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Yor Briar had never been in love.
She loved her parents with all her heart, her world revolved around them. And then Yuri was born and her heart expanded a million times over and she loved her little brother more than anything. That’s how life was, for a while. A life full of love.
Then her parents died and Yor’s life fell apart all around her. The neighbors tutted sympathetically as she walked with Yuri into town in search of food. She was just a child and there was never enough food, never enough warmth, never enough love. She was just a child and Yor had learned the difficult, painful lesson that great love comes with great loss. A grief so unbearable you can barely breathe, you can barely keep going. But Yor was just a child and she had to keep going, for Yuri.
So that’s how Yor lived her days, that’s how she kept going. She woke up every day for her little brother. She worked hard, got strong, did impossible things so that little Yuri wouldn’t learn too early about how unbearable love can be. Spare him for a while, she’d think. And she did it! Yor spared him, and Yuri grew up happy and carefree thanks to her hard work. When he moved out of her apartment, off on his own with a big job and a big world waiting for him, Yor felt love and pride. She accomplished her life’s work, her little brother didn’t need her anymore.
But then, as she paced her very own one bedroom, sparsely decorated apartment, something ominous fell over her. Now what? She was in her twenties, she was young and independent. Now what was her purpose in life? What was she going to do for the rest of her days?
Yor was, well, weird. She knew that. She had a hard time talking to people, always awkward and uncomfortable, so she couldn’t make friends. She had no special talent, aside from killing, and it’s not like she could tell anyone about that. And now that Yuri was gone, everyone, literally everyone she came across, (even Yuri!) was asking her if she had a boyfriend.
The thought never ever crossed Yor’s mind. She was busy raising her baby brother for most of her life. She had different concerns than normal people her age, like if she could afford Yuri’s textbooks, if her dress could hide bloodstains, if she had properly cleaned a stab wound so she wouldn’t die of sepsis. She didn’t have time to.. to date! She didn’t even want to date! Dating someone meant having someone around all the time and she had just gotten rid of Yuri! It meant long conversations at restaurants and parks. It meant birthdays and dinner parties and work functions. It meant… kisses! God forbid something more than kisses! Sharing a bed with someone, sharing food with someone, that did not sound like things Yor could do. She had found purpose in working for Garden. If the only thing she was good at was killing, then that’s what she would do. And she did so honorably. She couldn’t be a normal person, so it's not like she could have a normal partner.
But suddenly society decided if she wasn’t married she deserved prison! Suddenly, she was a suspicious person because she didn’t have a man on her arm. Which turned out to be very, very bad for Yor because she actually was a suspicious person and she didn’t need more eyes on her than necessary. If the secret police took interest in her, she couldn’t continue her honorable work, therefore she had no life purpose.
She needed a boyfriend. Immediately.
The universe was on her side for once because he appeared out of thin air.
Loid Forger appeared and he needed a wife. So that’s what Yor became, his wife.
Oh! Fake wife! Because, you see, Loid was a widow and had an adorable daughter named Anya, and they needed help. They needed to complete the ideals of a family just as much as Yor needed to, so those wandering eyes and intrusive questions would disappear.
Yor became Yor Forger and her life became wonderful. Now, her days were full with work and secret work and managing a small family. Her weekends involved family outings and movies and peanut butter ice cream and finger painting and cartoons. Anya gave her a new, better purpose. She called Yor “Mama.” And when she did, Yor’s heart expanded a billion times over. This was important, being Anya’s Mama.
Yor’s heart was consumed by her little marshmallow pink girl and she felt fulfilled and happy. She loved Anya more than anything, and Anya loved her too. She said it every night as Yor tucked her into bed I love you, Mama. Every time, Yor's heart swelled with love for that precious baby girl. Yor even had a dog now! Bond was a very good boy and boofed Yor's hand when he wanted pats. She had a daughter and a dog, things she once never thought she could have. Sure it was all pretend. But it was hers and she would treasure her family for as long as she was allowed to,
Then there was Loid. This is the part of Yor's life that gets a little tricky. It wasn't supposed to be. Loid had agreed on a marriage of convenience, they slept in separate rooms and barely touched. Their marriage was perfect for Yor, the weirdo. She could avoid suspicion as long as Loid was around and she would never even have to kiss him.
Except, well... it was tricky you see. Loid was kind. So, so kind. Loid was smart and caring and funny and charming and thoughtful. He treated Yor with respect, he never judged her or belittled her. Loid may even understand her. A month into their marriage he could practically anticipate her every need. He knew her favorite foods and her favorite wine. He knew she liked to take a bubble bath when her muscles were achy, so he would draw one up when she was moving around slower than usual. He knew her feet got cold when she watched television at night, so he bought her a pair of luxurious fuzzy socks and a fluffy blanket for the couch. Loid took care of her. Which made her feel...
