Ooh I don’t think I’ve ever had a Yamori ask. Thank you!
“Where were you?” demands that fluid voice Yamori’s fought to hold onto. The voice that whispered kindness in his ears when he was at the mercy of that merciless guard.
“Out.” Yamori feels a tightness in his chest that only she can summon.
He feels her eyes on the bloodstains, sees the despairing twist of her mouth. “Where were you?”
“At Aogiri.” He lets their imagination fill in the rest.
“Ah.” She turns around and walks away, into their room. Yamori wants to follow, but first, he should shower. She won’t like blood over them.
“Hey,” he says when he enters their room at last.
Her shoulders quake.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” She wipes her eyes, laughing a little at her obvious lie. “I just…you’re so different since jail. I want to save you from what happened in the past and what you’re doing now. And I can’t. And I feel helpless.”
“You can’t save me,” he says huskily, rubbing her shoulders, just like they used to do. But anxiety gets the better of him, and he has to stop to crack his knuckles.
“Aren’t your fingers sore?” She grabs his hands with her velvet ones, tattooed with that centipede that snakes up her arm, and rubs his fingers. He’s not sure if he loves or hates her gentleness.
At least that hasn’t changed.
Neither has this.
He bites at her neck, and she responds in kind. For a moment, as they dig off each other’s clothing, they will pain and pleasure each other, because it’s the one thing they have left after the hell that was Cochlea. And they’ll cling to it like they haven’t already lost each other.

