CHAPTER ONE
"I had sex with someone else."
Nagato sat on the sofa in the living room of Konan's studio apartment. Leaning forward, he supported his frame by his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped in between. He'd rang Konan earlier that rainy morning that he was coming around to her place, mentioning he'd something urgent to discuss with her. She mentioned she'd equally important news of her own to share with him as well, but he'd conjured his courage and insisted on going first, knowing that if he hadn't come clean now, chances were he wouldn't any time soon, and she deserved more than to be kept in the dark.
The silence that ensued was tense with uncertainty as Nagato awaited some reaction from the porcelain-skinned beauty. His eyes leveled with hers, the stoicism of her face a mirror image of his own. Her body was turned slightly towards him where she sat next to him on the sofa at a cautious distance as if she'd been bracing herself for the worst. A defense mechanism, he thought to himself, frowning at the thought of Konan ever needing to protect herself from him. Her legs were demurely crossed at her ankles beneath the black, ankle length pencil skirt she wore. Her back was ramrod straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. A corner of his mouth lifted into a smile at the picture of reserve she presented. It had been one of the things that drew him to her over the years they'd known one another. It was one of the things he'd grown to love about her now.
He mentally drew himself up at that last admission. Yes, he loved her. God, how he loved her! How or when or why, he didn't know, and it was irrelevant. He only knew that he loved her, was in love with her, and had probably always been, but was just too foolish to acknowledge it, to act on it. There was nothing else to explain the guilt that afflicted him, that propelled him to rush to her apartment so early this morning to confess his sin. His chest suddenly contracted painfully as the realization gripped him that he could very well lose Konan over this. Konan, the woman he loved. Though Nagato had suffered pain before in the loss of his loved ones, he knew the pain of losing Konan would be no less intense.
Upon Nagato's confession, Konan's features had remained unaffected, her features arranged into their usual mask of indifference. Her steel gray eyes hadn't blinked as they locked with Nagato's eyes in an unwavering gaze. His eyes glowed with an emotion she couldn't recognize. She fought the urge to massage her temples where the telltale throb of an oncoming headache was pulsating.
Konan hadn't been able to sleep last night. Thoughts had run through her mind as she fitfully tossed before finally pulling herself up into a reclining position against the headboard of her bed. She had been a fit of nerves all that week as she repeatedly processed how she was going to break the news to Nagato.
Nagato, I'm pregnant with your child.
Her eyes had shifted to her bedroom window where the rain outside pelted against the glass and streaked down the glass in rivulets. Her hand skimmed the ring in her navel as she reached her hand beneath the sheet and rested it atop the smooth, flat plane of her abdomen.
She had feared Nagato's reaction more than anything. How would he take the news of the baby? She'd just had her pregnancy confirmed, her gynecologist having calculated her to be in her first trimester. Nagato had been out of town for a week and was due back any day now. She thought it best to tell him straight away and allow the chips to fall where they may. After all, he was the father and had a right to know. She ran her other hand through her cobalt tresses and briefly closed her eyes, content to concentrate on the music of the rain when a thought caused them to open wide and glitter unnoticed in the darkness of her bedroom.
What if he didn't want her to have the baby? No sooner had the thought formed that she dismissed it. Her eyes drifted closed again. They'd known one another since childhood, having been raised together in the same orphanage. She knew him well enough to rest assured he'd never entertain the idea of an abortion. Having both lost their parents during their adolescence, they both held strong positions where the taking of any innocent life was concerned. She laid her forearm across her closed lids.
Nagato being Nagato, he'd no doubt want to take responsibility for his child. She snorted. She wouldn't be surprised if he presented her an offer of marriage, citing it the honorable thing to do, but she'd refuse. Konan was in love with Nagato, had been all her life, and had the circumstances been different, had he reciprocated her love, she would have loved nothing more than to accept his hand in marriage, to be his wife and the mother of their child. But as he hadn't loved her, at least not in the way she'd loved him, she'd have to content herself with motherhood, knowing that she would always have a part of him in their child. Such thoughts had continued to weigh on Konan's mind well into the early hours of the morning and she remained awake, wondering at the new direction her life was headed.
