Ymir was upstairs, smoking a blunt as she leaned against the railing.

"C'mon, squirt, time for bed," she called down to me. It was often we slept together, innocently or not. "How was your call to your sister—her honeymoon going good?"

Ymir was completely unaware of my sister's reassurances and that she'd pick me up the moment she got back in town—two days from now.

"She's a worrywart," I responded, tired, exhausted of being the dominant, sexual woman Ymir seemed to yearn for every hour of the day. I knew I couldn't keep it up anymore and that she wouldn't like it. I just had to admit defeat.

"Hah, just like you," she exhaled a cloud and I could smell it so much more. "I swear you'll get a heart attack."

I scoffed and turned off the lights as I went upstairs until Ymir greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. A rare occurrence but it was followed by her snaking her arms around me, blunt still in hand, and nuzzling my cheek.

"Your eyes are red," she whispered, making me frown as I hid my face against her shoulder, "and, I'm the only one smoking."

She gave me the option to explain myself without prying.

"I miss her," I answered, truthfully, "a lot."

Ymir was quiet as she ambled us over to the side of the bed, extinguishing her smoke, and pulling me down. I was ready for her roaming hands but she seemed content as she was waiting for me to talk more.

"Are you in the mood tonight?" She interjected when I wouldn't say more. "You're unusually quiet."

I never realized how much I spoke before until she pointed it out—by now I'd be whispering naughty things and having her pinned in one form or another. I didn't know that was how the 'usual' me was, and it made me disappointed in myself.

"Historia?" Her hand was trailing up and down my side, warming me up to whatever was to come, but I shied away.

"I don't really feel it," I wanted to roll over, afraid to see her facial expression, but she smiled, getting comfortable near me.

"That's alright," however, I saw the nervous look in her eyes, the lingering glances as she tried to dissect me and find the problem. "We've been going heavy for a while anyways. Anymore and I would've thought we were just animals."

She comforted me too explicitly with sweet, soothing words to mask her own discomfort, and I hoped she also began to notice how little she actually knew me, because every small question she asked led to twenty more. She eventually slowed her talking because only her own voice bounced off the walls as I tried to imagine being home, safe, in my own bed, and unaware and unscathed from what Ymir became—unknowingly, I made her like my father, the very man who kicked me out.

Ymir became the figure I had to please—that I gave my everything to because the moment I saw her I knew I wanted to be more than just friends. I dreaded that I'd be something she'd never want. Just like my father. To be kicked out again if I declined her every wish…

I cared for her but did that justify how fast I rushed our relationship?

Ymir quieted when she realized I was ignoring her small talk.

"Huh, well," she rubbed my shoulder, hesitating with every small stroke until she withdrew entirely, "I suppose we should sleep… I hope I didn't offend you with my advances—did I go too quick?"

It was a bit late for that.

"No… I'm just tired. A lot on my mind." I doubt I could sleep.

After all, we were just two strangers in the same bed, and we only just found this out now.