Vanitas x Female! Reader ☆ Pure Shores ☆

15. To Promenade

 “I really appreciate the help, Vanitas.”
The Leviathai sent her a charming smile. “No problem. You looked like you could use it.”
(Y/N) scoffed at his remark, and he sent her smug look, but his sentiment seemed entirely genuine. She saw the concern written on his face, his surprise at the sooty rings sitting underneath her eyes. She tried her best to seem happy, but it was obvious to all that she was burdened by something, that she was being uncharacteristically jumpy.
It was clear that he was worried, more than he deigned to let on, evident in the way he kept close by.
Sora busied himself across the garden, collecting various bugs to show to a patient Riku.
Saix stood in the doorway to the house, arms folded as he surveyed the scene, and like a sentry, his burning gaze followed them.
They moved down the stone path, towards small clusters of tiny plants
Vanitas watched as (Y/N) set down her basket, before she produced a tiny hooked scythe from a pouch at her hip.
 “What are their names? The herbs I mean.”
(Y/N) blinked up at Vanitas, a look of gentle surprise on her face.
She smiled.
“Well…” she stopped at a small cluster of murky green leaves, long, smooth and drooping over the sides of the pot. She crouched beside it, beckoning Vanitas to join her.
He set down the heavy watering can, and knelt down, looking to her expectantly.
“This one here is Sage.” Her finger tips brushed gently over a velvetine leaf, her touch almost loving. Vanitas’s eyes travelled up her wrist, then searched her face, his eyes illuminated by the early morning sun. (Y/N) paused, momentarily awestruck by how otherworldly they were.
Vanitas’s eyebrow ticked upwards, bringing her back.
“...Typically harvested come November, the month of dreaming. It’s brewed into a tea to aid sleep.” She added hastily.
Vanitas nodded, pointing at another one.
This plant was thin and reedy, with fuzzy stems adorning the greater leaves, a bright emerald green.
“This is Rosemary, here-“ (Y/N) leant forward, deftly snapping off a stem.
She turned, surprising him somewhat as she brought up a hand to cover his eyes. He wrinkled his nose as it brushed at his lip, soft and tickly.
He inhaled gently.
“It smells really strong, like flowers.”
He blinked in the bright light as (Y/N) pulled away, smiling fondly at him.
“Good for encouraging feelings of well-being. It’s also popular as an oil.”
“Arent they flowers?” Vanitas asked, pointing over at the brightly coloured blooms.
(Y/N) stood, making her way over to a larger patch of dirt lining the far wall.
“What do you use them for?” he asked, retrieving the watering can and gently shaking a cascade of water over them.
“Nothing really. They’re Dahlias, so they bloom this time of year. I have the occasional customers that come in hoping to give them as a gift.”
Vanitas made a face. “Why?”
(Y/N) laughed softly, but not at him. It made Vanitas’s own mouth curl up into a smile.
“It’s romantic, people giving them to their beloved. Don’t the Leviathai do romance?” she asked wryly, her tone playful.
Vanitas paused, considering his answer carefully.
“We do.” He said confidently; dangerously.
(Y/N) stood, brushing her hands off. “Really? Like what?”
Vanitas stroked his free thumb across his lip, his eyes shining.
“Well it usually involves a hunt and the presentation of-“
(Y/N) waved a hand hurriedly, cutting him off. “I think I get it! Thanks.”
Vanitas smirked and (Y/N) silently cursed his arrogance, his apparent glee in ruffling her feathers.
She’d miss that.  
(Y/N) turned away quickly, heading to the next row to hide the downward pull of her lips, when Vanitas called out to her.
“What is that thing?”
 (Y/N) followed his gaze. “What? The bicycle?”
It was ensnared in an overgrown mass of weeds, cobwebs dusting the shining metal frame, bugs clinging to the worn wheels, a cracked plant pot sitting in the basket.
“Is that what it’s called? What does it do?”
The pair of them stood looking down at it.
“It’s for getting around, like the horse drawn carts.”
“But a horse doesn’t pull it?”
“No, you ride it using the pedals, and sitting on the seat, here.” (Y/N) explained, brushing an errant cobweb off the smooth leather.
She cocked her head, folding her arms.
“I used to ride this baby to the market all the time, back when I made the trips for my Grandmother. I used to love those rides.” she smiled dreamily, the happy memory lifting her features, her shoulders straightening slightly.
Vanitas frowned. “Why did you stop?”
Her shoulders drooped.
“You know, I’m not sure. Grief maybe?” she shrugged, turning away.
Vanitas reached out, snagging her sleeve.
“Do you remember how?”
(Y/N) grinned knowingly.
“You never forgot how to ride a bike.”
Vanitas nodded, gently prying it from the tangle of vines anchoring it to the wall.
“Great, so you can teach me.”
(Y/N) gave a small bark of laughter, blinking at him incredulously.
“Me teach you? You’re serious?”
“Yeah, why not?”
(Y/N) was stuck for words, but she knew her doubtful expression was giving her away.
Vanitas frowned, irritation tinging his voice.
“You saying I can’t?”