Yor couldn't even describe how Loid made her feel.
When she looked at Loid, her heart would race. He was an undeniably handsome man. He had such remarkable blue eyes and he was so tall and broad. His hair was like sunshine, his smiles were breathtaking, and his hands were beautiful with long graceful fingers. If Yor looked at him too long, she would take in the sharpness of his jaw, the shape of his lips, the almost permanent furrow between his brows, the lines of muscle through his shirt. Yor decided that Loid was the most physically beautiful person on earth. Someone give him a trophy, he deserved it, with that perfectly shaped butt of his. Looking at him made her heart race and her breath freeze in her lungs. And beyond that something new, something she had never experienced before, an ache near her stomach, a pulsing feeling, an emptiness. It was every single day of this, and she could take it no longer. It made her want to scream, to run, to touch him. She had never wanted to touch a man, was never curious of what they looked like underneath their clothes. She would lay awake at night and think of his body. She would think of him coming closer to her, watching her with his electric blue eyes, crowding her space, caging her in. It no longer made her afraid, no longer did she want to kick and punch and get away. She wanted his perfect hands on her body, his smell all around her, his skin underneath her fingertips. She wanted to know what he felt like and what it felt like to be held by him, safe from everything in the world but him and what his bewitching eyes promised. Yor would pretend her hands were his hands and would explore her body in ways she never had before. She would try to satisfy that ache, that hunger. Maybe she'd succeed, for a second. But then came the frustration at her limitations, her hands were incomparable to his, she knew, the gaping void in her room that her imagination could no longer fill. Yor ached for her husband so bad she could cry. That is how Loid made her feel.
One night, Loid had to attend a work function and brought Yor as his date. They got dressed up and mingled with his co-workers, important people and real married couples, and ate poorly catered food and slightly better cake. The party was boring though, soon Loid apologized to Yor for bringing her before they decided to get away from the noisy, boring crowds. Together they explored the venue and Yor would tremble every time Loid's shoulder would brush hers. He asked if she was cold and before she could answer, he gave her his jacket. To avoid the heart racing feeling he induced, Yor chatted. They reached a back set of stairs where it was quiet and the lights were low, and together they talked and laughed. Yor felt warm and fuzzy with his jacket around her shoulders, with her heels kicked off, with Loid smiling at her with his bright blue eyes. Soon a comfortable silence came over them. Yor didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable, her mind didn't race to find a new conversation topic. She just sat on a set of stairs next to her husband, barefoot and breathing in his smell from his fancy jacket. Then, quietly, Loid spoke. Thanks for coming with me, I had a lot of fun with you. Yor's heart stopped, then soared out of her chest. No problem! I had a great time too. Loid nodded next to her, pensive, staring at their feet, his fancy oxfords and Yor's pink toenails, for a long while before he spoke up again and shattered Yor's whole world.
...you're my best friend.
It took only a second for the world to return to normal. Yor nodded in agreement, said you're my best friend too. and put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes while her heart pounded and her hands shook.
It was special. It was such an honor, to be in Loid's life at all, and now she was his best friend. Hearing him say that made her feel extraordinary, worthy. She was Yor Forger, Loid Forger's fake wife and real best friend. It was a testament to how they understood each other, how they communicated and ran a household and raised a daughter together. Loid took care of her. Loid protected her and she worked hard to protect him. Loid gave her life new meaning. Loid encouraged her, supported her, waited up for her. Loid fed her meals he worked hard on, took her on dates he planned to perfection, gave her pretty flowers that he said made him think of her. Together they were an unstoppable team. Yor Forger was singular and important to Loid Forger. His best friend. That is how Loid made her feel.
The day after the party though, Yor felt like something was missing in her heart. How could she possibly be so selfish to want… more? She thought back to her initial reaction to Loid's statement a thousand times since last night. Why did the world fall underneath her feet when Loid said she was his best friend? Why did she want to cry? How did Loid make her feel?
