Never Felt So Alive
By Seabreeze
A/N: Got the inspiration from a song, which will be throughout the story... "Alive" by SR-71. Goooood song. 's far as I know, this is just a one-shot AU. Misao's dating Shougo Amakuso, starting off.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
~*~*~
Misao shut the door gently, keeping her palms against it until she heard a soft click. So different from the way Amakuso performed the same task. Turning to lean against it with a heavy sigh while listening to Amakuso slam more doors, she rubbed the swollen bump on her left cheek with a bruised hand. He got so out of control when he was angry. She shouldn't have moved in with him. She should've known he would. . . but that was impossible. She couldn't have known. Scowling at the pain in her hand, she put slight pressure on it and winced. Hands were so fragile. It was probably broken.
She stopped and listened as she heard Amakuso storm in her direction.
'Please go in another room, please go in another room. . .' she pleaded, but in no time he was banging on the very door she leaned on for support.
"MISAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he yelled, voice cracking in anger. Knowing it was futile to pretend she wasn't there, Misao hesitantly answered.
"Yes, Amakuso?" she asked innocently.
"Let me in!"
"Amakuso. . ."
"Damnit I SAID let me in! Do it!"
[all she's asking
is for a little more time
to walk away from his anger
and leave the bruises
far behind]
"I won't!" Misao found herself glaring at the door, imagining her boyfriend's dangerous face and feeling nothing but hatred for it at the moment.
"Don't make me BREAK the door down!" Amakuso raged. Misao crossed her arms.
"Go ahead. Its your house. I'm not paying for it." She heard Amakuso storm away and breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't do anything as stupid as—
Yes, he would. With a loud smash, a 6-inch jagged chunk of door, including the handle, flew towards her, splintering as it broke out. The door swung open slowly to reveal Amakuso, breathing heavily and glaring at her.
"Stupid bitch," faster than she could understand, Amakuso had her elbow in a tight, painful grip.
"Don't call me that!" Misao snapped, trying her hardest to weasel her way out of his grip. It was impossible, and she knew it was, but she kept on trying to escape it anyway. Amakuso tightened his hold and twisted it.
"I'll call you what I like." He said haughtily, teeth gritted and near her face. His breath wasn't exactly pleasant. Misao made a face. Seeing this, Amakuso simultaneously let go of her arm and slapped her, hard, across the same cheek. He watched her as she fell unassisted to the ground, her knees hitting the hardwood and earning Misao a few more bruises. One small, broken hand to her cheek and she bit her lip so as not to cry. Her eyes watered, and she fought each moment not to let one tear hit her skin. She hated him. Amakuso continued to watch her, and then, as she expected him to, he bent.
"Misao?" he reached for her face with his fingers and she knocked them away.
"Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry, Misao." Predictable as always, Amakuso sneaked his arms underneath her and as gentle as anything, lifted her up.
"Like last time you were sorry?" Misao snapped, any hint of tears gone. Amakuso set her down on the bed and turned to leave. With his back to her,
"I'm sorry." And he meant it. He left the room, closing the ruined door quietly behind him to leave her alone. Misao glared after him. She hated his violence but more than anything she hated his apologies. The ones that always came, and kept coming, and would always come. . .
"Please. . ." The phone rang, making Misao jump. The outside world, she thought, and her heart leapt. She picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Shougo-Makimachi residence."
"Misao." The voice was deep and quiet. Her face brightened.
"Aoshi-sama!" knowing it was him on the other end, wanting to talk to her, brought real tears to her eyes.
"He was doing it again, wasn't he?" the voice held a warning in it that told her not to lie.
[but she won't talk about it
she's made up her mind
when the front door shuts behind her
she whispers...
"give me a sign..."]
"Aoshi. . . please, I really can't. . ."
"You can and you will. If you won't, I'm coming to pick you up." The more monotonous Aoshi's voice got, the angrier he was. His voice was flatter than she'd ever heard. She panicked at his words.
