When Vash didn't immediately greet you when you awoke, something was up.

If there was an olympic sport for masking emotions, Vash would have won a gold medal. Months, it had taken you to get even the slightest bit of emotion from the male. Though his stupid smiles could only last so long before he had broken down before you, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

Ever since, he had been at your side like glue. His gaze was full of nothing but adoration when he looked at you, simply grateful for a chance to have a friend as caring as you.

You knew him well enough to know when he was being distant, purposefully not wanting to tie you into his problems.

Which is exactly why you found yourself at the door of his room.

The motel you both stumbled upon wasn't the best, floorboars creaking under your added weight. It wasn't perfect, but it sufficed your needs.

Yet even as your knuckles hit against the wood, persistent as usual, you weren't met with a response. Unusual for Vash, he would've come up with 100 excuses by now.

So, of course, you moved to push the door open. He was a friend, after all.

Yet the sight was one you least expected.

Feathers protruded from Vash's back, tendril like wings expanding across the valley of his spine. They surrounded him in a cocoon, his face hidden in the mess of plumes from where he lay.

"Don't look at me," his whisper was barely audible, voice not one of pain, but rather nervousness.

Vash didn't want you to see him like this. His heart lay clenched within his chest at the idea of you scared, possibly even fearful of him.