Loid made her feel foolish sometimes. Loid had a natural ease to him which Yor would never have. Yor felt silly, standing next to her husband, like she was standing around waiting for her missing... thing. She didn't even really know what she was missing, but she felt it, next to Loid. That gaping emptiness. Loid made Yor feel excited, being near him was thrilling somehow, because he was so unknowable. He was surrounded by a tall, unbreakable wall on all sides and Yor felt the thrill of a challenge, to break it down and find him and make him hers. Loid sometimes made her feel electric when he looked at her, his blue eyes dark, his expression heated and wild, like he wanted to be hers too. Loid made her feel reckless, like the crackling air between them would soon ignite and pull their bodies together. Like maybe she could reach for him, caress his face and run her fingers through his soft hair, and he would welcome it, insist on more. More... something. Something to do with that ache. Loid made her feel brave. Loid made her feel both comfortable and… uncomfortable. Loid made her feel valuable. Loid made her feel strong. Loid made everything better. Her days were better with him, her nights were better dreaming of him. Yor loved seeing him every day, welcoming him home, talking to him, sitting with him, drinking tea with him. Yor wanted that for her whole life. She wanted him. She wanted him to hold her and touch her and fill her up.
That is how Loid made her feel.
She loved him. Yor was fiercely, fantastically in love with him.
After Yor fell in love, all she could do was cry. She cried because the love in her heart was too big to hold. She cried because she wasn't sure if a killer like her would be allowed to love someone. She cried because she was Loid's best friend and she didn't want to inconvenience him with her love and all the big feelings and wants that came with it. So she just sat on the couch, her limbs like jello, and cried.
Of course Loid walked in. Of course he wanted to know what was wrong. She couldn't tell him. Not right now, maybe not ever. Yor wants him. She wanted him in a way he did not. She didn't know what to say or what to do so she just looked at him and cried, which caused him to panic and fret. Still, he came and sat next to her on the couch. Asked her: what can I do?
Could she indulge, just this one time? Loid made her feel so needy. Can you hold me? she dared to ask.
He gathered her up in his arms immediately. It felt so good. Yor trembled and ached and cried. She wanted to scream.
I love you! I'm so in love with you! It'll be okay, right? I promise I'll be good. Just please don't leave me. I promise I'll protect you for the rest of my life.
***
The man known as Twilight had never been in love.
He had once loved his mother, bigger than the whole world. His mother was beautiful and kind and strong. Perhaps he loved his father. He gets a bad feeling in his stomach when he thinks of his father. He can't really remember anymore.
Once he was a vulnerable boy. He got emotional when his father hit him and his mother cried. He was weak when he got sick and his mother fretted that there wasn't enough rations for food or medicine. He cried when a stray kitten he loved and fed disappeared and never returned. Yet he was still happy-go-lucky. His mother told him love was stronger than anything bad, including all the bombs falling from the sky. So the boy loved hard.
And then the world exploded all around him and he came to know the bitter truth his mother neglected to mention. That everything and everyone, no matter how much you love, will leave you in the end.
If that's how it was going to be, why bother to love at all? That was the conclusion he came to early in life and he was better for it. This hardened him, steadied him slightly, and made his heart unbreakable. This made it easier when the universe disappointed him. This was how he survived war, this is how he survived sleepless nights surrounded by decomposing bodies, how he fought the enemy, how he killed mercilessly. He read books about love and flowery poetry about beautiful people and watched fellow soldiers write love letters to their loved ones. Love is the greatest thing to have, love is the answer to all life's questions blah blah blah. Not for him. He was cursed. God, or whoever the fuck was up there, had decided he was not allowed to have love in his life. That hurt him, because he couldn’t help but… want. But if it couldn’t happen, if he could never find it, that was fine with him. He’d get over it.
Then he was recruited by Wise and he made a vow: protect children from the painful truth so they can live happy-go-lucky. And for his own protection, don't ever love, no matter the want. Wants are useless. Living in this hell on earth will be much easier without.
Surprisingly, many of his missions for Wise involved the weapon of love and lust. His Handler explained that love was the most powerful force in the universe and he fought to roll his eyes. It's the truth, she said simply. And it was now a tool in his arsenal as a spy. He was introduced to the concept of a honey trap, make a target fall in love with him, and he could have any answer, any promise, and any victory.
It was almost funny how easy it was for him. He was almost bothered by that discovery, but it just further solidified his theory that he was incapable of actually falling in love. But the physical act of love? That he could do well. Soon, he was the best agent Wise had, the most skilled at a honey trap. He knew the steps and the motions and executed them perfectly each time.
Time passed and the bodies blurred. For each target, he became the person they wanted him to be. Lionel or Richard or Lawrence or Robert. He gave them flowers, took them dancing, made them swoon. Then came the acting. He was a perfect liar, uncaring and unrepentant. He could act like he cared. He'd have dinner with a target and smile at them bashfully, then look at them in awe, remark on their beauty. He'd be on a ferris wheel with a target and lean in... only to pull away with a blush, say: I've never felt this way before. He'd dance with a target and give them a sexy smirk, a sensual touch, building up each and every one for an intoxicating kiss.
