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Yor is familiar with the feeling of being alone.
Loneliness and her are long-term companions, really. Sure, she has Yuri at home, but at school? She doesn’t have friends, and those who befriend her end up leaving. Yor thinks that all people will leave her eventually. Her only constant is Yuri, who frequently reassures her that he won’t abandon her.
She loves Yuri.
Yuri loves her.
And it’s just that. Yor tells herself that she doesn’t need anyone else, shouldn’t yearn for anyone else, because that would just be selfish. So she distances herself from the kids at school, and they’re fine with just leaving her alone. It gets hard, sometimes, not being able to laugh at a joke someone tells, or to ask to copy a friend’s homework. But Yor braves through it all, quiet and unassuming—the last person you’d think to be an assassin.
And so everything works the way it should be, until the Forgers.
Suddenly, Yor isn’t so alone anymore.
She gets to wake up to Loid’s wonderful cooking, and Anya’s loving embrace as she hugs her mother good morning. Her mother. How did that happen? Yor doesn’t know what she did to deserve such a full and surrounded life—not after spending her whole life feeling alone.
Life still manages to surprise her, it seems.
The thought of loneliness springs into her mind strangely as she wakes, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Yor checks the clock on her nightstand—6:12 AM. She can hear the sizzling of oil from the kitchen, and a faint waft of toast drifts through her open door to her room. Loid’s awake early, as he always is, making breakfast, as he always does. Yor kicks off the blankets and stretches, pushing the feeling of loneliness away.
She isn’t alone. Not anymore.
“Good morning, Yor,” says Loid from the kitchen. “I made eggs.”
He’s wearing a pink flowery apron, one that Yor herself had bought for him months ago. Loid insists on wearing it, even if Anya laughs at him for it.
“My wife bought it for me,” he had said. “I’m going to cherish it.”
Yor had blushed a bright red, and stammered out a thank you. Loid had smiled at her, all warm and kind, and she had felt something inside of her flutter.
“Thank you, Loid,” she says now, yawning. “Your cooking is always delicious.”
Loid smiles at her, and once again, Yor feels a tugging in her gut, pulling herself towards him. She pushes the feeling away—what will she do once she gets to him? Hug him? Thank him? Kiss—
No!
Yor laughs nervously, quickly taking her place at the currently empty dining table. It seems as if Anya isn’t awake yet.
“Should I wake Anya up?” she asks, as she fidgets with the bread knife. A nervous habit; one that knows she must stop, as it draws too much unwanted attention to herself.
Loid hums, leaning back to read the clock. It’s an unexpectedly endearing action, that makes Yor feel all fluttery again. She needs to stop her foolish behaviour now. She can’t possibly like Loid, not in that way… right?
“Yor?”
She jumps. “Yes? Sorry?”
“I was just saying that you could probably wake Anya up in a few minutes.”
“Oh, right. I will, thank you.” Yor makes a mental note to think more about this later, in the privacy of her room. Not at the kitchen table at 6 in the morning.
She watches absent-mindedly as Loid flips an egg, the muscles in his arm tensing slightly. She bites her lip. This isn’t good. Yor knows she shouldn’t be getting too attached to this family. They’ll have to leave each other eventually, just as she expects. And yet, it proves impossible not to grow accustomed to their life together as the Forgers. Yor’s grown to accept her name as Forger now, not Briar.
It’s slightly nerve-wracking.
“Mama’s scared,” says Anya suddenly, appearing in the hallway.
Yor jumps for the second time in the morning, clutching her chest. “Oh, my, Anya—you scared me! I—I’m not scared—what are you talking about?” She laughs nervously.
“I won’t leave, Mama,” Anya says seriously, coming up to Yor and clutching her hand in her tiny ones. They’re sticky and most likely unwashed, and yet Yor feels like she could cry. “Don’t cry!”
Yor sniffles. It’s almost as if Anya can read minds sometimes, with how perceptive she is. “Of course you won’t,” she replies, rubbing a thumb over Anya’s knuckles. “Of course you won’t.”
Anya smiles toothily. “Love you.”
Yor’s heart stutters. “I love you too, Anya.”
“Breakfast’s ready,” calls out Loid, switching the stove off. He seems oblivious to the emotional interaction that the two girls have just shared. “Anya, go brush your teeth first.”
“Yes, sir!” Anya runs off in the direction of the bathroom.
The two of them watch her affectionately, wincing as the bathroom door slams shut. Anya always has a tad too much energy to keep up with. Loid carries their plates easily, smoothly placing them on the dining table as he sits in the seat next to Yor.
