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Yuri's eyes opened to a blank ceiling, dimly lit by a faint, blue light from Setsu's hologram alarm clock on the nightstand—the only real light for them in their shared bedroom. In the moment, it was one of the only pieces of reassurance that they had to combat their heart thudding against their chest and their breath held tight in their chest.
It's still late…
They turned their head slightly, to the peacefully still Setsu that slept next to them. They had their arm draped across Yuri's midsection, their head at a slight distance and on their own pillow, but still close enough for Yuri's bangs to shift when they exhaled deeply in their sleep.
Still breathing. Okay. Okay, good…
They squirmed a bit under their arm and under their shared blankets, now aware of just how hot their own body was running—probably from the panic and anxiety that still prickled their skin. But, when their bare hand made contact with Setsu's cheek—seeing their brows and lips twitch at the contact, feeling just how warm they were, even in the cool room—Yuri felt some of that tension fade into the background.
Relief washed over them.
Yuri wanted to say that looping had gotten easier with time—and there were, admittedly, some loops that were emotionally easier than others—and even if those days were behind them, they weren't far behind them yet. They still felt panic rise in their chest as they tried to sleep some nights, nightmares on others, and every now and then, something would come up during the day that would give them pause—and then cause their mind to run a mile a minute with trying to figure out a good defense or offense, if not just freeze them outright on the spot.
Tonight, they couldn't stop themself from feeling helpless again; the memory of Setsu, trapped under rubble, barely any warmth left to them, in particular, had managed to creep its way into the dream. And while their dream was hazier, different, more confusing—things were out-of-place and wrong—it still shook them.
Yuri shifted a bit again, carefully wriggling out from under Setsu's arm—and in response, Setsu, still asleep, withdrew from them, tucking their arm close to their chest, hand curled under their chin while Yuri moved their legs out from under the blankets and towards the edge of the bed. They stayed still, watching Setsu for a moment—their chest rising and falling easily, their expression fully at peace.
No pain, no discomfort—no blaring alarms or alert lights overhead. Everything was fine.
Is it weird if I keep staring? Yuri thought, eyes widening as they quickly looked towards, first, the clock, and then the light peeking in from under their door.
The two always left the kitchen light on—and while it offered a bit of guidance for both of them when they were groggily wandering to the bathroom or the fridge in the middle of the night, it also served as a reminder. The warm bulbs were completely different from the almost icy florescent lights that lined the halls of the D.Q.O.
On nights like these, when Yuri would tiptoe across the carpet, their head and eyes flicking back to the barely-lit bed to make sure Setsu was still asleep, they couldn't help but silently thank them for considering just how much lighting might play a role when it came to either of how they adjusted to "normal" life. Lighting wasn't something they would have considered on their own—or maybe even been able to pinpoint as an issue when they were upset.
Knowing the intent of the golden light that peeked through the crack under the door and stretched across the carpet, Yuri found themself remembering how Setsu described it to them:
It's just something to keep us grounded. We've both spent a lot of time looping, and in a lot of different situations—I'm not sure how that's going to impact either of us when we start trying to go back to normal.
Like many times before, Yuri quietly tiptoed towards this light, glancing back over their shoulder to make sure Setsu was still asleep, and then delicately closed the door until it was just cracked behind them. It was a simple way to indicate to one another that the other would be back soon—the door was closed when they slept, but if one of them stepped away, even for a moment, without intentionally (or accidentally) waking the other, then they would leave it open, just enough for that light to stretch across the room and land on the bed.
Each time they wandered out of their bedroom, though, they worried about accidentally waking Setsu up—and every now and then, they did. Sometimes it was the slightest bit of movement, or the quietest of sounds, the slow fading of warmth from their side; other times, it was something egregious like Yuri accidentally stumbling and slamming into the door.
It was usually on nights that Yuri couldn't go back to sleep that they would sneak away—a night worse than boring as their thoughts spiraled out of control. They learned that, if they were stuck awake, in the dark, and left alone with their own thoughts, even if Setsu were resting beside them, it was probably better if they got up and did something—whether that was make a snack, read, try a hobby, anything that wasn't just laying there.
Setsu, by their side, was comforting—even if they were asleep, their presence alone was reassuring.
But some nights, Yuri needed some kind of a distraction. Something to keep them out of their own head when they didn't want to sit with the memories for long.
I think I'll just grab a snack, and maybe try to find a book…
After leaving behind the D.Q.O. and moving in together with Setsu, the two had started to create a small collection of books. It was a modest, small and wooden shelf—something reminiscent of dated interior design from earth—and it held a small collection of physically-bound books, something that Setsu said they really appreciated the feeling of. They varied in content and genre—some informational, some with pastel visuals and characters, romantic plots—or subplots, some that felt all-too-familiar to what they had experienced…
It was easier for Yuri to choose a late-night snack than for them to choose a book, though. Even though they had paused by the shelf, eyes slowly moving across each of the spines as they mentally marked whether or not the title—or the colors—stood out to them, or if it was something they had read before, choosing a book could come later.
