Chapter Text
“Stop following me,” is the growled greeting she receives upon approach.
Of course, Kohane does no such thing, continuing to trail after her. It’s only when An stops in her tracks that Kohane comes to a halt as well.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Kohane hums. “You’re listening to me too, An-chan. Quite well, I’d say. How did you hear me?”
There’s an aggrieved huff from the silhouette in front of her, before An spins around. Her earring swings and her bangs fall across the shadows of her face as she gives Kohane a black look. Sunset amber eyes burn their weight into her. She flashes a hint of bared teeth, gleaming white beneath the street lights above them. Her gloves are fisted tight at her sides, knuckles outlined through the fabric.
She’s a picture of fury and hate, looking at Kohane like she’d like to reach across the distance between them and strangle her on the spot.
She’s beautiful.
“Stop calling me that,” An snaps at last, as if her ire has robbed her of anything more to say. She wrestles with herself, before adding in a mutter, “You . . . you’re not as quiet as you think you are.”
“I guess I need to touch up on my stealth work,” Kohane muses, even though she knows—it’s already perfect. There’s a small rush of pleasure in realizing An can still detect her so easily.
An grits her teeth, looking regretful to have spoken.
Kohane steps closer.
An glares. “I just said to stop following me.”
“But I want to see where you’re headed to,” Kohane says lightly, taking another step.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Humor me. I like knowing where you are.”
“You keep—doing this. You realize we’re from rival factions?”
“That wasn’t a problem when we started dating.”
“It was, it’s why we broke up,” An bursts out angrily, and with an undercurrent of something else too, something that draws Kohane closer, until she’s near enough to see the tight lines of her mouth, and the outline of a bruise along her jaw.
Kohane feels herself go still. “Who did this to you?”
An looks confused, before realization creeps across her. She seems to notice how close they are a moment later, as Kohane reaches a hand up toward her face.
She slaps Kohane’s hand away.
It stings a little more than she’d like to admit, Kohane thinks, shaking her hand off.
“That’s also none of your business,” An says, steely and quiet.
She glances at Kohane for a lingering second, gaze flitting toward her hand, before turning her back. “This is my last warning. Stop following me.”
There’s only one issue with this, of course, being the fact that Kohane doesn’t intend to stop at all.
The distant sound of shouting snaps her to alertness.
It has her seizing ahold of An and wrenching her down the nearby alley to press the two of them into the shadows of the corner.
An thrashes against her, all furious indignant protests and colorful swears, until Kohane clamps a hand firmly over her mouth.
She whispers in her ear, “They’re here. Quiet.”
There’s a harsh exhale through her nostrils, hot air washing over Kohane’s hand. It’s with obvious reluctance that An settles down against her. Even then, her gloved fingers dig into Kohane’s wrist, where her arm keeps An, body lined with tension, pinned close to her front.
She’s warm, and past the coil of her muscles, soft, and smells of a familiar combination of cool mint and gunpowder and homemade coffee.
So maybe Kohane is enjoying this a little. Who could blame her? It feels nice to be able to hold An again.
Beyond the alleyway, the rush of feet. The clamor of voices.
There’s some shouting, careless and needlessly loud. A voice claiming to have seen Shiraishi gone this way, and there being another person with her, had it maybe been Azusawa? It’s followed by some commands to split off to search down different streets and grunts of assent, and the rest goes over Kohane’s head.
She hardly cares. No one is laying a finger on An. Not while she’s here.
Feeling the way An shakes against her, muffling a noise into her fingers, Kohane shushes her and tightens her grip, until An falls still again.
“Shhh.”
The sound of footsteps draws near. At the entrance of the alley, beneath the streetlights, the cast of a silhouette.
An goes rigid.
For a long second, Kohane hears only the pounding of her heart in her ears.
And then, a dragging silence later, the shadow moves away.
With it, the crowd of voices and footsteps leave, until the street is as desolate and silent as it had been minutes prior.
The tension loosens from her shoulders. Kohane releases her breath, and then nearly sucks it in again upon feeling An shiver in response against her. Even in the dark, she can tell—the shell of her ear is red.
Whoops.
She’s always been so sensitive.
Unable to help herself, Kohane whispers, intentionally hot against her ear, “They’re gone now.”
An shudders. She can feel the stifled gasp against her hand.
An rips out of her grasp a moment later, nearly elbowing Kohane in the face in the process.
“Careful, An-chan,” Kohane says.
An looks like she wants to be everything except careful with Kohane, but her furious expression abates at the sight of the pistol in Kohane’s hand.
Her mouth twitches. Before An gets the wrong idea, she tucks it back against her hip, in its rightful place. Comments offhandedly, “Glad we didn’t get caught. I’m not really in the mood to get my hands messy today.”
Well, there was one way she wanted to get her hands messy, but she’s not sure how willing An might be for that.
The second after the pistol is back in its holster, she’s shoved roughly against the wall.
An looms over her, mouth pressed into a thin line, her temper clearly returned now.
“That was—unnecessary,” she spits.
“Not even thanking me?” Kohane asks, a touch disappointed. “A second later and they would’ve caught you.”
Apparently this isn’t the response she’d wanted, because it only seems to incite An further. She grabs Kohane by the collar of her jacket and almost shakes her in fury.
Kohane comes close to having her skull cracked against the wall. Not very fun.
(Artist: @junisgud)
Angry breaths wash over Kohane’s face. An’s words come out through gritted teeth. “I didn’t need your help.”
“I think you might have. You were being awfully loud before I shut you up, An-chan,” Kohane teases.
