Not much HB fandom going on anymore; it hurts my heart... Well I'm probably not going to update HITR until next week (maybe the 5th) so please be patient until then.
While I was thinking of an ending to the chapter of HITR I was attacked by this story right here. It's nothing special; it's just I've been reading lots of metaphorical books... Curses.
Relatively short, so it won't take too much time to read. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer : I Do Not Own Yu Yu Hakusho
Thrive
It was haunting; a specter that would never disappear.
The cold droplets of water moistened her already damp skin. Every night the sickening tears would lull her to bed, accompanied by soft chokes and a harsh, deliberate bite to her bottom lip. With the moon as her only witness, she sobbed.
The pain… It was all she could do to console her charges. As the reaper, she would kindly extend her hand, to which they would all refuse at first.
It simply took a soft, cooing tone and a gentle patting of their hair to get them to follow. And as they stared at her, eyes wide, blood-shot, and crystalline, she would snatch all the sorrow, all the hurt, and tightly lock it away in her slowly expanding box. Then they would place their hand in hers.
A benign smile was given before they departed, as well as good wishes for one another, and she would return to her dark apartment, her container of emotions filled to the brim.
They had to be let out. They had to be received; it was the only condolence she could give.
And it came out like a lullaby, one not meant to draw comfort, but to instill fear into the listener. And everyday, she returned home with the sadness to look forward to.
It had become a daily ritual until the ache had become durable, and the tears acceptable.
She placed her hand over the carefully hidden box, the key stowed away safely and out of reach to strangers. It beat rhythmically under her palm. She sighed at the figure on the bed.
His chest rose and fell noiselessly, his figure distorted by shadows. Quietly, she leaned over his prone form.
Time to take more pain.
His face was smooth during sleep, unlike during the day when there was always that ever present scowl etched on his seemingly perfect demeanor. He didn't wear a shirt when in bed, so his well toned chest was exposed to her liking. Her finger softly grazed the top of his left cheek bone.
Usually he was a very light sleeper, but on days like this, after a mission and a warm shower, he was out like a light on her comforter covered waist down with a thin cotton blanket for warmth.
The bandanna on his head was hidden behind messy bangs, both black and white, and he laid flat on his back.
There was a sharp twinge delivered to her heart which she thoroughly endured and refined until it simply vanished. They always vanished eventually and she would never have to worry about them again.
However, with this man, they always seemed to come back, new and fresh, if not fresher, than before. Sometimes they came in large portions, sometimes small, but whatever size they came in, they were always heart-breaking.
And he always came to her, and she would always be waiting for him, heart empty and waiting to be filled.
The wind blew through the open window, drying the wetness on her cheeks and chin. She stroked his surprisingly soft skin with an airy sigh. Her slightly chapped lips pressed on his left temple.
Strong arms lazily snaked around her waist and dragged her under the warmed sheets. The hard body crushed onto hers settled with a lengthy exhale of air, followed by the slight press of his nose into the crook of her neck.
"What are you doing?" He asked quietly, his eyes still shut with weariness. She didn't answer quickly, leisurely tracing the contours of his chest with her eyes as she was pressed against him.
"Taking pain." She replied, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, delaying just for a second. His eyes opened into mere slits, crimson irises glowed even in the darkness. He studied her for a moment, his eyes raking vigilantly over her face.
This man never missed a thing. No glance was not noticed, no touch ever ignored, the only things he would possibly disregard were all the feelings carefully woven behind each movement; furthermore, if he did notice them, he rarely showed it.
He retracted his arms away intentionally, judging her by the next move she made.
Without pause, she wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him close enough to smell cinnamon and pine trees.
"Botan." His whispered into her ear as a warning as he subconsciously accepted her intimate contact. "Don't."
Ignoring the almost plea, she laid a trail of tender kisses on his bare skin. Quickly, he rolled them over so he was on top of her, straddling her thighs. "Don't."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips on top of his. A growl erupted from his throat and before she could react, his deepened their kiss, his tongue slipping past her slightly parted lips and exploring her mouth.
"Hiei." She moaned as he nibbled on her earlobe affectionately and he stopped a moment to clearly look into her eyes. The swirls of color were never missed by the pair and before long, he would lean down to give her another aching kiss.
The pain washed away then. It was swept off its feet and carried far, far away until she could no longer see it trialing in the distance. All that was left was the sensation of cleanliness and satisfaction like a thin sheet of rain. It was gone, but it would return, flourishing like it always did.
And just as it arrived, she would be ready to accept it. No matter how many times it came back.
Like I said: metaphors.
Anyways I was trying to show this sythpathetic side of Botan, was it too much? Hopefully not enough to kill this fic... I value your opinions, so please review. Thank you for reading.