The kitchen was small, but comfortable enough for the two of them to maneuver together—though, Yuri was typically the one to do most of the cooking nowadays. They hadn't regained their memories—but between Jina teaching them the bare minimum here and there, and the fact that they managed to make a few meals within the loops, they were decently fast when it came to actually learning how to make a step above edible food.
Setsu, meanwhile, struggled with it here and there; they had gotten used to field rations and pre-made meals while in the military. Even supplements, at times; food and nutrients that were quick to prep or consume—no thought behind it, no care for the taste, texture, or anything else.
They mentioned, from time to time, how it was filling or quick, but not very good.
… What am I even making?
Yuri stared into the cabinet—a small array of seasonings and pre-made blends or mixes neatly stocked.
Breakfast, maybe? Or something light. Warm, though. Something warm…
They closed the cabinet, fingers lingering on the handle as they thought about their options; something simple wouldn't really hurt this time…
They hadn't been building their newfound skills of baking and cooking from scratch for long—so on days that they were too tired, or when they felt a pang of uncertainty, they made sure to have a few things here and there that could be put in the oven, maybe with a few additions here or there to make them "better" or "fancier".
Opening the fridge, Yuri squinted at the harsher, brighter light that flashed in their eyes. Thankfully, they adjusted relatively fast—they had been lingering in the open kitchen for awhile now (though, they weren't sure how long exactly), and they quickly pick through the almost haphazardly organized fridge. Even if they could keep the cabinets organized, the inside of the fridge seemed to fall into disorganization and chaos shortly after they would get groceries together.
In one of the drawers, Yuri found an airtight canister of biscuits; it would pop when opened, and on one hand, they worried that the sound would wake Setsu—but on the other, noise didn't travel well in their living space, and they had opened cans like this before.
After preheating the oven, they grimaced and pressed their thumbs into the seam, realized that wouldn't be enough, and reached for a metal spoon. Sure enough, it popped, the side of some dough slowly expanding out through the small gap. They stared for a moment, watching briefly through the small, tinted window of the oven, before going back to the shelf.
Setsu's books never really caught their eye—Yuri wasn't sure if they were interested in the "cutesy" books that Setsu always liked to keep around before they lost their memory, but regardless of that, they almost always gravitated towards things that either looked more somber or sounded more mysterious.
"Something lighter, maybe…?" They murmured, putting their fingertips on the top of the first volume of a book and pulling it towards them. It was a comic, the the cover done in shades of blue, the background a softer, paler blue, and the singular character in the front and center a darker shade of blue, setting them apart from the background. "… Maybe…"
They had seen Setsu reading this one, occasionally even crying over it. Though, if asked, they would only tell Yuri to read it themself, though, and try to find out what had struck a nerve with them.
Even if others had seen Setsu as a "soldier", one that could be stern, cold, and calculated, Yuri had always noticed just how often they laughed, smiled, how often their face would flush from embarrassment—they always noticed just how much emotion and warmth constantly rolled off of them.
Yuri knew just how soft, sweet, and warm they could be. How sensitive, at times, even.
Guess I'll try to see what parts really got to them. They flopped back onto the couch, knees tucked up close and under them, as they opened the book and started reading.
It was peaceful and quiet, for the time being; they had sank into the story they were reading, the lives of the characters, and had almost forgotten that they were waiting for the oven's built-in timer to beep. It was still there, in the back of their mind—
But instead, Setsu's alarm was the first to go off from the other room. Yuri had, in the time they shuffled around their bedroom and the open kitchen and living room, had completely neglected to actually process the time on any clock. They had just set the timer and gone back to trying to find something to do.
Pulling a scrap sheet of paper off of the coffee table and shoving it in the book, they crept to the bedroom door and cracked it open a bit more, looking in to see Setsu sitting upright, legs already off of the edge of the bed as they rubbed sleepily at their eyes.
"You were up early," They murmured, looking up at them with a small smile. Worry flickered in their eyes as they watched Yuri flip on the lightswitch by the door. "Was it another bad dream?"
"Kinda, yeah…" Yuri said, moving to sit next to them slowly. "I didn't think that I would be able to go back to sleep after that, honestly."
"Makes sense." Setsu said, slowly leaning closer and pressing their shoulder against Yuri's. They both relaxed a little, Setsu's temple slowly and carefully bumping against Yuri's. "You can always wake me up, you know?"
"I know." Yuri slowly rubbed their cheek against Setsu's, scrunching their face as they did so a bit. Setsu was still gently warm from their pillow—they were rarely cold compared to Yuri, but the radiating warmth offered even more comfort and reassurance to Yuri. "You need your sleep, though."
"So do you. And if it helps you get back to sleep, I don't mind sitting up for awhile just to make sure you got back to sleep."
Yuri softened a bit, their eyes closed as they leaned against Setsu more. The expected ding from the other room caused them to barely open their eyes and look towards the door with a quiet sigh.
"You made food?"
"I figured a snack might help, too, honestly. Since you're awake, if you want breakfast, I actually put some biscuits in, so? Perfect timing."