A/N: You won't believe how many ideas I've rejected for Scatter's V-Day contest before I finally decided. There is one idea that persists, and since the premise amuses me whenever I think of it, I might one day get around to writing it.
An extra special reward to whoever can (first, because I think it's really obvious…) spot the literary reference in the title.
/commencer/
She Walked in Beauty
-
She sneezed.
It wasn't one of those delicate little sneezes that her sister had managed to master, either. Oh no, this was one of those sneezes that throw you completely off-balance.
And cause you to careen head first into a stranger, as she found out.
She slammed roughly onto the ground but the blow was softened by the firmly packed snow. After hoisting herself halfway up and shaking her short hair free of any stray clumps, she turned and opened her mouth to apologize.
Unfortunately, the words died on her throat. The stranger looked to be crying.
For one crazy second, she thought he was crying because she had knocked into him but seeing the way he scrambled desperately around on the snow-covered ground trying to collect whatever had scattered brought her mind back to reasonable thinking.
She was then about to ask if the guy was hurt when she felt something soft brush against her skin. Looking down, she saw it was a rose and belatedly realized that he was trying to snatch the flowers that had fallen out of a bouquet before they were swept away. She wondered if they were for his girlfriend (which still didn't explain why he was crying but she had already firmly decided it was a business best left un-meddled with). She stood up, stem of the rose carefully clutched her hand, brushed herself off, then stuck the full-bloom rose in his face.
The stranger stopped his frantic searching. He slowly raised his head, and their eyes met.
Swirling fire-red depths that burned even brighter because of the tears. The sight made her heart drop from her chest.
"Here," she said shortly. She really didn't need a heart anyway.
Never once breaking eye contact, he reached up and took the proffered flower. He stayed where he was, but she began to back up, already uncomfortable with the situation. The last thing she needed was some strange man pouring his heart out to her.
She turned, feeling his eyes sear into her back, and walked away.
-
The warm air of the cozy bookshop washed over her and smoothed her frazzled nerves. Eyes closed, she smiled and breathed in the cinnamon scent that always wafted by with the first step inside.
"Close the door, will ya? It's freezing out there."
She chuckled. "Sorry. Just enjoying the smell of this place."
"Well, stop your weird smelling routine and get your butt to work."
She went in the back and rid herself of her overcoat, scarf, and woolen hat before emerging again into the main part of the small store she ran with her sister. It was an endless job of making sure everything was properly cataloged, but it was yet another mundane routine she loved to fill her days with. The two worked without words, the soothing sounds of pianos and cellos filling the silence, until the bell above the door jangled. It wasn't unusual for there to be a customer, but the sisters looked up anyway.
She wished she hadn't.
He was standing in the doorway as she had not long before, his huffs of breath visible in the chill air. Clutched in one gloved hand was his bouquet of roses. His eyes searched the interior and landed on her, crouched before a shelf, a pile of books stacked haphazardly by her side.
She was frozen in place (despite the surprise she could feel rolling off her sister), but he determinedly strode over to her. He towered over her, and she could see that he hadn't bothered to wipe away the trails of tears on his face.
"Here," he said shortly, holding out the bouquet. His eyes were turbulent but impossible to read.
Her hand had already begun to reach for the flowers before she knew what she was doing. It stilled in midair. He didn't retreat.
It was a long, heavy moment before she finally took his gift. Bringing them to her face, she inhaled the sweet scent. Fresh flowers were hard to come by in winter.
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
Now that he was actually stringing together a sentence, she heard the melodious timbre of his voice. It streamed down her spine and caused warmth to flow into her limbs. She decided it was strangely akin to cuddling in front of a fire.
She realized he was shifting back and forth, nervously waiting for her answer and closed her eyes to breathe in the roses again. Accepting the bouquet was good and all, but lunch made things more definite, more tangible, and she had already chosen to live without anything so concrete.
But she didn't want to hurt this man's feelings. So she said, "I'm sorry, but my sister—"
"—will be perfectly fine on her own." That voice so like hers interrupted, and she turned to glare at her traitorous twin. "Go on, I can take care of things here."
Something flickered in her sister's eyes, so, with a sigh, she stood up from her chair. The two strangers paused, cautiously staring at one another, before slowly walking out of the store.
-
He was looking out the window when she saw a flash of gold as he reached for his cup. Looking closer, she thanked the gods, in a kind of desperate relief, for revealing this to her before she was submerged any deeper.
"You're married." It was a matter-of-fact statement, accompanied by the smooth movement of her hand bringing her own cup to her lips.
He turned his blank gaze to her then down at his hand, paused in mid-reach. He seemed to be contemplating something before bringing his other hand to the stilled one and deftly slipping the wedding band off his finger, placing it on the table with a resounding clink.
"Not anymore."
Oh, she wanted to say but found that her mouth had suddenly gone dry. And here she thought the gods had been looking out for her.
"Will you go to the park with me?"
It was such a strange request, but she thought it wasn't that unusual compared to the situation as a whole.
