arms unfolding as he moved closer to Shadow Milk— Steadying himself on the fallen log so he wouldn't slip off down the back. His hand rested softly on Shadow Milk’s knee, a closer proximity to the cookie in just seconds.

Shadow Milk leaned back slightly, however; not enough to have moved away from Pure Vanilla’s light touch. “What are you..” His voice trailed off.

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla leaned forward a bit more, his voice lower with his eyes slightly lidded. A concentrated look solely on Shadow Milk, their faces only a few inches apart at the moment. “Would you want me to be Truthless Recluse once more?”

Shadow Milk’s eyes went wide, his mouth only a bit agape in shock. He leaned back as he looked away from Pure Vanilla’s gaze. 

“What are you suddenly on about?” Shadow Milk mumbled, his visible sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Are you suddenly crazed with sleepiness?”

Pure Vanilla shook his head, maintaining the closeness with Shadow Milk. “I assure you, I am still myself.” Pure Vanilla lifted his other hand towards Shadow Milk—who was still—placing a hand on his soul jam gently.

Shadow Milk jolted, glancing down to look at the hand before looking back up.

“Back at the spire, I felt it.”

“Felt what?” Shadow Milk hissed.

“The yearning you had.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, a scowl on his face now. “There you go again, such feelings are below me. Especially back then.”

Pure Vanilla shook his head once more, pressing slightly harder upon his soul jam. “No, when we were, connected.”

“I felt it.” Pure Vanilla continued. “How much you wanted Truthless Recluse, how much you desired his understanding.”

Shadow Milk squinted, frozen under the contact and sudden proclamations—his voice barely above a whisper. “Because he was the only one who understood.”

“..Would me being like that again.. make you happier?”

“No,” he said at last, low and hoarse, as if the word resisted leaving his throat. “You think I want that version of you back? The hollow one? The one too numb to speak unless spoken to?”

His head turned, barely, just enough for the moonlight to glance off his sharp cheekbone.

“You were quiet, yes. You listened. You didn’t question me. But you also didn’t see me. Not really.” His voice dropped even further, nearly a growl. “You just mirrored the silence I already lived in.”

Pure Vanilla turned toward him fully now, silent, watching.

Shadow Milk’s fingers dug into the log beneath them, his claws scraping the bark, like he was trying to ground himself, like the memory hurt to summon.

“I don’t want the echo you used to be,” he muttered, eyes fixed now on a distant point in the trees. “Even if I wanted it back then. Even if it made it easier.”

He clenched his jaw, breath shaking as he exhaled. “Because it didn’t last. Because it wasn’t you. And I..”

He trailed off, the words backing up in his throat.

“I don’t want the silence anymore,” he finally said, bitterly. “Not when I’ve already heard you speak.”

There was a flicker—just a flicker—of something softer in his tone then. Something too vulnerable to name. He turned his face away quickly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Pure Vanilla reached gently toward him, fingers brushing his sleeve but not forcing contact. “Then what do you want?”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer immediately. His expression tightened, his voice strained when it came. “I want.. what I don’t deserve.”

Pure Vanilla’s features softened, an ache in his chest. “You do deserve it, after everything, you do.”

Shadow Milk was silent for a moment, a frowmnkn his face. “Even after all that time as Truthless Recluse, you still are a terrible liar.”

“This is no lie.” Pure Vanilla whispered, a sparkle in his eyes mirroring Shadow Milk’s own now present. “Not this time.” He whispered.

Shadow Milk’s gaze lowered toward his hands, eyes half-shadowed beneath messy strands of hair. For a while, there was only the hum of crickets and the wind whispering through the trees. Then:

“I’ve already gotten used to you now,” Shadow Milk continued, quieter. “The way you press your voice into mine, the way you don’t just nod and disappear. Truthless Recluse.. he would’ve done anything I asked. No hesitation. No resistance.”

There was no satisfaction in the way he said it. No fondness.

“But you,” he glanced at Pure Vanilla now, slowly, “you’d offer that version of yourself to me out of choice. That’s different.”

He looked away again, almost bitterly. “And it wouldn’t be enjoyable. Not like before.”

A pause settled between them, heavy and thoughtful.

“I only found comfort in that silence because he was just as broken as I was,” Shadow Milk said, his voice suddenly raw, dangerously close to softness. “He didn’t choose to be like that. He just was. We were reflections of each other—unmoving, unfeeling, numb.”

The fireflies drifted lazily past them, casting flickers of light between the trees.

“To have a choice in that matter.. would ruin the meaning,” he whispered.

Pure Vanilla remained still, expression unreadable, but his soul jam pulsed gently beneath his robes. He reached out again—not forcefully, not out of duty, but in quiet understanding, and placed a hand over Shadow Milk’s.

Pure Vanilla lowered the hand that was placed on Shadow Milk’s soul jam, gently grabbing one of his hands to place is on his own. Pure Vanilla’s soul jam pulsing lightly under Shadow Milk’s fingers.

“I want you to feel that way about me again.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes were locked onto Pure Vanilla’s motions, his soul jam pulsing in sync with his own. A sparkle in his eyes that was something foreign. “..What?”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze was unwavering, calm. “I want you to want my connection. Not Truthless Recluse’s.”

Shadow Milk was torn between holding Pure Vanilla’s gaze and seemingly finding the grass below them interesting enough to stare at. “I.. I don’t..” He stammered, hesitant.

Pure Vanilla’s voice was soft, never pushing. “Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla started. “I realized something after the time at the spire, the time that I was Truthless Recluse.” Pure Vanilla stared down at the Shadow Milk’s hand in his, his other hand still resting on his knee. “My days would be rather, boring without you.”

Shadow Milk chuckled lightly, his nervous features still remaining on his face. “Of course, I am me after all.”

“I cannot return to being Truthless Recluse, that isn’t me.” Pure Vanilla squeezed Shadow Milk’s hand once. “But, give me a chance, the me now, to show you that you shouldn’t have to think you deserve that kind of broken and twisted love.” 

Pure Vanilla lowered his voice further, just above a whisper. “I can show you, let me prove to you that my love is something truthful, sincere, harmless.” He whispered close, leaning slightly closer to Shadow Milk.

Shadow Milk hesitated before he sighed deeply, a tired look in his eyes. 

“I’m not asking you to change all at once,” Pure Vanilla said gently, “just.. let me show you a different kind of love. One that’s not broken. Not silent. One that holds you not because you’re shattered, but because you deserve to be whole.”

Shadow Milk let out a breath that was nearly a laugh, low and bitter. “You speak like it’s easy.”

“I speak like it’s worth it.”

And for once, Shadow Milk had no answer. His head lowered, shoulders tense, but not in rejection. He was listening. Just.. overwhelmed. The kind of silence that came not from emptiness, but from too much to say.

“Why do you try so hard to fix me..” Shadow Milk muttered, his claws grasping at Pure Vanilla’s robe, the fabric bunching up on his thigh. Pure Vanilla hadn’t even noticed.

“Because you were never broken to begin with,” he said gently.

Shadow Milk didn’t respond right away. His gaze flickered up, barely meeting Pure Vanilla’s. There was a quiet defensiveness behind it, like he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t find the words.

“You think I’m trying to fix you,” Pure Vanilla continued, his voice steady but warm, “but I’m not. I’m trying to understand you. To meet you where you are.”

Shadow Milk looked away sharply, the shadows around his form curling tighter. “You say that like I’m worth understanding.”

“You are.”

There was no hesitation.

“I am still a beast.”

“You are.”

Pure Vanilla responded quickly. “But not the one I used to be familiar with.”

“You’re not some puzzle I’m trying to solve,” Pure Vanilla said, shifting closer. “You’re not a task or a burden. You’re someone I choose to stand beside.”

A beat passed.

“I’ve seen you at your worst. You’ve seen me at mine. And yet I’m still here.” His hand brushed just lightly up Shadow Milk’s, not grasping—only offering. “Not to fix you. To love you.”

Shadow Milk was quiet, eyes downcast again. “I don’t understand how you can say that so easily.”

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly, voice low and honest. “It’s not easy. But it’s true.”

Shadow Milk’s form flickered slightly, as though uncertain whether to pull away or lean in.

“I don’t expect you to believe it right now,” Pure Vanilla added. “But maybe someday, when you’re ready.. you will.”

Shadow Milk paused, his hands gripping further into Pure Vanilla’s robes; never tearing. Pure Vanilla found himself never minding.

“So Shadow Milk, will you give me that chance again? Will you seek that connection with me just as much?” Pure Vanilla whispered, trying to keep his tone neutral and failing to hide his hopefulness. The warm smile on his face still an offering.”

Shadow Milk stared at him.

His expression didn’t change much—but his eyes, for just a moment, betrayed something deeper. Something unsure. Uneasy. A quiet ache pressed behind his gaze, behind the way his form subtly tensed and shifted, like he didn’t know whether to dissolve into shadows or stay rooted in place beside Pure Vanilla.

“..You ask that like it’s so simple,” he finally muttered, his voice low, strained around the edges. “As if it doesn’t.. cost something.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile didn’t falter, even though his hands were trembling faintly in his lap. “It doesn’t have to be easy. It just has to be real.”

Blueberry Milk’s words rang in his head for a moment.

Shadow Milk looked away, his mouth tightening with conflicted emotion. The grass rustled beneath them, the soft chirping of the night offering them silence to breathe in.

“You’re asking me to believe in something kinder,” Shadow Milk said. “To believe in you.. again. Without hiding behind brokenness. You question it, but that is the only thing I’ve ever known. What we’ve always known.”

“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” Pure Vanilla whispered. “Only to take my hand and walk forward, however slowly, however uncertainly. Together.”

Shadow Milk’s jaw clenched, like he was holding back every instinct that told him this kind of softness was dangerous.

“..Why do you keep offering me things I never asked for?” Shadow Milk finally muttered, his voice low, but not sharp. Just tired.

“Because I want to,” Pure Vanilla said gently. “Because I see the part of you that wants to be reached.”

Shadow Milk turned his head slightly, his glowing eyes dimmer than usual. Not dulled by rage or bitterness, but thought.

“I’m not Truthless Recluse,” Pure Vanilla continued, almost as if to himself. “And I wouldn’t become him again, not even if it made this easier for you. That part of me.. it wasn’t love. It was survival. You don’t have to survive me anymore.”

There was a long pause.

Shadow Milk finally looked at him again. Truly looked.

“Do you really think there’s another way?” he asked, quieter now.

“I don’t just think so,” Pure Vanilla replied. “I believe there is. One that isn’t sharp and cold. One where we’re not fragments clinging to what hurts us.” He leaned forward, voice softer still. “So.. will you give me that chance again? Will you want me—not the broken pieces you remember—but me, as I am now?”

“I know you loved Truthless Recluse in your own way.” Pure Vanilla continued. “But I won’t and cannot bring him back, so I ask you; will you love me again?”

Shadow Milk blinked slowly, as if weighing the weight of the words against the ache of his own soul. And after a beat, he gave the smallest, strangest laugh under his breath. It wasn’t mocking, it was disbelieving.

“You’re relentless,” he said, almost fond.

Pure Vanilla tilted his head. “I’d rather call it persistent kindness.”

A beat of silence passed again. Then, slowly, with the faintest nod, Shadow Milk whispered:

“..Show me, then.”

Shadow Milk remained still, his form hovering close, but guarded, as if caught in a decision he hadn’t meant to make. Pure Vanilla shifted in beside him with an easy patience, his presence a warmth that asked nothing but offered everything.

He reached out gently, his hand threading slowly into the thick strands of Shadow Milk’s hair. The dark locks were soft under his fingers, cool like night, and scattered with twitching eyes that blinked lazily, too tired to resist. Shadow Milk didn’t flinch. But he didn’t lean in, either. His breath held quiet and uneven.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze hovered just inches from his, a flicker of something delicate dancing behind his soft golden eyes. For a moment, it looked like he might close the distance—a certain action unspoken, only half-imagined. But he didn’t.

Instead, he let his hand stay at the back of Shadow Milk’s head, pulling him gently forward. His forehead didn’t press against his.. just brushed beside it, leaning into the curve of Shadow Milk’s cheek. His lips near his ear, his breath soft and steady against the side of his neck. The moment was thick with unspoken tension, not yearning, but trust being built in small, quiet bricks.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Pure Vanilla whispered, his voice no louder than a secret. “Not of me.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes, wide and shimmering, stared at nothing in particular, somewhere far off past the trees. But he didn’t pull away. The soft dark blue rising to his cheeks was hidden by the shadows, but Pure Vanilla could feel the warmth bloom between them.

“I’m not like the others,” he whispered again, slower this time. “You don’t have to guard yourself with me. I’m not going to disappear.”

There was silence. A tremor passed through Shadow Milk’s hands, barely perceptible, but Pure Vanilla felt it as if it’d been his own. The hand in his hair gently curled, fingers brushing the base of his skull in soothing circles.

“You’ve already let me in, haven’t you?” Pure Vanilla breathed. “So let me stay.”

Shadow Milk’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His eyes lowered, gaze fixed on the grass, like he might burn a hole through the earth if he looked hard enough. But he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he remained there, blush hiding just beneath his pale skin, soul jam fluttering under Pure Vanilla’s words. A quiet surrender, not of defeat, but of permission.

And so Pure Vanilla stayed, forehead tucked near his temple, hand buried in dark hair, holding him without pressure. Just presence.

Pure Vanilla traces his hand a bit further up the side of Shadow Milk’s head, making sure his touch was light and soft as his fingers slightly tangled in his tandril-like hair. He took note of the shaky stature that was Shadow Milk, His soul jam already picking up everything.

Fear

Not of him, but of the idea of what Shadow Milk is used to.

It broke Pure Vanilla's heart to see.

“Shh, you don’t have to be scared of my affections, I am here now.” Pure Vanilla offered comfort, assuming the idea of something as soft as love was what was startling the other cookie.

Shadow Milk didn’t respond at first, however, Pure Vanilla could feel the very slight trembles, something another cookie wouldn’t of been able to catch as quickly before it had gone. “I’m not scared of you or what you do.”

“Then why do you avoid it?”

“You sure are persistent in your ideals.” Shadow Milk mumbled, still not pulling away from Pure Vanilla—but not leaning in as well.

Pure Vanilla was okay with that.

“It works well.” Pure Vanilla kept his smile warm and light. 

He pressed closer. “I want to apologize for how I treated you back then, how much I overlooked and pushed you aside as Truthless Recluse.” Pure Vanilla whispered against the side of Shadow Milk’s face, directly into his ear almost.

The wind slowed down, leaving the surrounding area quiet with the only witnesses being the moon herself—always.

Shadow Milk scoffed for a moment of silence. “It doesn’t matter now, I don’t care.”

“It does to me, do you accept my apology?”

Shadow Milk hummed softly, leaning slightly into Pure Vanilla finally. From what Pure Vanilla could see, the eyes in his hair closed peacefully. “Yes, sure, I accept.” Shadow Milk said, his voice hesitant once more.

Pure Vanilla smiled just a bit wider, his chest swelling with something else, something different. “Thank you for accepting my apology, Shadow Milk.”

He raised his hand slowly, drifting it behind Shadow Milk to pull him closer by his lower back. The movement was slow; leaving room for rejection, something that Shadow Milk hadn’t taken.

High risk, high reward.

Their soul jams noticeably hummed louder, pulsing further in sync with each other. Something that had been happening more and more recently, something that Pure Vanilla hadn’t been too concerned about to really look into more. Moments like these seem to always be a trigger.

“Let me,” Pure Vanilla pulled Shadow Milk closer gently. “make it up to you, starting now.”

Shadow Milk clutched at Pure Vanilla’s robes, his claws threatening to tear at the material. A scowl on his face as he tolerated the touch, for now. “And how do you plan on that?”

Pure Vanilla glance down from the corner of his eye at the glow coming from Shadow Milk’s ruffles, where his soul jam lies.

Well, he could.

Something was different, Shadow Milk was more open, more calm than usual tonight. It was seldom to see.

Must be one of those nights.

He snaked his hand further up Shadow Milk’s back, dragging his hand to his upper back and pushing him forward towards him, soft at first—giving him room to push back. Shadow Milk didn’t.

“I want to this way.” Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, further resting his head against Shadow Milk’s. Their soul jams glowing brighter from being in such close proximity of each other, the hum glowing brighter at just the few remaining inches of space left. 

Shadow Milk hadn’t moved at all, much like he hadn’t the whole time they had been sat. 

Shadow Milk’s head was still tilted toward Pure Vanilla’s, his expression unreadable but oddly open. There was no trace of the usual sharpness in his eyes, only something still, uncertain. And for a fleeting moment, Pure Vanilla felt the air shift with something heavier, something sacred.

“..Go ahead, Pure Vanilla.”

That was enough.

His hand slid downward, brushing past the thick strands of hair to gently rest against the cool, pulsing membrane at the center of Shadow Milk’s chest. His own soul jam glowed softly, like a lantern in a fog. Slowly, tenderly, he leaned in, until their soul jams pressed together.

The connection was instant.

A rush of heat and color bloomed between them like the night sky torn open by fireworks. Swirls of light and darkness danced together in his vision, shades of violet, blue, and silver mixing with soft gold, ivory, and rose. For one breathless second, Pure Vanilla forgot to breathe at all. His body eased into the overwhelming rush of it, an intimacy so profound, it felt like every wall he’d built around his heart had dissolved into mist.

This was no ordinary connection, something that felt different from the rest. This was raw and deep and impossibly real. There was no barrier between their thoughts, their memories, their quietest griefs.

Then, something tore through the serenity like a crack of thunder.

The colors vanished. The world shattered.

He was falling.

No—flying.

But not freely. Not joyously.

Shadow Milk’s eyes. His vision. His memory.

He was in Shadow Milk now.

Floating. Cold.

The sky above was fractured, split in jagged lines of white light, as if some god had struck it open. A thousand threads of gold—no, chains—rained from the sky like arrows. Chains of molten gold rained down from the blinding gash, searing through the air like falling stars, each one humming with cruel, divine intent. They slashed through the wind, slicing the clouds apart. From high above the world, Shadow Milk’s soul jam beats in the air in desperate rhythm. He was fleeing, but from what, he didn’t know.

Pure Vanilla—no, Shadow Milk—drifted upward, watching as the world below twisted in panic. Below, the earth was chaos. Cookies in terror, their screams distant, distorted, as if underwater. Flames licked the edges of buildings. Stone crumbled. Others scattered like frightened birds, screaming beneath the falling chains. They didn’t see him, didn’t want to. He wasn’t like them. And he didn’t want to be. And in the sky behind him, he could feel something, some unbearable force, bearing down on him. No words, no thoughts. Just the raw pulse of panic. Pain. Anger. And fear so sharp it cut into his chest like a blade.

Fear churned in his chest—raw, coiling. But not for himself. No, for something else. For everything that had once reached toward him only to recoil in disgust. For being created this way and still blamed for it.

Alone. Always alone.

He tried to cry out. But even in the memory, his voice didn’t reach anyone.

Then, just as suddenly—

It ended.

He blinked.

The air was still. The forest quiet again. Fireflies blinked lazily between the trees, uncaring of what had just happened. The moon still drifting high in the sky, if she was watching, he couldn’t tell.

Pure Vanilla’s chest rose sharply with his breath. His hand trembled slightly where it rested on Shadow Milk’s back. The rush of colors had stilled, but their glow still throbbed faintly between them, alive, aware.

He looked to Shadow Milk.

The other cookie hadn’t moved. His head remained turned slightly away, gaze unfocused and low to the ground. But there was something different in his posture, something unfamiliar. He looked.. confused. Not distant, not cold. Just unsure.

“..What?” Shadow Milk finally murmured, his voice hushed and low, almost breathless. “What’s wrong with you?”

It wasn’t the usual sneer, not the smug tone laced with taunting. There was a softness to his words. A vulnerability he didn’t know how to hide fast enough. It clung to his voice like frost that hadn’t yet melted. He blinked once, as if even that had been too revealing, and straightened his back. The moment was already slipping from his fingers, and he was desperate to gather it up again.

It was the most open he’d ever sounded.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he added, a little sharper this time, but there was no heat behind it.

He didn’t know what Pure Vanilla had seen.

Pure Vanilla didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

He only looked at him, heart still reeling, a thousand words swarming behind his lips, but none of them right.

Pure Vanilla said nothing. Could say nothing. He was still reeling from the vision, but more than that, from the echo of feeling it left behind. The rawness. The vulnerability. The isolation.

And the overwhelming truth: Shadow Milk had suffered in ways Pure Vanilla could hardly begin to imagine.

It was only a small vision, something he couldn’t summarize just from the short sight of whatever he had seen. A short glimpse, and only a glimpse. That glimpse was a lot to Pure Vanilla, it was something new from Shadow Milk, a personal vision. 

He couldn’t tell Shadow Milk what he had seen.

He couldn’t explain how raw it had felt. How close. How much it hurt. It couldn’t explain that he had looked into his oath without him knowing. He wouldn’t want him fear what he could of seen, fear opening up even further.

What Shadow Milk would do if he found out Pure Vanilla could practically live his memories, even if it was only a one time thing for now.

Pure Vanilla thought back to his dream, the past.

He couldn’t say, he wanted Shadow Milk to want to open up to him himself.

So he said nothing.

Shadow Milk’s brows furrowed. He seemed to register the depth in Pure Vanilla’s silence and shifted his gaze away again. The air between them was taut, but no longer heavy.

Just quiet.

Wounded. But strangely safe.

Pure Vanilla finally let his hand fall away, but his fingers lingered just a second longer, brushing down to rest gently atop Shadow Milk’s wrist. A silent promise.

Even if he didn’t know everything yet.. he would stay.

The air between them still buzzed faintly from their soul jam connection, a resonance neither of them fully knew how to name. But it lingered, quiet, thrumming, warm.

Pure Vanilla slowly pulled back, his hand still gently resting at the side of Shadow Milk’s head. He took a moment to simply look at him, at the quiet tension just beneath the other’s expression. Something was different. Shadow Milk wasn’t meeting his eyes, not quite. His gaze kept darting, once to the grass, once to the sky, then briefly, just briefly, back to Pure Vanilla.

“You look.. off guard,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “Are you alright?”

That one question seemed to knock something loose. Shadow Milk stiffened.

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly, his voice laced with a crackling defensiveness. “Don’t start.”

But Pure Vanilla didn’t pull away. His gaze remained steady. “You don’t have to pretend.”

That’s when the flicker of something raw in Shadow Milk’s eyes snuffed out. The walls slammed back into place. His features twisted back into something familiar, something sharper. A slow, lazy grin curled onto his lips, his posture loosening again into that casual arrogance he wore like a second skin.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Pure Vanilla responded.

“No, I really hate you. I mean it.”

“I know.”

Pure Vanilla smiled warmly at him, he scanned Shadow Milks face; his tired eyes hidden behind a wall only Pure Vanilla could see through. He reached out once again, his hand resting up top Shadow Milk’s.

“That’s okay, you can hate me.” Pure Vanilla knew the truth already, Shadow Milk knew that Pure Vanilla knew.

“You’re such a sentimental mess,” he chuckled, the edge in his tone thin but present. “Always trying to poke around in places you don’t belong.”

“Maybe,” Pure Vanilla said quietly. “But I saw something today. I know what I felt.”

Shadow Milk’s grin faltered, just for a moment. His brows furrowed. The shadows beneath him stirred.

Then, his face darkened. Not in anger, but in that way the sky does before a storm, not loud, not destructive, but heavy. Certain.

He leaned in, close. So close that his breath skimmed Pure Vanilla’s cheek. The grin still lingered, but his tone dropped low, cold like frost creeping up glass.

“I’ve had enough of this,” he growled.

The shadows whipped sharply around him as he raised a clawed hand and sliced it through the air. A rift split open beside them, swirling violet and black like a wound in space. It pulsed, eager to take him.

“I’m leaving.” he said, almost like a hiss—but it trembled faintly at the edge.

And then, without waiting for an answer, he stepped through the portal and vanished. The forest went still again, the only sound the rustling of trees overhead.

Pure Vanilla didn’t flinch. Didn’t chase.

He just sat there on the log, gaze fixed on the place where the portal had been. The soul jam in his chest glowed softly, calmly. He laid a hand over it, feeling the faint warmth still left behind from the connection they shared.

He had seen a side of Shadow Milk that not even the other seemed aware of, one small, shaken fragment of vulnerability that could never fully be buried again. Not now.

So he smiled faintly, the night wrapping around him like a cloak.

He was content.

It wasn’t a total loss, at least not to him.

He sighed, his shoulders finally relaxing from a tension he didn’t know he had. He leaned back on the log, looking up at the stars sparkling.

It had been well into the night at this moment and he still hadn’t felt tired.

His hand slides to the grass behind the log, his forgotten staff on the ground before he picks it up to rest in front of him. 

The air had picked up once more when Shadow Milk had departed, the space next to him on the log now empty.

Pure Vanilla was silent, quiet. His thoughts racing on what he saw earlier, the vision of himself in Shadow Milk’s eyes, the chaos below, the raw fear. 

Fear from what, Pure Vanilla was trying to figure out.

A part of him felt guilty, guilt at the thought that he had intruded on what looked to be a rather traumatic event for Shadow Milk. He knew he was likely to not get an explanation for such an event, something that Shadow Milk was certain to keep hidden, locked away in a corner of the mind for nobody but him to see. Not like there is likely to be anyone alive from that time to explain the detail themself.

Still, Pure Vanilla saw it. He saw it through their connection. Something that hadn’t occurred before.

It was similar to the dreams he would have, the dreams with Blueberry Milk Cookie, the past.

The past.

Pure Vanilla stiffened, his hands grasping at the bark from the log beneath him.

There is only one cookie he knows that would know Shadow Milk’s past personally, and that cookie would of course be Shadow Milk himself—or rather, a different version of said cookie.

He face palmed himself, he couldn’t do that.

Pure Vanilla knows that would be some type of intrusion in a way.

And yet, he couldn’t shoot down the curiosity.

Pure Vanilla sighed, perhaps the cookie would hopefully eventually feel comfortable enough. Finally comfortable enough to confide in him confidently, enough to do so without his own valid fears keeping him from doing so. The bottled up feelings going left with no comfort that Pure Vanilla was so willing to give.

But he was willing to wait, as much as needed for now.

Pulse

Shadow Milk may always deny it, but he saw first hand his real emotions in that short connection.

Pulse

Noticeably, there was an ache in his chest, a familiar longing from the sudden departure of their soul jams close proximity. Where their soul jams had once touched, a tug pulling in the direction that was no doubt where Shadow Milk was.

Pure Vanilla knew he didn’t have chase, he didn’t want to chase; Shadow Milk would come when he’s ready, when he wants to. Pure Vanilla was no cookie that would end up forcing him.

The connections however, should he see any visions unwillingly from them, he cannot say he would not be interested in wanting to know more.

When it came to wanting to know more about the interesting cookie, he couldn’t deny.

But he would wait, he’s good at that.

He looks up at the moon, the quiet stillness in the air a contrast to the quiet chaos that had just occurred a moment ago.

There was no rush.

Some hearts bloomed under sunlight, others bloomed under moonlight.

And Shadow Milk.. he was like a flower buried deep in frostbitten ground. Not unwilling to bloom, just unsure of warmth.

Pure Vanilla was that sunlight, unable to melt that final layer of ice away, but simply would wait for it to break through itself. He was content with that.

And so, Pure Vanilla sat alone on the hillside, bathed in the quiet hush of night. The last echoes of magic from Shadow Milk’s departure had long since faded, but his presence still clung to the air like mist, unseen, yet impossible to forget.

His hands rested still in his lap, his gaze cast not toward the stars this time, but downward, toward the heart of the kingdom far below, sleeping and safe. His expression, calm as ever, was tinged with something unreadable. Something quiet and sorrowful.

“He must’ve felt so alone..” Pure Vanilla whispered, more to the wind than to himself.

He had known isolation. He had lived through it, wandering as the Truthless Recluse. But it was nothing—nothing—like what Shadow Milk had endured. Sealed away for centuries in that ancient, withering tree. No sun, no stars. No voices. Only the echo of what he once was, an ancient being of knowledge, once looked to with reverence, now remembered only in myths and warnings.

Cursed like that for an eternity.

“Fallen from grace,” Pure Vanilla murmured, the words tasting bitter. “A beast.. not by nature, but by how the world chose to see him.”

The weight of that understanding pressed softly against his chest. Shadow Milk had been left to rot in silence, with only the fragments of his own mind for company. And still, after all that, he had emerged not seeking redemption, but retreat. Clawing away from vulnerability like it would kill him, convinced connection was a trick, that affection was a weakness he couldn’t afford.

Pure Vanilla could see it now, clearer than ever: how that sealing wasn’t just punishment. It was a prison of identity. A cruel confirmation that he was not someone worth saving. Not a fallen friend, but a beast to be locked away and forgotten.

And yet..

He’d floated beside him. He’d hesitated at his words. He’d softened when he thought Pure Vanilla wouldn’t see.

There was still someone there.

“I know you were more than the world let you be,” Pure Vanilla whispered, folding his hands over his heart, over the steady pulse of his soul jam. “And I know.. you still are.”

The breeze stirred the grass gently around him, like a quiet breath through the earth. He smiled faintly, gaze soft and warm with patience. There was no pity in his voice, only reverence. Only understanding.

“You weren’t born a beast. You became one when the world stopped listening.”

But Pure Vanilla would listen. Always. 

