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The way Vash says “Uh oh” after opening his mailbox has Meryl immediately poking her nose around his side, trying to see what he has in his hands.
“You’re a vulture,” Wolfwood comments. Meryl waves him off. Vash is used to her curiosity and snooping. If it was something he genuinely didn’t want her to see, he would have hidden it already.
“What is it?” she asks Vash.
Vash shrugs with an awkward smile. “Just a letter from my brother. Nothing special.”
“Your brother sends you letters?” Meryl asks. “Huh. Little old-fashioned, but kinda sweet.”
She knows she’s hit something at a wrong angle when Vash’s smile tightens.
Wolfwood snickers, but he looks similarly uncomfortable now. “If you knew his brother you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Meryl looks up at Vash. “Oh? Do you two not get along?”
“Ah, that’s a way to say it, yeah,” Vash says.
“Actually, we can make this funny,” Wolfwood says. He starts flapping his hand at Vash with a devious grin. “Let me do a dramatic reading of it like I did last time. C’mon Needle-Noggin.”
There’s a beat, and then Vash returns the devious smile. “Y’know what, yeah, but let’s get back in the apartment first.”
“I’m definitely missing something,” Meryl pouts as she follows Wolfwood and Vash back to their shared apartment. She knows Vash lives here because he’s getting a doctorate in Plant Engineering at the nearby university–they go to the same school, and somehow became friends despite being in different programs–but she has no clue what Wolfwood does that led him to put his name on the other half of the lease.
She used to imagine that he’d be a horrible roommate, but quickly had that assumption shattered when she visited them the first time and Vash’s things were strewn about the apartment, with Wolfwood actually keeping his own stuff organized.
The moment Meryl enters and the door shuts behind her, it begins.
“Vash’s brother is a psycho,” Wolfwood says bluntly.
Meryl blinks, mouth falling open a bit, but before she can say anything Vash says, “Don’t call him a psycho, that’s disrespectful to people with actual psychotic disorders.”
“Of course,” Wolfwood nods. “Narcissist would be more accurate, right?”
Vash gives him a thumbs up. “Yup. He's basically a textbook Narcissist.”
"How could I ever forget?"
“Okay, I’m definitely missing something,” Meryl whines. “Why is Vash’s brother so bad? I need the entire story.”
Vash, knowing that she’s going to grill him for every little detail, pleads, “Can I go get the beer from the fridge first?”
“Nope.”
“You’re so cruel,” he wails. He sits down heavily on the couch and slumps dramatically to the side. Vash being who he is, so tall and lanky, he easily fills the entire piece of furniture. The couch is just Vash’s now. “Denying a man even a drop of liquid courage before he bears his tragic backstory–”
“We can drink for the letter reading,” Wolfwood calls from the kitchen he sneaked away to at some point.
“Oh, okay then,” Vash sits up, all dramatics over with. “So where do you want me to start, with our birth?”
“Vash, c’mon,” Meryl chastises. She sits on the beanbag chair nearest the couch, wanting to be comfortable for whatever nonsense she feels like she’s about to hear. “Be serious.”
“It really did start with our birth though,” Vash insists. “We’re twins,”–Meryl didn’t know that, but now she tries to imagine Vash’s face in a mean scowl, just to give his brother an appearance in her mind. She quickly realizes that it’s impossible. Vash looks so wrong when he isn’t smiling.–”but he was born a few minutes earlier than me, so the ‘big brother’ thing was destined to lead him into a power trip at some point.”
Wolfwood returns with a sandwich in hand and leans over the back of the couch. “Tell her about the uh, the thing that happened while we were in undergrad.”
Ah, that makes sense, Meryl thinks, a piece of the puzzle that is Vash and Wolfwood’s friendship sliding into place. They were friends in undergrad.
“Oh yeah!” Vash perks up. “He hired Wolfwood to be my bodyguard!”
Meryl splutters, trying to process the words that Vash said that definitely didn’t match with the enthusiasm he used.