"It will be cold, though," the reasonable part of her pointed out, the part that was insisting this was a very bad idea.
He threw her a dangerous, dashing smirk. "I'll keep you warm."
She resolutely opened her mouth to tell him the thing that would end this ridiculous affair but seeing the light of his eyes dim just a tiny bit, she closed it. And thought of a phrase she had been hearing bounced around her quite often nowadays.
No day but today…
She smiled.
-
The snow was just beginning to thaw and the cherry blossoms just beginning to poke out of their buds. They rolled down the hill together, laughing, their clothes stained by the slosh and what little grass there was. They never cared. Their momentum was halted by the sudden flattening of the ground, with her on top. She leaned down and placed a swift, fierce kiss on his lips.
"I've never laughed as much as I do when I'm with you."
"You always say that." He meant it to sound disinterested, but she could see the confusion masked behind the joy in his eyes.
"I know."
He was continually perturbed by her mysteriousness on such occasions, the wound of his cheating wife still too fresh in his heart. She knew this, and so he wondered what kind of secret it was that she would keep from him. He rolled her over, letting his masculine frame tower over her.
She reached up a hand and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the softness of her skin.
"I love you," she said, her voice sure and strong, as if she was afraid she had almost lost the courage to say the words.
He kissed her, letting the tears seep from his eyes and mix with her own.
-
Her laughter had reached hysterical levels, her body twisting to escape the relentless torture from his hands.
"If I had known how ticklish you are, I would have done this long ago."
Her glare was ruined by her giggles. "You—pant—are—pant—"
Without even stopping, he tipped his head down to her ear, his hair and breath tickling her skin. "I'm what?"
An unexpected surge of strength burst from her, and she managed to turn the tables and pin him against the wall, his hands securely above his head.
She grinned mischievously at him. "You're so gonna regret tickling me."
He refrained from mentioning that he was happily waiting to see what her idea of "revenge" was.
-
When she opened the door to her apartment after a long day at work, she was greeted with candlelight and the delicious aroma of Italian cooking. His messy, purple-haired head poked out of the kitchen.
"You're home early."
She smiled at him. "And you're cooking me dinner."
"Who says this food is for you?" He winked at her.
It wasn't unusual for him to cook for her (after all, she burned toast), but she had a faint inkling he had some ulterior motive behind his actions tonight.
When he led her to her bedroom after the meal, her suspicions were confirmed.
And later, when his arms cradled her close and just as her consciousness was slipping away, she realized how grateful she was to this man for opening her heart when she thought it had been closed forever.
And she felt incredibly guilty.
-
He thundered around the room, knocking chairs down and even smashing her favorite vase against the wall, the one he had given her, the one with roses painted on it. She let him, standing at the very edge of the destruction, the wise and weary presence. She let him, because she hadn't expected anything else.
He abruptly stopped and leaned his forearms on the wall, his head bowed against them.
"Were you just h-hoping I would never f-find out?" he choked, and she wondered whether he was keeping back his tears or his rage.
"No. I just didn't know how to tell you." She moved toward him after a few moments and placed her hand on his trembling shoulders. Even if he rejected her, she needed to touch him.
He went still, but she didn't know if that was a positive sign. His head swiftly came up, and his fiery eyes locked onto her face. She felt her heart shudder at the pain she saw that she never wanted to cause.
She opened her mouth to tell him some meaningless little thing about how he should move on, when he surprised her by dropping down to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head in her stomach. When he spoke, the words were muffled, but she still heard them.
"Marry me."
She had never really expected this to happen. Dreamed about it, maybe, but she had always guessed that when he found out, he would leave her, like any other sensible man.
She twirled a hand through his hair, the goddamn tears threatening to spill over, as she absently thought she should have realized that he was nowhere near the classification of a "sensible man."
"Yes."
-
They were sitting on the steps of the local temple, watching the fireworks brighten the night sky in their kimonos. He was watching her, taking in the details of her face as she watched, smiling, at the explosions when she spoke.
"Have you ever heard of the legend of the Phantom Thief?"
Yet another thing he loved about her. She had so much knowledge from reading all the ancient books that came to the shop, and he always enjoyed listening to her stories. He leaned back and propped himself up with his elbows, still watching her. "No."
"They say he appears once every generation, a spirit that inhabits the body of the first male of a particular family."
"And what if the family has no sons?"
She fixed him with an annoyed glare, and he shut up. "He is called forth as a guardian, to steal artworks that belong to the family that have been scattered throughout the years."
"Well that doesn't sound very nice."
This time she ignored him. "He can only be activated by feelings of love, though. They say every generation he finds one girl to give his heart to, but that he's cursed to never be with the one he loves."
"Must be because he steals things."
"You unfeeling man, you." She playfully slapped his shoulder, and he chuckled, grabbing her wrist to place a chaste kiss against her pulse. She looked at him thoughtfully. "Isn't that sad? That he can never feel complete? He'll wander the night, lonely and searching for his one Sacred Maiden…" She trailed off, gazing at sky like a lost woman.
