Title: Methodical
Rating: T at Most
Characters/Pairings: KuroxFai
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: He would only make it obvious when the children were not present, when the only spectator to his charade was me.
Notes: Meant to be from Kurogane's point of view but it doesn't fit him. I still like it though.
He would only make it obvious when the children were not present, when the only spectator to his charade was me. When it became a private showing – not like the shows of before which were just on the wrong side of seductive – the actions, sharp words were only carried out with the intention to mentally challenge me and hopefully (for him, not myself) push me away.
He would stop the far too perfect – methodical – rise and drop of his chest in my presence. He would turn cold only when I was close by. Stop each and every pulse point only when I touched him. Allow himself to finally give in to the 'thing' he had become and give up the human weakness of breathing whenever his mouth fell near my wrist and pulsing veins. In those intimately disgusting moments – when his warm breathe should have been tingling my wrist - he would stare with dead eyes, painfully reminding me of what I had made him in my pitifully selfish moment.
The hair on the back of my neck would rise momentarily when cold lips and a damp tongue searched out for my blood. It would send shivers to my knees' making it hard to stand for all the wrong reasons. They would quiver in fear, and a morbid anticipation until I came to my senses and reminded myself that it was normal for him to be cold, to lack a pulse, to not breathe.
For when he did all three – when he breathed, pumped blood and radiated body heat - he was lying not only to himself but to the children. He even lulled me into believing that despite the eye-patch he was still what he used to be – minus the infuriating smiles I would sometimes love to return. I found that despite my chagrin for his lies, the truth he would spring up on me in the most delicate of situations discouraged me and hurt more than any of his lies could.
It was a game to him, the intricate weaving of a web destined to be harshly destroyed, a false sense of security carefully crafted as they all drifted off to sleep while I stayed awake making sure everyone was deeply under... and breathing. When almost reaching the confines of sleep myself, my eyes nearly drooping to a close, his breathe would suddenly stop and I would wake with a start only to realise that he had only finally succumbed to sleep.
It was in those brief moments that I realised true fear and my wish for true strength materialised, if only momentarily.
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