A/N: So it's been quite a while since I wrote anything and this is technically the first time I'm plotting something for the Tokyo Ghoul fandom which should be a multichapter. I feel quite embarrassed because my ships are always problematic but this is probably the most problematic one I've ever shipped because it's legit incest. But my feelings for the Kirishima siblings are too strong and all I want is for them to reunite and be happy together. Ayato's feelings for her are too precious and I just hope he'll tell her how really feels about her because the poor girl thinks so low of herself and she definitely doesn't know that her brother still loves and cares for her.

Anyway, I've come full way to ship these two romantically and I can't say I regret it, nor do I care about people judging me for it. I'm quite used to being judged for my ships, so it's nothing big. I've decided to finally start putting the ideas I've been having together and make something out of them. This is but a prologue so it's short and just put to make a starting point for me to get rid of my writer block. I know the AyaTouka ship is too small, but the shippers do exist and it's sad because there are no published fanfics for this small ship.

Prologue

He lies beside her in one bed, just the way they used to share the same bed when younger. Years have changed a few details from that memory in the current time; their bodies are now bigger, and the bed can barely fit the two of them but they manage it anyway. For one night, they can forget the bed is too small for them and only focus on being together, next to each other, after years of being separated. It's only a matter of hours before he'll leave her again until god knows when, and he wants to spend every second staring at her face. She's asleep and he should be sleeping too, but the thought of wasting his chance to look at her and note the changes time has made in her bothers him. He thought she died but now there she is alive and well and next to him. He can feel her breaths against his face speaking of her vitality.

The distance between them grows shorter when he shifts his weight closer to her, an arm moving to surround her waist—it's strange; being this close from her and touching her in a non-violent way. He's never done this before and he regrets it. His narrow gaze speaks of his regrets and fears and weaknesses, and the more he stares at her face, the more he needs to protect her and keep her safe where no harm can reach her.

She's his beloved sister, his everything and he lost her once and became like a body with no soul. If he loses her again, he'll die, and it's not going to be a death where he no longer breathes and his heart no longer beats. No. It's a worse kind of death. His chest will hurt every time his heart beats and he'll die as much as the number of times he breathes. He'll cry himself to sleep every night like he did before and he'll punish himself for not keeping his promise, for being just like his father; a liar, a weakling. He needs her more than she needs him.

She's his beloved sister and oh it hurts how much he loves her. He knows he'll never love someone like he loves her and he knows his life is devoted to her and only her. If she vanishes he'll die, just like two rabbits that grow up together, if one of them dies the other dies of loneliness.

He comes closer and her breaths are soft and warm, hitting his face gently before leaving a cold breeze against it. His eyes are scanning every inch of her face, memorizing her every feature, making sure her image will remain saved in his head for he doesn't miss seeing her quickly when he's gone.

A smile draws its way on his lips safely, knowing she's not awake to see him, and it presses so lightly to her forehead in a faint kiss. He pulls back to stare briefly at her again; she's still asleep –probably didn't feel it- and with that, he moves closer, though his lips aren't targeting her forehead this time, but aiming for her lips.

What?

He pauses instantly before he crosses the line and sits up in a blurry reasoning, question why he would ever attempt to do that, as if kissing her forehead isn't enough, but questions why he wouldn't too. He almost jumps when sensing the bed shift at her movement, and he gazes at her from the corner of his eye to see that she's still asleep. She only turned, now lying on her back.

Upon his eyes falling on her face again, the question tickles his mind again. A voice whispering to him to do it, another trying to oppose him and his thoughts are conflicting and he can't set his mind on a decision, not until the voice in his head gets louder and it's the only thing he can hear; kiss her. You'll probably never have a chance to do so anymore, so don't waste your chance. You don't want to regret it if anything ever happens to her, do you? You already regretted a lot of things.

It's true. He regrets a lot of things. He regrets not staying with her. He regrets not being there for her when she needed him. He regrets beating her up and treating her harshly. He regrets not having shown her how precious she was to him, not ever showing her that he loves her, that he wants to protect her, that he's the one who dies if she's no longer alive, that he's the one who's lost if she's nowhere to be found, that she's everything and if she leaves, he'll have nothing. She fills the emptiness in his chest and reminds him of the purpose of holding on to life every new day. She reminds him of who he is and what he's doing. She's his reason and secret and home and, dear god, he loves her so much. He's too selfish to give his love to someone else.

He looks at her and he realizes there's only one breath separating him from closing the distance between them completely—the gap that's been separating them for years, somehow he needs to close it right now, right here, even for a brief second. His hands are resting on each side of the bed, caging her in between his arms and just how much he'd love to keep her there, between his arms, where she belongs, her home and shelter. If only their words didn't conflict. If only he was her everything. If only she lived for him just like he lived for her, and if only she loved him just like he loved her.

Guilt and shame are weighing his chest but his lips follow the path to rest where they belong. Tenderly and calmly the kiss presses lovingly to her lips. His eyes are no longer open and he lets his mind drive the most selfish and greedy desires to beat the softness and innocence of the kiss into a needier one, just like claiming a feeding ground—his lips claim his ownership over her which no one else shall come close.

Driven in egoistic thoughts, he fails to realize the pressure he's applying, which soon brings the girl to her senses, eyes opening and widening at the strange weight over her chest and the feel of her brother's lips sealed to hers.

He's drawn to stop once sensing her movements, and he's pushed back immediately, though still maintaining close distance, his eyes spotting confusion and uncertainty in hers which she soon spoke of.

"Ayato—"

And the look she gives him next brings nothing but embarrassment and frustration and his eyes avert from hers to the side. His body shifts its weight from hers and he sits with guilt overweighing his chest. No words are spoken but the ones she never heard from him before.

"I'm sorry…"

His apologetic tone holds a lot behind it; signifying his lack of control over what he did, but not fully regretting either.

She has questions she wants him to ask and those are one she's been collecting for years ever since they were apart. Now they're together but she still didn't ask him anything, and yet the amount of questions she wants him to answer continues to increase. He's confusing and he always makes her confused. She never understands his actions and he never explains them in a way she can understand.

The gap between them only keeps growing wider despite the distance between them is small.

Their worlds continue to conflict, even if they want the same thing; being together, they probably don't want it in the same way.