He longs for the day that Shadow Milk would let himself be heard.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes drifted upward toward the velvet stretch of stars, their glow reflecting faintly in his gaze. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustle of wind threading through the grass around him. But in his heart, there was movement, thoughts pressing, memories stirring.

“Destined to fall..” he murmured aloud, voice barely above a whisper. “Weren’t they all?”

His fingers curled slightly over his knees, a slow inhale drawing through his lungs. The beasts, those strange, forgotten children of the Cookies. Born not of sugar but something older. Woven of shadow and silence, of truths too deep for others to bear.

“They were never given a chance.” he said softly, though no one was there to answer. “From the moment they took breath, they were marked, cursed by fate, not by fault.”

Shadow Milk. Mystic Flour. Eternal Sugar. Burning Spice. Silent Salt.

All of them, scattered across the world and left to their own quiet dooms. Made to be what others feared. It wasn’t just Shadow Milk who had fallen. They all had.

Pure Vanilla’s hand slowly pressed over his chest again, as if holding something delicate there.

“Maybe.. maybe that’s why you were drawn to me, back then,” he murmured, eyes flickering shut. “Not because I saw you for what you were, but because I didn’t.”

Because, in that empty, lonely tower where even light itself dared not linger, Pure Vanilla hadn’t flinched. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t called him a monster.

And Shadow Milk, back then, when he was more silence than shape, had still reached for him.

“Even if you hated it, even if you fought it… you yearned for something different, didn’t you?” His voice softened, aching at the edges. “To be seen. Not as a creature of dread. But as someone—someone—who still had the right to feel.”

He opened his eyes again, watching a star trace a faint line across the sky.

What a sorrowful revelation, how much he wanted to comfort Shadow Milk, and how much said cookie refused his comfort.

It must of felt awful, to know someone who was your counterpart was practically your replacement.

Perhaps that was why Shadow Milk had been so angry against him back then, that would have made sense. Even to this day, Pure Vanilla had never blamed Shadow Milk for any of it, he never will.

Pure Vanilla sighed once more, his soul jam finally dimming back to its normal regular state despite Shadow Milk having left a bit ago. The remnants of their connection only mere static in the air still.

He would remember, remember all the details he had saw in that faint and short vision. The emotions he felt that weren’t his, the area that was obviously ancient in its nature at the time. 

Did he feel guilty about peering into the past like that? Yes.

Does he regret it? Absolutely not.

He would embrace it for now and take what he could get.

Pure Vanilla looked up to the sky, the moon hanging high as usual; she had watched the whole interaction.

He stood up, stretching at last as he picked up his staff off the grass. He stepped over the log to make his way down the hill back to his castle. It was far into the night already, he stayed out later than he had thought and he needs to sleep.

He knew Shadow Milk wouldn’t be at the castle tonight, his soul jam wasn’t pulling in that direction.

That’s okay, he seemed to need the space for now, tonight must have been too much of a fast change for him.

He looked back once more up at the moon, he sensed her approval. 

Turned back around to continue making his way back towards his castle, he smiled.

Pure Vanilla considered this progress.

Chapter Text

Having trouble sleeping wasn’t something that Pure Vanilla mainly ever had trouble with, getting his hours was relatively easy for him.

Why was he having trouble now?

..

No, no he’s not having trouble. He’s hesitant, hesitant on what he is going to see. Who he is going to see.

Would he dream about Blueberry Milk Cookie again? The assumed so called backstory for Shadow Milk Cookie? While he wasn’t opposed at all to the idea of meeting Blueberry Milk Cookie, it had been just a bit of him not having a dream with the cookie of the past. It seemed to be something that happened on its own, something out of his control.

He folding his arms on his stomach, not having moved much from where he was already laying down on his back. 

Blueberry Milk Cookie. An interesting opposite from Shadow Milk, not something you'd expect for sure. Such a bright scholar.

Pure Vanilla furrowed his eyebrows—fully aware of the faint darker color that had likely spread on his face. He wasn’t opposed at all of the idea of meeting the cookie again.

However.

Pure Vanilla turned to look at Shadow Milk, he wasn’t currently laying in the bed next to him, rather, he was floating idly in the air closer to the ceiling than he was to Pure Vanilla. His back being towards him.

Way out of Pure Vanilla’s reach.

He sighed quietly, his shoulder slumping as he gazed up at the cookie. While he would have preferred Shadow Milk more closer to him, he wasn’t one to force things.

If Shadow Milk was truly sleeping or not, he wouldn’t know.

Sleep.

Pure Vanilla really should get some, after being awake for a while into the night; he was teetering on the edge of being sleep deprived in the morning. Something that wouldn’t be all too well for him out of all cookies.

He closed his eyes briefly.

What he didn’t expect was the air to be thick with smoke and screams.

Pure Vanilla came to with a sharp gasp, But the room was gone. The warmth, the quiet, gone. Replaced with blistering heat and the distant sound of glass shattering, buildings crumbling, and the crackling roar of flames eating through the heart of the kingdom.

The sky above was painted in a sickly red hue, streaked with ash and shadow. Cookie citizens ran frantically below, some screaming, some sobbing, all fleeing as their world fell apart around them.

He stumbled forward, his feet hitting the scorched marble of the castle’s balcony, only to see fire stretching across the kingdom, golden spires cracking, familiar structures reduced to smoke and rubble.

“No…” he whispered, gripping the rail tightly. “What is this…?”

Then he looked up, and saw him.

Floating in the crimson sky, arms outstretched like a puppet master, was Shadow Milk.

His face was twisted in a grin of wicked amusement, eyes burning with blue fire as his voice echoed, deep, distorted, and full of malice. The shadows around him pulsed violently, below him, rivers of darkness spilled across the ground like ink, pulling buildings under and dragging brave cookies down in its wake.

“No… that’s not.. him,” Pure Vanilla breathed, his voice nearly lost in the roar.

But it was him. Not as he was now, not as Pure Vanilla knew him, but as he once had been. The Beast. The Shadow. And he wasn’t alone.

From the smoke came three more monstrous forms, Mystic Flour, leaving trails of cursed dust in her wake, Burning Spice’s flame body torching every building he passed with volatile glee, and, from above, the cold descent of Eternal Sugar Cookie, gliding with grace as it seemed like the very sky itself was cracking under her pressure. Silent Salt, wielding their sword with frightening calm, crumbs scattered all around where they walked. The beasts moved in harmony. Destruction, fog, silence, and shadow—each spreading in their own way. Each tearing into the world Pure Vanilla fought so hard to protect.

He stumbled out the palace steps, desperate to reach anyone. To call out. To stop it.

But then he saw the shadow turn.

High above, Shadow Milk’s gaze slowly lowered, his wild grin dimming as if he noticed something—or someone—that didn’t belong. His burning blue eyes locked with Pure Vanilla’s across the wreckage, And in that second, Pure Vanilla finally understood:

This wasn’t just a dream. This was memory. A vision.

A past drenched in ruin and pain, and he was seeing it through the eyes of the one who lived it.

This wasn’t his kingdom, and this wasn’t reality.

This wasn’t his Shadow Milk Cookie either, this was the past. This was not his to experience, he was watching this from an outside perspective.

Shadow Milk wasn’t staring at him, he was staring through him.

Pure Vanilla’s hair waved from the strong winds of the chaos in front of him, the kingdom in ruins with cookies scattering in all directions. 

And still, Pure Vanilla didn’t run, he couldn’t. 

Staring with wide eyes up at the beast floating in the air—who had long turned away from him—Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but observe.

Observe how different the beast is to the Shadow Milk in the present.

Is this really the same cookie he knows now? The same beast he sees here, now peacefully lay in his castle in the reality?

He hears his breathing picking up, his heartbeat starting to race at the sight of all the beasts working together as one, the kingdom stood no chance. The smoke only rising up more higher into the sky, the sky seeming to be on fire itself.

Looking down, he clutched at his chest. One emotion creeping up his spine that was preventing him from moving.

Fear.

Intense fear.

He was scared? Scared of Shadow Milk?

That can’t be, he was never afraid.

But he wasn’t him, this is not experience, he is a spectator.

He looked up at Shadow Milk Cookie once more.

The beast.

Not Shadow Milk, this is not him. This is different, Shadow Milk cookie is not like this.

He is being shown this for a reason? Is this by some cruel fate meant to be something that changes his view on Shadow Milk? To make him seem like the beast he always was?

Is that what his destiny is? For Shadow Milk Cookie is always be a beast and nothing more?

No. This is not Shadow Milk.

This is different, this is who is was before he had support, someone to lean on. 

This was when the whole population of Earthbread was against him—all of them—even the witches themselves. This was before him. 

“Shadow Milk.. no..” Pure Vanilla whispered out, knowing his voice was easily drowned out by the screams of the cookies around him. “Shadow Milk Cookie.”

Because Pure Vanilla was not naive, he knew the nature of Shadow Milk, he knew roughly the type of background he had come from. The chaos he would easily be able to bring onto kingdoms.

His heartbeat having slowed from his quickened rate as well as his breathing, the fear he had in his very dough having dissipated as his looked up to Shadow Milk still bringing chaos down to those below with a grin. Pure Vanilla’s being harbored something else:

Determination.

He was never one to define someone by their titles.

Beast? So be it. He will work not around it, but with it.

He watched the chaos above, his thoughts being interrupted by a thunderous roar in the sky, watching as even Shadow Milk turned towards it.

Shadow Milk’s gaze lifted sharply to the sky. His grin vanished.

The red clouds twisted, curling away like smoke caught in wind. The air trembled, heavy, suffocating, as the color bled into gold. A divine hue, searing and brilliant, poured down like judgment itself.

Then, they appeared.

Not in body—never in body—but the pressure of their presence could be felt in every quake of the earth, every silent second that followed. The Witches. Watching from far above, unseen, but undeniable.

Pure Vanilla felt his breath catch as the entire world seemed to hold still. Even the flames flickered low. The air warped with power. And then—

Crack.

From the glowing heavens came chains. Blinding white, inscribed with symbols he could barely comprehend. They shot down like spears, aiming not at the buildings, not at the land, but at them. The Beasts.

“No!” Shadow Milk snarled, his expression twisting, not with just only rage, but with fear. He turned, a ripple of black shadow surging from under him as he tried to dash away through the air. But he wasn’t fast enough.

The first chain struck him square in the chest. Another coiled around his arm. And then, the thickest one of all, slammed into his neck—hard, dragging him down from the sky like a star ripped from orbit. He hit the ground with a soundless thud, body twisting against the bindings as white fire seared into him.

More chains followed, racing toward the other Beasts, who were already faltering under the divine light. Mystic Flour tried to scatter to dust. Burning Spice howled in fury. Eternal Sugar simply raised her head in cold resignation. Silent Salt seeming to fight back against chains shortly before ultimately succumbing.

But the chains were relentless. They wrapped, seized, sealed.

Shadow Milk was dragged across the burning earth. His form flickered and warped under the weight of the restraints. His eyes wide, furious, and beneath it all, in cracks only he would be able and willing to see, pleading.

And then.

Blink.

Silence.

The flames were gone.

The sky was black.

Pure Vanilla stood alone in the vastness of the void. The world around him floated in weightless stillness, no ground beneath his feet. But up ahead, far ahead, were the glowing bars of a prison shaped like a tree. Wrapped in those same divine chains.

And behind them, curled low and silent, was Shadow Milk. His eyes closed. His body still.

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched. His legs moved forward on instinct.

He had seen what came before.

And now he had to understand what came after.

He understood now, that vision was a continuation of what he had seen earlier. Up top that hill on that night with Shadow Milk.

So he had finally seen the continued full version of that vision, but why now?

Pure Vanilla shook his head, he’ll think about that later.

In the distance, a faint, pale light flickered, like moonlight filtered through mist. As he approached, it grew brighter, forming into the unmistakable shape of a towering tree made of white-gold bars. The glow pulsed gently, divine in presence, yet cold as frost. Wrapping around the tree were thick silver chains, and behind it, knelt low to the ground, was Shadow Milk.

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched.

He was crouched down, back arched as though from exhaustion or defeat, the chains around his arms and neck pressing deep into his dark form. Blue eyes glowed dully beneath his hair, cast downward and half-lidded. The air around him shimmered like magic heavy with sorrow.

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was gentle, breaking the silence with a tremble of disbelief.

There was no reply. Not even a flinch.

The silence felt wrong now, as if pressing down on his chest. He stepped closer, nearly stumbling as he fell to his knees beside the bars, his hands bracing himself. His eyes scanned every detail, the way the divine chains glowed faintly with celestial symbols, the way they pinched at Shadow Milk’s skin, biting into shadow as if they were meant to dissolve him slowly.

“No..” he whispered. “What is this?”

He reached forward instinctively, but the bars radiated with a warmth that stung the tips of his fingers, warning him away. Pure Vanilla pulled back, not out of fear, but because something sacred had declared him unworthy to reach in.

But still, he tried again.

“Shadow Milk,” he said, softer now, voice on the edge of a plea. “Can you hear me..?

The bound figure didn’t answer. His breathing was slow but steady, alive, but distant.

So Pure Vanilla stayed there, resting his hand gently on the bars, forehead lowering until it pressed between them, his golden light mingling with the pale white around him.

“I’m here,” he whispered, the vision wrapping around him like sorrow. 

The air in the void was still, the silence deafening—but Pure Vanilla heard everything. Every trembling breath, every stifled sound of struggle. His eyes fixated on the figure behind the tree-shaped bars, his heart cracking with each detail that came into focus.

Shadow Milk knelt beneath the towering cage of white-gold, the divine chains wound so tightly around him that they sank deep into his dark dough. They weren’t just meant to bind, they were meant to crush. His arms, pulled taut by the weight of the shackles. His shoulders, trembling beneath pressure no one was ever meant to bear. His head was bowed low, pressed toward the ground not in reverence, but in collapse.

The chains glowed faintly with celestial markings, symbols of divine order. Of judgment. Of punishment. And though they shimmered with light, it was a light that burned, not comforted.

Pure Vanilla stared, helpless, as Shadow Milk’s body shuddered once more.

He’s in pain, he thought. Even here. Still in pain.

Shadow Milk’s breathing was shaky, quiet, but irregular. Not from fear. No, there was something heavier than fear here. Despair. Resignation. Anger, buried so deep beneath it all that it barely flickered in those dim blue eyes.

Pure Vanilla reached a hand toward the bars again, this time not to touch, but simply to be there. To try.

The bars, sacred and untouchable, still rejected him.

And so, he watched. Silent, reverent.

It was then he truly felt it, the overwhelming weight that had crushed Shadow Milk not only in body, but in soul.

This wasn’t punishment for a crime willingly committed. This was containment of something unwanted, misunderstood. A being too powerful and too burdened, who had fallen under the weight of impossible expectations. And when he fell, no one caught him. No one reached for him.

Because the others had been falling, too.

Burning Spice. Mystic Flour. Eternal Sugar. Silent Salt.

All of them. Friends, maybe even family to him once.

And when the world sealed them away, it wasn’t mercy—it was abandonment.

He had nothing, Pure Vanilla thought bitterly. No one.

And now, kneeling in this ghost of memory, Pure Vanilla realized that this—this was the moment Shadow Milk was no longer simply a force or a presence.

He was a soul.

One who had been failed.

Pure Vanilla’s chest ached with a sorrow that wasn’t entirely his. Watching the shaking breath, the clenched jaw, the exhaustion pulling Shadow Milk’s body closer to the ground, he felt it in his soul jam, a deep, aching pulse of sadness.

This wasn’t a monster.

This was a Cookie who had been cast aside for being too much. A being whose power had defined him more than his heart ever had the chance to.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla whispered, not expecting to be heard, not needing to be. “You didn’t deserve this. You never did.”

The vision didn’t respond. The past held still, heavy as stone.

But something in Pure Vanilla’s heart shifted.

Had he known, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so quick to be afraid of Shadow Milk in the past.

They truly were the same. Both given immense power with high expectations.

The only difference was that Pure Vanilla had support, Shadow Milk did not.

Maybe if he hadn’t had his friends with him he would have fallen all the same like the others had. Burdened with responsibilities and tasks to do at the first start of his being baked, he would have collapsed under it all too.

“I hope one day would find the strength to tell me all that happened that day yourself.” Pure Vanilla whispered, his eyes low and filled with sorrow. “I’d love to hear it from you personally, for you to confide in me yourself.”

He tried to lay his hands on the bars once more, the unseeable force pushing him back from contact once more.

Shadow Milk must of been really alone, maybe he had been sealed along with the other beasts, but they are fighting their own internal battles as well. 

A group of fallen friends all banished from the world, the only thing left of the outside being each other.

“For many years.” Pure Vanilla muttered, watching Shadow Milk cookie curl up, the chains rattling quietly under the movements. “You’ve endured for many years.”

A moment passed before he spoke again.

“You’ll never endure that loneliness again.” He leaned as close as he could get to the bars before he would be pushed back. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Faintly, his vision began to waver, the corners of his sight blurring as the last thing he saw was the chained up hunched figure of Shadow Milk keeling behind the bars.

Though, what he wasn’t expecting was to be thrown into another type of dream, a dream he knows of way more.

Blueberry Milk Cookie.

The moment Pure Vanilla’s eyes opened, the familiar haze of a dream pressed in around him. But unlike the usual soft embrace of his slumbering world, this time it was heavy, charged with something deeper, something unspoken. The sky above was a dull grey-blue, the air filled with a muted stillness, like the kind that envelops places long abandoned. He stood still for a moment, his boots brushing over cracked cobblestone, broken tiles scattered across the forgotten road beneath his feet. Something in the atmosphere urged quiet, reverence, or perhaps mourning.

He was in the dream again.

But this time, something had changed.

Pure Vanilla’s brow furrowed slightly as he surveyed the ruined kingdom around him. He had seen this place before: the once-great structures of a kingdom that had fallen long ago, crumbled to dust. The tall, broken walls seemed to be reaching toward the sky, like ancient bones of something long dead, their jagged edges framed by the hazy mist that permeated the air. Everything around him felt still, yet alive with the kind of quiet sorrow that only a place haunted by memories could carry.

There was a lingering presence here, one that wasn’t familiar. One that made his heart tighten with uncertainty.

He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the ruins. And then he saw him.

Blueberry Milk Cookie was already there, standing amongst the rubble, partially shrouded in shadow. The pale silver-blue of his hair and eyes were a stark contrast against the gray backdrop of the broken kingdom. His gaze was distant, focused on something far beyond what Pure Vanilla could see. There was a weight to him, something hidden in his posture, as if caught in a thought he couldn’t quite pull free from.

Pure Vanilla’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t explain why.

He stepped forward, his voice quiet but warm. “Blueberry Milk Cookie?”

At the sound of his name, Blueberry Milk’s head turned, but his eyes were distant, lost in something he couldn’t grasp. There was no smile on his face, just a quiet intensity, like the dream itself was weighing heavily on him.

“Pure Vanilla,” Blueberry Milk said, his voice soft but steady, as though he had been expecting him, or perhaps, as though he had been waiting for him all along.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was a lingering tension between them, a thousand unasked questions. Time seemed to stretch out, as if the very dream itself held its breath.

Blueberry Milk shifted his weight and nodded toward the horizon. “Come,” he said, his voice carrying the same quiet command as before. “Follow me.”

He didn’t explain further, he never did in this strange dream. He only moved, his footsteps soft on the cracked road. Pure Vanilla followed without hesitation, his own steps light but purposeful. The weight of the moment settled between them, neither rushing nor drawing away, simply existing in the shared silence of their walk.

The journey to the distant castle felt longer this time. As they passed beneath the ruined archways and beside broken statues overtaken by vines, Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but notice the subtle tension in Blueberry Milk’s movements. He seemed distant, as though something buried deep within him was being stirred, something that even this dream could not hide.

The castle loomed larger with every step. Its spires reached toward the sky, broken and jagged, yet still standing. The windows were dark, the once-grand doors now a fading memory of their former glory. Still, they creaked open with ease, their hinges groaning as though inviting them into the depths of the forgotten place.

Inside, the air was stale, carrying the scent of dust and time. The grand hall stretched endlessly before them, its high stone walls cracked, echoing a faint whisper of what had once been. The ceiling, cathedral-like in scale, was missing great chunks of itself, leaving moonlight to pour through the gaps, casting silver beams of light across the shattered marble floor.

Blueberry Milk stopped just beneath one such beam, standing in the center of the hall. His posture was rigid, his eyes fixed on the dark expanse above them. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. His gaze was distant, as if he were seeing something only he could perceive.

Pure Vanilla paused several paces behind, not wanting to intrude too soon. But after a long silence, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Blueberry Milk Cookie,” he called again, his voice gentle, like the whisper of a breeze. “It’s been a while.”

Blueberry Milk turned slowly, his eyes meeting Pure Vanilla’s with an intensity that held no trace of the quiet calm he once carried. There was something different in his gaze, a flicker of recognition, perhaps, but also a trace of something else, something fleeting and out of reach.

“I know,” Blueberry Milk replied softly. “It’s.. been a while.”

Pure Vanilla felt a sudden tightening in his chest. The way Blueberry Milk said it, so calm, so matter-of-fact, as if this distance between them had always existed—struck him deeper than he expected.

“I’ve seen you before,” Blueberry Milk added, voice steady but uncertain. He took a step closer, his eyes studying Pure Vanilla. “Each time you come here, I understand a little more. I feel it in the dreams—like echoes of a past that isn’t fully mine yet. You’re… you’ve seen me before haven’t you? Just, not here.”

“And i’ve seen you, haven’t I?” Blueberry Milk continued.

Pure Vanilla’s heart ached at the question. He didn’t respond right away, simply nodding faintly. He didn’t have the words for it, not yet. And even if he did, he didn’t think it would be the right time to say them.

Instead, he stepped forward and reached out, gently brushing his fingers against Blueberry Milk’s hand. The other Cookie hesitated for a moment, and then his hand met Pure Vanilla’s, their fingers weaving together naturally, as though it were the most instinctive thing in the world.

Without saying another word, Pure Vanilla gently pulled him beneath the beam of moonlight, feeling the warmth of their connection grow. There was a quiet softness to it, a familiarity, but also a delicate sadness, as though the dream itself knew this moment was fleeting.

They stood there, simply breathing in the shared space, before Pure Vanilla whispered, “Do you remember… anything more?”

Blueberry Milk hesitated, his grip tightening just slightly as though unsure of the answer. “Only.. feelings. Something heavy. Something I left behind,” he murmured, his voice catching ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I want to remember.”

Pure Vanilla’s chest tightened at the words, but he nodded gently. “That’s alright,” he said softly, guiding Blueberry Milk into a slow, measured rhythm. Their feet moved in an invisible waltz, gliding over the cracked marble as the dream seemed to wrap them in a strange kind of peace.

For a time, they simply danced. The silence between them spoke louder than any words could. Their bodies moved in sync, the moonlight flickering over them like water, while the world around them faded into a distant hum.

But then, something strange began to stir. As Pure Vanilla dipped Blueberry Milk gently, their soul jams pulsed with a faint, warm light. The air around them shimmered, and for the briefest of moments, Blueberry Milk’s form flickered, dissolving into something darker, older, more chaotic. His hair unfurling into not the magnificent beautiful galaxy that it was but instead the dark hair filled with eyes and shaped like tendrils, as well as being as droopy as liquid itself. His eyes becoming the slits Pure Vanilla knew.

Shadow Milk.

And in that instant, Pure Vanilla’s own robes darkened, losing their pristine white in favor of deep, hollow blue. His expression, too, shifted, becoming cold, distant, remote.

Truthless Recluse.

Blueberry Milk gasped, startled. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he felt it, the flicker of something more. He saw Pure Vanilla, but his mind couldn’t fully comprehend the shift.

Pure Vanilla, however, understood completely. He saw it all, lived through it.

He knew exactly what this was, a glimpse of a future already set into motion, a past already forgotten. It was a vision of what would come, or what had already come. But in that moment, he didn’t have the words for it. Not yet.

And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the vision vanished. They were back, standing under the moonlight in the castle once more, wide-eyed and breathless.

Blueberry Milk, still unaware of what had just transpired, whispered, “What… was that?”

Pure Vanilla could only stare at him, heart heavy with understanding, sorrow, and awe.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently squeezed Blueberry Milk’s hand, pulling him closer.

For now, they simply stood together, letting the silence speak for them.

And Pure Vanilla, feeling the weight of the dream, of the future yet to be—said nothing.

Not yet.

“Blueberry Milk, is there anything else you can remember? Maybe in glimpses of whatever feelings you could harbor within?” Pure Vanilla asked quietly, his voice lower as well as his gaze.

Blueberry Milk glanced away for a moment, his eyes focused. 

“Despair.”

That got Pure Vanilla’s attention quickly, his eyes looking into Blueberry Milk’s. “Oh?”

“And,” Blueberry Milk paused, looking back at Pure Vanilla. “Happiness.”

How strange.

Pure Vanilla took a step back, finally putting a bit of room between them from their earlier dance. “Can you elaborate.”

“Not in the ways you desire.” Blueberry Milk sighed, adjusting the large collar at his neck, the keyhole design catching Pure Vanilla’s attention once more.

Not in the ways you desire..

What does that mean?

Blueberry Milk ran fingers through his hair, regaining his composure from before. “I apologize for how I dragged you here earlier, I was simply curious.” Blueberry Milk cleared his throat, folding his hands behind his back. “I do have questions for you however.”

Pure Vanilla shifts nervously, already faintly aware of the questions about to be asked of him. “Before that, I have some questions for you.” Pure Vanilla was quick to respond. “You talked about the witches last time, and I’m curious, can you tell me about your time here in the kingdom?” He gestured to the doors to the outside of the castle, where the ruined kingdom would be seen. “Maybe some had conspired here.”

Blueberry Milk narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, however he conceded when he walked past Pure Vanilla, motioning for him to follow further into the castle. “Interesting, I will indulge. Follow me.”

Thank the witches that worked.

Another difference between the two, one was easy to open up to him, while the other was almost impossibly closed off to everyone.

Almost impossibly.

Blueberry Milk pushed some more doors open, Another big room that had big windows to look out to the kingdom below. From up top, he was able to see more destroyed buildings from below. His attention wa a drawn up at the sound of tapping against the floor.

Blueberry Milk spun his staff in front of him, Pure Vanilla realized it wasn’t something he saw often from the cookie to wield; despite the staff holding the soul jam instead of it being in his neck.

Pure Vanilla walked in slowly, his footsteps echoing quietly beneath him. The space was quieter here, almost reverent, as if the very walls still remembered what they once were.

Blueberry Milk had already crossed the chamber, standing in the center beneath the soft glow of the moonlight. The silence stretched between them, but it was no longer heavy, it was thoughtful, as though both Cookies were teetering on the edge of something important.

Then, Blueberry Milk finally spoke. His voice was calm, but distant. “Do you know who baked us, Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

Pure Vanilla looked up slowly, surprised by the sudden question. “The witches,” he said softly.

Blueberry Milk nodded once. “Yes. But not just in legend. I remember it. I remember the heat of the oven, the scent of old wood and strange herbs. I remember their hands.. they baked me—all of my friends—directly. And not just with milk or cream.” He raised a hand, and his staff appeared in it, the long, obsidian shaft glowing faintly from the runes carved into it. “They gave me something else. Something older. A piece of knowledge that predates the very kingdoms that rose and fell in this world.”

He stepped forward, lifting the staff above his head, and then brought it down sharply with a clang against the stone floor.

A ring of softly glowing blue light burst out beneath them, a magic circle, ancient and intricate, forming instantly under their feet. Pure Vanilla stepped back instinctively, eyes wide as he glanced down at the shimmering lines that curled and spun beneath him, alive with unseen language.

Before he could ask what it was, the world around them began to shimmer.

The cold greys of the ruined castle slowly peeled away, like fog being burned off by morning sun. In its place, color bloomed.

The walls repaired themselves, cracks vanishing, windows restored. Tapestries reappeared on the stone, vibrant and intricate. The scent of spring flowers wafted through the room, and voices—dozens of voices—filled the air. Laughter. Conversation. The sound of bustling life.

Outside the windows, Pure Vanilla saw the kingdom as it had been. A city filled with joy. Cookies walking down sun-dappled streets, trading bread at market stalls, greeting one another with cheerful smiles. The sun shone golden above them, and the trees swayed gently with the wind.

Blueberry Milk stood in the middle of it all, a figure cloaked in deep navy, the staff at his side. The other Cookies bowed their heads as he passed, reverent, perhaps a little fearful.

“I used to walk these halls,” he said quietly. “Back then, I was called the Fount of Knowledge. They sought my words. My insight. My truth.”

Pure Vanilla watched, mesmerized, as the illusion continued. It was like standing in memory itself.

Blueberry Milk’s voice grew softer. “At first, it was.. peaceful. Fulfilling. I would offer them visions, truths, the answers to their questions, secrets of their lives, their futures, their fears. But..”

The illusion around them began to shift again. The sky dimmed. The sunlight faded. The laughing faces turned wary. The smiles grew forced.

“They began to hate my honesty,” Blueberry Milk said. “I never lied. But truth, even gentle, has a price. They asked things they didn’t truly want answers to. They feared me. But they never stopped coming.”

The images of Cookies now surrounded them, pleading, begging, voices overlapping, questions turning to demands.

“What does the future hold for me?”

“Will I lose my loved one?”

“Tell me how to save my village.”

“What am I destined to become?”

Their faces blurred, angry, desperate, impatient.

“They always wanted more. Always expected more.” Blueberry Milk’s voice was growing tighter, quieter. “And I—I gave it. I never said no. Even when it drained me. Even when it made me bitter.”

