Sway
By: Dayglow
::&::
Dedication: For effervescence, my angst queen.
When he died, it had been sunny.
August 12th
"Hello there."
I look up, recognizing the voice that I've been hearing in my head since December of last year.
"Hello back," I say, mentally telling myself to not smile. "Would you like some coffee?" I hold up the coffee pot of freshly brewed Brazilian, indicating her mug with my free hand.
She nods, her dark hair catching the florescent ceiling lights, showing up glossy and soft, causing my hands to itch, my mind to wander, my thoughts to roam.
I need to stop thinking about her.
August 20th
"I don't know what I did to deserve her," he tells me as the tailors busily fuss around him, pinning and measuring, "tsking" and clicking their tongues.
I don't know what you did to deserve her either, I think.
"Mr. Kizoku, it's time for your fitting," a nervous, flighty boy says to me, looking up with wide eyes at my tall frame, chances are wondering if I took any growth hormones when I was his age.
"Fine, fine," I reply, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on.
August 31st
"I'm scared," she tells me secretly, clutching at my hand and squeezing it tight.
How I cherish these hands.
"Stop fidgeting," I say, holding her away at arms' length to look at her in the eyes.
So lovely…
"What if I'm rushing into things? And I don't have anything blue! Nothing blue! And—"
"Here." I pull a string loose from one of my buttons, and tie it around her finger. "Wear it under your glove."
She looks down at her finger, now tied with a fragile string of forget-me-not blue, and for a moment I allow myself to hope.
"Thank you," she whispers, slowly and carefully sliding on her gloves, the fabric pressing the thin thread of silk to her skin.
Hesitantly, she stands on her toes and kisses me on the cheek, making me think bad thoughts.
"Sorry," she says, pulling back quick as a shot, not looking at me. She picks up her bouquet from the table and leaves, her slippers whispering as she walks away.
Dazedly, I listen for the sound of the door closing behind her before my knees give and I fall to the floor, my palms hot against the cool woodwork.
I wonder at what she has to be sorry for.
---
"To the happy couple," I say, raising up my glass. "And to the bride, who cannot be more beautiful tonight."
She blushes, looking contented and happy, and something inside me tightens painfully.
"Lastly, to the groom…I only wish to be as lucky as you someday, old friend."
The room cheers and I sit down, downing my champagne with a fierce urgency, working my way into a nice, drunken stupor.
October 5th
"How was your honeymoon?"
I ask because I'm a masochist.
"It was…wonderful," he says with a wistful sigh, his eyes dazed and dreaming.
I had expected as much.
October 7th
"Will you come with me to take these thank you letters to the post?" she asks, turning up at my doorstep with her oversized sunglasses perched on her head, her voice mischievous. "Come on now, it's a gorgeous sunny day, and if you're a good boy I'll take you out for pizza— I'll even pay this time."
Looking outside, I saw the sun high in the sky, with wisps of white clouds billowing lazily. It really was a pretty day.
"Alright then," I agree, putting on my shoes and coming with her. "But only because you're the one asking."
---
"Don't do this to me," she demands.
She's crying, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt, dampening my cheeks with her tears, filling my ears with her sobbing. "No, no, no…"
I cough out a bit of blood, perplexed and awed by the color, my head feeling dull and stuffy.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to her, reaching out to touch her hair, her beautiful hair, marveling at the softness of it.
She cries harder, lowers her head near mine, and makes assurances that it'll be alright, if only I stay awake a little while longer.
Just a little while longer and help will come. Just a little longer and the debris will be cleared. Just a little while longer and someone will realize they were stuck behind the crumbled wall.
I interrupt her soothing. "There's something I need to tell you before it's too late to."
"Don't say that! Don't you dare s—"
"Listen to me," I command, mustering up my strength.
She calms and quiets, tentative and unsure.
"Kagome," I say, tasting her name for the last time on my tongue, letting the syllables slide and slither across my taste buds. I turn my head ever so slightly, letting my lips brush her skin, closing my eyes and feeling her warmth. "I love you. Love you, love you, love you."
She jerks up, staring at me with wild, wide eyes, while I meekly stare back. "You just had to say that, didn't you?" she says in a strained voice, looking down at me now. "You just had to tell me that you love me, only to leave me now. I had wanted to take you home with me. I wanted to dress you up and show you off to Mama. I wanted to keep you and call you mine. I dreamt all the time of just grabbing and kissing and loving you. I drank your awful coffee, just so that you'd offer me more. Why are you telling me that you love me now?"
She's a mess of hair, streaks of tears, blotches of red on skin, and still I find her breathtaking.
"Don't be so glum," I manage with a weak smile as she lets out a frustrated scream, crying herself hoarse. "It's just a little while longer," I remind her, repeating what she had been so adamant about earlier.
"There is not a little while longer!" she yells desperately, reaching for my hand and squeezing it like she had done on her wedding day. "There is no while longer," she repeats, quietly this time.
I close my eyes and faintly smile, the pain slowly numbing away. "We'll just have to enjoy our last moments together now then, won't we?"
She whimpers and slowly nods, hiccupping into my hand, lowering her head to be near mine again, breathing softly on my neck.
We stay like this for a long time.
Kagome sniffled and sank down further into the couch, staring fixedly at the clock. She sighed as the small chime alerted her the hour: nine o'clock and all wasn't well.
Her husband still wasn't home.
Shivering, she pulled a coverlet over herself, raising up her hand and looking at her wedding ring. It was of a simple design—a single platinum band with an adequate sized diamond, which sparkled pinks, yellows, and oranges when it caught the firelight. Slowly, she slid the ring off her finger and dropped it onto the floor with a dull thud, looking now instead at a single strand of blue string, which had seen better days.
She smiled wryly and kissed the string, thinking of the man who had given it to her.
How she missed him. How she loved him still. How she hated him for dying.
But he didn't make the earthquake happen. He didn't purposely want be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He told her himself he didn't want to leave her, but he had.
Kagome sniffed again, rubbing her eyes against her sleeve in frustration, burrowing further into the couch.
She eventually fell asleep and didn't notice how her husband came in at midnight, with the scent of perfume on his clothes. She was dreaming, and in her dreams he was there, smiling at her.
In her dreams it was sunny.
Note: Happy Chrismahanakwanza! Santa loves you, baby!