“I was having trouble paying for classes, so I put a flier on a cork-board kinda as a joke, sayin’ I’d be a bodyguard if anyone needed one,” Wolfwood clarifies around a bite of his sandwich. “I expected like, girls who wanted someone to watch their back while walkin’ home from bars to call. But his brother was like,” Wolfwood straightens his back, lowers his brow and voice, then says, “I need you to become friends with my brother so you can make sure he’s safe. He’s too naive and I know he’ll get hurt.”
Vash scoffs. “Still can’t believe he said that. Can you believe it, me? The naive one?”
Wolfwood snickers and gives Vash a practiced pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, buddy.”
“Obviously I found out,” Vash says to Meryl. “I pretty much knew it immediately, actually. Wolfwood kinda sucked at pretending to be my friend.”
“Hey, I was doing a great job at pretending to be your friend!” Wolfwood protests, but his smile betrays him.
“You called me names all the time!”
“I call you names now too!”
“Yeah but now the names have like, a friendship vibe. A bro vibe.”
“Spikey what the fuck does that m–”
“Soooooo,” Meryl cuts in. She knows that Vash and Wolfwood can go back and forth with each other for hours, ping-ponging a single braincell between them until someone intervenes. “What did you do?”
“Oh, nothing.” Vash says.
Meryl stares at him. “You did… nothing.”
“Yeah. Wolfwood still needed the money, so like, we just kept pretending I didn’t know Nai was paying him.”
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Wolfwood cackles.
Meryl hones in on the name that Vash let slip. “Nai? Is that your brother’s name?”
With an abrupt jerk Vash swings forward, hands falling on his knees and his face leaning into Meryl’s space, suddenly vehement, “Yes, and if he tries to tell you his name is Knives, just call him that but I need you to be aware that he’s lying.”
“Wh- Knives?”
“Yeah, it’s an edgy name he’s chosen for himself, and before you ask,”–Meryl closes her mouth–“I genuinely have no clue why. I think it's part of his power trip thing? Probably?”
“That’s… hm, well, that’s something!” Meryl says, her smile strained.
“Now you’re gettin’ it,” Wolfwood says, with a gesture of the hand holding his nearly-gone sandwich.
“That isn’t even the worst thing he’s done,” Vash says, leaning away to slump into the couch again.
“He’s done worse than hiring you a bodyguard behind your back?” Meryl can’t help but ask in disbelief.
Vash nods. “How do you think I lost my arm?” he asks.
Meryl chuckles weakly, expecting Vash to reveal it as a joke, but his serious expression doesn’t falter. “Wait, for real?!”
“Mhm,” Vash raises his prosthetic arm. “I should probably take this off actually, I’ve been wearing it all day.”
“I gotcha,” Wolfwood says. He shoves the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and sits down on the couch next to Vash, so he can more easily roll Vash’s sleeve up and start taking off his arm.
Meryl watches, feeling a bit more unsettled now that she knows Vash’s own brother had something to do with the loss of his arm. She wants to ask how it happened, but given the way Vash has gone quiet, she decides to hold back. That, probably, is a line that’s hard for even Vash himself to cross. The fact that he told her that little bit of information at all was probably tough for him.
“So,” she coughs, trying to break the suddenly stilted atmosphere. “Now that I’ve been given a rundown on your evil twin,”– “Evil twin, oh that’s good!” Wolfwood wheezes–”I’m even more curious about this letter now. Why’d he even send a letter anyways?”
“I’ve got him blocked on almost every social media,” Vash answers. “And in my email contacts, and in my phone.”
“For how long?” Meryl asks, an eyebrow raised. A letter seems like an extreme measure to take just to communicate, so she can’t imagine it’s been a short amount of time.
“Goin’ on two years now,” Vash says, looking almost proud of himself.
“Don’t be fooled, I had to steal his phone so many times in the first year so he wouldn’t unblock him,” Wolfwood cuts in. “This softhearted Needle-Noggin kept annoying me with all his ‘maybe he’s changed’s and ‘maybe he’s ready to listen to me’s. I had no choice but to take direct action.”
Vash pouts, all pride flushed out of him. “It was tough, okay! He’s still family.”
“Family doesn’t mean jack-shit.”
“This from the guy who still visits the orphanage once a m–”
“Oi oi oi!”
