A soft giggle ripped through the warm air, and Sesshomaru forced himself not to frown. He kept his gaze straight forward, although he wasn't looking at anything in particular. It was just easier to pretend he wasn't there when he wasn't making direct eye contact with anyone. The rusty metal of the gate behind him was starting to make his skin itchy where it touched his arm, but he ignored that discomfort as well. Seriously, how long did it take for Inuyasha to leave the building?
To his dismay, Sesshomaru realized the group of girls to his left were inching closer to him. This time, he couldn't keep his face from darkening. He'd had enough of this in high school. Sesshomaru was sought after by many girls while he attended this horridly mediocre public school, but relationships weren't his thing. He wished people would stop trying.
It wasn't his fault that all of the American girls here found him excitingly exotic. His grandparents had moved from Japan to California years ago; he'd heard the story many times throughout his youth. "Sesshomaru!" his father would bellow when he came home with any grades below an A-. "My parents didn't sacrifice everything they had to leave Japan just for you to become a failure!"
Once arriving in America, his grandparents had opened a small restaurant in the basement of their home. That quickly took off, and now they had a thriving franchise with restaurants all over California and other parts of the US. This meant that Sesshomaru now lived in a rich area in LA, surrounded by blonde headed, fake tanned white girls, who all thought his high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes were irresistible. It helped that somewhere down the line Sesshomaru had a British ancestor, who graced his genes with bleach blonde hair and hazel eyes that looked gold most of the time.
The girls were right by Sesshomaru's side now, casually leaning against the gate that separated the high school from its parking lot. They were pretending to talk about their classes, but Sesshomaru could tell even without looking at them that their focus was on him. When he was sure one of the girls was going to be brave and speak to him, he heard a familiar annoying voice beat her to it.
"The hell are you doing here?" Inuyasha asked, walking up to Sesshomaru. His gait was casual and slow, and he had a black bookbag slung over his left shoulder. In his right hand he carried a pile of textbooks that were wrapped in girly, pink paper, obviously not his. Just as Sesshomaru suspected, that girl Kagome was by Inuyasha's side. How lovely.
Although he found the presence of his half-brother to be annoying, he was thankful that it had at least scared the group of girls away. Sesshomaru sighed and pushed himself off of the gate. "Your mother wanted me to pick you up on my way home. Today was the last day of midterms and I have a week off. I believe she mentioned something about a family dinner."
"Ugh, great," Inuyasha groaned, tipping his head back. Obviously, the younger boy wasn't keen on spending time with his older brother either. Frowning, he went on to explain. "I was gonna go over Kagome's for dinner today. I've had this planned all week, mom knows that." The way Inuyasha complained reminded Sesshomaru of a whiney child and his eyes automatically narrowed. He hated children.
Sesshomaru watched as Kagome smiled and took her books out of Inuyasha's hand. "That's alright, Inuyasha. We didn't know Sesshomaru was coming home; I think it's sweet that your mother wants to welcome your brother back with a family dinner. I'll call you later tonight, okay?" With that, the girl leaned up to press a kiss against Inuyasha's pouty frown. With blush coloring her cheeks, Kagome turned to Sesshomaru and bowed slightly. "Welcome home, Sesshomaru. It was nice to see you again." After that, she was off, walking towards a small black car, which she entered and drove off in.
Without waiting for Inuyasha, Sesshomaru entered his sleek, silver sports car which sat in the parking spot just in front of them. Although the car was already two years old, the interior was as immaculate as the day he'd bought it. The outside was much the same. Sesshomaru's OCD kept his mind working twenty-four seven, and he found that cleaning things helped him through his panic attacks. This resulted in him constantly cleaning his car and fixing any little thing that was wrong with it. Inuyasha always hated this about his brother, how everything had to be perfect or it wasn't good enough for him. The younger boy just didn't understand the motives behind his brother's actions, and it's easier to hate things than to try to understand them.