Unusual.
Loid usually sits across from her and Anya. Was there a specific reason he sat beside her today? Does she smell nice? Is the chair broken? Is it just closer? Yor shuts her eyes for the barest of seconds. It’s too early to be having a mental breakdown over something as simple as her husband sitting beside her for breakfast.
Pretend husband, her brain reminds her.
Yor feels a sinking in her gut. Irrational, she tells herself. They’ll leave eventually.
There’s a silence as they wait for Anya to return, staring down at their toast and eggs. Yor’s egg is sunny side up and perfect, of course it is, because Loid made it. Everything he does is perfect. She finds it incredibly unfair that one person can be so flawless.
In fact, her whole situation is unfair. Yor’s living in an apartment with an impossibly attractive man, and yet she can’t even bring herself to touch his hand without turning into a blushing mess. She hates herself sometimes, and hates Loid even more. But then he’ll turn and smile at her, and she’ll melt and realise that she’s never free of this ongoing loop.
“Are you okay, Yor?”
She blinks. “Sorry?”
Loid shifts to the side slightly, so that he’s facing her. Yor’s heart starts to beat painfully fast in her chest. “You’ve just been very out of it this morning. Did you not sleep well?” he asks.
He’s so considerate. And kind. And everything that Yor doesn’t deserve. But he at least deserves somewhat of the truth about how she’s been feeling.
“Loid, I—” Yor starts shakily, looking down at her hands to distract her. They’re rough, callused, and still have scars from when she’d tried cooking with Camila. Nothing like the hands a perfect wife should have. Nothing like Fiona’s. “I just… sometimes I worry, that I don’t—deserve you two.”
Oh.
She just said that.
Oh.
Yor refuses to look up at Loid, knowing she’ll see some signs of him being uncomfortable with this topic, unsure how to tell her that she does deserve them because she doesn’t —
“Yor, how could you feel that way?” says Loid suddenly, his voice not angry, but not sad, either. There was something concealed in the tone of his voice that gave her goosebumps. “You—of course you—”
He blew out a breath. His chair scraped closer to hers, as he brushed his hands against hers. A question. She says yes; loosening the grip he has on her skirt ruffles as Loid covers his hands with his own.
“We’ve had this conversation before,” he says. “You know how much we value you.”
“I know,” Yor replies, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just—I don’t know.”
Loid softens. “Yor, do you… feel excluded here?”
“No!” She’s surprised by how quickly she declines him. “Of course not!”
He smiles at her, as if he’s just solved her problem for her. Because he’s a psychiatrist, and he’s probably had to deal with imposter syndrome many times before Yor.
“Loid, I—” Yor inhales. “My whole life, I’ve been alone.” At the look on his face, she hurriedly adds, “but it wasn’t all bad, really. I just mean that I’ve never really experienced being a part of something. I never knew that I needed to experience belonging, before… well before you and Anya.”
“Yor,” he breathes.
“But with you two,” she sniffles, embarrassed to realise that she might cry soon, “I feel like I belong. I feel like Anya’s real mother, and that I’m a part of your family. And I know that’s wrong, because I’m not, but—”
She hiccups, cutting herself off as she draws her hands away from Loid’s to wipe her eyes. God, she’s pathetic, crying in front of her pretend husband in the morning while their pretend daughter is in the bathroom washing her hands.
Anya’s taking an awful long time, actually, is something—
A crash sound comes from the bathroom. Loid is instantly alert, calling out Anya’s name, as he stands from his chair.
“I’m okay! I broke something!”
Loid sighs.
“I’ll clean it, Papa!” Anya yells earnestly.
“Okay, Anya! Let me know if you need help.” He sits back down on the chair, shaking his head all the while. Loid suddenly registers the dried tears on Yor’s face, his expression dropping. She sniffles once more, clearing her throat.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Yor.”
And he’s smiling at her again, although it’s a different one; more gentle and golden, soft around the edges. It’s a special smile. Yor loves it.
She loves him.
The realisation hits her all at once, as if it’s just punched her in the gut. It makes sense now, why Yor doesn’t want their arrangement to end, why her mood lifts whenever she sees either of them smile, why she feels like crying whenever Anya hugs her—Yor loves them. Her family. Hers.
Loid is looking at her like he knows what’s going through her mind at the moment. Sometimes, she thinks that he can tell exactly what she’s feeling just by looking at her face. Their hands brush again, as he leans in closer.
She finds herself leaning in too, unable to resist the tugging in her gut any longer.
“You’re not alone,” says Loid.