Now, the illusion changed again. Blueberry Milk sat alone atop a grand balcony, the kingdom spread beneath him. His head rested in his hands. His shoulders were heavy. The sound of voices faded away, replaced by the hush of wind through hollow halls.

“One night.. I went to sleep angry. Tired. Frustrated that no one truly listened, only took. And when I woke up—” he gestured outward, and the bright city flickered like static. The colors broke apart.

Everything around them crumbled again. The sky turned dim, and the happy sounds were swallowed by silence.

“—everyone was gone.”

The illusion shattered like glass, falling away in shimmering fragments that dissolved into mist. They were back in the castle room, grey, crumbling, hollow. The stained glass had returned to its dull lifeless hues. And Blueberry Milk stood in the same spot, now looking at Pure Vanilla with a somber, unreadable expression.

“I don’t even remember what happened between the night I closed my eyes and.. now. The kingdom was destroyed. The Cookies vanished. And the weight I’d carried—the anger—it was gone too. Just.. silence.”

Pure Vanilla stared at him, his brow furrowed deeply, heart thudding in his chest.

He said nothing. Not right away.

Because in that moment, he knew.

Blueberry Milk remembered everything—up to the moment he had fallen.

The corruption that transformed him into Shadow Milk.. the despair that must have driven him to abandon the Fount of Knowledge he had been.. all of that was lost. Not sealed, not repressed. Taken.

A gap in his memory that loomed like a chasm.

Pure Vanilla didn’t tell him. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not while Blueberry Milk was still so open, so close to rediscovering something that could tear him apart.

So instead, he stepped forward quietly.

The light from the windows fell over Blueberry Milk’s face, casting a soft silver glow over his tired features. His expression was distant, eyes lost in some memory that no longer existed.

Pure Vanilla reached out slowly and placed a hand on his arm.

Blueberry Milk flinched, only slightly, then looked at him.

“You carry too much,” Pure Vanilla said gently, his voice like a thread in the silence.

Blueberry Milk blinked once, then looked down at the floor.

Blueberry Milk smiled softly, looking away from Pure Vanilla in what looked to be guilt. “I was made to carry that much.”

Pure Vanilla shook his head. “That doesn’t mean it is something you should feel forced to take on.” He paused. “From the very moment you were baked, had that been the only thing you had ever known?”

“What do you mean?” Blueberry Milk raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, being the Fount Of Knowledge, had you ever been tasked with simply ever getting to be anything else.”

Blueberry Milk stared at him blankly for a moment before laughing quietly. “I had been baked with a purpose given to me already, a title, a role. There was no ever ‘being anything else.’ For that was picked for me.”

Oh, he gets it now.

Pure Vanilla gazed at him softer, a sadness in his eyes once again. “So you never got a choice.”

The other frowned in response, turning away from his gaze. “I suppose not, by the witches themselves I was already told from the start what I was to do. There was no choosing anything else, less I deny my own identity.” Blueberry Milk muttered.

Something in that response he couldn’t help but feel sadness for. 

The scholar wasn’t just speaking on behalf of himself, but also on behalf of all the other beasts who had also fallen. With being baked with similar purposes, they must of also been forced onto the role given to them.

“And yet, that identity was for your choosing, you were meant to grow into your own purpose first.” 

Pure Vanilla didn’t say it, but he did very much think it.

—maybe that is why I hadn’t fallen like you had.

He shook his head slightly, expelling the thought. He looked to Blueberry Milk once more, observing him closely.

His expression was unreadable, eyes distant, brows faintly furrowed, as though trying to grasp something that refused to be held.

Then he spoke, voice quieter than before, but edged with something that hadn’t been there earlier.

“..When I woke up, the anger was gone. But something else had taken its place.”

Pure Vanilla glanced at him gently. “What was it?”

Blueberry Milk’s hand tightened around the shaft of his staff. His gaze lifted toward the shattered moonlight pooling along the floor, catching on the specks of dust that danced like ghosts.

“Joy,” he said after a beat. “Or maybe.. vindication. Like I’d finally let go. Like..  something had finally been done. Something deserved.”

Pure Vanilla’s chest tightened. He didn’t move, but his thoughts began to race.

That wasn’t joy. That was the chaos.

He had seen it before,. When the Fount of Knowledge was no longer Blueberry Milk, but Shadow Milk. When his grief had twisted into fury, and that fury into raw power, raining destruction on the very kingdom he once served. The world had called it corruption. But Pure Vanilla knew it had begun as pain. In the vision he had seen before with Shadow Milk and the other beasts. Raining terror upon the ruined kingdom.

The dream memory ended where Blueberry Milk’s fall began.

And in that gap—left wide and black—was where Shadow Milk had thrived.

Still, he said nothing. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Blueberry Milk turned to look at him, searching his face carefully. “You know, don’t you?”

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched.

“You’ve always known something,” Blueberry Milk murmured. “Every time you come here, it feels like I remember more. Like you’re the thread pulling the pieces back together.” His voice was measured, but not accusatory, just full of a quiet, desperate hope. “Tell me.”

Pure Vanilla’s expression didn’t falter, but his silence stretched.

He met Blueberry Milk’s gaze, and gently deflected.

“I think your heart already knows,” he said softly. “Even if the words haven’t come yet.”

Blueberry Milk narrowed his eyes just slightly. Not out of anger, but hurt. His grip on the staff slackened. “So you won’t tell me.”

Pure Vanilla looked away, his voice thick. “I don’t want to cause you pain before you’re ready. You’ve carried enough of it alone.”

“And yet,” Blueberry Milk said, almost under his breath, “I don’t feel alone when you’re here.”

That stopped Pure Vanilla.

The quiet that followed was immense. Blueberry Milk stepped back into the center of the faded magic circle, now dark and inert on the ground, and stared down at it.

“I can feel it,” he continued. “That something terrible happened. That I—did something. I don’t remember it, but it’s in me. Like dust in my lungs. And whenever I see you.. it stirs.”

He looked over his shoulder at Pure Vanilla. “Even now. My heart feels like it’s remembering something my mind won’t allow.”

Pure Vanilla took a step closer. “Maybe that’s how healing begins,” he said gently. “Not all at once. Not with a revelation.. but with presence.”

Blueberry Milk turned fully to face him, his expression finally softening “Perhaps my wisdom is rubbing off on you after all this time.”

He returns a smile towards him quickly. “I do have an interesting influence back at my home.” 

Blueberry Milk’s eyes light up, his waves his staff away as it vanishes in the air once more. He took a step towards Pure Vanilla, his voice slow and hesitant. “Your home. What is yours like.”

That, Pure Vanilla had no problem telling.

“Ah—” His voice caught faintly as his legs gave way beneath him.

Blueberry Milk moved instinctively. “Careful—!” He stepped forward just in time, arms catching the white-clad Cookie before he could fully collapse.

He looked up only for his face to be inches away from Blueberry Milk’s.

“Are you alright friend? You sure have a habit of doing that.” Blueberry Milk smiles down at him, a concerned look in his eyes. Pure Vanilla was doing everything he could to avoid that look for now.

“I apologize, I was hit with a wave of sleepiness just now.” Pure Vanilla felt Blueberry lower them both to the cool floor, the perfect angle to look out the big window they were facing; the moon never having moved from its place in the sky.

“Ah, that must be you are departing.” Blueberry Milk continues to hold Pure Vanilla, who is now basically laying in his lap. “Disappointing.”

“…Would you like me to tell you about my kingdom?” he asked.

Blueberry Milk blinked down at him. “…You have a kingdom? I had assumed you lived in a little spot, not a huge kingdom.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled faintly, sleep-tinged and gentle. “Yes. It’s beautiful..  peaceful. Far, very far from here. There’s warmth in the air, always. Like spring never truly leaves.”

He exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, each word softened by drowsiness.

“There are cottages with flower-covered roofs.. orchards filled with sugar blossoms..  little bridges over streams that glow at night. We have a little spot where Cookies can rest and heal. No one goes hungry. No one is turned away.”

Blueberry Milk’s expression softened slightly. “That sounds.. wonderful.”

Pure Vanilla’s lashes were beginning to lower again. His words slowed.

“We have libraries, too. I thought of you, actually.. You’d love them. So many old tomes. Books about the stars, history, magic.. truth..”

He trailed off for a moment, then added with a quiet, breathy smile:

“There are gardens where the light never fades. I keep bees, too. I name them.”

Blueberry Milk let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You… name the bees?”

“Mhm…” Pure Vanilla was smiling now, even as he drifted further. “One’s named Bramble. She’s always angry..”

Blueberry Milk looked down at him, brow furrowing ever so slightly. He hesitated.

“You’ve.. mentioned a friend before,” he said carefully. “Someone you’re trying to help.”

That name—that presence—was always dancing just out of reach in his dreams. The one Pure Vanilla never said aloud.

“…Who is it?” Blueberry Milk asked softly.

There was a pause.

Pure Vanilla stirred, but didn’t answer. His eyes fluttered open just slightly, but the dream around him was already beginning to flicker, fading at the edges like paper curling in firelight.

“No—wait,” Blueberry Milk said quickly, leaning down a little, “you didn’t—”

But it was too late.

The moment Blueberry Milk reached for him, the dream collapsed, light shattering into gold.

And Pure Vanilla’s eyes opened, heart fluttering with the quietest bit of delight.

The real world pressed in again, soft sheets beneath him, very early sunlight warming his cheek. The sun just barely peeking through the horizon.

He exhaled, smiling faintly to himself.

Not yet, he thought.

He could still keep that truth to himself.. for now

He stretched his arms, yawning as he rubbed at his face. The sleep still clinging onto his body, still feeling tired from even that sleep he had been in.

Ah, Shadow Milk.

He looked up, scanning the ceiling to find where the cookie had been just a few hours ago at night. 

He was confused when his eyes didn’t meet the blue that should of been above.

Pure Vanilla sat up, not having to scan the room long to find where the jester was; having spotted him quickly at the front of the bed and awake. Noticeably turned away once again from Pure Vanilla.

“Shadow Milk?”

Shadow Milk jolted slightly, like he had be startled out of his own thoughts. “Oh, Nilly.” Shadow Milk turned to glance at him, his expression riddled with something Pure Vanilla couldn’t pinpoint at the moment.

“When had you awaken? I’m sorry I had kept you up doing nothing for a while if you’ve been awake.” Pure Vanilla moved the blankets off of him, moving across the bed to get closer to Shadow Milk.

“‘Nilla, we’ve been over this how many times now, I don’t need sleep.” Shadow Milk let Pure Vanilla get closer, bracing his weight on his arms while he leaned back. “The most I do is zone out or look into my other realm or something.” Shadow Milk muttered, avoiding looking at Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla found something strange however.

Quickly scanning Shadow Milk he seemed, tired. 

Not in the sense a regular cookie would be in, however, genuinely tired, more mentally then physically. Pure Vanilla can easily catch the signs, the differences throughout Shadow Milk.

“Are you sure you don’t need sleep.”

Shadow Milk groaned, however, he still wanted looking at Pure Vanilla again. “Do I really need to sound it out for you, old man? Witches, maybe aging really does affect your stupidity even more.” Shadow Milk grumbled, crossing his arms on his chest.

Pure Vanilla instead gently smiled at him. He knew.

“Quick agitation can come from not sleeping.”

Shadow Milk scowled, his foot tapping angrily against the floor while he sat on the edge of the bed.

Against the floor. 

He’s not floating like usual.

“You aren’t floating.” He voiced out loud. “Are you too tired to do so?”

Shadow Milk growled lowly, glancing at him with slit eyes before quickly glancing away again. “Do you need to ask me such stupid questions after just waking up? Go busy yourself or something.” Shadow Milk muttered.

“That can wait.” Pure Vanilla leaned closer. “Can you look at me really quick, please?” Pure Vanilla softly asked.

“Why are you so pushy this early.”

“Please?” 

Pure Vanilla studied him carefully. Shadow Milk didn’t move to rise or float away, like he usually would. His usual aura—cold and distant—was muted now, and his movements felt almost.. sluggish.

“Look at me,” Pure Vanilla said gently, his voice filled with a quiet but firm softness.

At first, Shadow Milk didn’t comply. He stayed fixed, his back stiffening just a little, a hint of resistance in his posture. But Pure Vanilla waited, patient, not pushing, only watching.

A long silence stretched between them before Shadow Milk finally huffed, an irritated sigh escaping his lips. His eyes snapped up, but they weren’t fiery like usual. There was a weariness in them now, something unfamiliar in the usually unflappable beast.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened as he took in the subtle signs: the slight droop of Shadow Milk’s eyes, the tightness around his brow, and the way his normally perfect composure was now fractured with faint exhaustion.

“You’re tired,” Pure Vanilla observed softly. It wasn’t a question, more of an undeniable truth.

Shadow Milk’s eyes narrowed at the comment, but Pure Vanilla could see the truth in them.

“I don’t need sleep,” Shadow Milk retorted, voice still clipped, but the words didn’t carry the usual edge. “I’m a beast. I don’t need to rest.”

Pure Vanilla remained quiet, watching the tiredness in his eyes. “You look tired,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Your eyes, You’ve been awake too long.”

Shadow Milk grunted, clearly trying to brush it off. But there was a moment—a brief moment—where his expression faltered. His hand tightened at his side, and Pure Vanilla could sense the subtle shift in him.

“I’ve.. been feeling off lately,” Shadow Milk muttered, his voice softer than usual. His shoulders tensed, and he shifted slightly, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Like my memory is, messed up. Not that it’s gone, but..  it’s shifting around. It’s hard to remember some things, and others don’t feel like they’re right.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t speak immediately, letting Shadow Milk work through the quiet frustration in his voice. He could sense that this wasn’t easy for him to admit, despite the vulnerability it implied.

Pure Vanilla nodded slowly, listening closely. He didn’t push for more details, only letting the quiet fill the space between them. Sometimes, words didn’t need to fill every gap. Sometimes, silence was a way to allow the truth to surface on its own, when the time was right.

“You’re still.. tired,” Pure Vanilla said gently after a while. “It’s still early. You can rest a little longer. We both can.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes flickered. He opened his mouth, likely to argue, but instead, he closed it again, shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the conversation had started to catch up with him. He sighed, looking resigned.

“I don’t… usually need it,” he muttered, but his words were quieter this time, as though he wasn’t quite convincing himself anymore.

Pure Vanilla, with the quiet gentleness only he could manage, stood and moved toward the side of the bed. He didn’t wait for permission, he simply leaned down and pushed gently on Shadow Milk’s shoulder, guiding him back toward the bed.

“Come on,” Pure Vanilla said, voice still soft but with that steady kindness. “Rest with me for a little while.”

Shadow Milk hesitated for a second, eyes flickering from Pure Vanilla to the bed and back, a quiet protest lingering in his gaze. But he didn’t fight the push this time. With a small grunt, he lowered himself back down, his head sinking into the pillow, though his body remained rigid for a moment longer than necessary.

Pure Vanilla sat beside him, not too close, just enough to feel the quiet weight of Shadow Milk’s presence beside him. For a long while, neither spoke. The silence was comfortable, an odd kind of calm that neither of them seemed to know how to break.

Then, as the seconds ticked by, Pure Vanilla felt it—a subtle shift.

Shadow Milk, who had been lying stiff and tense at first, slowly inched closer. At first, it was only a shift of inches, an accidental drift as his body relaxed, almost without realizing it. But it continued, almost imperceptibly, until his side brushed against Pure Vanilla’s side. The warmth from his body settled against Pure Vanilla’s, and he couldn’t help but smile softly, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little.

He watched as Shadow Milk’s breathing grew more even, the tense lines of his face softening with each passing moment. His eyes were closed now, no longer fighting the pull of rest. His body, though still firm, seemed to be giving in to the quiet peace of sleep.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, a gentle warmth filling his chest. He could see the tension fade from Shadow Milk’s features, the vulnerability and exhaustion finally taking its toll.

And just as Shadow Milk’s breath evened out, sinking deeper into sleep, Pure Vanilla let out a soft sigh, his own exhaustion creeping in. But as he lay beside him, the warmth of the moment wrapped around him like a cocoon.

For once, there was no rush.

Though, he had still remained curious.

Pure Vanilla lay still, feeling the soft rise and fall of Shadow Milk’s breath as he slept beside him. The quiet, peaceful rhythm of his slumber should have been soothing, but Pure Vanilla couldn’t shake the feeling of the vision that had just gripped him, of the chains, of the sorrow that had bound Shadow Milk so tightly. It lingered in his mind like a leech, even as the present moment was bathed in softness.

The chain marks had been faint in the vision, but the pain was real. Shadow Milk had borne that weight, the weight of being bound, both physically and emotionally. Pure Vanilla’s heart clenched at the thought. He felt his fingers move on their own accord, reaching for Shadow Milk’s back, slowly gliding over the contours of his form as his mind wandered through the dream, through the heavy, sorrowful image of the beast chained and abandoned.

He moved with deliberate slowness, careful not to disturb him, his hand tracing lightly along the curve of Shadow Milk’s shoulders, down his spine, feeling for something—anything. He could feel the faint traces of scars beneath the surface, remnants of pain long passed, but still there, like ghosts. His fingers hovered near the back of his neck. There, where the chains would have pressed deeply, the marks were barely perceptible now, barely a whisper against his dough.

Yet, despite their faintness, they were undeniably real. A quiet reminder of what Shadow Milk had endured. The chains had been real, the cruelty they represented, real.

Pure Vanilla’s heart sank as his fingers brushed across the marks. They were faded now, but they still carried a weight, one that no amount of time could erase. He felt a sorrow surge within him, knowing how much Shadow Milk had suffered, how much he had endured in silence. It made his chest tighten, as though he, too, could feel the weight of those chains, the burden of the past, even now.

He let his fingers linger, gently, almost reverently, before pulling his hand back. He didn’t want to wake Shadow Milk. Not yet. Not when he was finally getting some rest.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. He couldn’t help but feel helpless. The vision had shown him everything, the chains, the prison, the pain that Shadow Milk had carried for so long. But it was in the moments like this, when Shadow Milk was finally vulnerable and at peace, that Pure Vanilla found himself yearning to protect him, to shield him from any more hurt.

Even if it meant carrying some of that pain himself. He would do it, without question.

The weight of the sadness that had followed him from the vision settled deeply in his heart. He turned his gaze back to the peaceful form of Shadow Milk, watching as his breathing remained steady. A soft smile tugged at his lips, gentle, bittersweet.

“I’ll take care of you,” Pure Vanilla whispered quietly, not sure if Shadow Milk could hear, but knowing the promise was one he meant deeply. He leaned over, planting a soft kiss on the others head.

And with that, he let himself relax beside him, his own eyes closing, allowing the warmth of the moment to momentarily wash away the sorrow. But it didn’t erase the worry that lingered, the fear of what might still be to come.

For now, he would stay, as the soft rhythm of Shadow Milk’s sleep soothed him. The words of Blueberry Milk Cookie still hang in the back of his mind.

He would carry this moment. This promise.

And he would not let him fall again.

Chapter Text

“You mean, you have another main form of yours?” Pure Vanilla responded with a soft smile on his face, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he listened intently.

Shadow Milk groaned dramatically for another time that day, doing multiple spins in the air as he usually did. “How many times do I have to say it ‘Nilly? It is my form, it’s me.” Shadow Milk stretches in the air, his tendril like hair touching the ground.

Still, it was always easy for him to catch Pure Vanilla’s curiosity.

“And how much different is this form?” Pure Vanilla looks up to where Shadow Milk is floating, catching the way he now slowly spins with all his eyes looking at him except his main eyes. “Is it in the form of a creature, like the serpent perhaps?”

Shadow Milk gasped faintly, his smile turning into a grin to convey his mock-surprise. “As much as those forms of mine are really magnificent—because it’s me—what I mean is my actual normal form is quite big!” Shadow Milk floated down with his legs crossed over one another, his arms folded while his eyes closed. “Such a form is not accessible to me in this body, would’ve been in my old one.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, his eyes following all of Shadow Milk’s movements. “All of your forms are quite magnificent.” He said, his voice slightly hushed. He turned away, his mind wandering to his own thoughts. “I would say I would love to see it, though you had mentioned you were unable to show me such a form anyway.” Pure Vanilla chuckled lightly, his hands that were resting in his lap along with his staff now going up to run through his hair. “I suppose I can only imagine now.”

The other cookie hummed, his silver hair falling in his face. Shadow Milk leaned closer until his back met Pure Vanilla’s side, the smug expression on his face only growing by seconds. “Well, who said anything about only imagining, i’d easily be able to demonstrate myself.” 

Pure Vanilla perked up, his eyes meeting Shadow Milk’s once again.

Shadow Milk quickly floated up, turning around as his voice flattened. “Well, that’s if you don’t have anything to do today, I know that kings usually don’t get freetime.” He flexed his clawed fingers, the blackened tips sparking after he slashed at the air. 

The space in front of them both sparkled in static, a rift shortly exposing itself clearly through the white-blue glow. Shadow Milk shrugged, taking steps closer to the portal forming; he kept talking after he held out his hands once more.

“Though, you can take care of whatever it is you have to do today, whatever it is you do.” Shadow Milk waved his hand once, using his other hand to grip at the portal physically. His claws dug into the portal, forcefully pulling it open easily for better entrance. “Whatever it may be today.” 

He begun to start stepping through the portal, the claws further flexing in the glow of the portal.

Pure Vanilla quickly spoke.

“Wait.” Pure Vanilla started.

Shadow Milk paused, turning over his shoulder to look at Pure Vanilla, who has now stood up from the bed with his staff standing upright. He hummed in acknowledgment, a question to what Pure Vanilla wanted to ask.

“I am… free today.” Pure Vanilla said slowly, taking a small step towards Shadow Milk. His hands leaving the staff. “If you want me to accompany you.”

Shadow Milk didn’t say anything, his expression blank and unreadable in those small short moments. His face shifted to something akin to amusement quickly, floating backwards from the portal but never closing it. “Oh, Vanilly.” Shadow Milk flipped in the air, floating on his stomach as well as facing Pure Vanilla. 

“Are you saying your schedule is clear just so you can join me or if it is actually clear?” Shadow Milk floated closer, despite his deadpan tone; his toothy grin was ever present on his face. “Don’t try to fool me, i’ll see through you this time.” Shadow Milk chuckled, clasping his hands together.

Pure Vanilla shook his head, letting his staff fully rest on the bed. “I could never dream of fooling a cookie like you.” Pure Vanilla spoke lowly, looking up at Shadow Milk. “Especially not a second time.”

“Especially not a second time.” Shadow Milk repeated unenthusiastically.

Another step forward, Pure Vanilla’s steps were light—hesitant. It easily left room for rejection, something that Shadow Milk so far hadn’t taken; evidenced by the fact he was choosing not to dash into the portal easily that’s still open.

Eyeing the portal of swirling blues, whites, and even violet, the portal was foggy but nonetheless beautiful. As to Be expected. 

“If you’d want to, I can join you.” Pure Vanilla held out his arms slightly, offering a smile to the other cookie in the air.

Shadow Milk raised an eye brow, leaning back so he wasn’t floating on his stomach anymore. His posture now upright, he folded his hands behind his back while his closed one of his eyes, the slit eyes staring down at him. 

“If I want to?” 

“Sorry, if you would let me.” Pure Vanilla corrected himself softly.

Shadow Milk stared down at him blankly once more, floating down with his head tilted thoughtfully. His feet hovered just above the ground, always never quite fully touching.  He was hovering close to Pure Vanilla once again, a new smirk on his face. “Really..” Shadow Milk spoke with a lowered voice briefly.

“I was messing around with the whole.. ‘willing to show you in my other realm’ thing.” Shadow Milk paused to focus on Pure Vanilla’s face, his hands coming down to grasp at his shoulders. “Buuuut! If you so desire much, who am I to deny you such a sight as moi.” He floated back, giving the healer a low quick bow. 

He summoned his scepter, waving it lightly in the air as a strong type of force knocked his staff away from him.

“You won’t be needing it there.”

“Be quick now.” He mumbled out, floating backwards into the portal while maintaining eye contact with Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, tension leaving his shoulders in one motion. 

He stepped closer to the portal, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the balcony window. The light of the mid afternoon sky something that will let him know how long it’s been afterwards.

Taking note of the outside, he looked back at the portal and continued to keep walking through it; going fully into the portal and taking note quickly of how it closed closed behind him. However, he is not scared.

Pure Vanilla stepped cautiously through the portal Shadow Milk had summoned. The moment his bare feet touched the other realm’s ground, a shimmer of cold blue light rippled across the void-like sky above, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.

The space stretched and twisted around him like a living maze, long, winding hallways folded into impossible angles, defying all sense of normal architecture. Below, the floor was a vast checkerboard, black and white tiles extending endlessly, gleaming faintly as if polished by unseen hands. Scattered pieces of furniture floated gently in midair: a delicate armchair, a low wooden table, a grand mirror reflecting nothing but endless blue.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened as he took it all in, the sheer strangeness and beauty of this place was unlike anything in his own kingdom. The colors sparkled and danced with a crystalline purity, light refracting through the very air.

Above him, a massive figure loomed.

Shadow Milk, taller and broader than he’d ever seen him, rested his chin on his palm, a lazy smirk curving his lips as his deep, dark eyes pinned Pure Vanilla in place. His form seemed almost regal here, every movement effortless and full of confidence.

Pure Vanilla lifted his gaze, awe and curiosity mixing in his soft mismatched eyes. For a moment, words caught in his throat as he simply stared up at the enigmatic beast Cookie, feeling the weight and mystery of this realm press around them both.

Shadow Milk’s smirk deepened, the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Welcome,” he said, voice low and smooth.

Shadow Milk’s towering figure cast a long shadow over Pure Vanilla, his presence immense in the swirling realm of sparkling blues and endless void. The checkered floor beneath them stretched and twisted in impossible angles, broken pieces of furniture floating in slow, graceful arcs around the space like memories adrift. The silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken truths.

With a slow, deliberate rhythm, Shadow Milk’s other hand—the one not resting on his cheek—tapped against the glossy black-and-white tiles. His claws, sharp and faded into black from the blue of his hand, clicked softly, each tap echoing through the void like a heartbeat. The sound was steady, unhurried, deliberate, a reminder that he was in control here, a silent command beneath the surreal beauty of his realm.

Pure Vanilla’s steps were careful, hesitant, but his gaze was wide with wonder. He took in every detail of the place: the impossibly high ceilings that dissolved into starlit darkness, the twisting hallways that seemed to fold in on themselves, and above all, the figure before him, so enormous, so different from the cookie he knew, yet undeniably the same.

Shadow Milk’s voice broke the quiet, low and calm but carrying weight. “This isn’t another beast form. Not a trick or a mask.” His gaze locked onto Pure Vanilla’s with an intensity that was equal parts challenge and invitation. “This.. is what I really am. No illusions.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes traced Shadow Milk’s face, discovering details unseen before in the waking world. Just below his main eyes, two smaller, glimmering eyes rested, sharp, calculating, their slit pupils slicing through the dim light. They watched him silently, ancient and fierce. The contrast was striking, unsettling yet oddly mesmerizing.

His lips parted in a slow, brief smile, revealing rows of teeth sharper and more numerous than Pure Vanilla expected. The two rows of jagged, ivory points gleamed faintly, peeking out just beyond his lips. The sight was wild and beautiful in its raw honesty.

The tapping of claws against the floor ceased, and Shadow Milk’s smile deepened, teasing yet soft. “So, tell me—are you scared of me now? Or do I still feel like the friend you claim.”

Pure Vanilla met those many eyes without hesitation. His voice was steady, quiet, carrying the warmth of truth. “No.. I’m not scared. You look beautiful. Different, but beautiful.”

The beast’s smirk softened into something almost shy, the playful edge giving way to a flicker of vulnerability. 

“I’m still me,” Shadow Milk murmured, voice low and almost hesitant. “Just more real, I guess. Sometimes that’s a lot to carry.”

Pure Vanilla took another step forward, closing the distance, drawn by the rare openness. “It’s brave,” he said softly. “To show me all of this.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze flickered to the floating furniture, as if suddenly aware of how strange it all seemed, the grand, fractured kingdom of his soul made manifest. “This place,” he said quietly, “is my other realm. A reflection of what’s inside me. The chaos, the calm. It’s where I belong.

Pure Vanilla nodded, absorbing the weight behind the words. “And you’re letting me see it.”

“Because you deserve to,” Shadow Milk replied, his voice steady again. “I’ve never shared this with anyone before. Not like this.”

Pure Vanilla’s heart squeezed with something fierce and protective. “I’m honored.”

Shadow Milk flashed another grin, the two rows of impossibly sharp teeth being shown to Pure Vanilla again; despite this, he was not scared. Never was he scared of the being.

His tongue, long, forked, and dark like that of a serpent, flicked out. Also mimicking that of a snake tasting the air. “This, is what we beast cookies look like.” Shadow milk’s eyes, all of them, narrowed momentarily at Pure Vanilla. “Our natural form something that cookies such as yourself would run away and be terrified of.”

The claws curled more into fists, not tense or clenching, but something more focused. 

“And yet,”

Shadow Milk lunged forward quickly at Pure Vanilla, not to attack or push away, but to look at him more closely. leaning down more towards the checkered floor where Pure Vanilla was. His claws on either side of him of Pure Vanilla stared back up at him, not having moved from his spot, unafraid.

“You always surprised me by acting the opposite.”

Tilting his head, Pure Vanilla softened. “Oh?” He questioned.