By the time he had a target in bed they would be begging for him, pleading with a hunger he himself did not understand and never experienced. As he kissed and fondled and teased he would think about his mission or his paperwork or what he'd have for lunch tomorrow. Sometimes it got boring. Often he was disgusted. Still, he was always in charge. He let targets touch him in return but only to a point. He maneuvered them into the position he wanted, he decided on the pace and the depth of each thrust, he decided when it was time for the release. And he would decide if it was necessary to say I love you, depending on the mission and the target. He'd said those words countless times. He'd whispered it into an heiress's ear as he pounded into her. He'd cried as he declared it loudly to a politicians daughter. The first time he said it, he muttered it through gritted teeth. Now it was as natural as necessary, each utterance of I love you carefully considered and calculated, right down to the tone and the time and the cadence of his voice.
After, he could close out each mission as another success and walk away, leaving each and every one of those awful targets he bedded and "loved" far behind and long forgotten.
So that's how the man known as Twilight lived his days, how he kept going. He woke up every day to make the world a place where children don't cry, where there is no cold war, no threats of towns being bombed and innocent lives destroyed. He would never love anyone, never let anyone get close. Nevermind, nevermind, nevermind the ache. The curiosity. The want.
Is there someone out there, that would accept me? Are they waiting? A furious shake of the head. Never.
And then the universe decided it was time to knock him off his high horse.
Twilight had a family now. For a mission... Of course. He would not have a family without the mission.
He was now Loid Forger. Loid had a family. Not Twilight.
Now Twilight lived with Anya and Yor, and he lied to them as naturally as he did for any other mission. They weren't his targets but they were his... well. It was for the mission, that's what mattered. And Twilight felt...
He felt exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed and afraid.
He felt compromised. And curious.
Suddenly the spy who couldn’t fall in love was tripping into it.
He felt exhausted because last night Anya had a nightmare and he woke up to her screaming and he had never felt a jolt of fear like that in his life. If his baby was hurting he would... he can't even articulate it because it hurts. It hurts him physically, when he hears that cry. And it had hurt to rush in her room and see her so scared and small. Twilight felt helpless and useless as he held Anya and rocked her in his arms and promised her it would be okay. How did he know it would be okay? He didn't. Even still... still he would make it okay for her. He would do anything for her. Is this what his mother felt? He stayed with Anya as she sobbed and each little hiccup was like a stab in his gut, each little brave sniffle made his eyes water. He stayed with Anya after she calmed down a bit because she was still scared, Papa, so he talked with her and made her laugh. He stayed with Anya after she fell asleep because looking at her adorable little face as she scrunched up her nose and drooled on her pillow calmed the panic in his chest that remained, reminded him that she was secure and happy.
He felt stressed because he was working at the hospital and side missions, and this mission relied on Anya and Yor. He felt stressed that he was using Anya because she tells him she loves him every night before she goes to bed and he has to put his tongue to his teeth to stop the reciprocation from slipping out. He felt stressed because Anya tried so damn hard to get stellas but she doesn't really understand how important the stellas actually are. He felt stressed because Anya was riding too fast on her brand new bicycle and she could fall and hurt herself. He felt stressed because Anya is sweet and brave and funny and beautiful and she is a fucking kid. She's his kid. He is responsible for her. And it stresses him the fuck out because he can't love her, yet he loves her so much, but this mission could fail, and Anya would live in a world full of war. And he felt stressed because he wants Anya's life to be full of happiness and love and he wants to see it with his own eyes and be a part of it.
Maybe he was waiting for Anya all this time. But something was missing. He had a theory, but couldn’t dare believe it.
He felt overwhelmed because today Yor cried in his arms and he couldn’t understand why. He couldn't figure out what was upsetting her, but he had to because he hated seeing her sad. It was unacceptable. It tore him apart, it made him ache, it made him want to pull her closer and hold her longer.
He felt overwhelmed because last night they had gone to a party and it sucked, it was painfully boring until.. until. Until Yor.
Until Yor dared him to grab a secret piece of cake to share before it was properly served. Until Yor suggested they sneak out and explore. Until Yor raced him down a long empty hallway and she laughed and laughed and his heart skipped at such a pleasant sound. Until Yor started shaking so he offered his jacket, and then almost tripped on his feet, because Yor wrapped up in his clothes was a fetching, enthralling sight. Until he and Yor finally collapsed on a private, dark set of stairs and she kicked off her heels. Until he sat stunned and silent because he found her irresistible in his jacket with her sexy bare feet poking out from under her dress. Until he imagined grabbing her ankles and sliding his hands up her ravishing legs and spreading them apart and tasting her at long last.
