I don't own Naruto – Masashi Kishimoto does.
Characters: Madara and an OC.
Inspired By: Avril Lavigne – My Happy Ending
Warnings: Language
She sat in the oak wooden chair, her posture slumped, and her face hidden in her trembling hands. Her chest was shivering, the breaths coming unsteadily, but even. Her heartbeat fluctuating, yet she stayed calm. Her elbows rested on the tabletop, and she didn't move. Even as the cupboard door at the other side of the room was flung abruptly shut by a furious owner.
"You're such a bitch!" The voice was rough, and she hated herself when she noted the flutter in her stomach it induced in her. But she sure as hell embraced the sheer rage that overwhelmed the continuous hurt in a tsunami she couldn't resist.
She threw herself up out of the seat, her black hair flying, her charcoal eyes blazing. Her hands were ripped from her face, and she slammed her hands down on the table, ignoring the uneasy creaking sound it made at her unnatural strength. After all, it wasn't built to withstand a ninja throwing their full strength at it without hesitation.
"Me? I'm the bitch? That's rich, coming from you! Guess I wasn't enough for you, huh? I don't know whether to be insulted or not? By God, I would know how to react if you had slept with another woman! So what were you, Madara? Bottom?" She mocked, her fury bursting out violently.
She dodged the half-empty sake cup that was thrown at her head, and let out a strange sort of frustrated scream.
"You're a bastard, you know that! I thought we had been sorting this out, your determination to end this arrangement. You, acting as if this were my fault! Not as if I wanted this bloody marriage! I loved someone else, just like you! But, unlike you, at least I had the decency to end it; at least I intended to be faithful!" She screamed, her face going red.
She didn't dare mention anything about the sheer rush she got when she heard her boy-toy wanted to end it, nor the sly, shy glances she would give him when he wasn't looking. This was before the marriage, of course (not that he knew this. Never ever). Now, happiness was weakness. Sadness was weakness. The only thing that could keep her going was anger, rage. Only the fire gave her the strength not to end it all. And the frustrating, hair-ripping ripple of joy he gave her life. The lure of passion, scalding heat and adoration that lay tantalisingly close to the surface, yet under a shield impenetrable to all but her.
No, she got the sharp chill, the icy tongue, and the sting that came with being Madara's untouchable enemy. Her position; so high in society, so low in the eyes of him. If there was anyway to swap those roles around… well, there was nothing she wouldn't do.
She stood back abruptly when a warm body appeared in front of her, and glared up at the cold and sneering eyes – eyes that hid the ever-present anger.
"What do you mean intending?" His voice was low and dangerous, and a chill ran up her spine before she steeled herself. How dare he!
"Well you know what they say – an eye for an eye."
She jumped out of the way when his now red orbs narrowed, and she spun under his held out arm, and corrected herself, walking with a composed air towards the other door. That one led to the rest of the house, where the servants were hiding. They knew from experience to stay out of the way when she and Madara fought. Things died.
"How dare you, woman!" His words echoed around the suddenly silent kitchen, and she paused, her heels no longer tapping on the polished and sanded wood.
She whirled around, her locked her eyes on his, her bloodline activating. She held no fear of his eyes, knowing full well if he had any common sense at all he wouldn't illusion her. For she would enact vengeance, and it would be damn well fierce.
"How dare me? You bloody hypocrite! What a double standard. You expect me to remain the loyal, obedient, innocent housewife while you go off playing man-whore, loaning yourself out to a willing body? Stuff that. I'm no weak housewife, Uchiha Madara; I won't simply tolerate your activities!" Her voice suddenly went quiet. "And I never will."
She blinked, the fire in her chest suddenly dying, and she felt tired again. The exhaustion was dampening, and she couldn't remember the last time she genuinely smiled.
She smoothed out her kimono, wiped away the raging tear that had fallen, and turned around again. Her steps were slower this time, and she had just reached the door when through the abnormal and deathly quiet a cold hand wrapped around her bare upper arm. The grip was firm but calm. She halted, and her head dropped to the ground, her forehead but an inch from the wood. She sighed heavily, and the hand moved slightly.
The pain in her heart screamed at her, yet the hateful, annoying, pestering, unhelpful, unwanted love grew a fraction once more. She hated this. The never ending fights, the never ending wars within her own home. The rage, then cold silence. Then the pain. Then the cycle begins again. The endless, unbreakable cycle that she came back to over and over and over again.
She loved him. She hated him. Her heart was split, yet the opposite pieces melded together seamlessly, so much so that she could hardly separate the positive from the negative.
She also hated that this had happened before, oh so many times, mostly the same topics fought over-
- She also hated the fact she would wake up at his side tomorrow once more, and the cycle would begin again.
A never ending circle of pain and torment.
A hell she willingly endured for the hope of a taste of something she would never ever experience.
Hmmm… depressing. Yet fitting, me thinks.
Am I the only one that thinks Madara's still awesome, even if he's not Tobi?