“Yes,” Shadow Milk nodded. “Whenever I think I finally predicted you, you act the opposite, differently.” Shadow Milk huffs through his nose, the air comically almost blowing Pure Vanilla off balance. “The only cookie I can’t seem to predict.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled while smoothing down his robes, his response slightly hesitant. “Is.. that a good thing?”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond for a moment, his face blank before he squinted.

“Well, it does make things interesting.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze bore down on Pure Vanilla as the smaller cookie continued to stare up in awe. The air around them was charged with a strange energy, Shadow Milk leaned forward, a faint breeze stirring from his nostrils, as if he were deliberately trying to blow Pure Vanilla over with the force of it. The wind teased at Pure Vanilla’s robes, fluttering them lightly, but he held his ground, eyes fixed on Shadow Milk’s enormous, imposing face.

Slowly, Pure Vanilla stepped closer, drawn in despite the power looming over him. With careful hesitation, he reached up and placed a gentle hand against Shadow Milk’s cheek. The vastness of Shadow Milk made the freckles on his face—normally hard to notice—clear and distinct, like tiny constellations scattered delicately across his skin. Pure Vanilla’s fingers traced them softly, studying the subtle warmth beneath his touch.

For a moment, Shadow Milk seemed lost in a distant haze, almost like a dreamer caught between worlds. Then suddenly, his eyes snapped sharply back to Pure Vanilla, flashing a grin filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Pure Vanilla flinched instinctively and stepped back.

Before he could react further, powerful claws reached out and gripped the scruff of his robes with surprising gentleness. Pure Vanilla was lifted effortlessly into the air, held high in Shadow Milk’s massive palm. The world below seemed distant now, and he sat there, cross-legged and suspended, the vastness of Shadow Milk’s hand a strange but comforting throne.

Shadow Milk’s voice broke the silence, playful yet low. “You’re braver than you look, healer.”

Pure Vanilla’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, “I’m not scared, not when I’m with you.”

“Thank you,” Pure Vanilla said softly, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincere gratitude. “For showing me all of this.. your true self.”

Shadow Milk’s grin softened, the sharp edges of his teeth just visible beneath his lips as he tilted his head down to meet Pure Vanilla’s gaze. “You’re welcome,” he rumbled, his voice low and steady.

Pure Vanilla hesitated, then asked carefully, “Is this… what you’ve always looked like? Back then, when you said you were different?”

Shadow Milk chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very air around them. “This is what I’ve always looked like, yes. But don’t forget, I can still shrink down to that smaller form you’re used to.” He flexed his enormous claws thoughtfully. “It’s not easy for a cookie this big to move around a kingdom back then. Imagine trying to hide this kind of presence when most cookies would run away screaming.”

Pure Vanilla listened intently, his gaze never wavering as he absorbed the weight behind Shadow Milk’s words. He was certain the next part would be a story, maybe a memory that had shaped this powerful form, something personal and raw.

But Shadow Milk suddenly cut himself off, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his many eyes. For a heartbeat, a glint of old pain or something darker shone through, then was gone as quickly as it had come. His usual calm composure settled back like a cloak.

“Maybe another time,” Shadow Milk said quietly, voice steady but carrying the hint that some memories were still locked away, reserved only for himself.

Pure Vanilla nodded slowly, respecting the unspoken boundary but feeling the pull of their connection deepen all the same. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly.

Shadow Milk gave a small grin. “Don’t rush me, healer. I’ll share when the time is right.”

Pure Vanilla offered a small smile. “Yes, I’m willing to wait until that time.”

“You and your patience that I’ll never have.” Shadow Milk muttered.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze lingered, his eyes soft as he watched Shadow Milk’s clawed hand still holding him aloft with surprising steadiness. “You mentioned before,” Pure Vanilla said slowly, “that all the beasts have their own true forms. Mystic Flour, Burning Spice, Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt..” His voice trailed off as he tilted his head. “What do they look like?”

Shadow Milk’s grin twitched, too wide, too quick. “Oh, curious now, are we?” he said, voice lilting with dry amusement. “Always asking the questions with the heaviest answers.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t press—he knew better—but he waited.

Shadow Milk rolled his many eyes, head tilting back with a theatrical groan. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Those four are each their own kind of mess. I’m not their keeper, you know.”

“But you were part of them once.”

“I’m not part of anyone,” Shadow Milk replied sharply, his tone laced with that familiar edge of pride. “Not anymore.”

The statement hung in the air, crisp and final.

Pure Vanilla lowered his gaze, his eyes drifting to the long tendrils of Shadow Milk’s hair. Something glimmered faintly at the ends, almost like stardust caught in water. The lower strands shifted slightly with the movement of the air, and at the very bottom, there was a faint blue tint, soft, shimmering, almost ethereal. Tiny flecks like stars sparkled faintly within it, fading as quickly as they appeared. 

He couldn’t help but wonder where he said seen something similar before.

“That part of your hair.” Pure Vanilla said quietly, reaching his hand out slightly, but stopping before touching. “It’s… glowing. Almost like stars.”

Shadow Milk blinked, his smug expression faltering. He looked down, and for a rare moment, his face twisted in something that wasn’t his usual sarcasm or boredom. He brought his free hand up and pinched the glowing strand of hair between two fingers, lifting it up to his face.

The expression that passed over his face was unreadable. Confusion, yes, but something else too. Something distant. Distant and almost… haunted.

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, trying to decipher it.

But the moment broke.

Shadow Milk gave a short scoff, masking whatever had flickered there with his usual bravado. “Weird stuff’s been happening for a while now,” he said dismissively, letting the strand fall and flicking the rest of his hair back over his shoulder. “Unusual, yeah. Doesn’t mean anything. Probably just this realm acting up again.”

But Pure Vanilla wasn’t so sure.

He remembered the dreams—the visions that felt too vivid, too real. Of the cookie who looked like Shadow Milk, but wasn’t twisted by void or corruption. A soft smile. Pale blue hair, warm and flickering like candlelight in moonwater. Blueberry Milk Cookie.

The thought lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. Could these changes be tied to that? To who he used to be.. before everything?

He looked back up at Shadow Milk, who was already looking away, pretending not to notice the scrutiny.

Pure Vanilla said nothing. But in his heart, he was certain.

Something was changing. Something that Shadow Milk is choosing not to acknowledge right now. 

This isn’t something that was happening in his dream anymore, this is the waking world. This is reality, and changes are happening real time.

And in front of him.

Shadow Milk shifted his grip and lowered Pure Vanilla back down onto the checkered, twisting floor beneath them. The surface pulsed faintly with each step, warped like a chessboard caught in a dream.

“I’ll admit,” Shadow Milk muttered, watching Pure Vanilla with a curious glance, “I half-expected your little awakening to slap you into something more dramatic.”

Pure Vanilla dusted himself off lightly, the ends of his longer hair brushing against the surreal tiles. “It didn’t change much,” he admitted, glancing at his own reflection in a mirrored shard nearby. “Not on the outside, at least.”

“Pity,” Shadow Milk said dryly, crossing his arms. “Could’ve used some horns or something, maybe even some extra arms. Everyone loves a dramatic flair.”

A small chuckle escaped Pure Vanilla, not mocking, but warm. “Maybe we change differently,” he said after a pause. “Maybe the things that shaped us weren’t the same.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond at first. He just stared at Pure Vanilla, the smallest tick of tension forming in his jaw. His grin twitched but didn’t grow. Then his eyes narrowed, his upper pair unfocused, but the lower set, those watched Pure Vanilla intently. And then, just as quickly, they closed, as if shielding something behind them.

Pure Vanilla continued gently, “You were forced to carry too much alone. That kind of weight, I can’t imagine it didn’t leave marks.”

Shadow Milk’s grimace was subtle, fleeting. His mouth opened slightly, maybe to retort, but then he looked away, head tilting down just a bit. Whatever words had come to his tongue were swallowed, replaced with silence and that familiar, practiced indifference.

Pure Vanilla said nothing else for a while. He studied the figure before him, towering, dark, more beast than cookie, yet somehow still deeply familiar.

His gaze rose slowly to Shadow Milk’s head, where he noticed something new; his ears were more sharply pointed than before, the curve elegant and sleek. Behind them, two strong, dark horns curled back over his head, their texture polished, spiraling in a very faint pattern that felt almost regal.

They were.. beautiful, in a way.

“You remind me of my sheep,” Pure Vanilla said softly.

Shadow Milk blinked. All eyes opened briefly, clearly incredulous.

“…What.”

“Your horns,” Pure Vanilla clarified with a calm smile, “They curl just like theirs. I used to spend hours brushing their coats. There’s something gentle in the shape of them.”

A long, dragging groan left Shadow Milk as he threw his head back. “Of course you’d compare me to a smelly animal.”

“I said it fondly.”

“I’m a manifestation of a cosmic all knowing beastly entity and you think I look like a sheep.”

“I like sheep.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes so hard it nearly echoed through the void. “You are absolutely insufferable sometimes.”

But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t mock further. In fact, if Pure Vanilla looked closely, he might’ve seen something shift—something subtle in the set of Shadow Milk’s shoulders, as if the comparison… hadn’t entirely offended him.

If anything, he looked a little quieter than before. Maybe even thoughtful.

And in this strange, twisting space that obeyed no rules, Pure Vanilla realized that even here, amidst corruption and shadow, there were still pieces of the past. Still pieces of him.

Even if Shadow Milk refused to admit it.

“Nothing less expected from you, you’d always resort to that.” Shadow Milk’s eyes went half lidded, unamused and uninterested; well, as uninterested as he tried to look. 

Confused, Pure Vanilla hummed, eyebrow raised in question. “Resort to what?”

“Acting like I'm not a threat to you.” Shadow Milk flexed large claws, resting on either side of Pure Vanilla. “Even while being huge like this where you have to look up to see all of me, you still treat me like I’m not a cookie that’s to be feared, terrified of.” Shadow Milk practically hissed.

Pure Vanilla took a step back, not out of fear however, but out of wanting to see Shadow Milk better in front of him.

“You are to be terrifying, but not from me.”

Shadow Milk tilted his head. “Oh?”

Pure Vanilla stared up at Shadow Milk who was now slightly leaning down towards him once more, his four eyes open once more to all stare at him. “It is true that I know there are stories of cookies being terrified of you, but know back then, cookies must of looked up to you in revere, something godly.” Pure Vanilla’s statements were softened, not aiming to trigger anything from the beast.

He gained a nod of quiet approval in response, showing how he was correct in his words. “That is true.” Shadow Milk quietly responded.

In confidence, Pure Vanilla continued. “I much prefer to be part of the latter group.”

In regained amusement, Shadow Milk laughed loudly—his voice seeming to echo in layers, only adding on to the ancient underlying power within him. His voice sounding as if he’s multiple people speaking at once.

“Oh is that so? Would you be part of the group to potentially worship me then? There were cookies of my time that did partake in that.” Shadow Milk grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Never wavering, Pure Vanilla indulged. “I suppose I would, shall I get on one knee before you?”

Shadow Milk faintly—and quite shyly, caught off guard—faintly blushed in response, the grin never leaving however. “If you are so much offering, I may even fulfill all it is you desire if I like you as such.”

“Very appealing, I may just start converting all of my ideals now on the spot.” Pure softly smiled up at the giant cookie, his hand folded in front of him.

Shadow Milk’s grin sharpened, though his voice lowered, a velvet edge threading into it. “Careful now, your words may summon something you aren’t prepared for.”

“I’ve already stepped into your domain,” Pure Vanilla replied smoothly, his tone still soft but laced with that familiar certainty. “What else is there to fear?”

Shadow Milk’s many eyes—four on his face and those glimmering ones nestled in his flowing hair—narrowed all at once, pupils tightening like drawn strings. “You say that like you understand me completely.”

“I don’t.” Pure Vanilla admitted, taking a step forward, the checkerboard floor echoing underfoot. “But I want to.”

A pause.

Shadow Milk leaned closer, his hair curling slightly, reacting to warmth within. “Even if that truth is ugly?”

Pure Vanilla didn’t flinch. “Even then.”

The faint sparkle at the ends of Shadow Milk’s hair, those starlike glimmers Pure Vanilla had noticed earlier, seemed to flicker brighter at that. A response, perhaps, or something deeper surfacing.

Shadow Milk huffed, the puff of air ruffling Pure Vanilla’s hair. “You’re too soft, Nilla.”

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly. “And you’re not as rough-edged as you pretend to be.”

That earned a brief, sharp laugh from Shadow Milk, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t laced with bitterness.

Shadow Milk let the laugh fade slowly, the remnants of it lingering in the shadows curling beneath his feet. “You say things like that,” he murmured, “and I start to think you’re forgetting who and what I am.”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze remained unwavering. “I haven’t forgotten. I simply choose to see more.”

Another pause. Tense, electric.

Shadow Milk regarded him, something unreadable flickering behind those slit eyes. “You speak like someone who’s never known ruin.”

“I’ve healed what is ruined,” Pure Vanilla said quietly, “not ignored it.”

That made something in Shadow Milk shift, barely noticeable, like a ripple beneath still water. He leaned back slightly, just enough to loosen the pressure of his presence, though his expression remained unreadable. “You’re persistent.”

“And you’re evasive.”

The remark hung in the air for a moment before Shadow Milk’s lips curled again, a slow, deliberate smile. “Careful again. That sounds like a challenge.”

Pure Vanilla matched it with a calm one of his own. “Maybe it is.”

Shadow Milk’s tendril hair flicked once behind him, a slow sway like a cat sizing up a threat—or a curiosity. His voice dropped, smooth and rich with something older than teasing. “Then don’t cry when the abyss looks back.”

Pure Vanilla stepped forward again looking up more at the giant. “Let it. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

And this time, Shadow Milk didn’t laugh. He only looked at him, truly looked, and for once, didn’t try to hide whatever emotion flared just beneath his surface. Not quite admiration. Not quite sorrow. Something in between.

A long, low hum left him. “Strange little cookie.”

“You’ve called me worse,” Pure Vanilla replied lightly.

“I have.” Shadow Milk’s grin returned, but softer this time. “And yet here you are. Not scared. Not flinching.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head with a smile, one hand resting over his chest. “Because you never gave me a reason to be, not now.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer, not with words. But his hair, thick with stars and shadow, didn’t withdraw. If anything, it curled closer. Almost protectively. Almost… trusting.

Pure Vanilla’s thoughts pondered for a moment in that quick session of silence.

“I assume, the moment you step out of this realm of yours, you will revert back to your smaller usual cookie form.” Pure Vanilla questioned, however it was more of a statement said.

“Forcibly, the little vessel I have outside of this realm is not built of handle the power you see in front of you.” Shadow Milk gestures to himself. “My original body would be able to form into this easily, however, if I tried to with the body I use now outside of this place..” His voice trailed off.

Though, Pure Vanilla continued his thought. “It would practically destroy your body.” He mumbled.

“Yes.” Shadow Milk scowled. “Forcefully limited, less I want to destroy the body and end up returning back to my original body, yet I’d basically be sealed once more in that wretched tree.”

It was Pure Vanilla’s turn to scowl, truly not liking such thought. 

Still, he remained curious.

“You’ve been able to transform into other creatures outside this place however?” Pure Vanilla recalled back to the time Shadow Milk changed forms in front of him.

A faint chuckle echoed out from Shadow Milk, leaning back. “You mean the time I showed you my serpent and wolf forms?” Shadow Milk waved his hand, also recalling back to the time. “Those forms require much less then this form to maintain, and are less toll on the body. Still, even those put strain on me as well.”

“I see, so then..” Pure Vanilla looked around the realm, taking note of how everything here seemed to defy every known thing. “You come here too feel relief of being confined to such a body for so long, a comfort for you.”

Shadow Milk faintly offered a hum of approval once more, showing Pure Vanilla was correct once again. “Bingo! How observant of you.” Shadow Milk did a small mock bow. “It does get a bit disorienting being stuck in such a small body for so long, being here I can finally do as I please.”

Pausing for a moment to stare at Pure Vanilla, he sighed softly, a hint of vulnerability peeking through for just a second. “With the downside of it mainly just being me, my minions may be somewhere around here, but it’s still quite boring. Not very fun.” 

Pure Vanilla’s eyes softened at that, a gentle sort of ache settling in his chest. “Then.. I’m honored,” he said, voice quieter now, “that you’d let me see this place. That you’d share it with me.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond at first. He just stared at him, eyes half-lidded and unreadable, but his hair gave him away again, curling slightly at the ends, like it was listening, feeling.

Then, with a shrug that was a bit too casual to be natural, he muttered, “You were curious. It would’ve been rude not to show you.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, knowing full well that wasn’t the real reason.

“And here I thought you didn’t care about manners.”

“I don’t,” Shadow Milk said flatly, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It sat quietly between them, deep and full. Pure Vanilla looked around the strange, swirling realm again, the warped sky, the faint glimmer of stars where there shouldn’t be stars, the impossible landscape where nothing was fixed except the presence of Shadow Milk at its center. And even still, it all felt a little warmer now. Less foreboding.

His gaze returned to the towering cookie in front of him. “Even if you can’t stay like this outside, this is still you. Not a disguise. Not a monster. Just you.”

Shadow Milk’s expression flickered, the grin faltering just for a second. “You’re too sentimental,” he said, but the sharpness was gone from his voice. “No one’s ever looked at this form and said something like that. If they did, it was always forced to get something out of me.”

Pure Vanilla met his eyes, his four visible ones, and the soft, eerie gleam of those scattered in his hair. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

Shadow Milk looked away with a scoff, but it lacked conviction. “You’re exhausting.”

“You’ve said that before,” Pure Vanilla replied lightly. “But you haven’t pushed me away yet.”

Another pause.

“..No,” Shadow Milk admitted, quieter. “I haven’t.”

And even that small honesty, the reluctant openness, was enough to feel like something shifting beneath the surface. Something careful. Something fragile.

Pure Vanilla held onto it. Not with force. But with a gentle, patient warmth, like always.

Then, Pure Vanilla was the one to break the silence next.

“I have a spot I wish to show you, it’s back at the kingdom outside of this place. I don’t know how time works here necessarily, but I was hoping to show it to you at night fall.” Pure Vanilla’s request was slow, soft, as always leaving room for rejection.

He would admit, he was rather happier that Shadow Milk hadn’t taken it again, as always.

“Back at the kingdom? Hm.” Shadow Milk thought for a moment before snapping his fingers, a portal appearing behind Pure Vanilla. “I can indulge, it should be night fall anyway now.”

Pure Vanilla turned to glance at the portal once, turning back towards shadow Milk he can see he is smaller again. While his beastly features remained, Pure Vanilla knew they would disappear once they stepped through the portal.

“Well, Vanilla?”

Pure Vanilla was the first to step through, coming face to the outside of the castle rather then the inside of the rook they had left in. Shadow Milk already behind him with the portal fizzling out of existence.

As expected, Shadow Milk’s features have returned to the usual, the sharp two rows of teeth with some poking out of his mouth now gone. The horns that curled back on his head were gone as well, the points of his ears smaller; and the tip of his tendril-like hair also returned to normal.

The only thing that seemed to remain were the claws that faded into black at his fingers. Though, Pure Vanilla knew those had always been there.

“Lead the way.” Shadow Milk nudged him forward, snapping him out of his thoughts as he began to walk. Not towards the usual path he takes down towards where the cookies would be, but he instead took a right towards the tall trees at the outskirts of the kingdom.

Shadow Milk floated behind him wordlessly, however Pure Vanilla didn’t mind the silence. Taking his time generously to gather his thoughts, he pushed through bushes and leaves to get to a certain spot he knew. The roaming fireflies swirling around him before disappearing on their way.

And there he saw it, sitting in a small patch of smooth grass under a spot there the trees opened up, allowing a beam from the moon that was centered perfectly in the sky to shine down upon it.

A fallen log with a light layer of moss that can easily be brushed away by his hand, similar to the one that had been on that hill on that night.

“Here.” Pure Vanilla said under his breath, sitting down in the log after wiping away the layer of moss.

Shadow Milk however didn’t sit in the log, he remained standing—not floating—a few feet away from Pure Vanilla, the healer was alright with this though.

“I appreciate how open you’ve been today with me, even letting me see what you like truly.” Pure Vanilla placed a hand on his soul jam, the material glowing more under his touch. He took notice how how Shadow Milks also glowed more, despite his being left alone on his ruffles. “Really, I want you to feel comfortable with such things.”

Shadow Milk glanced at him before folding his arms. “It’s nothing too heavy, ‘Nilly. Don’t make it a big deal.”

And Pure Vanilla didn’t make it a big deal, choosing not to accidentally scare the other away again.

“I know what it’s like to be seen as more than a cookie. To have power, expectations, titles. And sometimes I think back, before the kingdoms, before the wars and responsibility. When it was just us adventuring.” His smile was bittersweet. “Golden Cheese. Hollyberry. Dark Cacao. Even White Lily.. before everything changed.”

There was a long pause. Then, faintly, Shadow Milk’s voice drifted through the air, low and unguarded.

“I remember when it was like that for us too,” he murmured, now facing away from Pure Vanilla. He rose off the grass slightly, floating without even thinking, his voice coming softer. “Burning Spice, Mystic Flour, Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt… we were all like that once.”

Pure Vanilla stayed silent, listening. Carefully.

“We were baked by the witches,” Shadow Milk continued, “given power unlike any other cookies. There were those who feared us, yes… but there were those who wanted our protection, who revered us. We were supposed to be more. Something beyond what cookies had ever been.”

His eyes dimmed, gaze lost in memory. “Back then, we weren’t strong yet. We hadn’t grown into our power. If it weren’t for Burning Spice and Silent Salt, we’d have been torn apart by those afraid of what we could become. The witches didn’t shield us either, not once. But they did. They always did.”

His voice cracked, barely noticeable, but Pure Vanilla felt it. Through the soul link that shimmered subtly between them now.

“Eventually, we grew. We learned. And when we finally became what we were meant to be, the world accepted us. Worshipped us, even. But it was already too late.”

A breath, slow and rough.

“One by one, we fell,” Shadow Milk whispered. “Each of us, consumed by their own chaos, our twisted ideals. Eternal Sugar was the last to fall before me. And then.. I fell too. I was the last.”

He turned his head slightly, his back still mostly to Pure Vanilla, voice low but clear. “They were all I had. They are all I have. I still see them… remnants of their true selves buried under all that corruption. We stood together. Proud. Glorious, even in the ruins we made.”

“We destroyed everything. Together. And we smiled.”

He paused.

“And then they sealed us.”

Pure Vanilla’s fingers curled slightly where they rested on his lap.

“Silver chains. Behind the white bark of that cursed tree. Left to rot in silence. No warmth. No friends. Only memories of what used to be.” His tone sharpened, brittle and heavy. “For millennia… we knew nothing but rage. Grief. And betrayal. Inside that tree, it festered for all of us in different ways.”

Through their bond, Pure Vanilla felt the tremor, not just in Shadow Milk’s words, but deep within his soul jam. The loneliness. The grief. The guilt that went unsaid.

Pure Vanilla didn’t speak. He didn’t move hastily. Instead, he let the ache pass through him, breathing it in, acknowledging it.

And then he reached, not with his hands, but with his magic. Gentle. Tentative.

Shadow Milk’s form drifted slowly from where he floated, drawn toward Pure Vanilla. The pull was light, something Shadow Milk could’ve resisted in an instant.

But he didn’t.

Softly, his feet met the grass. The weight of his body settled again.

Pure Vanilla slid down from the log to the earth, guiding Shadow Milk to sit across from him. Their eyes met. For once, Shadow Milk didn’t wear a mask, he was bare in a way Pure Vanilla hadn’t seen before. Not even in his monstrous form.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla said softly. Not out of pity. But from the bottom of his heart. “You deserved better than that. You all did.”

Shadow Milk looked at him—truly looked—and for a moment, he said nothing.

The soul bond thrummed quietly between them, like a heartbeat shared across two bodies.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore,” Pure Vanilla added. “Not with me here.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze dropped, then slowly returned to Pure Vanilla’s. There was no smile. But there was something else.

Pure Vanilla watched the quiet shift in Shadow Milk’s expression. The way his eyes flickered, just briefly, like some echo of the past brushed across his thoughts.

A part of Pure Vanilla hesitated, but he couldn’t hold the question back any longer.

“Do you still care about them?” he asked gently. “Like you did before?”

Shadow Milk’s gaze stayed on the grass between them, silent for a breath too long.

Then—quietly, but without any hesitation—he answered, “Yes.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, absorbing the answer, but the uncertainty lingered in his expression. “And… do they still care about you?”

At that, Shadow Milk looked up. His eyes met Pure Vanilla’s directly, sharp, yet tired, like he’d asked himself that same question for centuries.

“They do,” Shadow Milk said finally. “We all do. But… not like before.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t interrupt.

Shadow Milk continued, his voice lower now, touched with something unreadable. “We care. Deeply, in ways only we could understand. But it’s changed. It’s been changed. Twisted, warped by what we’ve become. There’s loyalty. Attachment. Even affection, in some form. But the warmth we used to share… it’s not the same. It can’t be.”

He looked away, eyes narrowing, the shadow of old pain resting in his posture. “There’s love still, I think. But not the kind that comes with safety. It’s the kind you survive with. The kind that burns and consumes.”

Silence followed. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves around them.

“I see,” Pure Vanilla whispered after a moment, his heart aching not just from the words, but from the quiet grief that hung between each one. “It must be hard. To still care, and know it’s changed beyond return.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

After a while, there was a response. “We were very close, we still are, but not in the way you would imagine.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, urging him to go on.

“Not in the way you and your friends are.” Shadow Milk muttered, his gaze low towards the grass.

“I see.” Pure Vanilla says, a quiet shared sadness in his voice. It wasn’t pity, it was never pity.

The quiet ache in the air deepened.

As Shadow Milk spoke of the past, his voice steady but distant, Pure Vanilla felt a subtle tug in his soul jam. Magic welled up unbidden, then a pulse, like a ripple. He felt something in his soul jam open, like something had been broken and allowed for him to go through, before the world dissolved into darkness.

He stood not as himself, but through Shadow Milk’s eyes. He knew immediately.

The sky overhead was ash-gray, burned orange by flames that still danced along the edges of what used to be a kingdom. Cracked towers leaned inward like broken teeth. But amid the ruin stood five towering figures, massive, yet unmistakably alive.

And they were… laughing?

“Oi! Mystic, you’ve made a mess again,” Burning Spice, ever bold and reckless, let out a booming laugh, his axe lashing the air. His form radiated untamed flame, muscles tense and always ready to act, even in jest. “One storm and the library’s half-melted!”

Mystic Flour adjusted a tattered, impossibly large cloak hanging over her swirling body, her tone flat and dry. “Such dramatic thunder.”

Silent Salt stood from a crumbled wall, they said nothing but their presence was always enough to tell everything.

Eternal Sugar, poised and graceful, hovered slightly above the ground, her body pulsing with sweet radiance dulled by corruption. “It’s unbecoming to argue over storms,” she said with a warm sigh, eyes closed. “But it is good to argue with you all again.”

Shadow Milk felt himself smile, not maliciously, not smugly, but softly.

Despite their monstrous forms, their corrupted state, and the burned kingdom around them, there was a strange warmth to the moment. A togetherness. The only thing that hadn’t changed.

“We’ve scorched and shattered everything,” Shadow Milk said aloud, his own voice layered with both bitterness and fondness. “And yet… you still bicker like little dough.”

Burning Spice shrugged, fire flickering at his back. “Wouldn’t be us otherwise.”

Eternal Sugar opened her eyes, her gaze landing on Shadow Milk. “It’s not about what’s burned… it’s who’s still standing in the ashes.”

But before anything more could be said—

A rumble. Then a crack.

From above, radiant white chains surged downward like spears of divine punishment.

“What—?!” Burning Spice roared.

Silent Salt stood. Mystic Flour took a step back, however she was more or less emotionless. Eternal Sugar gasped as shackles clamped around her limbs.

Shadow Milk’s vision blurred, silver wrapping around him, tugging him back.

He looked at them—all of them—one last time from the outside

Burning Spice, even bound, was snarling defiantly. Mystic Flours eyes didn’t betray fear, but resignation. Silent salt raised their sword briefly. Eternal Sugar, eyes dulled but still gentle, reached toward him.

And then, nothing.

Pure Vanilla gasped, eyes wide as the real world blinked back into view.

Shadow Milk’s back was still turned, and his voice picked up softly, as if unaware of what Pure Vanilla had just seen.

Pure Vanilla recovered quickly, not letting it be known what he saw.

Shadow Milk’s arms tensed. His voice was low, but sure. “Yes. It’s different now… but the care never left. Not for any of us.”

Pure Vanilla nodded solemnly. “Even if it’s twisted… it’s still love.”

Shadow Milk didn’t reply at first. But then, just loud enough for only Pure Vanilla to hear.

“Exactly.”

Pure Vanilla’s soul jam pulsed with a low, anchored weight, something sorrowful yet familiar. He followed the feeling and looked across the space between them.

Shadow Milk sat tense, his shoulders tight, eyes fixed somewhere far off. The way his jaw clenched, the way his claws twitched, he was holding it all in again. Bracing himself.

Pure Vanilla moved without thinking. Gently, he reached forward and took Shadow Milk’s hands in his own, the sharp edges of his claws pricking against his palms but not cutting. Shadow Milk flinched faintly at the touch, as if startled, but didn’t pull away.

With that same careful patience, Pure Vanilla tugged him just a little closer. Their eyes met.

And Pure Vanilla smiled at him.

