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Summary
Ah.
He’s the spitting image of his brother.
That ponytail, that tall lithe body, and those kind soft features. If Yami didn’t know any better, this would be Morgen. But with the way those features are twisted into a cold, tense expression, it couldn’t be clearer who exactly this is.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Yami laughs, the sound loud yet empty. “And here I was, thinking you’d forgotten about us.”
...in which Nacht seeks solace, and Yami's more than happy to provide it.