After Nagato had telephoned a couple hours later, her mind had whirled anew, this time with assumptions as to what it was he could possibly have to tell her. The call had been quick and, judging by the strained, clipped manner in which he had spoken, she had a premonition that whatever he wanted to say would be unpleasant at best. And when he did arrive, breezing past her into her apartment without so much as a kiss, her fears were confirmed. Nagato had never entered without greeting her with a kiss first. It was almost ritualistic, the way he would silently pull her into his strong embrace against the wide, solid expanse of his chest before claiming her lips with his own. Definitely a bad sign, she thought, and her stomach had churned with unease; whether due to nervousness or the child she carried, it was a toss-up.
She had shut the door and turned to watch as he filled her small living room with his presence. She had waited while Nagato removed his leather jacket, now slick from the rain, and handed it to her. She had hung it on the coat rack that stood next to the front door before turning to him. He cut a striking appearance where he stood, dressed as he was. The black, fitted, long-sleeved tee molded the sinewy muscles of his body as it fit snugly over the wide, thin frame of his torso to taper at his slim waist. A pair of jeans tastefully sheathed the lean muscle of his hips and accentuated his long, lean legs. His brick red mane parted over one eye, the slightly dampened tresses curling at the ends against his shoulders. She had checked her quickened pulse when he turned to face her, and silently prayed for strength as she followed him into the living room.
Konan's mind pitched back to the present. Minutes ticked away as she and Nagato continued in the uncomfortable silence. Konan was the one to eventually break the gaze as she lowered her eyes to her hands. A small sigh escaped her lips. It was worse than she'd expected. She knew he was awaiting some kind of response from her, some reaction to the blow he'd just dealt her, but other than the numbness that rooted her to the sofa, she was at a loss, not knowing how to counter the impact of his words. She was suddenly eager for something to do, to occupy her hands, and was grateful when the kettle on the stove began to whistle. She'd forgotten about the water she had set to boil on the stove just after Nagato had arrived. She was thankful to put some distance between them as she slowly rose against the shock that settled in her limbs and willed them to carry her into her small kitchen on shaky legs. She poured steaming water into two mugs. Turning, she reached into a cabinet next to the stove and selected two tea bags from a small box that she seeped into the mugs.
Oddly enough, her initial reaction was a feeling of validation. Not that she wasn't hurt because she was, immensely so, but she felt validated all the same. She'd had a sinking feeling he'd been seeing someone else, but had quickly dismissed the suspicion as mere conjecture. Good to know she hadn't been imaging things, she thought wryly. So just how did one respond to the news of her lover's infidelity? Infidelity, she thought and scoffed. She raised a hand to massage the back of her neck. She wasn't sure she agreed with the term as it implied monogamy.
Nagato and Konan had lapsed into a casual relationship. As parameters had never been discussed, she knew it was highly possible that Nagato would see other women. She feared pressuring Nagato and therefore never broached the subject. Nagato had seemed all too content to remain mum and continue with no expectations. Furthermore, she felt it presumptuous of her to assume that he'd commit himself to her just because he'd been the only one she'd ever been intimate with. So, why had he felt guilty? What wrong had he felt the need to come clean of where she was concerned? What was more, why had she felt like crying? The telltale prick of tears stung the backs of her eyes. Because I love him, she thought.
Although the thought of Nagato with other women hurt beyond words, she knew she'd no right to intervene with any aspects of his personal life where she wasn't concerned. So no, she wouldn't cry, she decided firmly. She was tired of crying. It seemed she'd spent so much of her life crying – having lost her loved ones early in her life – that she wouldn't cry now. Not ever again, if she could help it. She sighed. She'd made her bed, now she had to lie in it.
