You told yourself it was survival. You told yourself it meant nothing. You told yourself a lot of things as you climbed onto the bunk and let him pull you against his chest.
“Status?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.
You are mine, and I am yours. The crash was an accident. You were not. I chose to be on that ship. I chose to be near you. I have been choosing you since the first cycle, when you spoke to me not as a monster, but as a person.
His arms came around you, crushing you to his chest. His hearts were racing now, a frantic double-beat that matched your own. He buried his face in your hair, and you felt him shudder.