Another day of saving people, another day of avoiding casualties. Except, the only casualty today will be his own body giving him payback for using too much power.
Vash had to or else people would’ve been seriously injured. Wolfwood would have been injured, he doesn’t have the vials anymore. Vash wasn’t going to watch Wolfwood approach death’s doorstep ever again.
That doesn’t mean he won’t play with death.
It was a freak accident. The hunters carried explosives on the truck. With the vehicle in the line of fire, it was a recipe for disaster.
Vash had used a few of his wings to block gunshots from hitting the townspeople when a gaggle of petty hunters showed up. He only wanted to use a bit of his energy, he would gladly be a shield, even if it meant being exhausted for a couple of hours. But then Wolfwood got too close to an explosion for Vash’s liking. For Wolfwood, Vash would put his life on the life.
Smoke was trickling out of the truck’s engine after the gunfight was over. While one of the gunmen was being restrained, Vash heard an offhanded comment about explosives in the back of the truck. Vash glanced back at the truck to see Wolfwood approaching it, looking to investigate the vehicle. It was then his ears picked up a hissing sound. Vash jumped into action, wings and all.
Maybe Wolfwood would’ve gotten away with non-life-threatening injuries. In slow motion, Vash saw Wolfwood grab the Punisher, getting ready to block the force of the explosion, but Vash wasn’t going to chance it, Wolfwood was a split second too late.
Vash was beside Wolfwood in an instant, cocooning both of their bodies with a mass of white tendrils a second before the truck exploded. The force of the blast sent them flying several feet away. When the dust settled, Vash ended up on top of Wolfwood, ear over his heartbeat. Relief washed over him—Wolfwood is alive. What was to come next stood at the back of Vash’s mind at the sound of Wolfwood’s pulse.
Wings dissolving, Vash pulls away to see Wolfwood’s alarmed expression. And fear. Fear for Vash rather than the explosion that just happened. It’s then that Vash is reminded of the promise he made, along with a resounding headache that starts to drill into his head.
Wolfwood doesn’t like it when Vash uses his Plant powers now that it gives him hell in the form of hemorrhaging. His black hair was a constant reminder that he depleted his energy, shouldn’t be carelessly using it. The first time Vash collapsed Wolfwood thought he was going to die, he looked stressed and close to tears at the way Vash’s body was attacking itself, almost lifeless after.
It does feel like dying. Vash hopes dying doesn’t feel like this.
He felt awful for making Wolfwood see him like that, worry him like that. The only scolding Vash got from him was when they were resting in bed together, Wolfwood whispering a don’t do that again into his forehead, clingy days after.
Vash vowed never to do that again. And now he went and broke it.
He would do it again to save Wolfwood.
With townsfolks crowding around them with concern, Vash feels the calm before the storm within his body. Fatigue creeps along the edges of his vision while his muscles tremble with overexertion. Blood trickles down his nose to his upper lip. He slaps a hand to his face—the start of divine punishment.
His vision starts to fade. It swims as he makes an excuse to leave, stumbling away from the crowd and finding a safe place to hide so no one can see his body crumble. Staggering into a back alley, Vash pants from the migraine bearing down on him.
His hearing is then overwhelmed with a ringing sound as the fatigue turns into nausea. Warm liquid trickles down his ears. There’s a faint metallic taste in his mouth when he coughs in between heaves.
That’s when Wolfwood finds him, he always finds him. Wolfwood catches him before his knees hit the ground, arms wrapping around his middle. Vash reaches for Wolfwood, finds his hand and holds it in a tight grip. He can barely make out the words coming out of Wolfwood’s mouth through the ringing. Vash hears with you. It makes Vash want to run away, Wolfwood shouldn’t watch. Vash must have mumbled something as Wolfwood whispered, “I’m not leaving you.”
Vash swallows back blood and bile crawling up his throat but he can’t fight the convulsions, can’t fight against the inevitable. The next cough has him spitting red on the sand. Many coughs follow suit, his body trying to expel the internal bleeding he caused himself, vomiting blood and rot.
Vash chokes as he hurls his insides to the ground. He whines when another wave comes, his body shuddering as his stomach spasms, using the last bit of energy he has left. His healing is not as fast as it used to be, unable to keep up with the damage, organs failing and repairing themselves simultaneously. All of his senses have dulled to suffocating pain.
Wolfwood’s hand that he has in a vice-grip is the only thing that’s grounding him, and Vash hopelessly focuses on that. He must look like death, he feels like it. And Wolfwood has to sit and watch him, holding him so he doesn’t fall into his own blood.
Vash heaves slow down to wheezes as the nausea lets up slightly. Spitting out the remaining fluids in his mouth, Vash takes a gulp of air and collapses against Wolfwood, body spent and nerves on fire. Losing consciousness, the pain fades to numbness. Vash blacks out in Wolfwood’s arms.
When Vash comes to, the pain has dulled into a deep-seated ache.
His hearing comes back first. The ringing morphs into the sound of silence. The desert breeze whispers in his ears. The next is his sight. A red smear appears in his vision, the blood he vomited on the ground a few feet away from where he’s lying back against a wall—no, he's lying against Wolfwood.
Oh, Wolfwood.
Vash is resting against Wolfwood’s chest. Wolfwood’s arms hug around his middle, legs bracketing his body and face hidden into his shoulder. Vash desperately wants to see Wolfwood. He wants to apologize, he wants to make sure he’s okay, he wants—
Vash tries moving an arm but all he can do is move his fingers, his muscles have no strength. He opens his mouth to call Wolfwood but all that comes out is a wet cough. Speaking is impossible, his vocal cords aren’t working, throat raw. Vash thumps his head on Wolfwood’s temple, hoping to get his attention.
It works. Wolfwood shifts, pulling his head away from his shoulder. Vash leans back to look up at him and—
Wolfwood’s crying. He has tear streaks on his cheeks
Vash’s eyes water, he hopes it’s water and not blood. He wants to comfort Wolfwood, hug him, anything. He wants to say I’m sorry I won’t do it again yet he can only pant out tired breaths as he mouths the words.
Wolfwood lifts a sleeve to Vash’s nose, wiping away the drying blood. “I know, it’s okay.”
It’s not okay. It makes Vash want to cry even more, throat tightening, choking on the emotion instead of his guts. Wolfwood redirects his hand to brush away Vash’s sweaty fringe.
“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Wolfwood whispers.
Vash hiccups on a sob, nodding.
Wolfwood repositions, moving an arm under Vash’s legs, bracing himself against the wall to stand under Vash’s dead weight. Vash hides his face in Wolfwood’s shoulder and cries.
Wolfwood kisses the top of his head. “Don’t cry, Angel.”
Vash weeps harder. He’s far from an angel, he made Wolfwood worry, he made him cry.
Carried away from the evidence of his repentance, Vash promises he won’t overextend again, he won’t make Wolfwood cry again.
He promises.