Something in Shadow Milk’s expression cracked. His mouth parted, breath catching, and then, without a sound, tears welled up in his eyes and slipped free, trailing down his face in silence. His posture melted, rigid tension bleeding away as his body slumped forward slightly. Even the eyes within his flowing hair gently closed, as if they too finally allowed themselves to rest.

Pure Vanilla’s heart clenched at the sight, and he knew. Shadow Milk would never want anyone to see him like this—not like this.

So, without hesitation, Pure Vanilla opened his arms and pulled him into an embrace.

He didn’t say “it’s okay to cry.” He didn’t say “you’re safe now.” He didn’t need to. The hug itself said all of it.

Shadow Milk didn’t return the embrace fully, but one of his hands rose weakly, gripping the folds of Pure Vanilla’s robe, his claws curling inward, not threatening, just holding on. As if anchoring himself to the moment.

Pure Vanilla pressed his hand gently to Shadow Milk’s back, slowly rubbing small circles there, his voice low and steady.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For trusting me. For letting me see this side of you.” Pure Vanilla let his head rest more against the side of Shadow Milks, feeling his fast breaths against the back of his neck as he quietly cried, something Pure Vanilla could not see. “That was very brave of you, thank you.”

His smile lingered, soft and earnest. Not because Shadow Milk was breaking, but because he wasn’t hiding. Not from him.

Inside, Pure Vanilla was happy, very much so.

To hear so many details about such a past not from a vision or dream, not from Blueberry Milk, But from Shadow Milk Cookie. To him, it felt like a privilege he still couldn’t believe he had been given, and yet he cherished it. He would remember this moment, and he would never forget. 

He would take as many chances to learn something new from the other cookie, if it meant having to wait for such moments like these, he would do so willingly if the reward was such.

Shadow Milk stirred slightly in Pure Vanilla’s arms, and Pure Vanilla felt the shift, the subtle inhale, the flex of movement against him. Likely wiping away the tears.

He didn’t stop him. He simply waited, arms still resting gently, until he felt the stillness return.

When he pulled back, he looked at Shadow Milk’s face in the soft light. There was no puffiness. No visible traces of what had just passed. If Pure Vanilla hadn’t heard the trembling breath, hadn’t felt the quiet grief through their bond, he might’ve thought nothing had happened.

But it had. He knew.

He didn’t speak of it. Didn’t comment or coddle. He kept the memory tucked safely in his heart.

Instead, he reached up, cupping Shadow Milk’s face with both hands, his fingers brushing just beneath his cheekbones. The light of the moon cast a pale silver glow across Shadow Milk’s features, catching in the strands of his hair and the gleam of his eyes.

“You’re beautiful in the moonlight,” Pure Vanilla said softly, voice nearly a whisper.

Shadow Milk blinked, his usual sharpness still present, but softer now, tempered by the weight of everything shared. He didn’t deflect or mock. He let Pure Vanilla hold him like this, let the silence hang for a moment too long.

Their faces stayed close, breath warm between them, both of their gazes half-lidded now, voices low.

“We’re alike,” Pure Vanilla murmured, a hint of that playfulness returning. “You said before… how alike we are. I think I’m starting to really understand what you meant.”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer at first. Then he scoffed under his breath, quiet, not cruel. “Took you long enough.”

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly, the kind that hinted at both amusement and tenderness. “I can’t help it. I keep getting drawn in.”

He leaned forward a bit more, resting his forehead gently against Shadow Milk’s.

“This is familiar, I had experienced this feeling before when we were up top that hill.” Pure Vanilla stares into Shadow Milk’s eyes, the slit pupils seeming much more softer than usual. “When in that time as well, the moon was our only spectator.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze was steady, holding eye contact easily with Pure Vanilla. “Yes, I do remember.”

His courage was quietly building from here, he felt it in his chest. “I remember..” Pure Vanilla paused, recounting back to that one late night. “This feeling, I also felt it there.”

“And that is?” Shadow Milk’s eyes narrowed slightly, and yet he's never made a move to pull away.

“Resistance.” Pure Vanilla started. “Resistance on my part that I don’t like feeling.”

Shadow Milk stared at him, his eyes slightly softening at Pure Vanilla’s answer. Something that hinted to Pure Vanilla that was the correct answer.

“Then I suppose, I have to say I feel the same.” Shadow Milk finally said.

Then, confidence built up fully, his eyes displaying something else, something different. Pure Vanilla’s voice was something softer, something new. A tense question in his throat that he had been reserving ever since that time on the hill, something only the moon could have possibly known he had.

“May I kiss you?” 

Shadow Milk held his gaze, expression unreadable for a long moment. But his presence didn’t recoil, if anything, it leaned in. 

“You may.”

The kiss was soft. Nothing heavy or overwhelming—just a quiet connection. A moment shared between them, unspoken, unforced.

They parted gently. Pure Vanilla barely had time to pull back fully before Shadow Milk leaned in again, more sure this time. The second kiss held a different energy, not rough but more assertive, like a tether snapping into place.

Pure Vanilla let himself be pushed—albeit, softly—down into the grass, the weight of Shadow Milk pressing just slightly over him, shadows and moonlight pooling around them. Fingers curled in robes and hair, breath caught between mouths. The kiss continued, steady, warm, grounding.

Their lips parted slowly, breaths mingling in the silence that followed. Shadow Milk didn’t move right away, his hands planted firm in the grass on either side of Pure Vanilla, the faint glow of his hair brushing softly along the healer’s robes. Their foreheads lingered close, almost touching. Neither of them said anything.

The night air hung thick between them, filled only with the quiet sound of wind rustling through trees. A distant insect called once and fell silent again. Everything else had fallen away, no kingdoms, no burdens, no titles. Just the closeness, and the space between them that had finally been crossed.

Shadow Milk stared down at Pure Vanilla, his expression unreadable, save for the subtle narrowing of his eyes, not out of irritation, but in focus. Like he was taking in everything all at once; the flush across Pure Vanilla’s face, the rise and fall of his chest, the glow of the moonlight on his features.

Pure Vanilla didn’t look away either. His breath was still catching up to him, lashes half-lowered, a quiet awe sitting just behind his gaze. One of his hands lifted slowly—uncertainly—and brushed against a lock of Shadow Milk’s hair, fingers barely skimming its shimmer. He wasn’t sure if the stars in it had dimmed or only seemed brighter now. Maybe both.

Shadow Milk’s gaze flicked to the motion but still didn’t speak. His usual snide remark never came.

Instead, he watched. And breathed. And let himself feel the way Pure Vanilla’s touch didn’t ask anything more of him, didn’t demand or expect. Just lingered, like warmth by a quiet fire.

It was only after several long moments that Shadow Milk finally exhaled, low and quiet. His head tilted slightly, just enough to break the line of their foreheads brushing. He glanced to the side, then back at Pure Vanilla, something subdued in his eyes.

“..Hmph.” It wasn’t a word. Just a sound. One filled with reluctant softness.

Pure Vanilla finally smiled, still faintly flushed. His thumb brushed along Shadow Milk’s cheek where no tears had left a trace.

Shadow Milk, looking down at the healer beneath him, murmured only then, voice low, and without its usual snarl;

“…You’re dangerous.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled softly. “You’re the one on top of me.”

A beat. Then, finally, a scoff from Shadow Milk. Still soft, still himself, but there was a crack in that sharpness, a gentler truth bleeding through the edges. He didn’t move away. Not yet.

Pure Vanilla watches as Shadow Milk slightly leaned to the side, towards his hand that was up. Pure Vanilla didn’t move his hand away from Shadow Milk’s face, which had leaned itself into the palm of his hand.

Still, he didn’t move, he didn’t want Shadow Milk to immediately run away like he had last time, he had finally brought those walls down momentarily and he was going to savor the moment. Therefore, he was carefully choosing which words he was going to keep hidden within his mind and which words he was willing to directly voice.

He watched as Shadow Milks eyes were closed leaning into his unmoving hand, taking notice of how the eyes in his hair remained open, watching him still.

Yes, he was not going to startle the other into running off, not so soon.

Then, something caught his attention back to reality and out of his thoughts. 

A rhythmic sound almost, vibrating.

He looked around subtly, not alerting the cookie that was still on him. 

Wait, no.

It was on him.

Pure Vanilla looked down at Shadow Milk, confirming the vibrating noise was coming from him—

Oh.

How funny.

“I didn’t know you could do such a thing.” Pure Vanilla softly said, if his eyes could sparkle and gleam as much, he likely would have been doing it now.

Shadow Milk moved away from his hand, his eyes now open and looking at him with squinted eyes. “Do what? I don’t know what you mean.” 

Pure Vanilla shook his head, playing along. “Nothing, I must be wrong.” He would remember however, as always.

He felt the other cookie suddenly pause, inching back off of him for a moment as he looked away.

Shadow Milk suddenly moved completely.

With barely a whisper of breath, he pushed himself upright, rising off of Pure Vanilla with startling precision, swift, practiced, like a reflex he hadn’t bothered to suppress. The warmth between them broke as air rushed back in. Pure Vanilla blinked, still dazed, lifting himself slightly on his arms as he watched Shadow Milk pull away.

The other cookie stood with his back turned, head dipped low, shoulders tense. His hair shifted behind him like smoke, less fluid, more volatile.

“…Don’t start expecting this now,” Shadow Milk muttered, voice low and pointed, though it lacked the usual bite. It sounded… defensive. Embarrassed. Maybe even a little shaken.

Before Pure Vanilla could respond, a dark, swirling portal hissed open beside Shadow Milk. He stepped toward it without another word, cape snapping behind him from the sudden movement.

And just like that, he was gone.

The clearing fell into silence again, broken only by the soft rustling of trees and the low thrum of magic as the portal sealed shut. Pure Vanilla stared at the spot where Shadow Milk had vanished for a moment longer, his heart still thudding a quiet rhythm against his ribs.

Then he exhaled, slow, steady, and let his back fall into the grass with a soft thud.

He closed his eyes.

The soul bond tugged gently at his magic like a thread on the wind, a quiet pulse guiding him, still tethered, still there. Shadow Milk had returned to the castle, somewhere familiar, somewhere close. He hadn’t truly fled. Not really.

Pure Vanilla smiled to himself, a soft flush creeping back into his cheeks at the memory of the kiss. He chuckled—just once, breathy and amused—as his fingers brushed against the center of his chest where the soul jam pulsed faintly. 

His eyes drifted up at the moon, still shining directly down into him, his smile grew slightly wider. He could feel her cheering him on silently from where she was perched in the sky. Perhaps she was looking and saw everything, smiling to herself as well while she goes and recounts the story to the sea, when the moon touches the horizon.

“…You’re not as untouchable as you think,” he whispered to the empty air, eyes still closed, letting the grass cradle him.

 “And maybe that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

Chapter Text

Noticing that his soul jam felt lighter disoriented him for a moment.

Pure Vanilla sat up feeling a bit more groggy than usual, the tiredness in his eyes weighing on him. He leaned forward, stretching his arm to the side of the bed lightly to feel around.

He felt his hand meet air, his fingers splaying across the sheets.

While he was hoping for the other to potentially stay, this however was not new to him.

Letting himself flop back down onto the bed, Pure Vanilla let himself succumb to a few extra moments in bed. The tiredness having a victory over him for the short while as he thought about the incoming day.

He sighed, running a hand up through his messy hair, it did little to actually smooth out the locks of hair; more so waking him up further. He let out a yawn before he stretched, the laziness still not leaving him.

His friends.

They were departing from his kingdom in a day, and yet there was still a cookie he had not properly accompanied yet. 

Well, two cookies.

He would think about that later.

Pure Vanilla sat up once again, rubbing at his face with a small groan. He wasn’t a cookie that was allowed to sleep in often—and today was not one of those days , unfortunately.

Untangling his hair was a struggle he was used recently, noting how Shadow Milk would usually be reprimanding him by now while pulling the brush from his hand instead.

Pulse

Pure Vanilla blinked, freezing once before placing the brush back down.

Oh, there he goes again.

He fixed his outer robe, a frown momentarily on his face. While he did want the jester to potentially join him, he would keep his desires to himself. 

He needed the bond to be healthy. 

Dark Cacao, he was hoping to see the cookie today before his friends all left tomorrow. While he was joyful of the time he was able to meet all of his friends again, he was a bit tired of all the wandering he has had to do as of late.

Perhaps for a more selfish reason of him also.

He can finally focus his main attention somewhere else.

While he walked down the hall of the castle, he couldn’t help but have his mind wander back to the much lighter pull of the soul jam. The weaving threads that represented both of their beings so tightly wound over each other; it was almost unlikely to tell which is which.

From even a distance, Pure Vanilla could feel the other, Shadow Milk.

Though it was faint, he was able to feel the direction in which the cookie was in. His mood, his nearby location, whatever Shadow Milk allowed him to feel and experience; what Pure Vanilla gave in return.

He let his excuse be that he was checking on him, but Pure Vanilla knew the truth to his own lie.

He was getting distracted, he needed to make his way to his friend and fellow comrade. Dark Cacao.

Pure Vanilla inhaled and exhaled deeply before stepping out of the castle, preparing mentally for a second time on the day ahead.

He pushed the doors open, stepping foot into the sunlight as it shone down on not just him, but everything.

Most wouldn’t believe him if he were to say he preferred the moonlight.

One thing that was common for him was to immediately get talked to by at least one cookie as soon as he walked out of the castle doors, today however, he was not feeling his best. While he enjoyed company, he also enjoyed his alone time just as much.

This was a moment he could have used to prepare for his time with Dark Cacao.

He welcomed the quiet as he walked along the outer border, his staff kept low to avoid attention, his usual serene pace even more deliberate today. He wasn’t looking to talk to anyone, not because he didn’t care, but because his heart was heavy, and his mind.. full.

He hadn’t seen Shadow Milk since that night. Not truly. The presence still lingered in the back of his senses through the soul bond, like the last light of a fire just out of reach. Still warm, still burning, but not close enough to touch. He told himself it was better this way. Space was important. Dependency wasn’t love—it wasn’t trust. He knew that.

And yet..

He softly shook his head. Today wasn’t for that. The other Ancients were all leaving tomorrow. This was his last chance to speak with Dark Cacao alone properly, and that was something he wasn’t going to pass up. He needed to—wanted to—before time and distance made it harder again.

His journey brought him to a small building nestled at the edge of his kingdom’s reach. Humble and quiet, it was the kind of place neither soldier nor noble would think to check. Perfect.

He knocked lightly at the thick wood door.

After a pause, the door creaked open.

“Dark Cacao,” Pure Vanilla greeted with a gentle smile, keeping his voice soft, warm. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Dark Cacao gave a slow nod. “You look tired.” He stepped aside, letting Pure Vanilla inside without another word. The former king’s presence was steady, as always, grounded and direct. But beneath that, there was a flicker of something else today. A mutual understanding, maybe.

Pure Vanilla chuckled lightly as he took a seat on a worn bench beside the modest fireplace. “Am I that obvious?” He leaned back slightly, adjusting the long folds of his robes.

Dark Cacao crossed his arms as he sat across from him, the glow of the fire catching in the metal of his shoulder guards. “You’re holding yourself differently,” he observed. “Your spine’s still straight, but your shoulders are… drawn in. Like a weight you don’t want anyone to notice.”

“I suppose I couldn’t hide it from you,” Pure Vanilla admitted. “There’s been a lot on my mind, as I’m sure there has been for you.”

The silence that followed was neither awkward nor cold, it was the kind of pause shared between two warriors who had long stopped pretending they weren’t tired of battles, of burdens, of always needing to have the answer.

“I heard your kingdom is doing well,” Dark Cacao said after a moment, his voice low but firm.

“It is,” Pure Vanilla nodded. “Thanks in part to you all visiting. It’s… strange. Having everyone so close again after so long.” His smile dipped into something more subdued. “Makes me think of simpler times. Of when the five of us traveled together, when we didn’t have thrones to sit on or wars to prepare for.”

Dark Cacao looked into the fire for a long time, then quietly replied, “We were foolish then. But free.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes softened. “Yes. And happy, in our own ways.”

Dark Cacao gave a grunt, but didn’t argue.

They sat quietly for a while longer. The fire crackled. Outside, the wind stirred the grass and distant leaves.

Pure Vanilla clasped his hands lightly in his lap, fingers brushing the outer shell of his soul jam, not the gem itself but rather the clasp holding it—a quiet habit. “There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he began, voice low. “Something.. more personal.”

Dark Cacao glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly, not in suspicion, but focus. “Go on.”

Pure Vanilla hesitated for only a breath, then continued, “Have you ever… felt as if part of yourself was changing? Not just growing, but shifting. Like who you are now would be unrecognizable to the cookie you once were?”

Dark Cacao didn’t answer right away. He stared into the fire, his dark brows furrowing. When he finally spoke, it was slow and heavy.

“Yes,” he said. “After White Lily fell. After the war. After Beast Yeast. After I returned to a kingdom that barely remembered me. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize my reflection for years.”

Pure Vanilla watched him, absorbing the weight of his words.

“Change isn’t always clean,” Dark Cacao added. “Sometimes it’s like rust. You don’t see it until the metal’s already weakened.”

Pure Vanilla exhaled quietly. “I’ve been feeling… things I don’t fully understand. About myself. About someone else.”

Dark Cacao’s gaze flicked up at that. He didn’t press. He didn’t need to. His silence was invitation enough.

“I’ve let myself become close to someone who once was my enemy,” Pure Vanilla admitted, the words finally falling into the open. “Closer than I ever intended. And now, I’m not sure where I end and they begin.”

Dark Cacao’s expression didn’t change, but his posture straightened slightly.

“You’re talking about the creature you’ve been seen with,” he said. Not as an accusation. Just fact.

Pure Vanilla nodded. “Shadow Milk. Or… the cookie behind him. Whatever is left of him.”

Dark Cacao looked at him for a long time, then said, “And does he see you as an equal?”

“…I think he wants to. I think he’s trying.”

“Then it’s your choice,” Dark Cacao said plainly. “You know who he is. What he’s done. And you still sit here, conflicted.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, small and knowing. “You were always the most straightforward of us.”

“Someone had to be,” Dark Cacao said. “You’re not weak for caring, Pure Vanilla. But be careful. Be certain. Because hearts like yours… they don’t survive being broken twice.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Pure Vanilla bowed his head, grateful. “Thank you, Dark Cacao.”

Dark Cacao nodded again, quiet but resolute. “Whatever you choose… make sure it’s with both eyes open.”

Pure Vanilla sat back, his hands tightening around his staff for loosening.

“Still, there is something else,” Pure Vanilla kept his eyes trained down on his staff, thinking about the words he was about to say. “Have you ever felt.. a pull to another cookie?” 

Dark Cacao raised an eyebrow, his expression otherwise blank except for the obvious confusion. “A pull.” Dark Cacao repeated, leaning forward intently to listen to him.

Pure Vanilla fiddled with the fabric of his robe, curling his fingers. “It’s a bit hard to explain with just a few words, it might sound strange at first.” 

The other Ancient said nothing, prompting Pure Vanilla to continue.

“It at times, feels like I'm being drawn in, a pull that feels like something I shouldn’t ignore.” Pure Vanilla avoided looking directly to Dark Cacao, not wanting to see any outer reactions just yet. “Not necessarily something that makes me feel trapped, much more the opposite.” 

Encouraged by the silence, Pure Vanilla kept talking. “Sometimes, I feel things, emotions that aren’t mine; thoughts that belong to another.” Pure Vanilla hesitated for a moment, his voice lowering. “Sometimes even my dreams.”

Dark Cacao didn’t respond right away to him, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was thinking. Whether that thinking was in Pure Vanilla’s favor or not is; was something that he was unsure and nervous about.

“This sounds a lot like yearning.” Dark Cacao’s gruff voice startled him out of his thoughts.

Once again not stated as a question, but fact.

Pure Vanilla brought his hand up to his face, a motion used to hide his oncoming embarrassment at how easily the other picked up on it. He continued to look away, his posture tense. “It’s not something that was intentional, you know about the soul jams correct? Our counterparts being the cookies we faced in Beast Yeast, our supposed ‘soulmates’ if you would.” Pure Vanilla finally met Dark Cacao’s steady gaze, which was eying Pure Vanilla carefully. “I can’t help but feel it was something having to do with the soul jams and my experience back then.”

Dark Cacao hummed in response, acknowledging his concerns. “Do you feel as though it might of been the soul jam’s doing?”

“Partially,” Pure Vanilla sighed, anchoring under the pulse of his soul jam. “I feel.. it might have also been part of my doing as well. Maybe it stemmed from how connected we were at one time.” 

Pure Vanilla perked up, glancing over to Dark Cacao with a new question in mind. “Have you ever experienced such a thing yourself?”

Dark Cacao paused, leaning back in his chair in thought. While Pure Vanilla knows some of the struggles few of his friends have partaken in like himself in Beast-Yeast, though he’s not all aware of the specifics. 

The other finally spoke, his tone thoughtful but still kept his usual bluntness. “While I can’t say I experienced something similar, I know about how sharing half a soul can feel.” Dark Cacao sighed before continuing. “And I know how important this must be to you.”

Pure Vanilla’s thoughts lingered on that statement.

Sharing half of a soul.

His hand found itself being placed on his soul jam—not on the outer shell or the clasp holding it in place—but directly in the middle.

He knows he’s not the original holder, that title belongs to the counterparts, to Shadow Milk.

Looking down at the soul jam, he could not help but feel a familiar sense of guilt while he looked to it.

No matter who argued, while Pure Vanilla may be the one wielding the half soul jam now, the half belonged to Shadow Milk. He wasn’t the cookie who was born with it.

Who wouldn’t be angry if part of their very being had been ripped from him and given to another.

Pure Vanilla would’ve been angry too.

“It is.” Pure Vanilla finally responded to Dark Cacao. “It’s very important to me.”

Dark Cacao nodded.

He took that as a sign to keep talking. “It’s not a connection I can say I regret, I don’t.” Pure Vanilla finally looked back up from his soul jam, his hand falling back down to his lap. “I find solace in the connection, in the way it steadies me, the lines of truth and deceit blurring until no one is able to tell which is which.” Pure Vanilla sighed, feeling the pulsing of the soul jam against him dying down. “Call it yearning or desire, or maybe something different, but it is something that is apart of me.”

“A bond.” Pure Vanilla concluded.

Dark Cacao leaned back, arms crossing again. “That kind of connection is rare. Dangerous, too, depending on who you’re bound to.”

“I know,” Pure Vanilla admitted, quietly. “But I don’t think it was entirely by choice. It’s as if it formed the moment we looked into each other and recognized something. Something old. Something broken.”

Dark Cacao studied him for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his dark, thoughtful eyes.

“Then the question is no longer what this bond is,” he said eventually. “It’s what it will do to you. If it strengthens you, or begins to consume you.”

Pure Vanilla nodded slowly. “I’ve been careful. I keep my distance sometimes, to make sure it doesn’t become dependence.”

“And yet,” Dark Cacao said, “you miss him.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes softened. “Terribly.”

Dark Cacao grunted lowly, though his voice held no judgment. “You always did give your heart to those who needed it most.”

“Is that a fault?” Pure Vanilla asked quietly.

“No,” Dark Cacao replied. “But it’s a burden. One only a few are strong enough to bear. You may be tied to him in ways you can’t undo, but that doesn’t mean you must lose yourself in it. Protect your sense of self, Pure Vanilla. You cannot heal anyone if you forget who you are.”

The words landed heavily—wisely—just as Pure Vanilla knew they would.

He smiled faintly. “Thank you. That’s… exactly what I needed to hear.”

Dark Cacao gave a slow nod, then added one more thought: “And if this bond of yours is truly mutual, then he will feel it when you pull back to breathe. If he respects you, he’ll give you the space to return stronger.”

Pure Vanilla’s expression grew distant, thoughtful… and warm. “I think he already has.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile faded slightly, giving way to something more wistful. His hands, still folded in his lap, pressed together a little tighter as he exhaled.

“Golden Cheese said something similar,” he murmured, gaze flicking down to the wooden floor. “She told me not to let myself be consumed by anyone else’s storm. That I shine brightest when I’m grounded in my own path… not swept away in someone else’s.”

Dark Cacao’s expression didn’t shift much, but a faint hum of recognition sounded from him. He knew Golden Cheese well enough to know how she wielded her advice, with sharp edges and undeniable truth.

“She said it more… colorfully, of course,” Pure Vanilla added, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Something about not turning my ‘sunny little garden heart’ into someone else’s battlefield.”

Dark Cacao let out a low breath—neither a sigh nor a laugh. “That sounds like her.”

A beat passed. The wind outside creaked softly through the frame of the old building.

“I understand what she meant,” Pure Vanilla said after a moment. “And what you mean. I’ve always known how to tend others. How to offer warmth and safety. But sometimes I forget to keep a piece of it for myself. With him, I’ve started to… lose track. I feel so much, too much. And it’s not bad. It’s not wrong. But it’s a lot.”

Dark Cacao didn’t interrupt, just listened, solid and quiet like a mountain. A presence that allowed Pure Vanilla to continue without pressure.

“I care for him,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “But I’m scared. Not of what he is, but of losing myself in trying to reach what’s still buried in him. Of making my purpose about him instead of both of us growing.”

Finally, Dark Cacao answered, his voice as even as ever. “Then take care to walk beside him. Not behind. Not ahead. If the bond is real, it will hold no matter the pace you choose.”

Pure Vanilla blinked slowly, those words sinking into him.

“Beside him…” he echoed, as if testing the weight of it.

Dark Cacao inclined his head. “Even beasts need someone to walk with. But you aren’t meant to carry them.”

For a while, neither said anything more. The fire crackled softly, and in that silence, Pure Vanilla breathed in deep—and felt the ache of longing settle just slightly softer in his chest.

He thought back to the moment he woke up to the space in his bed warm next to him, but empty. 

While he had been disappointed at first, now, he was grateful. The warmth in him stirred up again, a soft smile on his as he continued to think about it.

Pulse

He glanced down at his soul jam for another time in surprise, the vibrations light but grounding all at once. He resisted the urge to bring his hands up to it once again, from the corner of his eye he could see Dark Cacao was also glancing at him in curiosity. 

The soul jam felt lighter.

Even lighter then when he had woken up this morning, the glow to it even shining a brighter kind of yellow.

Oh, this is new.

Dark Cacao narrowed his eyes down at his soul jam, the expression not rooted in suspicion but in genuine interest. “Is that common? I’ve never seen the others have such a reaction.” Dark Cacao hummed, smoothing out his own cloak. “I’m sure I shouldn’t be surprised at all the strange occurrences with you”

Pure Vanilla chuckled softly, looking up to meet Dark Cacao’s gaze. “I suppose I am used to things like this.” Pure Vanilla felt his shoulders finally relax, the weight finally disappearing after being there for who knows how long. “You could say I reached a certain conclusion, a clue if you will.”

Dark Cacao offered his acknowledgment, but he didn’t not question. For even the warrior knew he would not be able to be given an answer that would satisfy any curiosity he would have, Pure Vanilla didn’t know the answer to anything himself.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze lingered on the fireplace, the soft flicker of flame mirrored in his eyes, gentle, but persistent. The silence between him and Dark Cacao stretched for a moment longer before he finally spoke again, voice low and contemplative.

“I’ve come to realize something about the bond,” he said quietly. “The more we learn to lean on each other—not out of dependency, but trust—the less strain it puts on us.”

Dark Cacao’s eyes shifted to him, subtly curious, but he didn’t interrupt.

“The yearning… that burning ache that pulls at the core of us,” Pure Vanilla continued, fingers gently interlaced in his lap. “It doesn’t disappear. But it lessens. It becomes… quieter.

He exhaled, as though that truth itself offered a measure of relief. “We don’t feel like we’re unraveling from the inside out anymore when we’re apart. Not as much. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.”

Dark Cacao gave a slight nod, still quiet.

Pure Vanilla offered a small smile. “It’s strange. In the beginning, I thought connection meant needing each other deeply… constantly. But now I see it’s the opposite. The bond grows stronger the more we stand as our full selves beside one another. When we stop trying to fill the gaps in each other, and instead… just exist, side by side.”

“You are learning,” Dark Cacao finally said, the faintest hint of approval in his tone. “To hold, not to grip. That is not easy.”

Pure Vanilla looked down, the smile turning thoughtful. “It still hurts sometimes. But it doesn’t hollow me out anymore.”

A quiet moment passed before he added, almost to himself, “Maybe this is what healing really is. Not silence or stillness… but learning how to carry pain with someone else, and not let it swallow either of you whole.”

Dark Cacao turned his head slightly, then reached to pour tea into their cups. “You always did speak in metaphors.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled under his breath. “Comes with the robes.”

They both sat quietly again, steam curling from the tea between them. Though Shadow Milk was not here, his presence lingered at the edges of Pure Vanilla’s thoughts, not as a wound or a weight, but something real. Tangible. Bonded.

“You’ve come far with him, I can see you are trying.” Dark Cacao sighed, looking at the fire place, the glow of the fire reflecting nicely off of his stature. “As much as I personally would hate to acknowledge it sometimes, I can see that, he, is trying as well.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, nodding along to his words. While he didn’t openly express it, he was overjoyed that the progress had been obvious even to an outside perspective point of view. “He has come a long away, I was hoping one of you would notice as much as I would myself.”

“Indeed, whatever method you are using on him must work, perhaps you’d be able to potentially gather and use it on the beasts.” Dark Cacao said faintly, his voice having a coat of amusement to it.

Pure Vanilla chuckled. “Perhaps, maybe if we were all patient enough. However, don’t mistake me for using any type of special method.” Pure Vanilla titled his head, offering a soft smile to the other. “The only thing I offered to Shadow Milk was my friendship.”

