Work Text:
his arms wrapped around the small body of a pink haired child, his hold was strong and firm, yet gentle and careful. as if he thought he was going to break the little one if he held them too tightly.
tears rolled down his dark cheeks, and small desperate sobs came out of his lips, like a child holding onto their mother for comfort after a bad nightmare. except he was now holding Crepe again after all these years, holding them against his chest and muttering words of sorrow to the vanillian, who's silence meant more than nothing, who's gaze was as lost as their own mind.
the last time Choco saw the kid, they were a few inches shorter, skinny and covered in a few bruises, but those big blue eyes stared at him with hope, love ... pure, platonical and grateful love. their little hand wrapped around three of his own fingers, and he held it dearly to show that he was there, that he would always be there waiting for them. just to never see them again after that night, just to cut the red string keeping them together, forever.
after Dark Enchantress decided that she had enough of such a nuisance.
“i'm sorry, little one ...” he finally mouthed, his breathing was unstable. for once, he was the one crying and asking for answers.
the (not so) little kid from his dreams was now reunited with him. Crepe was alive and well, a bit taller, still dainty and as beautiful as the day he lost them. he had to admit it in a way a father would, Crepe was a beautiful kid, inside and out. he felt awful seeing what his actions caused. “i'm so sorry for not coming sooner, i'm so sorry for failing you, i'm so sorry for breaking our promise, for everything ...” he couldn't bear the thought of seeing those sad eyes again, full of betrayal and justified anger. the same ones he saw that day, that very first day, full of tears and pain, struggling to stay open ...
his little "berry", Crepe, was so big now and they didn't fit quite right under his cape, but they still fit around his arms perfectly.
but when he was pushed away, all he saw were two empty blue orbs, staring at him with what seemed to be disgust, hate, and the forever expected betrayal. tears also rolled down their pale freckled cheeks, but Crepe didn't say anything. they stared at him, both hands closed in fists under their own cape.
all he saw in them was Strawberry Crepe's broken soul, broken beyond repair, to the point that not even a hug could fix the damage and years of crying, asking themselves what they did wrong.
they weren't that old, they weren't even twelve yet. they were still a child, a broken child. the pain in those eyes, the dark bags under them, they showed years of suffering, years of begging, years of asking the same questions, years of being awake at night and years of simply being alive. because that was too much of a chore for someone like Crepe.
the silence remained, as he was still on his knees, staring at the kid's blank face, and they stared back.
“took you long enough.” that's all that came out of their mouth for a while. and that's what hurt Choco, knowing that Crepe had the right to not accept his apologies nor his attempts to repair what was broken. knowing that there was a chance he would never see those blue eyes again after that afternoon.
those eyes that were avoiding his only one.
“i understand if you're mad, Be- Crepe. i'm not here to ask you to forgive me, you don't have to forgive me, nor the rest. you don't even have to talk to me now if that's your wish, but ... i wanted to let you know that i'm sorry for all the damage i've done.” those words were sincere and true, he was sorry, he cried, he stayed awake at night, he thought, he remembered, he grieved the past ... “and i know you're disappointed that it took me so long, but i promise ... i tried to find you in every corner of this world, i tried my best to get back to you as soon as i left them. i ... just tried, and perhaps it wasn't enough.” he assured. if it was enough, they would've been together years ago. living life in a calm place for both of them, far away from their nightmares and sorrow. perhaps if he decided to leave that sword before, perhaps if it didn't take so long ...
“i just wanted to let you know that i'm sorry, and that i never stopped searching for you.” he saw them in his dreams, in the flowers, in the little pink clothes that once belonged to them and wouldn't fit nowadays, in the drawings he kept hidden inside a drawer, in the millions of projects left behind and accumulating dust ...
he saw them, he saw Crepe, his little beam of light.
“well.” again, there was nothing else to say. how was Crepe supposed to feel? they didn't feel anger, they didn't feel sadness, they couldn't feel anything growing in their chest. there was no hope, no melancholy, nostalgia, nothing they could cling to in an attempt to react.
they couldn't even feel happy to see him again, because they weren't.
there were lots of things going on in their mind, one of them ... the distant memories of the past, being held lovingly as a little kid, being less than six years old and still adapting to the new life they got. they remembered the flowers, the uncomfortable bed they slept in with Choco, the broken window in the third floor ... but not more than that, distant and vague memories of who they were before.
before realizing that, if no one was going to protect them, they had to do it themselves. no one was going to feel pity for a troubled and destructive kid who screamed when they were left alone, who cried all night and spoke dearly to soulless objects as if they were alive like them, but in the same breath they cursed out anyone who dared to step near them, like a terrified animal.
no one could comprehend a hurt child more than the same hurt child. Crepe knew it since the beginning.
“i don't know if i should forgive you.” because it wasn't appropiate, was it? Crepe had no clue of what appropiate meant. they never got appropiate love, appropriate treatment ... and all they had as an example of what they should be was Pure Vanilla, with his long, boring talks of how they were getting better as time went by.
getting better from what? their body was still broken and their soul still felt empty.
“that's fine, little one.” he assured once again, holding both of their hands, now big enough to held his if they desired to do so.
Crepe wasn't so little anymore ... and they didn't scream, they didn't cry, they didn't have a fit of anger even if it was appropriate for what they were feeling ...
until it finally came. the sadness of the situation finally hit and the vanillian collapsed in his arms, their knees giving up and loud uncontrolled sobs coming out of their lips, wrapping their thin arms weakly around his neck, slowly drifting from it to end up grasping onto his shoulders for dear life. the warmth of his chest finally felt like home, it felt like years and years of waiting were finally worth it, like a last fulfilled wish before vanishing, as they were finally together and the world could finally move again.
he felt like a missing piece, now found after losing all hope of completing the puzzle.
he felt like love.