Ymir is unsure why she jerks her hand away instantly when Christa's hand accidentally brushes against hers. It's instinctive, a jolt, a feeling she cannot name. She hears Christa murmur the word sorry, and her throat is tight, preventing her from telling the girl "it's fine." Christa leaves, and Ymir skips dinner again.
They're sitting with their backs against a tree, laughing at some joke Ymir cracked. She feels content, full even, laughing feels good. So good. Ymir hasn't felt this alive in ages. Christa starts leaning into her. Ymir freezes and stops laughing immediately. Christa notices something is off.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Ymir doesn't move. Christa is still leaning close to her, she's warm. This is unfamiliar to her, she hasn't had human contact with anyone in… in well over half a century. She is afraid of messing it up, unsure of how to respond to it. Does Christa not sense how close she is? Is her skin not burning from the touch? Ymir remains rigid, attempting to compose herself.
Christa seems to sense she's too close, and pulls away.
"It's fine." Ymir says, wanting to reassure her, but lacking the words to do so.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
Christa diverts her eyes. "I've never been friends with anyone, or anything more than that. I don't know the basics."
"Is that why you try to be so happy all the time? So people will like you?"
"Something like that." she murmurs.
Ymir has known this since the beginning, but she appreciates the honesty.
"I haven't had friends in a long time." she says carefully. "I'll still be your friend even if you're not acting like a goddess, you know."
Christa laughs. "I guess I can afford to be your friend even if you are a jerk."
"Hey!" Ymir scowls. "We're screwed aren't we?"
"Maybe." she answers. "At least we have each other, then."
Hesitantly, Christa reaches for Ymir's hand.
Ymir's instinct is to jolt it away- Christa's hand is as cold as ice. But she doesn't, she intertwines their fingers and squeezes it gently. Her hand isn't cold for much longer, and it feels nice. She begins to relax.
"I think you're softer than you'd ever admit." Christa says.
"Oh you think?"
"Well you're definitely shy."
"Quiet maybe." Ymir adds.
"You're shy around me." Christa points out. She adjusts her position to face Ymir, staring up at her eyes, then her lips.
Ymir is feeling anything but relaxed now.
Christa leans in closer, tilting her head up.
"I think you're only shy around me." she breathes.
"Well," Ymir begins. "I think you're only flirtatious around me."
Christa pulls back. She shakes her head.
"No." she says. "That was not-"
"Then what was it?" Ymir asks, coyly.
Christa squeezes her hand and lets go.
Ymir flexes her hand and stares at, wishing her fingers were still intertwined with Christa's. Physical contact is a concept she's starting to understand again.
"We should go back." Christa says.
"Yeah," Ymir agrees. "We should."