"Sucks to be him." He brought her closer to him, eager to chase away her haunted look. "I'm glad I found my Sacred Maiden."
She smiled at him, and he felt relieved that he had chased away the ghosts for now.
-
It was a quiet affair, attended only by the couple's closest friends. It was a strange, happy day. No one commented how the bride's pale skin almost matched the color of her white dress. He had never felt more exhilarated than when he saw her walk down the aisle towards him. That is, until he slipped the wedding ring on her finger, and she promised to be his wife until death.
The newlyweds were gaily toasted, and the after party continued until the wee hours of the morning. They were dancing to some cheesy slow song when he felt her grip on his shoulders tighten.
"I don't want this to end."
He heard the dread and desperation in her voice and held her tighter. He hated what he had to say next.
"Everything comes to an end, darling. Enjoy the moment for what it is."
He felt her body relax, the anxiety slipping out and replaced by the calm resignation he knew helped her through the days.
-
He was with her when the first pain started. She had been happily humming a nameless tune while stirring the batter for a chocolate cake when he heard the spoon clatter to the ground. He rushed in to see her kneeling on the floor, her breath coming out in short, painful gasps, and her hands clenched so the knuckles were white.
He didn't bother calling 911. He scooped her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital.
-
They did what they could to make her comfortable. Since it wasn't necessary to be under constant observation, she decided she would remain at home.
He cooked her meals and gave her medication and smoothed her rapidly disappearing hair when she managed to sleep. It was never a peaceful sleep, she would confide in him and only him.
She was too weak to do much, but she did read, and every night he would lie next to her on the bed as she told him the story she had read that day.
Her sister provided enough money to sustain them and went shopping whenever they needed something, so he never left her side. Once, when she had voiced her fears about being a dead weight to him, he shushed her.
"This is my choice, and I won't have you feeling any guilt."
-
He was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of her small voice. He immediately went to her, and he took the hand she blindly reached out between his own.
"I'm here."
She tugged her hand, wanting him closer to her. He complied, careful as he slid his body next to her, and wrapped his warmth around her shuddering frame.
"I'm scared."
"I know, darling. But I'm here," he repeated.
"I want to see your face."
He turned her so she was facing him. She studied him, her eyes huge and dark against her white skin and bald head. He could feel the tears start to burn his eyes but willed them back for just a little while. She sighed, and, shaking, she brought her hand to his face, tracing the contours.
"You're so beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so."
She weakly chuckled, but it seemed to drain her since her hand stopped its path and merely rested on his cheek.
"Until death do us part, right?" Her voice began to trail away and her eyes began to drift close.
"Right." The knot in his throat didn't allow him to speak much more than that.
"I'll love you…even longer…that that." She paused to take in another rattling breath. "Is that…okay?"
He didn't laugh, but he smiled, and he saw her lips curl in response beneath her closed lids. "That's fine, darling. Promise you'll wait for me?"
She murmured something that sounded like a "yes" before everything in her stilled.
With the tears freely spilling down his cheeks, he kissed her.
-
She had looked beautiful in her wedding dress, which she insisted on being clothed in. She had said that death was a new beginning, and that she didn't want it to be spoiled by some drabby black dress.
The red roses that surrounded her in the casket he had insisted upon.
The funeral was over and done with, the mourners had shed their tears, and she had been lowered into the ground. He was the last one left, sitting on the freshly-packed ground, right in front of her tombstone. Autumn was just creeping in, the leaves just turning their colors. He was supposed to go to her sister's house soon, where everyone was having dinner.
He couldn't stand up.
Standing up would mean surrendering her to the earth, to leaving her alone when she was so scared to be alone…
He shook his head. She wouldn't want this, she had tried so hard to keep him away so this very thing wouldn't happen, but it was happening, and he couldn't stop it. He had been strong for her for so long, but now that she was gone, he had no strength left. He never thought about his life after her because some desperate part of him refused to believe she would really leave him, but she did and now he was left all alone in this world.
He wanted to cry, but she took his tears with her too.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he absently remembered how she loved to dance in the rain, how she dragged him along with her, laughing all the way.
He shook his head again. He had been warned this would happen, that once she left he would relive all their moments together. Fine, he thought to himself. Let me drown in them.
He felt a caressing breeze against his face, and he heard more thunder.
I love you.
Was he to be haunted by her voice wherever he went?
No day but today.
He paused, and the world paused with him.
That was her motto. No day but today.
"Promise me something?"
"What?"
"Live for me. I can't do it myself, so I want you to. Do you promise?"
The rain came down now. A few splatters at first but soon entire sheets began blasting the ground. He lifted his head to the sky, and his next words were lost.
"I promise."
But he had a feeling she heard him anyway.
He reached out and traced the engravings on her headstone before standing up.
He paused a moment then laughed. And, in the rain, danced his way back.
-
Riku Mousy
My Sacred Maiden
/fin/
A/N: Ho hum.