They didn't regret their decision. Truly, they didn't.
Yiestol had been right - Vil's warmth and kindness (not that he himself had been lacking it, of course, but Vil had a particular kind of warmth about her) combined with his attention to detail and resolve had been a great help to the city. Together they were better than ever; a better version of Vil and of Yiestol. Together, the city flourished, crime went even further down than it already was, everyone was happy.
They took care of their city, and they loved its people.
And it wasn't just that, either. Together, being one, was wonderful. Indescribable, really. Not Yiestol, not Vil, but someone made of them both. And being one, being together and knowing each other so deeply... Again, it was indescribable.
They were happy.
For the most part.
A feeling flared up in their chest, and they brushed a hand to it as they found a word to attach to it.
'Touch-hungry.'
'Lonely.'
'I miss you.'
It was strange. "Weird," Vil would call it.
They were never lonely. Because they were always together. But sometimes they almost...were lonely?
'Touch-hungry.'
Ah, yes. That was why.
The one drawback to being bonded was that they could no longer see each other, touch each other. Both of them had known this. Granted, Yiestol had known it for longer than Vil, but they had known. But knowing about something and experiencing it were two completely different things.
It was still early in their bonding, so they assumed the feeling would go away in time. But every now and then, they would idly lift a hand, searching and grasping for someone. Only to realize that someone wasn't there on the outside anymore.
They were together. Always. They were not lonely.
'Love.'
But they could not touch.
That reminder made Yiesvil's chest and throat tighten again. Yiestol leaned back in his seat, and he could feel Vil's ache as well.
'Miss it.'
They both did.
But there could still be something done about it.
Yiesvil closed their eyes and lifted their arms. Their hands settled on their opposite shoulders, arms pressed to their chest, and they squeezed tightly. Their head ducked down, chin to collar, and slowly moved back and forth as if nuzzling.
The ache faded as they sat there, holding themselves. Occasionally squeezing a hand or idly rubbing a shoulder. The ache faded to slowly be replaced by a content warmth.
'Love you.'
They could not touch in the conventional sense. But they could still hold each other.