Amon stepped into the room first with their suitcases. It was well-furnished and in a small hotel that nobody would think to check for two wanted criminals.
After the kiss—brief but holding the promise of a lifetime within it—they had walked away together. In theory, they could go anywhere… except the places and people that were familiar to them. And so they ended up in a hotel, until they had a more definite plan for the future.
There was so much to discuss and so much they had missed about each other's lives… Amon didn't know where to begin, and from Akira's silence, he imagined she felt the same.
"I'll make some coffee," she said once they were finished unpacking.
He sat on the bed, watching as she boiled water in the kettle. Sachets of sugar, tea and coffee were present next to it, as well as two empty porcelain cups. Amon had never cared much about coffee, but after becoming a ghoul (or perhaps it was after spending time in that café), the instant version felt lacking.
"I don't suppose you take sugar anymore?"
He shook his head. "Black."
She filled both the cups, picking up one to hand over to him. Amon should have noticed it then, the way her hands trembled slightly, remembered that Akira hadn't fully recovered yet—
The cup slipped from her hands, and she dove after it seconds too late. The shattering sound was beyond loud.
Even worse was the cut on Akira's finger.
Back in Rushima, while Akira was at death's door, he was too busy fighting the Quinx; now devoid of such distraction, his entire attention was on how blood bloomed drop by drop against her pale skin. The scent of prey was overwhelming, delicious even…
What the hell am I thinking?!
Amon swallowed the saliva in his mouth and turned away from Akira, feeling both hungry and disgusted.
When was the last time he had fed? He had only been drinking coffee since they rescued him from the lab…
"Look at me."
He flinched at the sound of Akira's voice, wishing he could vanish.
"Amon, look at me."
Covering his kakugan with his right hand, he slowly faced her as if awaiting his execution.
Akira was unreadable. His eyes darted to her finger, still bleeding, and back to her face.
"I'm sorry," he managed to say. "I'll—"
What? What could he do? She might not hate ghouls like she had before, but he had just proven to her how dangerous he could be.
Her uninjured hand wrapped around his right wrist and tugged it down. He gave in after a moment of resistance, his heart in his throat as he did so. Faced with his mismatched eyes, she showed no sign of anger or even aversion.
"I trained Haise, remember?" she said instead, and he was struck by the gentleness of her expression.
"You're no longer what you were, Koutarou Amon, but who you are… hasn't changed at all."
After much thought, I've decided to increase the number of chapters to thirty-two.
