The obscure bedroom turned stark white momentarily as a bolt of lightning flashed outside, as the pitter patter of heavy rain and hail disturbed the nightly silence. A howl of thunder followed, and a figure seated at the side of the king-sized bed raised his blond-head. Thunder didn't scare him. No, not at all.
Perhaps it did, sometime in the past; probably his four or five-year old self, who used to cower and cry under his bed, trying to protect his head and turn out the noise by his small hands. The very first time, and you couldn't blame a child to be terrified, he had barely heard any sound in his life. Nobody ever talked to him, after all.
He remembered shouting, calling out desperately for that woman.
She didn't answer of course, nobody did. Although he knew they had heard him, all the people responsible for his misery; who treated him like a mistake. A hitch that was to be eliminated immediately, there was no in between; or it would destroy them.
Their conceitedness was laughable indeed, only it didn't relieve his pain.
He remembered staying up all night, and coming out from the bed; when the storm calmed down. When they brought his change of clothes for the day, every one of them was expression-less; all refusing to notice his puffy red eyes, pinched face and shivering form. The only new thing that day was a meeting with his Duke Grandfather and it was over in a fleeting cold, hard look. But it told him enough.
His dire screams had gone unheard, and that was the future, so he never bothered them with those again.
It was amazing that the feeling of revenge never emerged inside him. It was always hurt, and a bit of vain; he always thought, or rather ached for a world where he had her. Where she would wrap him in her warm embrace and whisper loving things in his ear. He could annoy her, pour his heart out to her, make her proud, and be fussed over by her. Sometimes he did consider her worth despising, but only transitorily; because he yearned for her so much.
People said that she had been beautiful, vivacious, extremely clever; an asset for the Duke. He wished that he could have met her too. The only time he had seen her was in an old picture, which he had come across when he had stumbled into the mansion's storeroom. He took it. He was foolish to think that he could keep it.
After that, he just moved on, made the pain his driving force, longing and working towards the day when he could be free of this place and not bother them with anything, ever again. With his burning desire and his natural talent, he was successful. He was able to get away; but he wasn't able to forget.
But he had achieved what he had been trying to, he had control now. He was taught again how foolish he was to think that. Tacitly, the Duke made him realize what he should have understood long before, his existence was going to be punished; to no end; simply because of the fact that it was there. That night there had been another thunderstorm and after so many years, he again felt the urge to crawl under the bed and cry. Then, there really was nobody to hear, not that it made a difference.
Thunder didn't scare him. No, not at all.
It just made him remember, that was the fault.
Even now, he felt something wet roll down his cheek as another bolt of lightning outside illuminated his face. He didn't like self-pity, but sometimes it was hard to avoid it. Especially, when there was nobody else to show him any. He hated himself for thinking that.
"Takumi?"
He gasped when he was met by a pair of worried amber eyes. Her hair hung down loose as she leaned over the bedside; her appearance still bearing traces of sleep. It changed to slight shock when she noticed the tear stain and his pale and harassed expression. She placed a hand on his shoulder as the cry of thunder resounded in the room once again. He involuntarily stiffened and to his embarrassment, comprehension dawned on her face.
He turned away from her and frantically thought of a way to annoy her and divert her from the present situation. The last person he wanted to show his darkness was her, the only person who had wanted to be with him, had showed him some true compassion. He couldn't handle her leaving because of his inner wretchedness.
"Misa-Chan ~ why did you wake up? You want to-"
"I knew there was something wrong." She interrupted.
His eyes widened when he felt her come down from the bed and sit beside him. He tried to get up and put some distance between them, which was highly unusual but his position called for it. He couldn't. He wouldn't, let her see.
He was grabbed by the collar and roughly pulled down.
"Takumi, wait!" he heard her call, her anxious tone made him stop struggling. He looked at her, her mouth slightly open, one hand on the floor for support and the other and the other still holding him. A slight blush covered her cheeks but her expression was that of pure concern. Maintaining a firm grip on him, she scooted closer and he felt his heart beat faster.
