Happiness.
A nine-letter word with all of the world's disillusionment packed inside.
It was a word that confided hopes and aspirations—dreams of contentment like sunny days and drowsy forehead pecks.
It was also a word that tormented Yui; perpetually reminding her of days long gone, of days before she became captured within a mansion full of nightmares.
The pressure on her back enforced aforementioned feeling, steel arms encircling her waist and bending her in place. Ayato slept, chest glued to the young woman's back and hair endearingly askew. His late night slip-ins were a day-to-day occurrence now. Before, he would simply barge in in a flurry and take what he needed, while now, his brutality remained, but lethargy gripped him and the pair would find themselves curled in the same, stiff position night after night like a record on repeat.
Yui's eyes burned, staring at the wall ahead. She had become familiarized with the shapes, the patterns that the plaster made when her eyes lost focus. That was all a distraction from the sleeping vampire clung tightly around her. Not to say it didn't bring a spark in her chest, but after weeks—months of the same process, she began to ache deep inside.
She longed for her mutual affections to blossom again; to at least curl herself into the other's chest for once until the sun begins to set and play absently with his curly tresses.
But that was an urge; a figmented happiness that Yui never saw come to light. She had a trembling voice and hands that wobbled and wavered. Her drive was weak, and her determination even more so.
So, she lay staring at the wall again, observing the twisting colours and shapes that swirled just outside of her peripheral vision. The silence seemed to scream, bleeding through her eardrums. She heard Ayato's steady breaths in more contrast than ever; in, out, in, out. As comforting as the warm flushes on the back of her neck were, they only contributed even more to her dreary existence.
For once, she began to move; turning and giving a brief wiggle, huffing dejectedly after only succeeding to tighten the other's grip.
Her eyes stung again, pulling downwards in attempt to lull the girl quietly into the depths of sleep.
She squirmed again, eyes watering. No luck.
Her shoulders sagged, making a sudden popping noise, much to Yui's disdain, before settling in an awkward fashion. It was uncomfortable, but she could sleep like that, as with every other day and night to follow.
However, the warmth behind her back shifted, the arms smothering her ribcage lifting for a short moment.
"Yui..?"
His voice was breathy yet sweet, trickling along the nape of her neck.
Her chest froze, even as she smeared the need-of-sleep induced tears and turned to give a quiet glance up at the figure propped beside her.
The two shared a silence, ticking by slowly. She could feel his eyes absently wandering and scanning her face, lacing down her jaw and to the soft patch between her neck and shoulder. He lost interest after too long, dropping down, arms spread across the bed absently.
"Chichinashi..." he breathed. The moment was gone just like that; in the wispy exhale of her charming nickname. Ayato now lay fidgeting—uncomfortable, more than likely. He at last gave a weak grumble and grabbed Yui's arm, shifting her with it and intending on moving it away from his as he adjusted once again. Something stopped him, though. A breath, a murmur. A distant whimper. His face lowered to the girl's, dazed uncertainty only masked by the curtained darkness of the room. "Oi, Chichinashi? Are you crying..?"
Of course she had been. It was a mix of one part exhaustion and one part exasperation. Yui felt her opportunity slip out of her grasp for a single moment; she called selfishness, on that, and thusly tapped into the faucet. She wanted to deny this, to keep Ayato's happiness driven. He seemed content as is, but that might have been because of how the situation benefited him. The confliction between everything corkscrewed through Yui's head until she gave a feeble nod, hands rubbing her face absently.
Silence enraptured the two again, following up to the moment of a warm hand setting aside Yui's and dabbing at her cheeks with utmost tenderness. Ayato's lips brushed against her forehead tentatively before pressing gently, a sigh following in quick escape. Yui's heart had well began to echo through her bones, resonating deeply and loud enough he was sure to hear.
"Better now?" he mumbled, still edgy in tone, but gentle in a way that Yui had long since become unfamiliar with.
She hummed in response, turning to Ayato's chest and weakly looping her arms around him, rather than give him the chance to lock back into position. Admittedly, it seemed as if he had been taken by surprise, but his muscles relaxed and found their home again, draped across Yui's waist as if nothing had ever happened.
"Thank you, Ayato-san.."
To Yui, happiness was him.