“Impressive how such a small offer could have high reward.”

“It is pretty rewarding isn’t it?” Pure Vanilla nodded.

Pure Vanilla gently wrapped his hands around the warm teacup, letting the quiet steam brush against his face like a breath of peace. But the heaviness of the last few words lingered too long between them, and he knew himself well enough to catch it before it sunk deeper.

So he tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curling up just slightly, mischief playing in his eyes.

“You say I always speak in metaphors,” he mused, tone lightening. “But I’ve never once heard you recite a poem, Dark Cacao. Perhaps you’re just jealous I sound poetic and you sound like a glacier.”

Dark Cacao exhaled through his nose—whether it was amusement or exasperation, even Pure Vanilla couldn’t fully tell. “Poetry does not win battles.”

“No, but it wins hearts,” Pure Vanilla replied, playfully placing a hand over his own. “And I’ve won quite a few, I’ll have you know.”

Dark Cacao gave him a flat look, but there was the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth, tension bleeding into something softer. “You’ve always been too good at distracting with charm.”

“Some would call it a skill,” Pure Vanilla said, mockingly haughty as he took a slow sip of tea. “Golden Cheese says I’m dramatic, Hollyberry tells me I need to toughen up, and you… well, you just scowl and drink.”

“I drink,” Dark Cacao confirmed, raising his own cup slightly, “because I need patience to deal with all three of you.”

Pure Vanilla laughed, a soft, clear sound that filled the cozy little space. “And yet, you’re still here. I must be growing on you.”

Dark Cacao gave a noncommittal grunt, but didn’t look away this time. Pure Vanilla could tell he was enjoying the exchange in his own subtle, stoic way.

Letting the laughter settle like dust, Pure Vanilla leaned back just a little, sighing. “It’s nice to talk like this again. Like we used to.”

Dark Cacao nodded once. “It is.”

For a moment longer, they simply sat there. No weighty questions. No soul-deep confessions. Just old friends in quiet conversation, letting the warmth of tea and memory settle between them.

Pure Vanilla finally stood, adjusting his staff to be held in front of him. 

“I suppose I was likely meant to go to the markets today, let me not keep you here, my friend.” Pure Vanilla bowed slightly towards Dark Cacao as he spoke, Dark Cacao returning the bow slightly while seated, his own type of goodbye.

He tapped his staff lightly on the floor while walking to the door, pushing it open just enough to see the sky outside. He hadn’t realized he spent all the morning and most of the afternoon with Dark Cacao already, seeing the sun far up in the sky already. Evening would hit shortly in just a bit.

“I hope it’s not all too rude of me to offer, but,” Pure Vanilla turned his head back to Dark Cacao who was still seated, looking to him with an eyebrow raised. “Would you be interested in going down to the markets with me? I know you are not a cookie who is all too fond of interacting with multiple people in such a large group, but rest assured they would be quite fond of you and give great treatment. They are a kind folk.”

Dark Cacao looked to think it over for a moment before setting his cup down in the table infront of him, he smoothed out his robes once more, straightening out the fur collar that sat just on his neck. His crown still on his head. It wasn’t all the common now that Pure Vanilla would see the king in such relaxed attire, the usual get up something that would be fit for a king now a more casual type.

“It wouldn’t hurt to see more of what your kingdom has to offer, I haven’t had much experience and seeing more in depth myself.” Dark Cacao stood, walking over to the door as Pure Vanilla stepped out.

Dark Cacao took in the light breeze for a moment, his long hair flowing as well as Pure Vanilla’s, it was nice air. “It is good to get out once in a while, come; let me accompany you.”

Dark Cacao faintly chuckled, walking alongside Pure Vanilla in the grass. “You forget my friend, I am the one accompanying you.”

“Don’t say such a thing, you are a guest here.”

“You and your hospitality.”

It was Pure Vanilla’s turn to chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he snickered. “It is nice to be approachable isn’t it?”

The cobbled streets of the market buzzed with life, laughter, conversation, and the scent of sugar-dusted breads and fresh herbs mingled in the air. Pure Vanilla’s robes fluttered lightly as he strolled beside Dark Cacao, offering warm nods and soft greetings to every cookie who approached. The elder warriors, the merchant families, even the rowdy kids—everyone, it seemed, took a moment to offer a smile or a bow to the two ancient heroes.

And while Pure Vanilla was long accustomed to this kind of attention, what drew his attention more was how Dark Cacao handled it.

Despite his imposing stature and colder aura, cookies responded to him with a curiosity that was almost tender. A group of younger cookies clustered around him like little stars around a fixed moon, tugging lightly at his heavy cloak with wide eyes full of admiration. One of them asked something inaudible, and Pure Vanilla caught the subtle twitch of Dark Cacao’s brow, his silent version of surprise.

It made him laugh softly, hand rising to stifle the sound. “Seems like the kingdom’s falling for you, Dark Cacao.”

Dark Cacao looked over with a glance that could only be described as “mildly betrayed,” clearly not expecting this level of interaction. “They are… persistent.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘adoring,’” Pure Vanilla teased with a smile, before his gaze drifted.

There, by a modest bookstall near the market’s center, stood two familiar silhouettes. Eclair Cookie, robe-draped and dignified even in leisure, was nodding along thoughtfully to something being explained by the sharper, more intense presence beside him, Espresso Cookie. The two of them stood close in quiet discussion, with Espresso’s hand flicking sharply through the air as he gestured at the pages of a folded map while Eclair made steady notes.

The sight made Pure Vanilla smile. Espresso Cookie rarely stepped away from his laboratory, and Eclair was hardly ever outside the library, seeing both of them here, together, enjoying time in the open air, was more surprising than most diplomatic news he received.

He made his way over, hands folded behind his back. “What an unexpected pair to find beyond walls and scrolls.”

Both cookies turned. Eclair was the first to greet him with his usual warm poise. “Pure Vanilla Cookie. It’s a pleasant surprise.”

Espresso Cookie gave a small nod, his voice dry as usual. “We needed a break. The records we’ve been working on for the next historical exhibition have… tested our patience.”

“I suggested a walk,” Eclair added.

Espresso gave him a brief look. “More like insisted.”

Eclair didn’t deny it. “It’s good for us.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled. “I’m inclined to agree. Though now I wonder if this wasn’t also a scholarly stroll, Shadow Milk has been known to linger around intellectual discussions.”

Eclair’s brow lifted slightly. “Indeed, he was with us not long ago. The moment the traveling historian mentioned the Epoch Rupture Theory, he was nearly impossible to distract.”

“He left just before you arrived,” Espresso added, arms folded. “Quietly, of course.”

“Of course,” Pure Vanilla murmured, smile tinged with something fonder, softer. The bond in his soul jam had already started tugging faintly again, Shadow Milk had likely sensed him nearby and slipped away.

“Thank you both,” he said, dipping his head. “If you see him again, don’t let him talk you into any disappearing tricks.”

Eclair chuckled lightly, and Espresso merely raised an eyebrow.

Pure Vanilla turned, making his way back toward Dark Cacao, who was now trying very carefully to peel a child cookie off his arm without causing emotional damage.

“He seems to have taken to his new subjects,” Pure Vanilla observed cheerfully, clasping his hands behind his back.

“They’re insistent,” Dark Cacao grumbled again, “and clingy.”

“Adoring,” Pure Vanilla corrected once again with a laugh, before giving him a wave. “I’ll leave you to your kingdom, babysitter.”

He ignored the ‘“But this is your kingdom—!”’ shout at his back.

With that, he turned toward the distant road, the pull from his soul jam now unmistakable.

Shadow Milk was back at the castle. Somewhere quiet, as always.

And though Pure Vanilla had promised himself to avoid dependency, the familiar ache curled in his chest like a whispered secret.

He missed him.

But he would see him soon.

As he stepped through the doors and made his way down the halls he knew like the back of this hand, he couldn’t help but think the day was much better then he thought it would be.

He smiled to himself, remembering his conversations with Dark Cacao, the gruff and blunt king while having a tough exterior, was still the cookie he once knew when he was younger.

His mind wandered to Shadow Milk, how the other had likely been avoiding him for the day for the same reasons he had thought of before.

The thought of dependency and wanting something healthy, either it being for the same reasons as Pure Vanilla or not, while he did miss the other he also did appreciate the distance in some way.

It signified Shadow Milk was progressing in better ways he hadn’t even thought about, perhaps Pure Vanilla himself was also progressing alongside him.

An equal growth and learning of each other.

He made his way down the halls further, feeling the pull on his soul jam get stronger. It was not a result of his own emotions, but rather a natural response and reaction to being in such close proximity to the other respective half of the soul jam. He had expected Shadow Milk to have gone back to the castle in the room, he would of been able to predict it even without a shared soul.

As expected, Shadow Milk lay reclined near the head of the wide bed, not asleep, just quiet. His hair curled faintly along the edge of the pillows, soft and untamed. Stepping more into the room he could see Shadow Milk peering into something glowing, a portal, a portal that Pure Vanilla couldn’t see what he was looking at from his angle. The eyes in his hair opened slowly when he sensed Pure Vanilla step in,no sharp grin or smug comment this time, just a knowing glance.

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla called out, closing the door behind him with a light kick of the heel. He shed off the outer layers of his robe, folding it to rest on a stool.

Shadow Milk didn’t jump or jolt at his presence. Simply snapping his fingers once as the portal fizzled out into the air. He turned around to Pure Vanilla with an uninterested look in his face, not bothering to fully turn to him. “Oh, Nilla. I had expected to be out longer, what brings you back here so soon, hmm?” Shadow Milk hummed, a grin forming on his face as he continued, watching Pure Vanilla step more into the room towards him with all eyes. “Did you simply miss me that much?”

Pure Vanilla nodded, answering the question without hesitation. “Of course, it was getting late anyway.” Pure Vanilla looked to the glass doors of the balcony, seeing the fading orange sky partially having a gradient of black, a signal of almost nightfall. “ I hadn’t wanted to spend too much time outdoors today, getting home earlier was no struggle.”

“Ah, how interesting.” Shadow Milk said plainly, resting his head in his palm as he leaned forward.

Pure Vanilla sat beside him on the bed, his staff already having been placed against the wall when he walked in. “I heard you were with not only Eclair, but also Expresso Cookie.”

Shadow Milk smirked, gazing over at him while he folded his arms. “They make for a lovely bunch don’t they, very talkative them two, might even be enough to rival me.” He responded, recounting his thoughts about the two cookies. “What, you jealous?” Shadow Milk teased.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, smiling at him. “Of course not, I’m happy you are making friends with similar interests as you.”

That got him a pair of eyes rolling at him. “No fun you are.”

“Well, you are the entertainer.”

Shadow Milk snickered. “Right you are!” snapping his fingers to summon his hat briefly, tossing it between his hands back and forth. “So great of you to remember.”

Pure Vanilla smiled back at him before turning downwards towards his own hands. His mind thought back to Dark Cacao, everything that was said between them, the advice he has given. 

“I spoke with Dark Cacao today.”

Shadow Milk didn’t move, but one of the eyes in his hair peeked open with vague interest. “That old Cookie still around?”

Pure Vanilla smiled faintly. “Still standing. Still reliable. He gave me some advice… indirectly.”

Shadow Milk hummed lowly, his expression unreadable but attentive.

Pure Vanilla folded his hands in his lap. “About the bond. Us.” He glanced downward. “I didn’t say anything outright, of course. But I asked about… how to walk beside someone when you’re not always sure you’re strong enough to carry your half.”

He turned his head, facing Shadow Milk fully. “There are times I wonder if I’m doing enough for you. If I’m… helping at all. And I know you’re not the type to need anyone. But I still think about it.”

The pause stretched for a second.

Then Shadow Milk stirred, not dramatically, just a quiet shift, sitting up straighter. His arms crossed loosely, and his hair swayed behind him like slow-moving ink.

“You think too much,” he said, but his voice wasn’t sharp. “You’ve already done more than anyone has. Ever.”

Pure Vanilla looked up, blinking.

Shadow Milk wasn’t meeting his eyes. He was staring ahead, gaze turned away, but his claws twitched faintly against his arms. “You came back. Even after everything. You didn’t run when I showed you what I was. You sat there, listened, didn’t flinch when I told you about what I’ve done. You saw the beast and didn’t leave.”

His gaze cut to Pure Vanilla, firm and steady now.

“You’re doing more than enough.”

The words weren’t tender. They were edged with truth, spoken in the only language Shadow Milk really knew: brutal, simple honesty.

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught slightly. He smiled softly, leaning just enough that their shoulders touched.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes with a slight scoff but didn’t pull away.

“I’m not good at… comfort,” he muttered.

“You don’t need to be. I understand,” Pure Vanilla replied. “Even a little is more than enough when it comes from you.”

They sat like that for a while, quiet again. Side by side. Balanced, not because they were the same, but because they chose to be.

The bond between them flickered gently through their soul jam, not burning this time, not pulling them with unbearable weight.

He felt the bond, the threads woven in between them, flourish.

The pulls didn’t feel tight, or restraining. Something he didn’t work around or against, but something he worked with.

He saw the glow get brighter for a moment before fading.

This feeling, he knew Shadow Milk could feel it to.

Pure Vanilla turned towards Shadow Milk, his eyes half lidded. The blue cookie was also looking down confused at his own opposite soul jam, a claw brushing against the membrane softly in a sort of inspection. Shadow Milk turned to him slowly, feeling Pure Vanilla’s gaze on him.

Pure Vanilla leaned forward, brushing their forwards together lightly. “You must have been feeling it today too.” He said lowly, an edge to his tone that wasn’t negative.

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes, his hand dropping from his soul jam. Pure Vanilla glanced down to look at him himself, the deceitful soul jam glowing a light blue once before fading. He glanced back up as Shadow Milk spoke. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Pure Vanilla didn’t say anything, simply gazing into Shadow Milks eyes a moment, the usual slits something that was comforting to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pure Vanilla softly said, taking a risk in his question, something that might scare Shadow Milk away.

Shadow Milk curled his claws slightly. “Talk about what?”

“Yesterday.” Pure Vanilla responded, referencing the night they had been under the moon, the night they were finally vulnerable with eachother, more so on Shadow Milks part.

Shadow Milk was quiet for a moment, he didn’t move away from Pure Vanilla but he didn’t press forward either.

“No.”

“Okay, we don’t have too” Pure Vanilla’s tone was soft, gentle, he wasn’t mad; anything but.

He was patient, he could wait. He shifted the topic

“My friends are departing tomorrow.” 

That got Shadow Milks attention easily, Pure Vanilla knew it would. The familiar grin returned to his face as he pulled away from Pure Vanilla’s embrace. “What wonderful news! I was getting tired of their influence here, constant cookies talking all about them when i’m right here.” Shadow Milk folded his arms.

“Yes, while I do love my dear friends, even I have my limits.”

Shadow Milk smirked at him, leaning away from Pure Vanilla. “Oh, what’s this?” Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “Is the great Pure Vanilla also fed up with said friends?”

Pure Vanilla shook his head, immediately dispelling such thoughts. “Of course not Shadow Milk, merely, I’m sure they wouldn’t be able to stay forever. They must want to get back home to their respective kingdoms eventually, they would need to.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah of course.”

The other leaned forward quickly, grabbing Pure Vanilla before he could react and pushing them both back against the bed with Shadow Milk’s weight anchoring him down.

Pure Vanilla gave a small gasp, not of fear, but of surprise. His breath caught, body still under the sudden nearness, flushed cheeks blooming with a darker soft hue of heat as he looked up at Shadow Milk’s smirking face hovering just above his own.

“So,” Shadow Milk said lowly, voice curling with possession, “your precious friends are finally leaving…”

His hair draped over them like a curtain of dark silk as he leaned in closer, pupils dilating with quiet, possessive gleam. “That means your attention can finally return where it belongs.”

Pure Vanilla let out a small breath of laughter, raising a hand to gently cup Shadow Milk’s cheek. “I still have a kingdom to look after. I can’t give you all my attention, you know.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond. Not with words. He just ignored the soft protest, ignored the smile, the logic. His claws flexed faintly into the blankets, and he leaned closer, lips just inches from Pure Vanilla’s now.

Then, he froze.

Not just paused. Froze, completely still, tension humming through his entire body like a coiled serpent. The light in his eyes flickered, and his head turned, gaze slicing toward the balcony doors.

Pure Vanilla blinked in confusion, starting to sit up slightly beneath him. “What is it?”

Shadow Milk’s voice was low. Cold. “There’s someone down there.”

That tone alone made Pure Vanilla follow his gaze. He gently slid out from under Shadow Milk’s looming form, rising to his feet and walking toward the balcony doors with a slight frown.

And then, his breath hitched.

At the base of the castle steps, far below the balcony, stood a solitary figure. Still, almost graceful in the way they waited, as if they belonged in the scenery and the stillness alike.

White robes. A glint of silver. A familiar presence that pierced him the moment he saw it.

He didn’t say a name. Didn’t have to.

His voice came out quiet. “I have to go.”

From behind him, Shadow Milk stood at the edge of the bed, his posture taut and unmoving. His frown was barely concealed, the irritation roiling just beneath his sharp expression.

“You’re kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. “Now?”

Pure Vanilla turned to him slowly, apologetic but resolute, heart conflicted but not surprised. “Please… just wait here. I’ll be back.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond at first. He just sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits. His hair flicked restlessly behind him, the eyes within it half-lidded in disdain.

He didn’t say her name either. But the loathing was palpable. His jaw tensed. His claws flexed.

Pure Vanilla gave him one last look—a gentle, silent promise—before he turned and made his way to the door. He would be back, but he had to leave.

The moonlight blanketed the castle steps in a cold silver hue as Pure Vanilla descended quickly, heart heavy and confused. The soft rustle of his cloak echoed with each hurried step until he came to a halt.

There she was.

White Lily Cookie, radiant even in the dim moonlight, though something about her tonight seemed muted. Her eyes didn’t meet his at first. She stood with her hands clasped lightly in front of her, almost too poised, too still.

Pure Vanilla slowed, breath steadying as he stared at her, not smiling, not yet. Just… watching.

“White Lily,” he finally said, voice soft, even as the question weighed heavier in his chest, “why are you here? It’s nightfall. Everyone else is leaving in the morning. You could’ve come earlier…”

There was no judgment in his voice, only confusion. Concern.

White Lily’s shoulders shifted subtly. She finally met his gaze, her own a whirl of sadness and restraint. “I couldn’t bring myself to come before,” she admitted. “Not with… him so near. I needed time. But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

Her voice cracked slightly toward the end, as though it pained her to say it. But it was the word she chose that made Pure Vanilla’s throat tighten.

Him. The beast.

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes sharpened, just slightly.

“He’s not—” Pure Vanilla began, but his voice caught in his throat. He softened it again, careful, gentle. “He’s not what you think he is. Not entirely.”

But White Lily wasn’t looking at him anymore.

She had looked up. Eyes narrowing, her expression hardening, not with hate, but caution, wariness, the weight of a of broken memory flashing behind her eyes.

Pure Vanilla turned to follow her gaze, but he already knew.

Shadow Milk stood on the balcony above, half-shrouded in darkness, tendrils of his hair coiled like serpents, his form rigid with tension. His expression was unreadable, save for the flicker of ancient fury in his eyes.

“So the Silver Tree sends its guardian now,” Shadow Milk said, voice low and cold. “How poetic.”

White Lily’s expression hardened. “You walk the halls of this kingdom far too comfortably.”

“I’ve earned that comfort,” he snapped. “Or have you already forgotten how much power I haven’t used?”

And in a silent moment that stretched too long, the air split.

Shadow Milk floated down from the balcony without a word, landing silently a few steps behind Pure Vanilla. The soul bond between them flared like a struck chord, anxiety and warning rippling in waves. Pure Vanilla instinctively stepped slightly to the side, but White Lily was already in front of him, stepping between them.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, tone like the edge of glass. “You don’t get to be near him.”

Pure Vanilla stepped forward, trying to mediate. “Please—both of you—this isn’t necessary—”

But they didn’t hear him. Or perhaps they chose not to.

“You still think you belong near him?” White Lily asked, eyes narrowing. “You, whose magic once poisoned the very roots of Earthbread?”

“If I wanted to corrupt him, I would’ve done it ages ago,” Shadow Milk hissed. “But you don’t believe that, do you? You never would.”

Shadow Milk’s laugh was low, bitter. “Still so righteous, even after all this time,” he drawled. “You come to his doorstep at night, slinging judgments like you haven’t torn this world apart.”

“I tore it apart because I thought I was saving it,” White Lily snapped back. “You did it because you enjoyed the destruction.”

They began to circle each other slowly, the steps deliberate, filled with quiet menace. The air between them shimmered with tension as thick as fog.

Pure Vanilla’s heart thudded in his chest as he stood caught between them.

“Please…” he started, but neither of them seemed to hear.

White Lily’s eyes narrowed. “You twist his thoughts. You drain him. You always have. Whatever bond you’ve placed on him—”

“Oh, so you do know about that.” Shadow Milk hissed out, stepping closer. “Either way, he accepted it,” Shadow Milk cut in, his smile now a sharp line. “Willingly. He wants me near.”

“You manipulated him into it.”

“No.” Shadow Milk’s voice dropped an octave. “I never had to. Because deep down, he knows the truth. He knows me.”

“I know who you were—”

“You only knew the version of me you wanted to see.”

Their words snapped like cracks of lightning in the cold night air, and in the middle of it, Pure Vanilla stood frozen, anxiety keeping him help in place while he looked back and forth between the two cookies, they only seemed to get more and more heated and agitated.

He felt his soul jam get heavier, heavier then it ever had been today. 

This was bad, very bad. It would set them back.

“You were sealed for a reason.”

“And yet here I am,” he said, voice rising with venom, “because Pure Vanilla—not you—chose to see reason.”

They circled each other like wolves, their words growing sharper. Pure Vanilla tried to step between them, but their hostility was magnetic, unshakeable.

White Lily’s voice was composed. “You shadow this kingdom like it belongs to you.”

Shadow Milk scoffed. “And you still cling to a tree that never wanted you as its guardian.”

“You think you belong here?” she said.

Shadow Milk smirked. “I know I do more than you ever will.”

Her expression hardened.

 “Then prove it.”

She slammed her staff to the stone.

Light exploded beneath his feet.

A ring of magic snapped into place, intricate runes igniting around him in radiant white. The ground lit up like white daylight.

Shadow Milk scoffed, forcing a smirk. “You’re fishing for a reason to label me a threat. You’ve always needed someone to point at and feel righteous.”

But even as he spoke, his eyes dropped to the ring around him. The glowing symbols twisted and pulsed, familiar shapes, ancient glyphs.

Shadow Milk’s smirk faltered, his confidence cracked.

His voice trembled, barely coherent. “They’re the same. The same from—”

He couldn’t finish. The fear in his eyes said enough.

He glanced down.

And froze.

The markings. The shapes. The same cursed, ancient symbols carved into the roots of the Silver Tree. His breath hitched. For a moment, time collapsed in on itself, dragging him back.

“No,” he said, voice low, strained.

The glow intensified.

His hands clenched.

“No—NO!” he barked, panic flooding his tone as he stumbled backward. “What is this?!” he shouted, voice suddenly laced with panic. “What are you doing?!”

White Lily said nothing.

He whirled, eyes wide and glowing, wild. His magic rippled to the surface, unfocused and chaotic, but he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The spell was everywhere around him.

“You think I won’t fight you?! You think I’ll go back willingly?!” His voice cracked into a shout. “I will tear this place apart before you seal me again!”

His feet scrambled against the glowing runes, but they didn’t budge. He backed away from nothing, breath coming faster. Rage sparked in his eyes, but it was tangled in raw fear.

He tried to move but found his legs locked in place. His hands twitched as if searching for something—anything—to grasp. The markings glowed brighter, and the panic surged into full-blown fear.

“NO—don’t you DARE—!” he shouted, staggering a step, his breath ragged. “Not again—not again—!”

His pupils blew wide in raw panic as the light spun around him. In his eyes, he didn’t see White Lily anymore, he saw witches, ivory roots, the dark hollow of the Silver Tree. He saw his friends yelling, locked in place beside him as the seals closed. He felt the weight of eternity again.

Shadow Milk buckled.

His knees hit the ground with a dull thud, claws scraping the stone as he crumpled forward, trembling violently. The wild eyes in his hair closed tight in horror. His voice came out as a rasp, sharp, frantic, as he gasped for air. He looked animalistic, a natural born beast.

He clawed upward at the sky, trying to summon a portal, but the magic warped, flickering like a candle in a storm. The tear that opened crackled with instability, melting and reforming, refusing to take shape under his panicked will.

“Get it off me—!” he choked, his voice cracked open and echoed with terror and rage, a similar tone of voice Pure Vanilla had heard in his dream-like visions.

Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, be it out of despair or anger was not something that was made known just yet.

The tears streamed forcefully down Shadow Milk’s face, glinting in the moonlight as his claws scraped against the floor. 

The fear of being put away again was so strong to the point Shadow Milk had begun to cry.

That was enough.

“White Lily! End it!” Pure Vanilla cried out, dashing between them. His voice was louder than he had meant it to be, a rare crack of alarm slicing through his usually calm tone. 

White Lily’s spell flickered, confusion blooming across her face. “It’s just a truth spell—!”

“He doesn’t know that!” Pure Vanilla yelled. “The markings—you know what they look like! You know what they did to him!”

White Lily’s breath caught. Her hand faltered, and she quickly lifted her staff, releasing the spell. The runes evaporated in a soft wisp of white light, leaving only scorched symbols in the stone.

But it was too late.

Shadow Milk remained on the ground, curled forward with his claws dug into the stone, chest heaving as he stared blankly ahead. His eyes—his facial ones, not the ones in his hair—were wide with haunting recognition. He didn’t seem to register that the magic was gone. Not yet.

Pure Vanilla dropped to his knees beside him without hesitation, hands moving to hover gently at his arms, unsure where he could touch him without startling him more.

“Shadow Milk,” he said softly, throat dry. “It’s over. It’s gone. You’re not sealed. You’re here, with me.”

Shadow Milk’s gaze flicked to him then, just briefly.

Something inside Pure Vanilla clenched painfully.

White Lily stood behind them, frozen with her staff slack in her grip. The moonlight illuminated her stunned expression, guilt already beginning to settle in.

She hadn’t meant to harm him.

But that didn’t matter now.

The portal fizzled erratically in the air.

Shadow Milk’s claws twitched as he struggled to keep it open, gaze glassy, still haunted by the vision of chains and runes and starlight sealing him away again.

“Shadow Milk—” Pure Vanilla’s voice was quiet but certain, his hands gently pushing the claws down. “Stop. You don’t have to run.”

The words struck something fragile. Shadow Milk tensed further, but the portal cracked, shivered, and collapsed into itself as he gave in.

Pure Vanilla gathered him close, steadying his weight as he led him back up to the room. Neither of them spoke. Shadow Milk tried to hide the sharp edge in his breaths, tried to hold himself with pride, but Pure Vanilla felt the tremors in his arms all the same.

He let him pretend.

Inside the room, the moonlight spilled across the floor. Shadow Milk didn’t look at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed tightly, claws twitching with leftover nerves. Pure Vanilla crouched in front of him gently, his fingers resting on Shadow Milk’s knees.

“I need to go back down,” he said softly. “To speak with White Lily.”

Shadow Milk’s jaw tightened, eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. Then, a rare thing, hesitation.

“…Are you going to send me away?” he asked, quieter than usual, almost buried under his breath.

Pure Vanilla blinked. His heart squeezed.

“No,” he murmured, reaching up and pulling Shadow Milk forward, gently pressing their foreheads together. “Never.”

The beast said nothing at first. Then, after a long pause, he gave a small, begrudging nod, though the look in his eyes still held lingering distrust and resistance. His mouth curled into a frown, muttering under his breath as Pure Vanilla stood again.

With a final glance back, Pure Vanilla left the room and made his way down to the castle steps.

White Lily was still there, moonlight dancing across her white robes, but the gentleness in her expression from before was gone, replaced by tension. They stood several feet apart, the ghost of their childhood camaraderie lingering between them like a worn-out thread.

The conversation that followed was short, but no less painful. Words were measured and careful, but sharp. Pure Vanilla explained softly but firmly that the spell had harmed someone she never intended to, and that the rift it caused could not be ignored.

“He was terrified,” Pure Vanilla answered plainly. “You didn’t see it. But I did.”

White Lily’s brows drew together. “I didn’t mean to frighten him. I only wanted to ensure his presence here was… safe. You don’t understand what he—”

“I do understand,” Pure Vanilla interrupted softly. “But he’s not the threat you think he is.”

“He’s unstable,” she replied. “You saw what he did. That wasn’t control. That was panic. That was fear turned to rage. If I hadn’t ended the spell—”

“If you hadn’t cast it without warning, he wouldn’t have reacted like that,” Pure Vanilla said, not unkindly, but with steel in his voice. “He thought you were going to imprison him again. He still remembers what it felt like.”

White Lily looked away, frowning.

“I trust him,” Pure Vanilla said, stepping closer. “He’s not what he used to be. And if he was… don’t you think he would’ve destroyed this place the moment he was freed?”

Eventually, with a heavy stillness between them, he said, “Maybe… it’s time for you to go.”

“If that’s what you wish.”

He bowed his head. “I’ll send word when he’s ready. Until then… let him be.”

White Lily didn’t argue.

She left, her form fading into the night like the spell she cast, leaving the air colder than before.