Meryl flaps a hand at them both. “Okay, okay, I think I’m going to die of curiosity if we don’t open that letter soon.”
“Same here,” Wolfwood says, latching onto the shift in the conversation. He snatches the letter from Vash’s single hand. “Gimme that, I will not watch you open a letter with your teeth again.”
“Teeth are tools given to us by nature!”
“Yer deranged.”
Wolfwood doesn’t do much better opening the letter though. He practically shreds the seam, not even bothering to get a letter opener. “This thing doesn’t deserve respect,” he says when Meryl comments on the rough technique.
“Amen,” Vash comments.
The letter that Wolfwood pulls from the envelope is just a single piece of paper, folded three times to fit.
“Did he… type it and then print it out?” Meryl can’t help but ask.
Vash hides his face in his hand. “I'm not surprised.”
“Ahem,” Wolfwood says, with an obnoxious tone, “I have released the letter from containment, shall we get to the main event?”
“Uh, no,” Vash says. He stands up from the couch and starts heading for the kitchen. “Hold on, I just realized I don’t have my promised drink. Meryl, do you want anything?”
“What about me?” Wolfwood says.
Vash ignores him with a wave of his hand.
“Rude!”
Meryl snickers, then says to Vash, “I’m good, thanks though.”
When Vash next returns, can of beer in hand and a donut held in his mouth, he sits back down with a large whumph of the couch, cracks the can open, shoves the donut into his mouth whole, and then says through a gross mouthful, “You may now proceed.”
“Wow, thanks so much, Lord Needle-Noggin,” Wolfwood jabs him in the side, and Vash yelps, nearly spilling his drink.
Then, Wolfwood unfolds the letter, clears his throat, and begins.
“Vash,”
“Not even a Dear in front of it?” Vash whispers. “Just my name? Oof.”
Wolfwood clears his throat and gives Vash a pointed look. It seems he wants no interruptions.
“Vash,” he begins again, this time with an absolutely horrendous British accent painted over the words. “I’ll trust you have been well, because I haven’t heard anything from the police or the news of your activities.”
Vash, amused but still clearly offended, opens his mouth wide to say something in response, but Wolfwood jabs him again quickly before he can get a word out.
“Your continued silence and insistence on putting distance between us has been disappointing, though unsurprising.”
“Wow, he really is an asshole,” Meryl whispers to Vash, who nods emphatically in response.
Wolfwood doesn’t stop for her whispering, just continues on, picking up steam now as he gets further into the introduction of the letter.
“Your immaturity and unwillingness to listen truly knows no bounds, but I am willing to forgive all of this silence and misunderstanding between us.”
Vash rolls his eyes and takes a large swig of his drink. Meryl can’t help but hide a snicker behind her hand; the combination of Wolfwood’s horrible accent and dramatic emphasis on almost every other word, paired with Vash’s responses, is already starting to get to her.
“Please review the…” Wolfwood pauses, voice trailing off as his eyes widen. He starts cackling. “Oh my god, Spikey, he has a list of demands.”
“What?” Vash gasps. He leans into Wolfwood’s side to look at the letter.
Meryl, still sitting on the beanbag, gives Wolfwood a kick to the ankle. “Hey don’t leave me out! Read it!”
Vash has covered his eyes, and his shoulders are hitching with the almost violent wheezing he’s doing.
“Please review the following conditions I expect you to meet by the time we next talk,” Wolfwood says, trying to keep his laughter down to keep the fake British accent intact. “First, unblock my contact so that we can communicate more easily again.”
“Nope!” Vash laughs.
“Second, you will return the gun I gave y–”
“You have a gun?!” Meryl bursts out, looking wide-eyed at Vash in shock. Wolfwood, in the background, protests the interruption with a “Hey!”
“Oh, uh! Yeah? I don’t use it for like, violence or anything though! I mean duh, ” Vash says, waving his hand in front of himself and laughing nervously. “I used to enter into shooting competitions and stuff, but I haven’t in a long time.”
“And your brother… gave you a gun?” Meryl asks, still shocked.
“It was a mean-spirited gift, really,” Vash explains. “Kinda meant to say ‘this is all you’re good at without me,’ yknow? But it was a good gun so I’ve kept it in good condition.”