"Takumi." She spoke softly. Her amber orbs relentlessly staring into his emerald green ones, unexpectedly calming him down. He felt his back relax under her touch as she slowly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace; his head against her chest, the erratic beating of her heart blocking out the sound of thunder. He realized now, that she was shaking and it brought a smile to his face. Making himself more comfortable; he put her arms around her and felt her gasp lightly and then relax.
Thunder didn't scare him. No, not at all.
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"I' m exhausted." Misaki sighed as she seated herself on her desk in her office. Her subordinates had just left after a tough day's work. Being a world-class diplomat was tiring after all, even without all the tightly scheduled traveling. And Misaki being herself, found it necessary to make it even more so by working extra.
Old habits die hard, she contemplated; smiling slightly.
"Misa-Chan ~ I was wondering what was taking you so long."
Misaki nearly fell out of her chair. It was remarkable really, or rather infuriating; that even after ten years, he still caught her off guard, every time. Blushing with humiliation and (she would never admit it) because of the presence of the alien himself, she rounded on him.
"Who let you in?"
"Why should anyone stop me?" he asked, feigning an innocent tone but then it turned teasing, "I am your husband, Misa-Chan ~"
"I told you not to use that name in office!" she furiously whispered at him while her cheeks darkened.
He chuckled and walked towards her, dressed smartly in a gray suit; both hands in his pockets.
"You never change, Misaki." He said.
Misaki was surprised when he stopped just short of her desk, he usually would try to do something perverted with her. Or just casually sit at her cluttered desk to annoy her. She glanced up to him; he was staring at her with a foreign expression on his face. His eyes were squinted with a light flush on his appearance, wearing a foolish, yet genuine grin.
It made the diplomat redden a little more, and her heart rate increased. He rarely smiled like that, but there was something incredible about it. What it did most was, making Misaki even more nervous than usual.
"W-what?" she questioned uncertainly.
"Nothing really." He answered while chuckling softly.
She forgot so easily did she? No, perhaps she didn't grasp the significance, of her act or rather of her being; for him. His Misaki, she wasn't self-conscious at all. The fact kept proving itself over and over again. Or rather could it be that she understood his discomfort and decided not to bring it up? She wouldn't be Misaki if she didn't surprise him. He watched her, she was biting her lip and looking him with anxious eyes; the ever-present blush still there, all in the cutest way possible.
Then suddenly he heard a sharp intake of breathe and once again he felt a jolt of surprise as awareness emerged on her face and she completely trapped him unawares by speaking.
"If it's about last night, don't worry about it." She smiled and he felt his heart beat pick up speed, "I'm actually quite happy that you opened up to me. I feel closer to you now. And it proves that you might be a human after all,"
She was interrupted by an abrupt outburst of male laughter.
Misaki glanced up in astonishment to see him snickering openly, with one hand on his forehead the other on his side, his face red. She would have been angry if she hadn't been so spellbound by his reaction. It was a seldom sight, indeed. But it was highly pleasing.
He moved towards her; too fast for her to respond before he put both of his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and burying his face in her neck.
"I love you, Misaki." He murmured in her ear.
This brought her out of her reverie and her face turned tomato red, or perhaps even more showing the full impact of her embarrassment.
"I know. Moreover, let go! Someone might see us!" she frenziedly told him while trying to get out of his grip, but typically it was in vain.
"Does it matter Misa-Chan? They know I am your husband."
He gave her mischievous grin and led her back towards the wall, effectively trapping her.
"Yes, but they don't know that you are also A. Massive. Pervert!" she protested while struggling to push him away by her hands.
"Then why don't we tell them?" he suggested as he leaned forwards and Misaki blushed harder pushing herself back against the wall to delay the inevitable.
"Idiot…" she muttered before losing the fight.
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How cute.
Well I wrote this for the people who don't find usui a human. Hope that clears things up.
RxR!