The mansion was quiet now, the kind of quiet that comes after too much noise—after screams, after rage, after blood.
Shinji was over her, weight braced on his forearms so he wouldn't crush her, but close enough that every inch of their bodies touched. Chest to chest. Hips to hips. Legs tangled. Her thighs cradled his waist; his knees sank into the mattress on either side of her.
Their cheeks pressed together—warm skin on warm skin, her tears still wet against his jaw, his breath shaky against her temple.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raw. "I'm so fucking sorry, kitten."
Ai shook her head against him, arms tightening around his neck until it almost hurt.
"Don't," she murmured. "Don't say sorry anymore. You saved me. You came for me."
He exhaled harshly, nose brushing her hairline. "I almost didn't. I almost—"
"You did." Her fingers slid into his hair, cradling the back of his head. "You always do."