Pure Vanilla stood there a moment longer, unmoving.

Had it been long ago, he might have tried harder to fix it. Might’ve blamed himself. Might’ve wondered how he could earn her forgiveness, piece together what was broken.

But not now.

He didn’t feel regret. Not because he didn’t care, but because… he had accepted that some things were beyond him. That not every bond had to be salvaged to be valid.

He whispered goodbye to her in his mind, already knowing it wouldn’t be said aloud.

He should have felt worse. Once, long ago, he would have. Had it been a younger version of himself, a gentler and more naive cookie, he might have stood in that courtyard worrying over every word exchanged, pondering the ways he could mend things with White Lily. He would’ve run himself thin with guilt, questioning what he could’ve said differently. How he could have kept their friendship from fraying.

But now?

That thought never crossed his mind.

Not because he didn’t care.

But because he had finally learned that not every rift could be repaired. And not every loss had to be fought against until it left him hollow. He had grown. He had changed. And if White Lily could not accept that; not only in him, but in the one he had chosen to protect, then that was her struggle, not his.

He wouldn’t force her to change her mind. But he wouldn’t bend his own to ease her fears either.

Their companionship… it had been something special once.

And he would miss it.

But some things can’t be helped.

In his heart, as soft wind stirred the trees, he said his quiet goodbye. A farewell with no ceremony, no weight. Just a drifting sadness and an acceptance that things would never be the same again.

He’s done these and felt this things not out of an influence of his bond with Shadow Milk, but out of his own choice.

Pure Vanilla thought back to the moment he was with Shadow Milk in the library, that talk that had slipped his mind until now.

White Lily had come back, and she had forced him to choose. And so, he had chosen. Not because he had initially wanted to, but because he had been forced to in such a short amount of time. An unfortunate circumstance, but one that he found no guilt or regret in.

He felt a pulse from his soul jam, a reminder.

Yes, he did choose. The very moment White Lily had chosen to put fears over reason was when he had chosen.

And then he turned, slowly making his way back to the room.

Shadow Milk was there, legs crossed on the bed, arms folded like he’d been brooding ever since. He looked up when Pure Vanilla walked in.

“Did it go well?” he asked flatly.

Pure Vanilla shut the door behind him and offered a tired smile. “It went… the way it should.”

He made his way to the bed, lying down beside him. Shadow Milk didn’t move at first, until Pure Vanilla gently tugged at his wrist, pulling him down.

Shadow Milk reluctantly gave in, lying beside him. His expression was unreadable, until he spoke, voice low and serious, eyes avoiding Pure Vanilla’s gaze.

“…Sorry. About earlier. With White Lily.” Shadow Milk was reluctant, almost as if he wasn’t keen on saying anything but did so anyway.

Pure Vanilla blinked, surprised. But then he smiled, reaching up to cup Shadow Milk’s cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. You were scared. Any cookie would be.”

Shadow Milk’s brows furrowed. “I wasn’t scared.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled lightly. “Of course not.”

There was a pause.

Then Shadow Milk’s expression grew more solemn. A rare open expression. “I thought… I was going to be sealed away. Again. I really thought… And I looked—” his voice broke just a bit, then steadied, “—I looked like a fool.”

Pure Vanilla leaned closer, his gaze gentle.

“But the way you moved,” Shadow Milk said quietly, his voice hushed. “You made her stop. Immediately.”

Pure Vanilla said nothing, only smiled, nodding in quiet confirmation.

Shadow Milk stared at him, eyes unusually soft. He shifted until he was nearly on top of him again, one claw resting beside Pure Vanilla’s head, his breath brushing over his skin.

“If the witches came down,” he whispered, “to seal me again… Would you stand between us like that?”

Pure Vanilla lifted his hand to cup his cheek again. His answer was soft, but sure:

“I’d be there. Always.”

Shadow Milk’s lips curled faintly, barely a smile—but it was real. His forehead pressed to Pure Vanilla’s.

“…You’re a fool,” he murmured, not unkindly. “You always will be”

Pure Vanilla looked back at him with that same silent warmth, arms wrapping gently around his back.

Shadow Milk rested against him, letting himself be held.

And then, after a long silence, he drawled in his usual sardonic tone, “Well. I suppose you can consider me successfully courted. You’d better enjoy my appreciation. It doesn’t come cheap.”

Pure Vanilla snorted softly, his smile turning just a little more playful. “Oh? And what exactly does your appreciation entail?”

Shadow Milk huffed, his voice low. “You’ll find out. Eventually.”

Pure Vanilla leaned up, kissing his cheek. Shadow Milk flinched lightly but let the action take place, not moving further from where he had been. Pure Vanilla would take things slow once more.

Now, Pure Vanilla had some re-mending to do again. It would be a bit, but Pure Vanilla was rather confident in himself.

The saw the glow of their soul jams light up once more, faintly, brighter then they had been momentarily. It was another start.

For another time that day, the bond felt lighter.

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla hasn’t dreamed in a long while.

Well, not exactly true, however—he hasn’t dreamed an exact dream he’s become used to.

Blueberry Milk Cookie, the Fount of Knowledge. A glimpse into Shadow Milk’s past that has been proven true.

He slumped over at the table, the library was quiet as always and easily allowed him to think.

The familiar faint laughter from behind him brought him back out of his thoughts. 

Pure Vanilla turned around in his chair, staring at Shadow Milk and Eclair Cookie interacting just a bit away. Their voices were too far away for Pure Vanilla to pick up any conversation, not like he would have understood much, his intellect was high but not high enough in comparison.

He had chosen to accompany Shadow Milk for the time being, yet the reason he had truly decided to come along to the library was for a moment to think.

A moment to think really about the past as well as the future.

He stared more at Shadow Milk for a short moment, his eyes half lidded in part concentration.

Pure Vanilla didn’t doubt himself in his abilities to help Shadow Milk, but he did wonder how effective his company really was. Shadow Milk—while not being super open about it—had changed at least a certain amount. However, one thing he wished he could know, while a bit guilty about it, was what could be going on in Shadow Milk’s mind.

He hasn’t dreamed in a while. Not the dream he was always anticipating.

Pure Vanilla turned back around away from Shadow Milk and Eclair, folding his arms on the table to lean more against them. He let his hair fall over his shoulder and more into his face, his head downturned with a small hidden smile.

Thinking back to a certain night ago, he couldn’t help but have his smile grow wider.

The night Shadow Milk had allowed him to kiss him.

A vulnerable moment that would have never even been thought of much less allowed in the past. 

Pure Vanilla hummed, leaning up to have his head rest in his palm instead. He let the background noise of the distant voices from the two cookies behind where he was seated; fade while in thought. 

It was a beautiful moment, that night.

And then… further before that night..

Shadow Milk had shown him his other forms, the wolf and the snake.

Pure Vanilla chuckled to himself briefly, “Right, not a wolf.” Pure Vanilla let his eyes close fully. “My mistake.”

Then… skipping forward to the time Shadow Milk had shown his true form. A moment that was easily built on trust, trust they Shadow Milk would definitely have to have a large amount of to show something as such.

He spared a slight glance at Shadow Milk a little ways from him. His back now fully turned to Pure Vanilla.

“Such a beautiful beast, I promise you will have no pain from me.” He muttered into his palm, easily muffled more than enough. He let his gaze linger before looking away, his eyes downcast.

Again, his mind started to wander. 

Could…

..

Could the possibility of them—

“Good Afternoon, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” Espresso Cookie said suddenly behind him.

Pure Vanilla lightly startled out of his seat, quickly turning to look at Espresso who was still calm with his hand neatly folded in front of him. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Expresso offered a small bow.

Pure Vanilla waved a hand, a smile on his face as he chuckled. “No worries my friend, I know you had no intent to do so.” Pure Vanilla turned his body more to face Expresso. “I’m surprised you aren’t with Shadow Milk and Eclair,” Pure Vanilla leaned to the side to gesture towards Shadow Milk and Eclair Cookie; who were still chatting quickly with each other, their fast yaps to each other able to be seen clearly from where they were.”I’m sure you’d fit right in their conversation.

Espresso turned to glance at the two cookies for a moment as well, humming in acknowledgement. The few books in his arms shifted slightly. “Yes, I’m sure as well. I was just about to go over there.” Espresso turned to him once more, his head tilted. “But, I’m curious. Why are you not accompanying Shadow Milk?” 

Raising an eye brow in response, Pure Vanilla chose his next words a bit more carefully. “I’m afraid I don’t fit in such smarter topics Espresso Cookie, I would merely just be standing to the side.” Pure Vanilla flashed a shy smile, knowing where he stood in comparison on the intellect level.

Espresso kept his head tilted, humming thoughtfully. “…Strange, I would have thought from…” Espresso Cookie suddenly paused, turning to look over at where Shadow Milk and Eclair were.

Pure Vanilla’s sat up straighter, now more intently focused. He felt like he was hearing something here.

“…I apologize. Well, I won’t disturb you any further, I’ll be going over there now.” Espresso Cookie turned back to him to give a curt bow, quickly walking off towards the other cookies before Pure Vanilla could question.

“Wait—“ He was already stood up, reaching out a hand before quickly dropping it. Espresso had already walked away.

How strange.

Must be a scholar thing.

He grabbed his staff that was leaning against a bookshelf, quickly walking off towards the doors without being noticed. Not that he was trying to be subtle.

But, before that.

Pure Vanilla held a hand up to his soul jam, a small pulse humming from within at his touch as well as his emotions. He looked toward Shadow Milk who was now staring at him, an eye brow raised in an obvious question.

He let the soul jam pulse once again, knowing Shadow Milk could feel it echoing through their shared connection.

I will be leaving now.

Something he had learned to do recently.

He paused for a moment just incase, one foot out the library’s door.

..

No response?

..

Pure Vanilla chuckled softly, exiting the library. He didn’t really expect one anyway, but it was worth it to hope.

Pure Vanilla stepped out into the sunlight. The library doors shut behind him with a soft creak and click, and he let his shoulders rise and fall with a long breath.

It was quiet out here, the kind of quiet that made it easier to think, but harder to ignore.

He took the winding path toward the grassy hills with small fences, where his sheep—gentle, unbothered little things—were scattered lazily across the sun-warmed fields. They were some of different colored wool. Some turned their heads briefly as he passed, ears twitching in greeting, then returned to their grazing.

He moved among them carefully, letting his fingers brush through their wool, his mind far elsewhere.

White Lily Cookie.

He pressed a hand lightly to his soul jam on his robes.

The memory of that moment hadn’t left him. The way Shadow Milk’s face had shifted from guarded calm to terror the instant White Lily had raised the ring, a simple spell, meant for clarity and truth. But she hadn’t thought. Or maybe she had, but only in the way scholars did: rationally, without accounting for trauma.

To her, it must’ve been a tool. A spell. A function of justice, maybe.

To Shadow Milk, it had looked like a prison.

The expression he’d worn that night, horrified, betrayed, half-feral, had been burned into Pure Vanilla’s mind. He had reached for him, had tried to explain, but Shadow Milk had already collapsed to the ground; in a daze before he could say a word.

And White Lily… she’d been speechless, just for a moment. But then she’d stood tall in that way of hers, voice cool, asking what was so wrong about wanting truth.

Pure Vanilla bent slightly to press his forehead against one of the sheep’s sides. Its warmth grounded him.

He hadn’t raised his voice at her. He hadn’t needed to. What he had said, quiet, firm, something like you should go—had been enough to end the conversation. She’d left, after all. Not just from the front of the castle, but the kingdom. No letter since.

His brows furrowed.

They used to talk more. Not frequently, not like in the past, but at least they tried. They were both busy, both changed. They had both been through… too much. And yet he’d hoped.

Some things aren’t meant to be rebuilt, he thought quietly, his hand petting one of the smaller lambs. And some friendships, even old ones, never truly form.

Shadow Milk and White Lily had never been friends. They never would be.

Pure Vanilla had accepted that. But it saddened him all the same, in that soft and aching way grief settled into old wounds. He had wanted peace. Harmony. A future where understanding didn’t feel impossible.

But maybe this was just one of those cracks in the world that couldn’t be sealed.

He watched the wind ripple over the hills.

He still believed healing was possible. Just… not for every bond. Not every time.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

Pure Vanilla was brought out of his thoughts by a sheep making it’s way over to him. He held out his hand in an invitation as it baa’d at him, calmly walking over to him to flop onto his lap. It was one of his sheep on the older side, its height accounting for its age.

His mind wandered back to his friends, how they had now departed from his kingdom earlier that morning. 

Then his mind went back to White Lily, a small part of him did feel guilty for not trying harder to ease tensions they now undoubtedly had.

The other half…

The other half, was unconcerned.

He could not explain why, or what had changed.

Pure Vanilla reached down, letting his fingers scratch at the base of the ears of the sheep. It happily shifted in his arms, its noises soft.

That was a lie. He did know what had changed, a new variable, a new connection.

A connection he feels he cannot afford to lose, not right now.

Pure Vanilla laid a hand on his soul jam again, it did not pulse under his fingers, nor did it hum or sparkle. It simply, remained.

That night with White Lily, he had felt anger. Not the boiling hot type of anger, a more quiet type. A type that would be angry at a set back, an inconvenience.

Pure Vanilla shifted to laying down, the sheep now acting as a sort of pillow for his head. It baa’d at him, settling under him with its nose nuzzling into his cheek once.

He was not regretful. He did not feel guilty. He did not feel indifferent.

He simply felt, unconcerned. 

A much different attitude then one he would have in the past.

He used to fight for every connection. For every bond to remain whole. To hold everything together as if he could preserve the world through sheer will.

But lately, that part of him had grown quiet. Not broken, just… quieter.

That would be fine.

That would be more than fine.

He smiled faintly, tired, but not bitter.

“You’ve changed me,” he whispered to the wind, not knowing if the words were for Shadow Milk or White Lily or himself.

The sheep let out a soft, muffled baa into his shoulder, and he let out a slow breath.

It wasn’t about being right anymore. Not with White Lily. Not with anyone.

It was about where he chose to be. Who he chose to remain close to.

And right now, that choice was crystal clear.

He would be here. When Shadow Milk looked for him, if he ever looked for him, he would be here.

No longer chasing after every echo of the past.

No longer trying to hold on to every broken piece.

Some bonds had their time. Others were still forming, slow and uncertain, but real. And those, he could choose to nurture.

Even if they were difficult. Especially if they were difficult.

His fingers curled lightly in the wool of the sheep’s back as the wind stirred the grass again.

Unconcerned. Not out of carelessness, but something quieter. Something stronger.

Resolve.

Pure Vanilla sighed, he was content. He let himself relax more into the wool of the sheep under his head, the noises of the other sheep around him shuffling in the grass and continuing their grazing. The footsteps faint in the grass while the wind blue through his hair and robes.

With this outcome, he found himself content. More than content.

His ‘awakening’ affected him more than he could of thought.

He would still continue to see White Lily as a friend of his, a comrade. He would not completely abandon her to the past, that is simply not who he is or who he wants to be. 

But, he will not go out of his way to mend. That would need to be her decision, her choice. She would need to make the first move to resolution, the first move to healing. She has proven to not be able to think clearly on her actions with Shadow Milk, while he didn’t blame her; he will not put Shadow Milk at risk of that again.

And for her sake, he will not force her to be near Shadow Milk with such high burning tensions of the two.

If it is meant to be, it will be. If it is not, it simply won’t. 

The sheep made no protest beneath him, content with his stillness.

His mind, however, was not.

White Lily.

He hadn’t said her name aloud in some time. Not in the way it used to be spoken, in soft conversation shared over tea, in tired murmurs after long days of wandering, in laughter that used to be rare and precious between the two of them.

They had been close. Too close, perhaps.

It hadn’t been dramatic, nor tragic in the way stories would often try to make such things. It was just quiet. A bond pulled taut until one day it simply did not hold anymore.

She had always looked at the world with that intense clarity, always searching, always needing answers. And he… he had only ever wanted peace. Comfort. To heal what he could. There had been a time he thought their differences made them strong together.

But time was a patient teacher.

Even now, he did not think of her with bitterness. But neither did he think of her with longing.

She had once held his heart, not in the full sense of romance, no, but something gentler. Something sacred. Like two stars caught in orbit, burning at different temperatures.

It wasn’t love in the way others understood it.

But it was something. And it had ended.

He remembered once brushing a petal from her hair and thinking she looked more like a ghost than a Cookie. Even then, he’d felt her slipping. The call of truth, of knowledge… it was louder in her soul than anything he could offer. Even affection.

Even love.

He sighed, barely audible. His soul jam pulsed faintly this time, not with emotion, but with memory. The kind that lingers long after the moment has passed.

White Lily had tried to protect the world in her own way. Just as he had. But their ways had diverged too long ago to be called anything but separate paths now.

And when he looked at Shadow Milk… he didn’t see her.

He saw someone who had been left behind. Someone who had been twisted by that same desire for truth, but warped, wronged, abandoned by the very things that should have saved him.

Shadow Milk was what happens when knowledge is no longer a gift—but a burden. A curse.

And despite everything… Pure Vanilla did not feel the need to turn away.

Not like before.

Not like with her.

The sheep shifted again beneath him, pressing a little closer. He let his hand rest gently over its woolen back, eyes closing once more as the afternoon sun warmed his face.

“Some things were not meant to last,” he murmured, almost to himself.

And some, perhaps, were just beginning to take shape.

His mind lingered more on White Lily, his soul jam quiet and normal. It was an obvious sense back then, it was love. Love in the way anyone could see.

They had both now since long moved on from those days.

His mind leapt back to Shadow Milk.

His soul jam fluttered to life, the small soft humming vibration against his chest emitting once again.

There it is. The difference.

The difference in emotion, in reaction.

Shadow Milk brought out emotions in him, thoughts that would never arise now from White Lily. Most would be quick to blame his feelings on unwanted influence, likely from their shared soul connection or from Shadow Milk himself; he would quickly disagree. He would call it—

..

He would call it…

Love.

Pure Vanilla brought a finger to his chin, deepening that thought.

When he looked at Shadow Milk, he saw not a ghost, but a cookie who craved understanding. A cookie who had not been given a second chance and therefore turned to the only comfort at the time, corruption.

He did not look at Shadow Milk with pure infatuation or obsession, but he looked at him in something more, something soft.

Adoration.

A word so delicate, yet heavy when spoken within. It did not cling like obsession. It did not ache like longing. It simply existed, warm, patient, enduring.

Pure Vanilla let the word settle, tasting the shape of it in silence.

He did not love Shadow Milk like he once loved White Lily. That had been a brightness, intense, passionate, but like all things too bright, it eventually faded. Burned itself out.

But this…

This was something different.

It was forged slowly. From a quiet persistence, the kind built through shared time, through vulnerability offered in trembling hands and not demanded through spells or promises. It was in the way Shadow Milk hesitated before speaking in those quiet nights, the way his gaze flickered to Pure Vanilla like he still didn’t believe he could be looked at with gentleness and not judgment.

It was in the way he allowed Pure Vanilla close, not always physically, not always verbally, but in those small, telling silences where his guard lowered, if only for a breath.

And in those moments, Pure Vanilla never tried to steal more than what was offered.

He simply stayed.

The sheep let out a soft sigh, and Pure Vanilla’s hand moved slowly over its underside, lost in thought once more.

Shadow Milk brought out in him a kind of peace he hadn’t known he was capable of giving. A kind of clarity that wasn’t about fixing or healing or restoring, just being. Just existing in quiet companionship, in chosen presence.

He had not expected to love again. Certainly not like this. Not with someone whose every step was shadowed in history, in sorrow, in complexity.

But love, real love, often arrives where it is least expected.

And for once, Pure Vanilla did not question it.

His soul jam hummed again, softer now, almost like a lullaby. He exhaled through his nose, eyes drifting upward to watch the slow sway of the trees, light pouring through like gold spun into silk.

Perhaps there would still be tension. Perhaps White Lily would never understand, or accept.

Perhaps the future would remain uncertain, fragile as spun sugar.

But this moment, this gentle moment under the quiet shine of the sun, with a sheep curled beneath him and a soul jam thrumming with something new, 

This moment was enough.

For now.

Something he noticed was the irresistible pull that used to be present in through his connection with Shadow Milk, was gone. 

It wasn’t in the sense that Pure Vanilla did not care for Shadow Milk like he had all those days and nights ago, however, it wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t forceful and dependent on how far away they were to each other.

He smiled softly, gazing to his side to see the other sheep walking about.

No, his feelings were anything but influenced, they were very much his own. Feelings that arose on their own accord, grown and shaped into something passionate. Something way beyond just his empathy.

He loved Shadow Milk.

That much was clear. There was no confusion about it.

The soul jam that rested on his chest was merely a jump start, a way to further connect the two of them as one. Inseparable—but not dependent. Not anymore.

Pure Vanilla let his eyes close as the sheep under his head nosed against his cheek again. He laughed softly under his breath and stroked between its ears, using the rhythm to steady his thoughts.

There was no confusion anymore. No illusion.

What he felt was real.

He thought back to the kiss, so small, so strangely quiet. Shadow Milk hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t mocked him. He hadn’t said anything at all. He had just let it happen. Let himself be kissed.

But afterwards?

Nothing.

No words. No acknowledgment. No quiet moment between them where the air was cleared.

Shadow Milk had acted as if it had never happened. Or perhaps… as if it were too dangerous to remember.

Pure Vanilla frowned faintly at the sky above, watching a lazy cloud drift past. His heart was not aching with rejection, but it ached with uncertainty.

Did Shadow Milk feel the same?

Maybe.

Or maybe he didn’t know how to.

That was what scared Pure Vanilla more than anything, that the feelings might be there, but so deeply buried beneath Shadow Milk’s layers of pain and defense that he might never let them surface.

And still, he could wait. Pure Vanilla was not one who liked to assume things about other cookies.

He had waited this long, for the storm to pass, for the shadows to part. He could wait longer, even if it hurt.

The sheep snorted softly and curled closer. Pure Vanilla smiled, lifting a hand to rest against his soul jam. It pulsed once, calm, steady. Not glowing. Just present.

“I’ll wait,” he whispered into the wind, almost like a promise.

He didn’t know what would come next. But he knew what he felt now. And that, that would have to be enough.

Now he knew, he was making progress with Shadow Milk greatly, there was content settling in his very dough. Something unfamiliar and not at the same time, it was scary, but he wasn’t fearful. Not really.

…Faintly, he thought about what could come. 

But, he won’t dwell on that right now. That is for the future, a heavy decision.

For now, he felt tired.

The sound of sheep faded into nothing.

Pure Vanilla didn’t notice at first. His body sank into stillness, the gentle rise and fall of his chest slowing with each breath as sleep claimed him. The scent of grass, the warmth of the sun, the quiet hum of the earth, gone.

And then came the awareness. A subtle shift. A stirring within the stillness.

A dream.

He knew it instantly—his senses fine-tuned from the many times before. His first thought, naturally, was him.

Blueberry Milk Cookie.

Hope stirred before reason could. He sat upright—or, rather, floated upright. His form drifted in the center of a vast, infinite space. There was no ground, no sky, no shape to the world. Just void. Dark, formless, endless void.

He blinked. And blinked again.

No ancient halls. No soft blue glow. No fleeting glimpses of Shadow Milk’s past in gentler times. Nothing.

Only him.

Only his light.

Soft golden-yellow radiated from his being, a warm glow that pulsed slowly, casting vague circles into the dark around him. It did not reach far. Beyond his glow, the void remained undisturbed.

“…Blueberry Milk Cookie?” he whispered, a habit more than anything.

No answer.

His hope faltered just slightly, though not yet fallen. Sometimes the dreams began this way, perhaps Blueberry Milk would appear soon, or perhaps it would shift into a memory. A vision. A sign.

But the longer he waited, the more he felt the silence press against him. He was alone. Utterly alone.

Pure Vanilla turned slowly in place, casting his light outward, as if it might beckon someone—anyone.

“…Shadow Milk Cookie?” he tried.

Still no reply.

The warmth of the dream began to cool.

He wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. But the hollowness around him was disquieting in its enormity. There was no floor beneath his feet. No stars in the distance. No trace of the soul he had hoped to reach.

Just himself.

Him, and his light.

The irony settled in quietly, curling into his chest like a chill. For so long, he had wondered how to reach Shadow Milk’s mind. 

Now, for once, as he stood in his own… with no visitor in return.

His heart gave a slow throb, a faint ache blooming beneath the soul jam. He started to think the worse.

Where are you?

He had asked the question in silence so many times, during Shadow Milk’s silences, his outbursts, even his quiet moments of calm. But never like this.

Never from such distance.

And yet…

And yet.

Even now, in the absolute dark, the warmth from within him still glowed. Still pulsed. Still endured.

He wasn’t empty. He wasn’t lost.

Because the love was real.

Not dependent on dreams. Not built on past lives or shared soul-light or pieces of prophecy.

Just… love.

For a cookie who had never been given peace.

He closed his eyes. Let himself drift further into the quiet.

If this was all the dream would be, then so be it.

He would wait here too. With his light. Until someone—he—chose to meet him in it.

Or maybe, he won’t be met with anything at all. Maybe the cookie he’s grown familiar with won’t appear at all.

Maybe he won’t ever get a glimpse into Shadow Milks past again.

Pure Vanilla curled more into himself, his long hair flowing behind him as well as his robes.

Perhaps that was a sign, an omen that maybe he should learn to rely more on his own insights, trust himself in understanding Shadow Milk and not have to keep looking at glimpses into dreams.

He closed his eyes, he wasn’t tense or frightened; maybe worried and saddened, but he was alright with it.

If this was fate, he won’t be one to question it, not this one.

He sighed deeply, he would remain here until the dream ended. Only hope in him that maybe he will eventually meet Blueberry Milk Cookie again.

Until then, the void was still.

Pure Vanilla remained there, his light a constant gentle pulse in the dark. Time felt meaningless in this place, he may have been floating there for a while.

Until something changed.

A flicker.

Far off in the distance, so faint he almost thought he imagined it. A pinprick of light, just like his own, yellow, warm, fragile.

He sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he focused. It shimmered again. Real.

And it was coming closer.

Slowly at first, cautious, like a firefly unsure if it wished to be caught. Then faster, more confident. Growing in brightness with every heartbeat.

His first thought was hope again. Shadow Milk? Blueberry Milk? Someone else entirely?

But the closer it came, the more familiar it felt, not like someone else’s presence, but something old. Something, very familiar, something he was supposed to know but it just didn’t ring a bell. 

Something was blocking it out from his mind. He swore he could pinpoint it but at the same time, he wasn’t able to.

A memory, maybe. A truth.

The light surged, and just before it reached him, it split.

Two lights.

The first remained golden-bright, like a star fresh from the Witches themselves, pure, gentle, radiant. It hovered and twirled close to him, not touching, but always near, orbiting with warmth and grace.

The second… was quieter. Its glow was dimmer, tinged with blue that softened its yellow to a dusky, twilight hue. It moved slower, more carefully, circling just beyond the first. Its path wavered, uncertain.

Pure Vanilla reached out, palm open.

Neither touched him.

The two lights danced around him, like thoughts just beyond comprehension, like a dream slipping through fingers on waking. They twirled higher, then lower, spiraling in slow arcs like stars caught in their own gravity.

The yellow one pulsed once—brighter—and tilted slightly toward him.

He swore it whispered something.

A hum without shape. A syllable without language.

He couldn’t understand it.

But it made something stir inside him. Some ache, some longing he couldn’t name. His breath hitched.

What are you?

Still, no answer.

He looked between them, eyebrows furrowing. “What… are you trying to show me?” he whispered.

Neither answered. They simply glided around him once more, slower now, dimming.

He watched as the brighter one faded first, its last flicker like a heartbeat. Then the second, its duller light trailing off like a sigh into the dark.

And then he was alone again.

Floating in the quiet void. His own glow steady. The only light.

But he felt…

Familiarity.

A heaviness in his chest, but not sorrow. More like recognition. As if something had been shown to him and forgotten again in the same moment. Something precious. Something lost.

And confusion.

He placed a hand over his soul jam as it pulsed once, soft and slow, like the memory of a voice calling from somewhere distant.

“…I don’t understand,” he whispered.

But he didn’t feel afraid.

Even in the dark, even without knowing, he wasn’t afraid.

Because something had come to find him.

Something had reached out.

And he was not able to reach back, not yet.

Pure Vanilla smiled, looking down at his own hands.

Soon, he senses this is not the last time. Soon he will uncover that hidden truth from his own mind, he will figure out what this whole dream would possibly be and that prior confusion will be no more. He was confident in that. In himself.

He let his soul jam outwardly pulse, its soft blue light contrasting with the yellow radiating off of him. It was warm, it was comfort, it was his.

Just as the last flickers of the twin lights disappeared into the dark, the void trembled.

Not with noise, but with color.

Pure Vanilla inhaled sharply as it bloomed around him. The black canvas cracked open in streaks of golden light and deep ocean blue, cascading and swirling in waves like a thousand ribbons of comet trails. They burst forth from all directions, falling stars dancing across a sky that never was. Light collided with shadow, burst into mist, then reformed, painting the darkness in patterns that defied logic but felt somehow… right.

They didn’t just swirl—they intertwined.

Some strands of gold were luminous and sharp, etched like calligraphy strokes across the void. Others, more like clouds, folded into the rich indigo hues of nearby constellations. Flecks of light, gold and blue, shot between them, crossing and tracing invisible paths. Everything spun together. Spiraled apart. Came back again. Contrasting in every line, yet never clashing. Chaotic and calm. Distant and near.

And in the middle of it all, suspended like the still eye of a storm, Pure Vanilla floated.

