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The second after she’d blown up at him, nothing followed but a cathartic surge of lightness, at first. All those weeks spent bottling everything inside, the sleepless nights induced both by stress and insomnia from the thankless, long hours at work, the nameless contempt that’d been stewing quietly in her chest; feelings so black she couldn’t see through past, a messy tar spilling over her personal life and roiling over the cracks she’d made herself.
And in the wake of that lightness, clarity followed, and so did reality, bearing the weight of the damage she’d wrought. Shinobu’s breath hitched; through the dissipating haze of her ire she saw his eyes glaze over with hurt, and the root of it all suddenly seemed so inconsequential now, so petty.
“Wait, I didn’t mean—” she started to say, frantic, but her throat closed up and an ugly ache pulsed in her chest when he’d averted his gaze, how he’d turned pointedly away from her so her touch wouldn’t reach. “I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did,” he cut in, his voice just as soft, “you always mean it.”
Even in their worst fights, Giyuu never raised his voice at her, never at her. Once upon a time she used to think it was better than being stuck in a screaming match, but Shinobu never gets used to the echo of her voice every time she gets the last word out, stoking the flames of her crackling fury that always rolls over the glacial wall of his own quiet anger. It’s not better.
If anything, it’s worse.
She can hear herself think, the blood rushing to her ears, and the cutting words she’d thrown at him earlier when he’d only wanted to take care of her, make her feel better. It’s all her. She’d gone too far this time, and what’s worse is she meant everything. Anger always made her forthright, and they both know how well she could make her honesty hurt a lot worse than it should.
So it didn’t quite surprise her that he’d turned away until he started for the door and her heart seized.
“No,” Shinobu gasped, cringing from the rough scrape of his keys against the key dish as he went to grab them and her eyes burning, all the fight fizzling out of her from the very real fear of him walking out of that door and never coming back to her. “Please don’t leave. Don’t walk away from me.”
Giyuu paused, but he didn’t look back at her either. His fist remained clenched around his keys. “You said you wanted me to go away and give you space.”
“I did.” She can even hear herself shake. “I did, and right now I changed my mind.”
She’d wanted him to go away but she didn’t say anything about leaving, so she told him this much and Giyuu’s shoulders drew up and down from a bone-weary sigh, an exhaustion so apparent draping heavily on his shoulders and weighing the both of them down.
“So what do you really want from me, Shinobu? What can I give you?”
“Not space,” she responded, forcing her voice to steady even as she furiously brushed off her burgeoning tears. “Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”
He turned back to look at her this time, but it stung to realize he was intent on keeping a frigid distance, one foot already figuratively out the door when he took another step back from her half-step forward. He’d leave if she asked but he stayed because it’s what she’d wanted. Please don’t leave.
“What’s the first thing?”
“What?”
Giyuu’s gaze met hers then, solid and steady. The ice was thawing, but not completely. Not yet. “The first thing you want from me,” he said.
The keys dangled from his loose fingers, metal to metal clinking softly and there are so, so many things Shinobu wanted from him. She wanted him to tell her he’s still hers; that even if he’d walked out the door he’d still come back to her and they’ll be fine, that even if she’d been to one to burn them down and broke his heart, she was still all he wanted. She wanted all these things from him, all and more, but the truth of the matter is the first thing Shinobu wanted right at that moment was—
“I’m sorry.” She hated the way her voice broke, tears welling up all over again and this time, she’s helpless to the torrent of it as she warbled, “I’m sorry for hurting you, I… the things I said—for taking it out on you and-and that wasn’t fair—”
Clammy hands interrupt her and yank her forward, tugging her into his embrace and picking her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist so he could bury his face into her neck and it felt so good to be this close; if she wasn’t so fucking weepy, tears and snot and running makeup and all, she would’ve kissed him already.
“Giyuu—”
“Don’t ever tell me to go away again,” he said, his words rough and catching against her damp neck.
“I won’t.”
He kissed around her throat, her jaw and her chin before starting a messy trail of kisses around her face that led him back home to her lips, whisking whatever apology lingered on her tongue with a swipe of his own. He kissed her until they’re both wanting—until there’s a tingling heat in her belly spreading and reaching the tips of her fingers from where they’re curled around his collar, until his mouth was kiss-bruised and they’re left staring at each other in the aftermath, breathless and their heartbeats matching.
“Don’t ever leave,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his.
“I won’t,” he swore, and they both know he means it.