This sorry engenders a flash of annoyance, because Vanitas is a wonderful person of multitudes. Vanitas moves so that he's propped up on his elbows and gives a short cough of laughter that he immediately regrets, judging by the wince. "I don't find them stressful. They're just like that. Bet you get nice baby lessons where no booboos happen ever."

Vanitas doesn't move as Ventus scooches closer - despite Vanitas's natural paranoia, Ventus simply doesn't register as a threat, and it's like the longer Ventus sticks around and the closer he is, the more Vanitas remembers what calm feels like, and it turns out it's not 'laying on your back staring at the ceiling while in the gap between periods of intense emotion'. Who Knew.

"Hmm." He leans down again a little more, staring at the wall the bed is pushed against. There's a little bit of peeling wallpaper there; honestly there's a reason this wing isn't used and it's needing repairs badly. "That happens too. The chest thing." He knows why of course. Misery loves company, and there's a little schadenfreude in that he's not alone in this, that Ventus didn't escape everything but feels that too. He twists towards Ventus. "The beach thing is still weird and stupid, though."