Breathless.

Eyes wide, aglow.

He slowly turned in place, taking it all in, his hair and robes gently trailing in the ethereal current around him.

This… this wasn’t just a dream.

It couldn’t be.

He blinked once, twice, hardly believing the sight before him. “How…” he whispered, voice faint with reverence. “How can this be my own mind…?”

Nothing in his waking thoughts had ever imagined this kind of beauty, this living, breathing sky of color and light. His dreams had never shown him something this alive.

It didn’t feel like something he’d conjured.

No—it felt given. 

He felt like he was seeing a glimpse into something he wasn’t supposed to see.

He didn’t know by who. Or why. But somehow, it didn’t matter. He didn’t question the meaning or the logic. He only felt the wonder. The quiet thrum of something vast.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his voice trembling with quiet awe. 

And as he turned again, watching the golden and blue streaks dance in harmony, each never quite touching, but never far apart, he smiled.

He didn’t know why his dream had given him this.

He didn’t know what it meant.

But he knew what he felt.

Awe. Peace. A strange familiarity. And something else, something deeper, something that stirred in his soul jam like the whisper of a promise far off, not yet spoken.

The comet-lights kept dancing.

And Pure Vanilla kept watching.

Unaware that he was witnessing the first dream of something neither past nor present.

Something not of him.

But of them.

As the streams of gold and blue swirled endlessly around him, Pure Vanilla floated in silence, the edges of his consciousness softened by awe. Every movement of color felt intentional, like a dance choreographed beyond comprehension.

And then he saw them.

Not at first.

They shimmered into view slowly, subtly, carried along the flow of light, hidden in its brilliance.

Eyes.

Soft outlines, barely more than a whisper against the glowing hues.

Dozens. Then more.

Some large and watching from afar, some drifting just beside him, their pupils wide and unblinking. They didn’t move. They only stared. Each pair subtle in detail—drawn in fine strokes of light—but unmistakable. Faint echoes of presence that sent a chill along his spine.

Some were glowing gold, wide and gentle. Others deeper, an endless ocean of blue. Familiar shades. Familiar patterns. He looked closer.

They reminded him of himself.

And of Shadow Milk.

The shape of them, the way they formed, he had seen them before.

Painted across the corridors of Shadow Milk’s domain.

Etched into the walls of his spire in Beast-Yeast.

Haunting the air like ghosts when he had once touched Shadow Milk’s true self, when their soul jams had resonated together.

Now they are here.

Watching.

Floating.

Silent.

He slowly reached a hand forward, trying to touch one drifting near him, but his fingers passed through light.

It flickered.

Then vanished.

More eyes emerged in its place.

Always watching.

Not threatening… but overwhelming. Like a presence too vast to understand. Not one, but many. Fragments. Reflections. Maybe even memories.

His heart beat just a little faster.

“What are you…?” he murmured to the eyes, not expecting an answer.

None came.

Only a flicker from one of the golden sets of eyes, a glint that almost looked like a smile, though it had no mouth. Just as quickly, it faded into the light again.

He drew his arms close to his chest, trying to steady the odd shiver running through him.

The lights continued to dance, as if the presence around him had no urgency, no purpose, only motion. Only rhythm. Yet it was rhythm with meaning… even if he couldn’t name it.

A dream. A vision. A memory?

He had no answer.

Only the echo of eyes—gold and blue—watching him from the stars.

And for the first time in a long while, Pure Vanilla felt very, very small.

The eyes were all looking at him, observing him. But Pure Vanilla did not feel threatened, he did not feel any intent. He felt simply nothing, and yet, everything.

Such a dream, so surreal. Something unimaginable, beyond something he could think of.

It started to fade slowly, the lights that danced in and out of his field of view; vanishing more into the void. They faded away one by one, eventually too far for even their bright flows to be seen.

Only the many familiar floating eyes remained, watching, ever silent.

And still, Pure Vanilla did not waver, he would observe them back until they too disappeared.

And then, he was left in darkness once again. The only thing left being his glowing body, alone once again in this empty dream.

He figured it all to be some type of sign, some type of symbolic view of what might happen. Maybe an omen of some sort, a foresight that could either be warning or prophecy.

Pure Vanilla still continued to think otherwise, maybe this wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe it went deeper than that, but that was something he couldn’t pinpoint either. He watched as even the warm glow of himself started to fade as well.

Now back in the clutches of the darkness with only himself, there was one important thing on his mind left.

He curled up in himself, his hands close to his soul jam as he cupped them lightly over it. He couldn’t help but smile softly, thoughts all running through his head with different theories and ideas, but one stood out. 

He missed Blueberry Milk Cookie.

A soft baa cut through the last traces of his dream, grounding him gently.

Pure Vanilla stirred with a stretch, eyes fluttering open. The fading light of dusk had shifted, cool and silver now, the moon beginning to rise above the trees. Around him, the small herd of sheep he tended had begun their slow, sleepy walk toward the little barn hut nestled at the hill’s edge. Hooves padded quietly over grass, soft baas and snuffles filled the quiet.

The one he’d been resting against, now standing and fluffing its wool with a shake, nudged his hand with a low huff. He smiled at it fondly, reaching up to give its chin a thankful scratch.

“One of my oldest companions,” he murmured. “A pillow and a friend.”

It let out another soft sound before turning to join the others, its pink coat glowing in the pale moonlight.

He lifted a hand in farewell. “Goodnight.”

Still tired, Pure Vanilla let himself fall gently back onto the grass, arms sprawled out and eyes half-lidded as he gazed at the sky. The moonlight painted his robes and hair in soft hues of silver and pearl. The gentle night air stirred through the field, cool and still.

He would just rest here a little longer.

But then—another baa.

Softer. Strained. And not quite where he expected it.

He blinked and lifted his head. “Hm?”

All the sheep had gone to the barn. He was sure of it. But when he looked to his right, he saw it, a lone sheep approaching quietly, its white wool soft and full, almost glowing in the moonlight as it stepped toward him with a calm, steady rhythm.

His brow furrowed slightly.

“I don’t know you,” he said aloud, his voice soft and amused. “I know all of my sheep well. I don’t think we’ve met.”

The sheep stopped at his side, looking up at him with wide, quiet eyes before letting out another breathy baa. It felt… off. Unfamiliar. And yet, it didn’t feel like a threat.

Curious, Pure Vanilla sat up, brushing bits of grass from his robes as the creature climbed gently into his lap with a little bounce, huffing once more like it had every right to be there.

He laughed under his breath, surprised. “Well, you’re confident.”

It pressed against him, warm and calm.

He reached up slowly, scratching at the soft tufts around its ears, letting his fingers drift down beneath its chin. “You’re not from my flock,” he murmured, not quite expecting a reply. “But you’re not wild either. Strange little thing, aren’t you?”

The sheep blinked at him, eyes unblinking and dark, but not empty. Deep, in a way that made his breath catch for a moment. He stared into them longer than he meant to.

There was something familiar in those eyes.

But he couldn’t say what.

So instead, he smiled and kept scratching gently behind its ears.

The sheep let out another baa, but this time it was different. Strained, stuttering. Uneven.

Pure Vanilla’s brows drew together in concern. “Are you hurt?”

He gently shifted it in his lap, hands pressing into the thick wool coat. It let him move it, surprisingly compliant as he checked beneath its fleece, glancing along its underside and legs for signs of injury. There was nothing he could see, nothing wrong at all.

Then it shifted closer.

Before he could react, the sheep reared up, its hooves planting themselves on his shoulders. Its weight was sudden but not crushing. He stilled.

Then—laughter.

Not just any laughter.

Familiar, giddy, unhinged laughter that echoed from the sheep’s mouth in tones that twisted and bounced like warped music.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened as the sheep’s face stretched, its wool writhing before peeling back to reveal a grinning mouth far too wide for a sheep. Its eyes now glowing, swirling, pinned him like a spell. Bright blue, spiral-shaped, unmistakably his.

Shadow Milk.

The creature let out a distorted baa, a sound caught between amusement and mockery, its blue eye flashing with wild joy.

Then, with a shimmer of corruption and shadow, its form broke apart like smoke.

Where the sheep had been now stood a large wolf-like creature, deep navy in color, its hide sleek and sharp. Its face still bore that familiar grin, its shoulders still covered in the tattered remnants of a wool coat that hung loosely like a hooded pelt. The wolf’s long tail flicked lazily. It stretched its neck, coiling down to look him right in the eye.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Literally.

“Hello again,” Shadow Milk drawled, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Miss me?”

Pure Vanilla exhaled, only briefly startled. Then a smile tugged at his lips.

“Always,” he said simply, his voice calm, too calm for someone who just witnessed a sheep transform into a corrupted beast. But then, this wasn’t the first time Shadow Milk had done something dramatic.

Shadow Milk tilted his head, glowing eye narrowing. “You’re not scared.”

“Should I be?” Pure Vanilla asked lightly, tilting his head just a bit, like he was amused.

Shadow Milk snorted, whether in disbelief or laughter, it was hard to tell. “So calm. What if I was here to devour you?”

“Then I suppose you’re taking your time.”

That earned him a pause. The wolf blinked slowly, head tilted, grin faltering, but not disappearing. There was something curious in his expression now, something almost fond beneath the flicker of chaos. Well, that’s what Pure Vanilla would say.

Shadow Milk narrowed his glowing eye, then let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle. “Unbelievable. I go through all the effort of sneaking past your little sheep friends, play the part, even let you pet me—and this is the thanks I get?”

Pure Vanilla reached out, calmly placing his hand against the thick fur of the wolf’s neck. “You didn’t sneak past them. I think they knew.”

Shadow Milk leaned in, muzzle close, breath curling warm against Pure Vanilla’s collar. “You don’t flinch,” he murmured, voice low. “Why?”

“Because I knew it was you,” Pure Vanilla replied gently. “The moment you touched my shoulder.”

That made Shadow Milk pause.

For a long moment, the wolf just stared, its glowing eyes flickering with something unreadable. His mouth was still grinning, but softer now, the edges no longer sharp.

“You’re either very wise,” he said at last, “or very foolish.”

Pure Vanilla’s hand stayed where it was. “Maybe both.”

The wolf’s tail twitched. His shoulders relaxed.

Shadow Milk snorted, moving away from Pure Vanilla hand. “Be more appreciative,” Shadow Milk shook himself, the wool that incased his wolf body flying off slightly in little bits and sparkles. “I went to lengths for this, wool is kind of itchy you know.”

His ears pinned back, his paws backing off of Pure Vanilla. 

Pure Vanilla observed the wolf form, he had seen something similar some nights ago so it didn’t come as a surprise. Yet here in direct moonlight, he couldn’t help but think the form was even more beautiful; even if it wasn’t exactly the same.

“If you wanted some attention from me you could have just come to me normally, I would've given it to you the same.” Pure Vanilla leaned forward, looking down.

Shadow Milk glared at him, his tail smacking against the grass. “Don’t ever say such a thing, you describe me as needy.”

“Of course not.” Pure Vanilla smiled, waving his hand.

Pure Vanilla let his hand stroke once more over the wolf’s dark fur, fingers brushing through the white wool draped across its back like a cloak. “You’re beautiful,” he said, voice soft but certain.

Shadow Milk stilled.

For a moment, nothing moved. No words. No quip. Just quiet.

Then, with a short, low scoff, the wolf twisted away in a spiral of shadow and fog, shrinking and curling into himself until Shadow Milk stood there once again in his regular cookie form, coat-tails flickering, gaze unreadable, that same grin tugging faintly at his lips.

“Tch. Beautiful,” he muttered, brushing at his coat with a clawed hand. “I’m not a painting, Vanilla.”

Pure Vanilla gave a small smile, unshaken. “No, you’re not. But beauty takes many forms.”

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue, looking away as if to hide something, frustration, embarrassment, or maybe a flicker of something warmer. “I’d rather not sit in the grass,” he said instead, absently flexing his claws like he needed something to do with them.

He stepped forward. Closer.

Pure Vanilla blinked, startled by the sudden closeness—his personal space promptly abandoned as Shadow Milk loomed just a breath away. The cool scent of night and lingering magic surrounded them.

Shadow Milk’s voice dropped to a hush. “We could… go back up,” he said slowly, gaze lowering. “Bond further.”

Pure Vanilla felt his soul jam give a soft, fluttering hum, a spark rising behind his cheeks. His breath caught, just a fraction, but he steadied himself with a slow exhale. “You mean…?”

Shadow Milk leaned in just slightly, eyes half-lidded. “Context clues, ‘Nilly. We bond,” he murmured, tone deliberate and slow. His hand raised for a second to tap against the membrane of Pure Vanilla’s soul jam, which earned him a flinch. “tends to… strengthen the link. Intensify it.”

Pure Vanilla’s heart thudded, but his voice remained level. Gentle.

“Ah! Yes, connect.” He lifted a hand, fingers brushing the side of Shadow Milk’s face, just under his eye. “Then let’s.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Shadow Milk grinned wide, and pounced.

“Wait—!” Pure Vanilla yelped as Shadow Milk’s arms tightened around his waist. Without warning, the world dropped beneath them—no, they were rising, being carried into the sky in a swift surge of magic and movement.

The stars blurred around them. Wind rushed past.

Pure Vanilla clung tight to him, hands gripping the edge of Shadow Milk’s coat-tails, eyes wide as he dared a glance downward.

They were flying, rising far above the fields and sheep pens, high enough that the treetops looked like little tufts of moss. The castle loomed ahead, its stained-glass windows glowing gently with evening light.

“Y—You could’ve warned me!” Pure Vanilla stammered, heart pounding as he buried his face closer into Shadow Milk’s shoulder.

Shadow Milk laughed, voice smug and bright. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I don’t fly!”

“Then good thing I’m holding you, isn’t it?”

Pure Vanilla’s grip didn’t loosen. “I’ll fall if you drop me.”

Shadow Milk tilted his head, that grin back in full force. “Oh, but you trust me, don’t you?”

Pure Vanilla shot him a look—but his hold never wavered.

“…Yes,” he said, quieter this time. “I do.”

Pure Vanilla glanced up from his shoulder, the wind lightly flowing across his face and through his hair. His eyes gazed up at the moon, her rays coating them both in her display.

Despite his better judgment, he looked down.

He took a nervous inhale and exhale, while it was quite far, it was stunning from so far in the air.

Remarkable. This must be what Shadow Milk sees on the daily, how beautiful.

The castle balcony came into view, the arched doorway of their shared room glowing in invitation. The wind whistled around them as Shadow Milk descended, spiraling once dramatically before setting them down in a smooth landing.

Pure Vanilla let go slowly, feet touching the floor again.

Shadow Milk smirked. “Wasn’t that romantic?”

“I suppose.” Pure Vanilla muttered, though the way his voice shook with flustered laughter betrayed him.

Shadow Milk grabbed at his hand, his claws intertwined with Pure Vanilla’s. His usually cool temperature a contrast to Pure Vanilla’s warmer one.

”Surprised you are so scared of such a thing.” Shadow Milk folded his hands behind his back, his eyes squinted. “Not like you couldn’t fly back at the spire.”

Pure Vanilla looked away. “I don’t have as much expertise on it, not like you.”

”Flattering.”

“So?” Shadow Milk flashed a lazy grin, his pupils dilated just a bit bigger. 

Pure Vanilla smiled back, the action felt like progress. “So?”

“What do you rate my flying? Isn’t it just so fulfilling?”

Pure Vanilla looked away nervously, shifting in place once slightly. “It’s… as fulfilling as it could get.”

Shadow Milk titled his head, his grin now gone with his eyes now narrowed. He leaned closer to Pure Vanilla—who leaned backwards, though not far—his voice slower and accusatory. “That a good thing?”

“…Yes. It is.”

Shadow Milk flashed a sharp grin at him once more, his hands now squeezing tighter around Pure Vanilla’s to swiftly pull him inside the room with a yelp. Waving his hand as the balcony door shut with a click behind them.

Darkness settled in.

A quiet kind of darkness, not oppressive, but hushed. Private. The gentle rustle of curtains moving on their own signaled the blinds falling shut, drawing the room into shadow. The only light came from the soft blue glow of Pure Vanilla’s soul jam and the cool, gentle blue that pulsed from Shadow Milk’s soul jam, and eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for your ancient friends to get lost,” Shadow Milk said, tone light, but laced with a faint purr of annoyance beneath it. “You’ve been giving them so much attention.”

Pure Vanilla huffed quietly, folding his arms loosely around Shadow Milk’s back. “Forgive me,” he replied with a teasing lilt. “They did come a long way.”

“Not as far as I did,” Shadow Milk muttered, but the complaint came with a curl of satisfaction under his voice. His clawed hands ghosted along Pure Vanilla’s sides before stopping at his waist—but even now, he did not move in to press their soul jams together.

Instead, he paused. Close, but not touching.

Pure Vanilla noticed immediately. His brows knit slightly, his smile faltering, not upset, just simply surprised. “…You’re hesitating?”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer right away. His expression shifted, but his eyes stayed locked on Pure Vanilla’s. Then, slowly, he leaned in, letting his face nestle into the soft curve of Pure Vanilla’s palm where it had rested against his cheek.

He drew in a breath.

Quiet. Deep.

Pure Vanilla’s fingers moved on instinct, gently cradling his face in return, thumbs brushing faintly along his cheekbones. His voice dropped to match Shadow Milk’s tone, low and soft. “What’s on your mind?”

Shadow Milk’s eyes closed for just a moment, the ever-present swirl of blue dimming, then flaring again. “Nothing worth ruining the moment,” he murmured.

A pause.

Then he added, “You smell like grass.”

Pure Vanilla gave a startled laugh, shoulders shaking. “I was lying in a field, if you forgot.”

“I didn’t.” Shadow Milk’s grin returned, faint but sincere. “You smell like comfort. The sappy kind.”

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught at that. He didn’t respond with words, just gently brushed his thumb again over Shadow Milk’s cheek, his own soul jam pulsing softly against his chest. In the back of his mind, the memory of his earlier dream tried to rise again, but he let it slip quietly away, keeping his focus here.

Now.

On this.

Shadow Milk didn’t pull away.

He stayed right there, pressing ever so slightly closer.

Not quite touching soul to soul.

Not yet.

Shadow Milk’s voice faintly broke the rising tense silence. “Do you… want to talk about that night now?”

“That night?” Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow at this, but still; he kept his voice low. “Which?”

Something Pure Vanilla immediately took into notice was how Shadow Milk was avoiding looking directly at him now, all of his eyes.

“The night you had taken me through the trees,” A notable pause of hesitation. “And we had…”

Pure Vanilla hummed, confused by the sudden hesitance.

..

.

Oh.

Oh!

Pure Vanilla stared at Shadow Milk in nothing but softness, his hand never lowering from Shadow Milk’s face.

“Oh Shadow Milk… is that what you want to do?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was soft, his thumb running along his he dough by Shadow Milk’s eye.

“You want to talk about the kiss?”

Shadow Milk didn’t answer. Not with words. Not right away. His lips stayed pressed together, a faint tension resting in his jaw, but even that tension felt brittle, like it might break under the weight of too much silence. His claws didn’t move, his body didn’t lean forward or away. He simply stayed, frozen in a moment that felt too sharp to breathe through.

All of this, the stillness, the way he didn’t grin, didn’t tease, didn’t snap—was rare. Uncharacteristic.

It was vulnerability. Raw and unshielded.

And Pure Vanilla, kind, patient, steadfast Pure Vanilla; would never do anything to scare that part of him away.

So he just stayed right there. Thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye. The other hand now resting gently at the back of Shadow Milk’s neck, fingers stroking slow patterns against the edge of his cowl.

“I remember it,” he said quietly. “That night. Every detail.”

Shadow Milk’s breath shivered out faintly.

“You let me kiss you,” Pure Vanilla continued. “You let me. You didn’t have to, but you did. And I wasn’t expecting it. You surprised me, but not in a way that ever made me afraid.”

At that, one of Shadow Milk’s eyes that nestled in his hair flicked toward him.

“And I think,” Pure Vanilla whispered, voice now impossibly low, “that kiss might’ve been the moment I started to understand what I feel for you.”

His soul jam pulsed softly, as if echoing his words.

Still no response.

But Shadow Milk’s claws had relaxed around his hand. Not by much. Just a little. Enough to feel.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now,” Pure Vanilla said, brushing a strand of black and blue hair away from Shadow Milk’s forehead. “We don’t have to force something you’re not ready for.”

He leaned forward, their foreheads nearly touching, however their soul jams stayed just small inches apart. Now blocked by Pure Vanilla’s own hand, something he did on purpose. For now, when the moments right.

“But I want you to know… if you’re asking because you’re afraid it didn’t mean anything—” he paused here, voice steady “—it did. It does.”

Shadow Milk’s breath caught for just a moment. A quiet, near-silent sound. And then, with a faint shift, one of his hands moved—claws dragging faintly along Pure Vanilla’s wrist before pausing there, resting.

Shadow Milk’s main eyes finally met his, questioning.

And though Shadow Milk didn’t speak…

He didn’t need to.

Pure Vanilla could feel it in the quiet between them.

He was listening.

So Pure Vanilla continued.

“I didn’t bring it up because I had no intention of rushing you. That moment was really special to me, I wouldn’t want to chase it if it could come back on its own.” Pure Vanilla whispered, the hand that had still been on Shadow Milk’s cheek stilling its caresses.

“You don’t have to tell me what you’re feeling right away,” he murmured, his fingers brushing the edge of Shadow Milk’s cheek again. “You never have to explain yourself before you’re ready. You can just… exist here, with me.”

Shadow Milk didn’t respond, but his posture shifted, subtle, unintentional. He leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough that Pure Vanilla could feel the warmth of breath, the closeness of hesitation becoming something else. His face rested into Pure Vanilla’s hand, faintly, like instinct.

Now wasn’t the moment.

But it was close.

Their shared soul bond fluttered again, soft, flickering like candlelight caught in a breeze. It blossomed in the silence between them, light and airy and alive. Pure Vanilla’s breath caught faintly at the sensation. It felt so gentle, so full of weightless emotion, like floating.

And Shadow Milk—his face, in this rare moment—was flushed. The faintest, hesitant flush that crept in like something unfamiliar. The intensity in his eyes hadn’t faded, but it was colored now with something else. Something warmer. Something that made the air between them feel unbearably delicate.

Pure Vanilla offered the smallest smile.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, his voice quieter now than ever. “I have no problem… recreating that night.” His fingers gently pressed into the side of Shadow Milk’s face. “If you have no problem with it either.”

Shadow Milk exhaled, and there was a sound in it, a breath between a scoff and something shyer.

“I—” he started, then stopped.

His usual edge wobbled.

“I do…n’t—problem—with it,” he muttered, words slushed together in a rushed mess, like they were running from his own mouth too quickly. An obvious result of the soul bond blossoming between them, their close proximity only further boosting it; causing effects.

Pure Vanilla blinked. A small laugh fell from him, not teasing but utterly charmed. He leaned in just a breath closer.

“Really?” he asked, gentle and warm.

Shadow Milk grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, before finally locking eyes, really locking eyes, with him.

And then, in a single moment of clarity between them—

Their lips met.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet, a simple motion of leaning forward and letting everything fold into stillness. Pure Vanilla’s hand stayed firm between their soul jams, unmoving. But his lips stayed steady against Shadow Milk’s, as if every doubt had briefly dissolved into their bond.

Then a pause. A soft exhale.

And again—a second kiss, just a little longer. Just a little deeper. One of Shadow Milk’s claws curled faintly at Pure Vanilla’s hip, not holding him there, but not letting him drift either.

And still, the soul jams didn’t touch.

They glowed faintly, warm and pulsing, echoing something that would wait for the right moment.

Pure Vanilla didn’t explain why he blocked the contact.

And Shadow Milk didn’t ask.

For now, the kiss was enough.

And the bond between them pulsed on, tender, quiet, growing.

Shadow Milk was the first to pull away, and Pure Vanilla didn’t linger. His eyes half lidded and clouded, yet, he saw clearly. And he only saw Shadow Milk in his vision.

Shadow Milk, whose face was equally as flushed as his own, the eyes in his hair closed or half lidded. His main eyes half lidded and also staring at Pure Vanilla. Their similar states only further to strengthen the unseen connection weaving between them, emotions serving to bounce off each other and intensify.

Shadow Milk huffed at him, his now quiet and faint panting of breath able to be heard to Pure Vanilla. He glanced down at the hand covering his soul jam, preventing them from fully connecting. 

With his eyes darting back up to Pure Vanilla, he raised an eyebrow at him, an obvious question.

“Eventually, dear.” Pure Vanilla responded, equally breathless.

At that, Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, yet he made no motion to move Pure Vanilla’s hand away.

Both of their soul jams pulsed a bright light, pulsing and humming in sync with each other.

For a while, there was only the hush of their breaths and the quiet hum of their soul jams, still barely apart, still not touching.

Then, Shadow Milk broke the silence.

“…What are we supposed to be now?”

His voice was quiet. Not biting. Just low, almost lost.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze softened instantly, his hand still resting against Shadow Milk’s cheek. He let the silence breathe a little before answering.

“We can be anything,” he said, just as gently. “Partners. Companions. Even just good friends.”

Shadow Milk blinked, eyes slowly rising to meet his.

“I’m not rushing this,” Pure Vanilla continued. “I don’t need to define us right now. We’ve been through too much to stuff it all into one word, don’t you think?”

He smiled, the same steady smile he always had, but this one, just for him, carried a deeper kind of warmth.

“You don’t have to call it anything you’re not ready for. What matters is that we’re here.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes shifted, thoughtful again. A glimmer of something passed over them, uncertainty, maybe, or even doubt, but there was also something quieter beneath it. Relief.

“…Huh.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head. “Is that a good ‘huh’ or a bad one?”

Shadow Milk scoffed lightly, though it wasn’t bitter.

“Just didn’t expect you to say all that,” he muttered.

“I mean it,” Pure Vanilla replied. “I’ll call us whatever makes you most comfortable. If we’re still… figuring it out, that’s okay. We don’t need a name for something that’s still blooming.”

Shadow Milk fell quiet again, his fingers twitching slightly at Pure Vanilla’s side, claws soft against dough.

Then, a beat later, he muttered under his breath, “…You’re infuriating sometimes.”

Pure Vanilla smiled wider. “And yet, here you are.”

Shadow Milk huffed out a laugh through his nose, almost fond. His gaze lowered again, this time, to the space between their soul jams. Still close. Still not touching. His eyes narrowed faintly at the sight.

But he didn’t push.

And neither did Pure Vanilla.

For now, the undefined space between them was enough. Growing, glowing, waiting.

Their bond, whatever it would become, was safe in that space. No rush. No labels.

Their silence lingered, the air thick with something unsaid but understood. That soft flicker between them had never faded, it only grew steadier, warmer, the longer they remained close. Shadow Milk hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away again, and Pure Vanilla could feel the anticipation in the breath between them.

He drew in a slow inhale, his eyes fixed on Shadow Milk’s.

Then, with gentle purpose, he lowered the hand that had been guarding his soul jam, finally letting it fall away. Pure Vanilla spoke quietly.

“Go ahead, whenever you need.”

Their chests met fully at last, the delicate press of soul jam to soul jam sending an immediate ripple of energy through them both.

It was grounding and dizzying all at once.

A deep, breathy huff left both of them in tandem, their foreheads tipping forward until they touched, the gesture almost instinctive. The glow of their soul jams, mingled now, danced in soft yellow and swirling blue between them. Familiar.

Shadow Milk’s claws gripped faintly at Pure Vanilla’s sides, grounding himself. Pure Vanilla’s hand slid up and cradled the back of Shadow Milk’s head, fingers curling into the strands of his dark hair with care, protective and steady. In the tension, he let himself mutter out.

Their eyes fluttered shut.

The connection was no longer waiting, no longer teasing, it was real. The bond that had been blooming in glimpses and sparks had finally solidified into something full and whole. It was warm, intimate, consuming but not overwhelming.

There was no rush to speak.

There was no need for more than this.

Just the quiet closeness, the fluttering link of something stronger than understanding, something closer than comfort.

They breathed in sync, soul jams glowing in harmony.

Together.

Pure Vanilla was in no rush, he could wait.

Their foreheads remained pressed, the silence thick with breath and the mingling light of soul jams finally touching.

Shadow Milk’s grip on him remained firm but gentle, as though grounding himself in Pure Vanilla’s warmth. His claws twitched slightly at Pure Vanilla’s sides, the only sign that the connection wasn’t just affecting one of them, it had rooted itself in both.

Pure Vanilla’s hand still cradled the back of Shadow Milk’s head, his fingers woven into the strands of dark hair. His other hand moved with quiet intention to rest against the back of Shadow Milk’s shoulder, anchoring him there, close.

His voice broke the hush, a breath against the shell of Shadow Milk’s ear.

“Such a beautiful beast you are,” he murmured, not expecting a response. “I promise… I will never hurt you.”

It was barely a whisper. A confession spoken not to be heard, but to be felt.

Shadow Milk didn’t speak, didn’t pull away.

But his breath caught.

And then, just faintly, his arms pulled Pure Vanilla closer, as if in answer. His claws curled just enough to clutch the fabric at Pure Vanilla’s waist, not desperate, but certain. A quiet, silent acceptance.

The soul jam between them glowed brighter for a brief moment, swirled yellow and deep blue dancing in unison.

They stayed there like that. Neither needing more.

He smiled, pulling Shadow Milk impossibly closer. He didn’t speak again, not out loud, but through their shared quiet connection where it was only possible for them to hear.

I promise.