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When, come morning, he reaches for her, she’s already gone.
For a few moments, he lays still on his side, staring at the empty spot next to him and tasting bitter in his mouth. His fingers curl on the mattress, and he forces in a breath as he turns on his back, trying to remind himself that he isn’t really surprised, at least.
He knows he took a risk, he remembers the fear crawling in his gut last night during the seconds stretching to years between his question and Yennefer’s answer, the panic that he might have dared too much and pushed her away—yet, she said yes. The way her eyes softened and she smiled in wonder before answering are burned in his mind, the hope that blossomed as she kissed him after still not quite dead in spite of the evidence.
He just hadn’t wanted for it to end.
It was supposed to be a few days together before heading their separate ways for the winter, yet a number of times, as the time to head back home neared, he found himself wishing to bring her along, imagining her walking down the halls in Kaer Morhen and dining with his family—when he had her close and thought he never wanted to let go, it just slipped out.
And now she’s gone.
He likes to think that maybe she was trying to be considerate, that she didn’t want to say to his face that he was stepping on a boundary and she likes her freedom and he really shouldn’t suffocate her, so she showed it with actions instead. It isn’t unreasonable to think that, in the passion of the moment, she might have said something she didn’t mean, and she was left with a mess to clean up come morning. At least he’s left with a last good memory of her, to carry with him through the winter.
It’s alright, a bit of disappointment has never killed anybody. He can only hope that she will be willing to forgive him after winter. Perhaps he should write to her to apologize. Or maybe it’s best to leave her—
The door opens, startling him into pushing himself up on his elbows, and the sight of Yennefer stepping in steals his breath away.
“Good morning,” she says, smiling when she catches him staring. She pauses, curling her lips and looking at the tray of food she’s carrying. “I went to get some breakfast,” she adds, a little awkwardly, and he thinks he should say something, but he is having a hard time paving through the relief that hit him when she walked back in, still there and apparently not hating him for his proposal. “That’s what lovers do, right?” she eventually speaks again, when it’s apparently been too long.
“I suppose it is,” he manages to get out, and he isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he puts some effort into turning it into a smile, because he doesn’t know how to explain that he’s so happy and relieved he might be suffocating. “Good morning,” he adds, softer, pushing himself on a sitting position and making room for her.
She smiles, her shoulders dropping as she walks closer, sets the tray on his lap and curls up next to him.
He automatically wraps his arm around her shoulders, laying a kiss on her head and curling his fingers on her shirt as she slides her arm around his waist.
“Is that my shirt?” he realizes, belatedly, when a shiver runs through him and he considers getting dressed before eating.
She grins. “It is.” Her eyes linger on him for a few moments, as her fingers trail down his back. “It’s warm, and I like you better without it anyway.” She raises her eyebrows at him, the corner of her mouth curling up. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” he says, barely even thinking. “No complaints.”
He doesn’t think he even knows how to be cold when he’s around her.
They sit in silence for a few long moments, Geralt’s eyes lingering on the messy room around them and his mind wandering, already dreaming of later, of travelling together all the way back home and introducing her to Vesemir and his brothers, and even if he wonders if he should ask for confirmation that her answer hasn’t changed at the light of a new day, his mind runs away from him before he can formulate the question.
“Do you really want me to come with you?” Yennefer suddenly asks, jolting him out of his thoughts. It takes a few moments for him to even realize what she asked.
“What?” he utters, taken aback.
“Last night,” she says, slowly, her expression schooled into neutrality, though not all that effectively. Or perhaps he just knows her well enough to begin to see through it. “You asked me to come to Kaer Morhen with you this year. Did you mean that?”
“Of course I did,” he answers without hesitation. “But I understand if you’ve changed your mind and you don’t want to come, that might not have been the—ideal time to ask.”
She lets out a breath, a smile making its way on her face as she shakes her head. “Of course I want to come,” she says, softly, pressing herself closer against him.
Her face is hidden from him as she holds him, and he almost wants to protest, but she’s warm and she wants him, even when he asks for more than they had agree to, so he only squeezes her tighter, slowly breathing out his relief.
“We should probably start eating,” she eventually says, her voice a little cracked. “Then you can tell me all about our upcoming trip, alright?”
He doesn’t fight against the smile pushing at the corners of his mouth, nodding even though she can’t see him. “Alright.”
He can hardly believe that he gets to bring her home with him.