“Oh…” Meryl sags back into her beanbag.
“And now he wants it back,” Vash says. “As if. He hates guns.”
“It’s another power plaaaaay,” Wolfwood sing-songs.
“Yeah, I get it.” Vash puts his hand on Wolfwood’s face and shoves him. “Get back to reading!”
“I’m under a lot of pressure in this position, I think I’ll need compensation for my dramatic reading when this is done,” Wolfwood says. Yet he still reopens the letter with a dramatic ruffle of the paper and a snap.
“Third, when you finish your degree, you will move in with me. Family should stay together.”
“Hell no.” Vash says flatly.
“Fourth,–oh this one’s a doozy–you and I will not fight over any decisions I make on your behalf and on behalf of our family.”
“That’s the one I was waiting for,” Vash says. “Ding ding ding, guess I win the jackpot!” he throws his hand in the air with an over-wide smile, before dropping it and saying more seriously, “What a nice and vague way to say he wants to control everybody.”
“It’s the last thing on this list,” Wolfwood says. “The rest is just the usual Knives’ fare of ‘you are wrong and I am right’ and ‘family needs to be there for family' blah blah blah.” He then unfolds the bottom edge of the paper. “Oh, but, hey, look at this,” Wolfwood turns the letter around so Meryl and Vash can see it. Meryl’s eyes scan the paper quickly, before they land on what Wolfwood is calling attention to.
“He got this letter notarized?” Vash exclaims.
“Looks like,” Wolfwood says. He taps the paper, just over Knives’ signature and the signature of a notary. There’s another blank signature spot as well, one with Vash’s name already typed before it, to make sure no one misunderstands who is meant to sign there. “He wants a reply in five business days after you receive this letter, too.”
“Whuh, huh, what?” Vash babbles as he takes the letter. “What good does getting this notarized even do?”
“Probably so he can prove he made an attempt at communication, or prove he sent you conditions,” Meryl chimes in. She pushes herself up in the beanbag and leans her arms and chin on top of Vash’s knee. “It’s less about the document being official and more about someone witnessing what he wrote and when he wrote it.”
“This is so dumb?!” Vash blurts, his voice having a hysterical tilt to it. “This is. Wow. All of this is so dumb.”
“He’s pulling out all the stops it seems,” Wolfwood says.
“Yeah, but this really isn’t anything I haven’t heard from him before,” Vash frowns at the letter. “All these years, and he’s exactly the same.”
Meryl looks up at Vash from her place with her chin still on his knee. His eyes seem to be darker, and he looks… unusually solemn. It’s such a stark contrast to the amusement he’d had on his face while they were making a joke of his brother’s letter.
“I was always the one who wanted us to talk,” Vash says, unprompted. “I kept asking and begging for him to talk with me, like I’d be able to change his mind,” he huffs. “But Nai’s even more stubborn than me.”
Looking up into his eyes and seeing the pain he’s trying to hide in them, Meryl gets the feeling that he still wants to talk to his brother, deep down.
“So are we setting this on fire or what?” Wolfwood asks, plucking the letter from Vash’s hand.
Vash’s eyes immediately lose the dark quality Meryl thought she had seen in them, and he lunges towards Wolfwood with his usual boundless energy. “No! I’ve got a better idea!”
Wolfwood leans away, using one hand on Vash’s chest to keep him back, while holding the letter far away in the other. “Tell me!”
“Give me the letter back first!”
“No! You’ll just read it and start cryin’ again or something.”
“I don’t cry that much.”
“Yes, you do!”
While they’re both distracted, Meryl leaps up and snatches the letter away.
“Are you boys gonna play nice?” she asks, when they stop fighting and look at her.
They both nod slowly, and then Wolfwood grumbles, “But I still want to burn it…”
“Just trust me, my idea will be much more satisfying,” Vash says, a confident grin on his face.
The letter Knives finds himself receiving in response is simply the same exact letter he sent, but with “corrections” and jokes ruining the text in bright red ink, and a poorly drawn doodle of himself on the back labeled “Evil twin (you)” while a doodle of Vash is labeled “Cooler twin (me).”
It is also notarized.