The ride home was completely silent. Inuyasha wanted to turn on the radio, but he knew he would only find static and classical music channels. Not his thing. Thankfully, they didn't live too far from the high school, which is why Inuyasha usually walked home. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that sitting down in an air-conditioned place was nicer than walking. Still, Sesshomaru's presence could ruin anything, even the benefit of an AC in the middle of California heat.
When the boys arrived home, Inuyasha's mother was waiting at the door. With a smile on her face, she stepped aside to let her boys inside. "Sesshomaru! Inuyasha! Welcome home," Izayoi said, her tone calm and comforting. It was nothing like the icy tone of Sesshomaru's birth mother. Inuyasha wasted no time wrapping an arm around his mother in greeting. "Hey mom," he spoke, releasing Izayoi from the half hug. The woman right away turned towards the older boy, who was walking past her.
"Oh Sesshomaru, it's so nice to have you back. The house is so empty without you. How's your first semester at college going?" she questioned. Inuyasha hated that his mother still tried so hard to have a relationship with his prick of a half-brother. To Inuyasha, Sesshomaru wasn't worthy of his mother's attention.
"It's fine," Sesshomaru said. He didn't stop to look back at the woman or start a conversation with her like he knew she wanted him to. He just simply didn't have the energy. What was he to say? Did she expect Sesshomaru to confess to her how impossible being a pre-med major was, especially in an honors program? He was struggling more than he had in his life. Insomnia had kicked in after spending too many nights locked in the library doing research. His OCD made it impossible to ever relax; he always found himself re-editing his papers, even if they were perfect, there was always something wrong. He just hadn't found it yet. As of now, he had straight A's in all five of his classes. Professors and classmates would praise him, commenting on how effortlessly he did everything. Little did they know Sesshomaru was really struggling more than they knew. Obviously, he wouldn't tell all of this to his step mother.
Sesshomaru entered his room and breathed in deeply. He missed it here. Looking around, he realized nothing had changed. His bed was still in the far right corner with a small black table next to it. A calming scented candle and the last fiction book he'd attempted to read before becoming too busy laid on it's hard black surface. His desk was a few feet away, sitting in between two massive black bookshelves that were completely full. Above his desk, more shelves were drilled into the wall. These shelves held little knicknacks he'd brought back with him from vacations and travel studies, and sculptures he'd created in his youth. Around him, the walls were filled with recreations of renaissance paintings that his birth mother had forced him to do. Although he was proud of how perfect they'd come out, Sesshomaru was bored of them. When he was younger, he felt like that's all his life would ever be: a copy of something great, not an original. It was proving to be that way.
A heavy sigh escaped him as he sat down on his bed. His comforter was thick and white, matching his white walls and carpet. Black and white were the only colors that filled his room, besides the aforementioned paintings. It was easier for Sesshomaru to look at these colors instead of bright ones; his anxiety was calmed by solid blankness, there was nothing he could find wrong with it. Leaning back on his pillow, Sesshomaru took his iPhone out of his pocket and clicked the home button, checking any notifications. He'd gotten an iMessage from Miroku, a boy he'd vaguely known in high school but had become quite close with now that they were in the same university.
Ask me how I deal with traditional Japanese parents. I don't know. You're so lucky yours are Americanized.
Sesshomaru rolled his eyes at the message. Earlier that day Miroku had been complaining about coming home to his aunt and uncle, who'd only moved to California when Miroku was six years old. They took on the responsibility of raising him after his parents died, but unlike his deceased parents, his aunt and uncle barely spoke a lick of English and resented the American way of life. Sesshomaru had little pity for his friend though. He'd opt for traditional Japanese parents over his own messed up family any day.
Looking at the time on his phone, Sesshomaru figured he could take a short nap before dinner. Without answering his friend, he placed his phone on the table next to his bed and turned over. He forced his head deeper into his fluffy pillow and crossed his arms over his chest. Sleep would have to come his way, he thought, and eventually it did.