“Me? It’s you who never shuts up,” An grounds out.
“But I can. If you make me.”
The rage seems to leave her all at once as she registers the implication of her words, the playful lilt of Kohane’s voice. An stares at her, and then lets her go.
She takes a step back. Swallows. “We’re not dating anymore, Kohane,” she says.
The way she says it, all serious and quiet, and with that expression—furrowed brows, averted eyes, a trace of sadness reflected in their dulled amber?
Kohane doesn’t like that. Not at all.
A startled noise is the only thing that escapes her before Kohane snakes an arm around her and drags her into a fierce kiss.
Hands grasp at her upper arms, but do nothing to push her away. An breathes raggedly through her nose until, beneath the insistent press of Kohane’s lips, she parts her mouth, letting Kohane slide her tongue inside. She pants, voice faintly keening, hot and open-mouthed against Kohane, letting Kohane lick into her. Letting Kohane have her way with her.
How easily An crumbles into her touch, every time.
Kohane holds her there, pushing into her yielding mouth, and only lets her go upon the need for air.
An gasps shakily against her, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of red. A sheen of saliva coats her lips.
A disheveled An is always one of her favorite kinds.
“That’s a funny joke,” Kohane says, feeling the smile on her face, and how humorless it is. “You break up with me so often, I forget. How many times is it now?”
The blush on her face darkens. An looks aggrieved. “I’m, I’m not joking, Kohane—“
She cuts off with a wince as Kohane traces her finger along her bruised jaw.
It’s a blooming violet, blackish color. It’s fresh enough to still make An flinch when she adds a little more pressure.
It hurts her.
Kohane says, in a low voice, “You never told me who did this to you, you know.”
An’s fingers tremble along her arms. She shivers. “You don’t need—to know. It’s my problem to deal with.”
“You won't tell me?” Kohane presses.
And at the evident lack of reply, faced only with An’s obstinate expression, she hums, unsurprised.
“That’s okay. I’ll just have to coax it from you.”
An is dragged in close once more, eyes squeezed closed and braced, but Kohane doesn’t go for her lips this time.
She leans in and, beneath that sharp, bruised jawline, kisses An’s pulse point.
The tremor that goes through her reverberates through Kohane. It makes her press harder, tongue dragging against heated, sweat-soaked skin, before sucking down firmly. Her teeth, grazing.
An lets out a strangled noise.
She kisses along the newly formed bruise, her own mark this time, with deep satisfaction. Asks, into the juncture of her neck, “Well?”
But aside from her uneven breaths, An remains silent.
How stubborn. She never expected less from her An-chan, though.
Kohane bites down, blood vessels bursting beneath her, teeth digging into bruise.
An cries out, pained and high-pitched. She bucks against her, but Kohane holds her in a vice grip. Her fingers spasm along Kohane’s arms.
Her cry only peters off into a weak, helpless moan when Kohane begins to soothe her tongue over the mark, pressing soft kisses to the injury.
So, so sensitive.
It will look so pretty, standing out so visibly along her neck, Kohane knows. The indents of her teeth, the stark red against pale skin. Showing everyone just who An belongs to. Showing just who is the only person allowed to mark her up.
Still, An hasn’t said a word, to Kohane’s mild disappointment.
Why An doesn’t trust her, she can’t fathom—well, she supposes she can, but still. They’ve known each other for long enough by now, haven’t they?
Rivalries and faction disputes are trivial in the face of what they have.
It’s no matter. She’ll find out who did this to An eventually, of course. On her own.
She doesn’t need An to tell her this way—though it would have made things easier (and more fun) for the two of them.
She keeps coating the bruise in heat and saliva. Until it’s a throbbing, smarting thing beneath her lips. Until An has calmed down against her, cries quieted, and she only hiccups a little with her breaths.
As she pulls away, An gasps out a name.
It’s a familiar name.
And soon, a dead name.
Kohane gives her a sweet smile, looking up into her eyes. They’re fogged over. She’s red all over in the face again, hair a tangled mess, and panting.
Kohane’s mark rests against her neck, high above the collar of her shirt.
The sight of her like this—it’s too much. Too much for her to take.
A hand cradling her cheek, Kohane leans in again. She’s thrilled at how passively An goes this time, meeting her lips without a protest.
Kohane kisses her, tender and close-mouthed.
Deep and slow.
When she pulls away, An’s eyes still lidded, mouth softly parted, Kohane traces the pad of her thumb across her cheek, before moving her hand down.
An is still as Kohane straightens the fabric of her shirt out, smoothing the creases away.
“Good,” she says at last, gentle and reassuring. “I’ll take care of it.”
An looks at her, a pink tint to her cheeks, a conflict apparent to her expression. The way she always looks after Kohane chases her down, pins her in place, and then teases her until An gives in.
How she loves it though, this thing that’s between them, a game meant only for two. How angry, and then furious, and then docile An becomes.
An stammers, after a beat of silence, “Kohane—please, let go.”
Asked so politely, how could she refuse?
Kohane acquiesces, taking a step back.
An stares at her, still shaking a little.
Any words she might have, they die off once An looks her in the eye. Whatever she sees makes her gaze flit away and her blush deepen. Her gloved hands fist at her sides, reminiscent of when she’d confronted Kohane earlier. Except that now, they’re trembling.
An turns and stomps off without a word.
She’s so cute, begging to be chased like this, every time.
Kohane gives her a minute before beginning to follow. Like always.
An-chan, post-Kohane confrontation. (Artist: @vivids_4n)