She’s not alone; not anymore. He’s so near her, ever so close to teetering the edge of their safe relationship. One more move, and they’ll move from whatever stage they’re in at the moment to one that Yor has never, couldn’t ever, picture herself in.
And oh, Yor wants him, she wants his lips on hers, she wants his smiles in the morning, his laughs at her jokes—he’s a breath away now, and the deep blue of his eyes are the only colour she can see. His hand finds its way onto her cheek, and the contact sends thrills down her spine. He’s so close to her that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.
“Loid,” she breathes, barely a sound.
He exhales, and asks, “Do you want this?”
Does she want this?
God.
“Yes,” Yor whispers.
It’s all the answer Loid needs. He presses his lips to hers, and Yor sees stars, light, and everything that she’s ever heard that first kisses feel like. It’s gentle, and he doesn’t let it escalate, never pushing her past her limit. Yor wonders if he can tell how inexperienced she is. He’s a wonderful kisser, as she could’ve predicted.
They break for a second, breaths all over each other.
“Anya,” she whispers.
“She’s cleaning,” Loid says, then grabs her face and kisses her again. Her hands are in his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp, and he shudders. Yor smiles against his lips, and he rubs his finger against her cheek. His other hand’s rested on her back, pulling her closer to him.
Loid pulls away suddenly, loosening his grip on her. “Anya’s going to finish soon,” he whispers reluctantly.
“Oh,” Yor replies dumbly. She still can’t think properly after having her first kiss.
“Raincheck after work?” Loid says, smiling, and this time it’s a cheeky smile, even a smirk. Yor feels a smile appear on her own face.
“Meet you on the couch,” she replies.
Loid laughs, brushing stray hairs from her flushed face. “Do I look presentable?” he asks her.
“Yep. Me?”
“Yeah.”
They share another smile, before moving apart and facing the table again. Just moments later, the bathroom door bursts open as Anya comes skipping down the corridor.
“I’m ready! I cleaned up the spill,” she exclaims, grinning proudly.
“That’s great, Anya,” Loid says. “Shall we eat?”
“Yes, sir!”
They eat breakfast in a comfortable silence, and occasionally, Yor and Loid would look at each other and share another secretive smile. Yor isn’t alone, she’s a Forger, and she’s happy.
She can’t ask for anything more.
They kiss on the couch after Anya goes to bed that night.
Loid’s hand is pressed against her lower back, clutching her tight against his chest. One of her hands is on the back of his neck, bringing his face down to her level, and the other is caressing through his golden locks of hair.
Yor finds that she quite likes kissing. Or, perhaps, it’s only Loid that she likes to kiss. She doesn’t think that she’s really missed anything over the years by not kissing anybody, as she can’t bring herself to imagine kissing anybody that isn’t Loid.
She pulls back, and relishes in the fact that Loid leans forward after, chasing her lips. She licks them, tasting strawberries.
“Loid,” she says slowly. “Have you been using my lip balm?”
“What?” He looks delirious. “Lip balm?”
He licks his own lips, and Yor feels her face turn red. For a second, there’s silence. Then Loid bursts out laughing.
Yor hushes him, looking worried. “What’s so funny?”
“Yor,” says Loid once he’s finally calmed himself down, “this is your lip balm.”
He lets the fact sink in.
Oh. Oh.
“We’ve been kissing for that long?” Yor says, shocked.
“I suppose,” says Loid, tugging her closer.
“Hmm,” she mumbles, as their lips meet again. Pulling away, she says, “We should probably stop now. Enough’s enough, right?”
Loid pauses. “I—I mean, if you want to.”
He moves to untangle himself from her, and Yor giggles. He’s the one looking confused now, as she looks at him affectionately.
“You’re so clingy, Loid,” giggles Yor, and then she grabs a fistful of his sweater and pulls him towards her, capturing his lips with her own. “Mmm. Very clingy.”
Loid starts to thread his fingers through her hair, causing her to arch her back.
“And you’re very touchy, too,” she adds, smiling as their teeth clash against each other.
“You talk too much,” Loid mumbles, pulling her so close she’s almost in his lap. “Stop that.”
They kiss until they’ve run out of breath, and then they go to their bedroom and lie down beside each other to sleep. Yor stays awake, listening to the sounds of Loid’s breathing until it finally evens out, as he drifts into slumber.
His arms are loose around her body, and she snuggles closer to his warmth. Yor thinks that she could get used to the feeling of sleeping next to Loid, and waking up together in the morning.
She starts to get used to the feeling of being together.