Cobaltshipping (Kaiba Seto/Kisara/Set)

. . .

He dreams of hands that are his but aren't. Hands that are callused and hard, darker than his own but still his, in the dream. Hands that hold a soft, pale hand against his—her fingers spreading against his palm, her full lips twitching as they match their hands together, pale to dark, and then their fingers turn slightly so that they can entwine fingers in between fingers, and her hand is warm.

The warmth in his chest isn't his, but it is. The way he feels when he holds her against him, feels the metallic silk of her hair sliding over his shoulders and glittering in the light like platinum, it feels warm and safe and beautiful. Her arms sliding around his waist, and her face pressing against his neck and breathing, just breathing, as he breathes in the scent of her—cool and metallic, like a fresh new penny.

Her voice is meant for him, but it isn't. "I love you,"she whispers into his skin as her hands trail up his back and he shudders, softly, beautifully, at the touch. "I'll protect you forever."

"Aren't I the one who said I would protect you?" It's not his voice, but it is. He's laughing, softly, at the back of his words, but he knows, somehow, in the base of his stomach, that she is right. She is the one protecting him. She is the one saving him. Her cool breath on his skin and her warm hands against him, pulling him up and out of the shadows he would have fallen into, brushing away the dark thoughts like the bangs from his eyes.

He usually wakes up right then, and he's alone, laying in his bed with one arm flung over his eyes to hide the frustrated tears, tears he won't admit that he has.

He'll flap one arm over the side of the bed, to the nightstand, and fumbles with the cards he always leaves there—someone might steal them, he thinks, sometimes. They're right there in the open beside him, the rarest cards in the world. But he can't sleep, not without them sitting there, waiting for him to grasp them, spread the three out in front of him over his head so he can stare at the way the holographic foil catches the light, the same way it had caught her hair.

He presses the cards lightly over his eyes and pretends that he's not wishing, for just a moment, to be somewhere other than here.

To be where she is.

. . .

A/N: Have these feels k thx bye. Next is Clovershipping (Noa x Kisara).