𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘳

Chapter 33. Mother of Independents

The worst of writers block to strike, so my apologizes for having taken so long to soldier through this.

[Gambler]

Pretty fed up picking up round by round with my fingers, my feathers spread from my fingertips and get to doing twenty at once and trying to finish up. Just so they don't break at the sheer expense of our own power. Over my shoulder, there's a presence of that power lurking.

"Stop oggling me like your dream car at a dealership," I scold Vash, who's laying in bed behind me. "I'm not being noisy, so you're supposed to be sleeping."

He sighs, rolling over so he faces what am doing, his head dropping down by my shoulder as I lean against the bed frame. "I can't sleep," he pouts.

"What, you want me to sing you a lullaby?" I ask, and he looks hopeful. "No, I'm joking. It'd keep you awake longer. My iPod is charged--we could dance again."

He stands, nudging me aside and reaching under the bed for a box of random "valuables", holding random attachments we decided to pool into one compartment together. Something that we leave behind to face Knives. Pieces of who we are, tucked under a bed.

I clean up the rounds, all prepared for tomorrow and put earbuds in with Vash, sticking the iPod in his front pocket.

We sway but the music is over a hundred years old, after all. In fact, years before my time. It holds little sentimentality now, so my feet move on beat slowly. I stare at the moon outside my window, illuminating the last stand of mankind. I pull Vash close so he can lean into my neck, supporting him as his lids grow heavy and his chest rises against me in slow rhythm.

My nerves tense, feeling his heart beat and his breathing on my neck—despite it being my choice to reel him in like this. I feel his strong determination, accepting what happened in July—it will not happen again.

"Are you scared?" I ask, the music no longer registering to my mind.

"Terrified."

I nod, apprehensive about settling into him the way he has settled into me. I don't think I'll ever understand why he trusts me so deeply, I don't know what it is I did for this to happen. I'm used to people trying to kill me, I'm used to fear and anger to some degree returned. Not Vash. Not ever.

He pulls me into him with a hand in the small of my back, the real one. I want to understand him still, but maybe it's just I don't understand myself. It's okay, because somehow he does.

My shoulders relax as I sink into him. "Me too."

There's a knock on the door that wakes me. This time, I'm intent on ignoring it. Even though this is the day, baby Livio is going to get the wrong idea.

"It's Livio, you guys!" the human alarm announces. "If you don't respond, this time I'm coming in--"

"You are definitely not!" I snap back. I look towards the analog clock, seeing the time is five fifteen. "I guarantee, Livio, this time it's no joke."

"I'm leaving!"

Satisfied, I get out of bed still in the same clothes from the night before. Then glasses to wear and sort out the rest of my weapons. "Wakey wakey, blondie," I call to Vash, sharpening my blade with two minutes to spare while he begrudgingly gets ready. "All the ammo is already in your coat. The explosives all have a safety just so we can walk out without an accident." I sheath the katana and take the box from underneath the bed, holding the ipod and photos that I put in my case on top of clothes. They all go into one case because I know I won't be coming back. Not that I have more than one outfit at a given time.