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Vox Akuma has nothing against anyone. Except for the people who police others for simply living their lives. He has everything against those people. But really, he’s fine with most everyone.
Vox doesn’t want to police anyone on how they live, or how they present themselves. Hells, he presents himself in ways not most take the time to understand.
Vox isn’t policing. Really, he isn’t! But Ike has been acting off recently. Ike acting differently is nothing new to him. When engrossed in his writing, Ike would often act like one of his characters without realizing. It was just how he worked, and that was plenty fine by Vox. But this was a different kind of off.
Take now, for example. He and Ike were sitting with the rest of Luxiem in the living room with a movie playing. Vox couldn’t remember what it was, but it had been something Mysta had desperately wanted Shu to see. Vox wasn’t very focused on the movie, if he’s honest. He’s focusing more on the man curled up in the other corner of the couch.
The thing was, the man in question was seemingly watching Vox out of the corner of his eye. Almost like he had never seen him. What’s more, Vox could swear that his eyes were far more gold – yellow even – then they usually were. Maybe it was just the lighting, but his hair also looked more teal, as if it was meant to be green instead.
Vox poked Ike with a socked foot, and the other man’s head snapped to face him, fear flashing across his face for a short moment. His expression schooled into one of friendly nonchalonce, and he tilted his head in silent question.
‘What?’ Ike mouthed at him, furrowing his brow as he did.
‘What’s wrong?’
Ike’s face dropped for a brief moment, before a calm expression overtook his face again. ‘Nothing, why?’
‘Nothing,’ Vox shakes his head, making a mental note to bring the topic up later, and turns his attention to the movie.
Vox sips his glass of water, sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. Ike stands, cleaning up their dinner and putting leftovers in the fridge and finishing the dishes.
“So, uh, what was that earlier?”
Ike’s shoulders tense as he picks up a dish in the sink
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, slightly defensive, as if he was trying to avoid the subject altogether. Vox furrows his brow, the corners of his mouth turning down.
“Yes, you do. Come on, what’s up?” Vox attempts to keep his voice joking, offering an out for either of them if it really was nothing. Ike sighs, turning his head to see him better.
“It’s nothing, Vox, really. No need to worry on o– my account.” Ike seems to trip over his own tongue, but brushes past it. Vox doesn’t believe it really was nothing, but pushing Ike wouldn’t make anything better, so he drops it, instead focusing on the games he was planning to play on stream that week.
Prim was sweating buckets. Rivers. Oceans, even. Vox had been casually glancing over at him all night. Clearly he had noticed something off. Ike had moved in with the rest of Luxiem a few months ago, and the fact that no one had noticed anything was beyond Prim. They weren’t even being subtle, switching as needed and rarely masking. It was inevitable that someone would notice, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Ike would be fronting, ideally, and make sure to check with everyone once again before saying anything. Prim had only fronted because a movie he enjoyed was on. Prim flops down onto the bed, hands shaking, before leaving the body empty.
Prim pushes open their front door, sighing as he feels his body become his own again. Ike sits on the couch with Eki, the two of them speaking quietly. Eki waves as he enters, and Prism pokes his head out of the kitchen, smiling. Lorri appears from the hallway, with Ivy and Primrose behind her, yawning. Prim draws a bracing breath.
“We should tell them,” Prim says, earning a snort from Eki.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Ike jabs him, and he winces, “sorry, sorry,” Eki pauses, “How.” He says it like a statement, a bored expression to mask his interest.
“We should start by telling Vox,” Primrose speaks, quietly, “If we want to pursue any sort of romantic relations with him, he should know.” Eki groans.
“Can you not talk like a textbook for five minutes,” Eki complains, almost whining at the other.
“Plus, how do we do it?” Prism cocks his head from where he stands against the kitchen entryway.
“By just saying it? Be blunt, man, it’ll work,” Lorri suggests, Ivy nodding behind her.
“I want to do it,” Ike speaks up from where his head has been resting against the artist beside him. Prim nods.
“I figured,” Prim says with a smile.
Ike’s hands shake as he hits send on the text
PenMan: Vox, can we talk when you’re done streaming? It’s nothing bad, I promise
Before he can set the phone down, Vox replies.
DeMan: yeah sure
Ike nods, turning the device off and shaking his hands out. Prim gives him a metaphorical pat on the shoulder, disappearing to let Ike think.
Ike tries not to shake as Vox sits down at the other end of the couch. He draws a breath, tracing the patterns of the afternoon light on the walls with his eyes.
“Have you heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?” Ike isn’t looking at Vox. He doesn’t see him nod.
“Yeah, I have. Why do you ask?” Ike’s hands shake as he stares at them in his lap. He hears Vox’s quiet gasp. He still doesn’t look at him.
“Was that why you were being weird last night?” Vox whispers, tone hushed as if the very idea was taboo. Ike nods. He doesn’t look at Vox.
“Ok,” Vox says, quietly, softly. Ike looks at him. He thinks he might be crying.
“Thank you for telling me. Is there anything I can do for you all?” Ike can feel himself getting stuffy, and he wipes a tear away with his sleeve.
“No, we’re okay. We just,” He pauses, breathing through a sob, “wanted you to know.” Vox nods, and Ike sees it.
“Can I hug you?” Ike nods, Vox leaning forward to wrap his arms around him, to hold him through relieved sobs, to whisper assurances that fall on deaf ears. Ike’s grip falls around Vox’s ribs, squeezing them in a near-death hold.
When Ike’s sobs slow, and his arms let up, they pull apart. Vox smiles at him.
“If you could let me know who I’m talking to, that’d be great,” Ike nods.
“How are you so comfortable with this?” Vox smiles.
“I’ve been around a long time. You know that. Plus, you weren’t exactly subtle.” Ike laughs.
“We weren’t trying to be,” Ike pauses, thinking, “This is Ike, by the way.”
“Okay,” Vox says, eyes soft, pulling him back into the hug.