From where he sat, Nagato watched as Konan busied herself preparing the tea. She labored over the simple task with more attention than it required, re-checking the temperature, or whether or not the tea bags had seeped long enough, and immediately knew it could mean one thing.
Konan was upset.
He lowered his gaze to his hands where they'd remained clasped. He had learned to read Konan's body language, as it often served to communicate where she verbally failed to do so. It was simply Konan's way, always had been. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile again. Her obvious upset hinted to him that she cared. A small bud of hope rooted in his chest. When he lifted his gaze back to her, it was to find her returning, her bare feet silent against the hardwood flooring. She held a silver serving tray with the mugs of tea and two small silver containers, one filled with cream and the other with small sugar cubes. Setting the tray on the table before him, she kneeled on the floor and began to prepare a cup for him first beneath the pressure of his steady gaze. She'd prepared tea for him countless times and was aware exactly how he preferred it; scalding hot, one cube, thank you, and no cream, please, he hadn't cared for the taste of it. When she finished, she gently slid the cup across the table in his direction before preparing her own.
Choosing to remain on the floor, Konan rested on her heels as she held her cup. She sipped, savoring the feel of the hot liquid as it went down her throat, before she spoke.
"Who?" Konan asked, her eyes downcast.
Nagato swallowed hard at finally hearing her speak. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"
"Who?" Konan asked again, her husky voice stronger this time.
Nagato sighed. Although he'd expected this, the questions, he couldn't help but wonder why women did this to themselves? Why did they press for answers they knew would only hurt them further? He wondered. His face twisted into a frown as he set his mug down. "Konan, I don't think –"
"It's okay, actually," she stated, cutting him off. Her words feigned a confidence she hadn't felt. She forced a small smile that hadn't reached her eyes. "You can't blame me for being curious, can you?" Lowering her mug, she stared intently into the inky depths of the tea, inhaling its aromatic scent. Why had she wanted to know, anyway? Would it somehow appease her to be able to put a name to a face, to know the identity of the other woman Nagato was fucking?
Nagato sighed. He supposed he couldn't blame her curiosity. He supposed he'd want to know, too, if the shoe was on the other foot. Anger suddenly flared, threading through his veins with lightning speed, at the thought of Konan being intimate with anyone else. Of two things, Nagato was certain. Number one was that Konan was nothing if not moral. She wasn't the type to sleep around, a fact he was damned sure of because, and which brought him to number two, he was the only man Konan had ever been intimate with. And I damn sure plan to keep it that way, too, he thought possessively.
Nagato silently weighted the benefit of telling her. He'd come this far, he thought. "Ino," he stated. He raked a hand through his hair. Hell, he wanted to get this shit over with already.
Konan's delicately arched brows knit together as she tried to process the name in her brain. She shook her head when the name failed to register.
"Ino Yamanaka," he stated roughly, as if hating the sound of the other woman's name on his lips. He sighed. "A florist from Konaha," he stated, his eyes closing briefly as if trying to remember. "You don't know her."
Konan nodded. Nagato was correct that he didn't know her. In terms of friendship, Konan ascribed the whole quality over quantity philosophy and preferably kept them to a minimal. Save for the few mutual friends she and Nagato shared, she wasn't privy to many of his associates and made it a point to never pry into his goings-on. So, who was this Ino Yamanaka? How had Nagato met her? When? Where? And had Nagato told Ino about her?
