note: Post-Trigun Maximum ending / Knives survives AU

VK

He doesn't regret the last choice he made. But the moment he opened his eyes—when he thought he was dead—and saw Vash greeting him so casually with a "Hey, Knives," a different kind of regret crept in. Of course it would. The failure of this entire plan lies with him—the one who, in the end, couldn't abandon his twin. Even if the same thing happened again, he'd probably do the same. Because Vash, just by existing, turns him into something soft. Something stupid, weak, pathetic. If only he hadn’t... Then maybe by now, we would have—

So when Vash offers to take care of him for a while, he refuses right away, face to face. Says he hates and despises him for planting feelings he can’t rip out no matter how hard he tries. But really, if those words were enough to drive him away, he wouldn't have tried so hard to save him in the first place.

Vash just shrugs, stands up like it's nothing. "I'm heading out to eat. If you want to, come." And with that, he leaves the room. Knives throws whatever’s within reach at Vash’s back. "I never begged for anything from you." Vash picks the pillow up from the floor, dusts it off, and replies, "Of course not. It's not like it's the first time you're like this. I'm used to it. I’ll wait. I’m good at that, remember?" (But I’m not saving you any food.)

Good at that. Those words crack something open in him. Isn’t what you’re good at running away, crawling off somewhere pathetic? He snaps, the words flying out before he can think. Vash just laughs. Not angry, not upset. "Not entirely wrong," he says. "But Knives, you must have a terrible memory. I’ve never once run away from you." And then he's gone.

No. No, that’s not—Knives rushes ahead and blocks the door before Vash can leave. He opens his mouth—he had something to say, didn’t he?—but Vash just snarks at how fast he’s moving now. He bites his lip out of frustration, and what escapes is something stupid, something he didn’t plan to say. "Don’t go."

Vash stops, stunned. He wipes a hand down his face like he’s trying to process it. "Don’t go?" he echoes, stepping back. "It was a mistake," Knives says, trying to cover it. "Just go already," he adds, heading back to bed. But he hears the door open and close again behind him.

Fine. Go, then.

The pain in his body hits him all at once, and he slowly sits on the edge of the bed—only to feel something tug around his waist.

"You're still here? I even had dessert before coming back."

"Let go."

But Vash only tightens his grip, and Knives grits his teeth to keep any sound from escaping. He forces the hand off and finally manages to sit down. Without looking at Vash, he pulls the blanket aside, making space beside him. The whole time, Vash says nothing—until suddenly, he grabs Knives by the face and kisses him.

What is this? Trying to smooth things over? Break the tension? Whatever the reason, Knives doesn’t flinch. He stares back without blinking, and something about that must bother Vash, because the next moment, he climbs onto the bed completely.

"Say something. Anything. Like you used to."

He strokes his cheek with a thumb, leans in again—but Knives still won’t close his eyes. No matter what Vash is thinking, he’s not giving in that easily. Even when he gives in, even when their mouths meet and he gives Vash everything, he still stares like it means nothing. That’s when Vash bites his lower lip, hard.

Finally, Knives speaks, quiet. "Don’t—don’t go any further, Vash."

The mattress creaks. Vash freezes, and replies quietly: "You shouldn’t have said my name."