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The bunk creaks as Chrome sits down on its edge. The smell of blood, both human and alien, hangs in the air. Her kevlar vest and tan undershirt fall to the floor from limp, grimy fingers, and she hunches forward as Kyoko climbs into the bunk behind her. “We’re back,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around Chrome’s bare waist. “We’re back, Chrome-chan. We’re back, and we’re alive.”
Chrome shudders in her arms as fragile as a baby bird, like one good squeeze will shatter her beyond repair. Kyoko presses her lips against bruised and sweaty skin, a grounding kiss after their tumultuous mission. Again she whispers, “We’re back, Chrome-chan.”
“But they aren’t,” Chrome whispers. The words wet and broken and accompanied by another full-body shudder. “And they won’t ever be.” Teardrops land on the back of Kyoko’s hands, and she presses another kiss into Chrome’s shoulder.
It’s the only comfort she can give. Her arms around her, the warmth of her body against her back, and kisses pressed into bare skin. Reminders that they are here, and alive, and together.
The words ‘For now’ loom like a scythe hanging over them, and Kyoko presses another desperate kiss into Chrome’s skin.