She sighed loudly. "Ay yai yai," she softly exclaimed. "What a day it's turning out to be," she joked, forcing a smile. She was suddenly no longer in the mood for her tea and gently placed the cup back on the tray. "I'm sorry, but it's still early and I'm feeling rather tired," she stated, and it wasn't untrue. Her gynecologist had explained to her that fatigue was expected, but it was an understatement compared to the urge to sleep that threatened to lull her into a slumber whenever she stayed put longer than three minutes. Coupled with the events of that morning, she wanted nothing more now than to crawl back into her bed and retreat beneath the cocooning warmth of her blanket. Standing, she smoothed her skirt and crossed her arms over her chest, grateful at least for the warmth of the black sweater she wore. As it never ceased to rain in Amegakure, the temperature cooled considerably as the downpour ebbed to a drizzle. Despite her averted gaze, she could feel the weight of Nagato's stare as his eyes bore into her. She needed time alone, to properly process his admission and decide how she felt about it, and what this meant in light of… Good God! She'd still yet to tell him about her pregnancy, but wondered how in the hell she was meant to do that now that she knew for certain he was seeing someone else? The timing suddenly seemed all wrong.
Nagato's eyes never left Konan as he watched her intently. It was obvious that she was running. He gently placed his cup back on the tray next to hers before rising to his full height and crossing to stand before her.
"Konan," he began, gently gripping her shoulders to force her to look at him. She twisted her arms to pry herself free of his vice like grip, but to no avail as he easily held her in place. "Konan, this doesn't change a damned thing. I want to continue seeing you," he declared.
She stood with her gaze lowered to his chest. When she hadn't responded, Nagato slipped a solitary finger beneath her chin, forcing her eyes to his. "Konan," he began again, and stopped when she shook her head.
"Nagato," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could you please leave?" She heard his sharp intake of breath. "I just need time to think," she added quickly. She risked a glance upward and inwardly coiled as his eyes began to darken. She'd seen Nagato angry before to know that it was never a good idea to provoke him. "Please…" she pleaded softly, lifting a single hand to place on his chest in a placatory manner.
She gasped when his arms unexpectedly snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. He lowered his face and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips left hers and dipped slightly lower to press against her labret piercing before returning to her mouth. His tongue reached deeply within her mouth, the caress causing Konan to moan. Her will began to weaken as she began to deepen the kiss herself. She reached her hands upward to thread them in the thickness of his hair. Her nails grazed against his scalp as she instinctively tightened her grip, all of which afforded her a moan of pleasure from Nagato, the sound reverberating from deep within his chest.
Nagato reveled in the exotic scent of Konan's perfume. His body ached with a need for her, his breathing deep and ragged. Lifting his head, his eyes were hooded with passion as he gazed down into Konan's face. Whatever he thought to see reflected in her eyes, it wasn't the confusion that resided there as she gazed back at him, her delicate brows slanted inward into a frown.
Nagato held her a few moments longer before slowly, unwillingly, releasing his hold on her. His eyes drifted closed as he willed his body back under some semblance of control. His frown mimicked hers as his lids lifted again to focus on her face.
"Konan," he queried in that smooth, deep baritone that had always been her undoing, "I know how it sounds and I apologize, but that's why I wanted to tell you in person, because…" His voice trailed off as Konan shook her head again. He could sense her retreat before she physically stepped away, her body assuming its upright posture, her face rearranging back into its mask of stoicism. Against his better judgment, his anger began to flare at what he interpreted as her rejection of him. He lifted his gaze to some point of the room above her head as a muscle worked in the tense set of his jaw.
What the hell had he expected? Nagato thought. Did he really think it'd be that easy, that he'd saunter into her home, admit he'd fucked some other woman, to which she'd laughingly shrug it off, and they'd start their relationship anew, allowing bygones to be bygones? He'd known better than to insult Konan's intelligence that way. It was selfish and he knew it.
"Alright," he conceded through his anger. If she wanted time, he'd give it to her, and agreed as much. It immediately flickered in his mind that she'd mentioned wanting to tell him something equally important, but had thought better of inquiring about it now. It would have to wait until later. He leaned in to whisper, his hot breath a caress upon her ear that caused a throb of excitement to pulsate in the pit of her stomach. "I'll give you your time, but don't keep me waiting too long." His lips brushed along her jaw line as he straightened. He was smug with self-satisfaction as she trembled slightly. So help him, he wasn't going to let her get away from him so easily.