He felt overwhelmed because he had been having these visions of Yor, and him and Yor, and the things they could do together as a married couple since the very start, but it was happening more vividly and more often. So he had to distract himself. But he felt overwhelmed because he couldn't that time, sitting on that staircase, and if he didn't say something and change the subject he was going to lean over and kiss her. So he called her his best friend.
Twilight called Yor his best friend, and it sounded childish coming out of his mouth but it was also very true. She was his best friend, he trusted her more than anyone and respected her more than she knew. And he had to tell her, he had to say it, because he was overwhelmed with affection and desire for her and he would have otherwise declared something else, something inappropriate, probably under her dress and between her legs.
Back on the couch, he still felt lost because Yor smelled like roses and she was still crying and he wanted to hold Yor until the sun burned out. Even then, that still wouldn’t be enough, he knew because he ached for her, he longed for something more, something only she could give him, to fill the gaping hole in his chest that had been there since his world exploded. The feeling was foreign and strange but he had sat with it for long enough to recognize that the universe may have cursed him and taken away everything he once loved, but it gave him something greater in return. He wasn’t cursed forever. And it challenged him to do things right, to protect and preserve the peace in his heart and in this home, so nothing could take it away from him this time.
And he felt afraid because... was he capable of that? Was he strong enough?
Was Yor the person waiting for him? The other soul he was waiting for too?
He felt afraid that night when Twilight went to Yor's room to talk to her, ask if she felt better, and instead his whole world shattered again and then restarted with new possibilities.
He kissed his wife. Slowly because he was afraid, and her lips were full and soft and she smelled so wonderful and kissing her became so addicting and he couldn't stop. He felt a sensation like flying or floating or falling. He took her in, her dark hair, her delicate face, her astonishing eyes, her perfect body and felt an ache he only felt with her and it terrified him and yet still it felt perfect. An ache that was soothed by her encouraging gasps and her gentle touch and her warm eyes and her perfect lips. He gripped her body close to his, tangled his fingers in her hair, told her things like I want you so bad, I think about you all the time, I've never felt like this before, I was waiting for you, and this time, with this woman, it was all fucking true. This time the words just came out of his mouth, onto her skin, no preparation, no plan at all. No other motivations but to tell her because he felt it more than anything and it was true and she should know. He was babbling in her ear, moaning and gasping words that could be used to break his heart and expose him completely. But it was all true and Yor was wonderful and Yor deserved everything.
Twilight took her to bed and touched every inch of her pretty pale skin and kissed every mark on her soft warm body and he felt heart-racing, never-ending, unstoppable bliss for the very first time in his life. Twilight sank into her body and filled her up and he finally understood. Yor, his fucking wife, gasped and sang for his ears alone, so good, and don't stop, and I was waiting for you and that name Loid, Loid, Loid over and over and over and he was petrified and teary and deliriously smug that she waited for him and found him and they were intertwined and moving together at last.
For the first time Twilight felt alive. He felt vulnerable and weak and selfish and he felt happy and safe and wanted. Because this was Yor.
Yor was breathtakingly gorgeous and impossibly strong. Yor was sweet and gentle and brave. Yor left him funny little notes around the kitchen and hummed when she was happy. Yor always welcomed him home with a sweet smile and warm eyes. Yor talked him down when he was angry about the rude neighbor that stopped Anya from riding her bike in front of the apartment. Yor told him to get some sleep when he hadn't in two days, her eyes full of concern and care. Yor fucking tried and tried and it was so admirable and so remarkable. Yor was so beautiful. Yor was the only person in the world who could accept him exactly how he is. The one he was unconsciously looking for. Yor took care of him. Yor gave his life new meaning. Yor was funny and clumsy and graceful and darling and sweet and everything he wanted for the rest of his life. He kissed her again and he felt... forever. He could kiss her forever. For her, for only Yor, he was scared of the world but he wanted to be strong. He wanted to be Loid.
He loved her.
Was madly in love with her, probably since the moment he first saw her. He was a man cursed, and he once thought he had it all figured out. He thought he was better off. Twilight was dangerously compromised because he had once closed his heart to love but it found him anyway, just as he hoped. She found him anyway, their family found him anyway. Loid Forger was stronger than all his fears, and with this boundless woman in his arms, he felt brave enough to live and love. As Yor came exquisitely and violently wrapped in his arms, he tumbled after her, a free fall into the heavenly unknown, and gasped a new, secret vow into her throat so only she could hear:
I love you. Always.
What magic. To hear her whisper those words back.