"No! No! I'll. . . I'll come down."
"You'd leave?"
"Only for you, Aoshi-sama." She knew they were talking about two very different things, nonetheless, she would do as she said. She would never break a promise to her friend, especially not a close friend, and even more importantly not THIS friend. "I'll see you in an hour."
"Makimachi, drive safely." His voice was efficient. Misao felt her heart swell and she smiled bitterly.
"Of course, Aoshi-sama." Misao set the phone back on the hook and stood without a moment's hesitation. Taking nothing but her keys, she went out the front door (slamming it thoroughly behind her so Amakuso knew she was out) and got into her dark blue jeep.
[and feels the power of the engine
as she climbs to 65
and every piston sounds like freedom
and every white line says goodbye]
The highway was its own sort of healing, the wind whipping her long braid savagely around her face, slapping her already bruised face as her sore hand muscles gripped the steering wheel. Driving on the highway was the perfect way to meditate, to clear her head of anything but the road and the exit the led to Aoshi's home.
[but she finds strength in her anger
and the truth in his lies]
Exit 254, and her heart leapt once again. Amazing how the slightest thought of Aoshi could do that to her, and how she had never really noticed it before. . . how he as so entirely different from Amakuso, polar opposite, in fact.
Maybe she loved him.
[when the last scar finally fades
she'll have a new life]
The thought alone sent flames running down her spine and straight into her heart, leaving her warm for minutes afterwards. Pulling into his driveway, her heart beat faster and she turned the ignition off. She locked the jeep and headed towards Aoshi's front door, unconsciously patting her highway-hair back into place. He opened it before he had time to reach for the doorbell, and he waited silently for her to come in. He was so, so, so tall. She found that just as she was passing by him, she had to throw her head all the way back just to see his face. She giggled inwardly. Once the door was closed Aoshi held her injured hand in one of his and was inspecting her swollen cheek with the other. His face was emotionless but his eyes glinted.
"Your hand's broken." He let go of her and headed into the kitchen, with her tagging along behind him. He opened the freezer and pulled out an entire bag of ice, and set it on the wooden counter. Next he brought out plastic bags and soft, used hand towels. He filled the little bags with ice and then wrapped those in the towels. He turned towards her and nodded towards the counter. Understanding, Misao hopped up, slender legs swinging childishly over the edge.
"Tilt your head back." She did, and he set one of the homemade ice packs on her cheek. She blushed. He was taking care of her, he was trying to make her better. . . she didn't know what to do. Misao held the pack to her cheek and brought her head forward so that she could watch him. Methodically he took her broken hand carefully in his, inspecting it further. He made a small grunting noise and turned back to the drawer where he had gotten the towels. He turned around, holding a role of—bandages. Misao winced, knowing what would come.
"It will hurt." Aoshi warned softly, advancing towards her with determination. A third time he took her hand in his own. "A lot." He smoothed his thumb firmly over the back of her hand and she bit her lip not to cry out.
"I suppose it is broken," she said weakly, voice squeaking a bit. Aoshi looked up from his assessment, meeting her eyes.
"As I told you." Gently, he pulled his eyes away from hers and back to her hand. "The break is in more than one place." He ripped off a length of bandage. "I have to set them together correctly, so don't interrupt me." He pinned the end of the bandage to her palm with his thumb and wrapped it once, twice, three times tightly around the hand. The pain was bad and Misao clenched her teeth heard so as not to yell out. He continued to wrap the broken hand, being firm but extremely careful with his patient. She was broken in so many more ways than one.
"You should leave him."
[say goodbye
to 'Mr. Right'
lock the door, turn out the light
pack your bags
leave this trap
run away, don't look back]
Just before this he had pulled the bandage extra tight but his words distracted her.
"What? I—I. . .I know, it's just that. . ."
[she can still feel the touch of his hands
not just the violence, but the warmth
of her man...]
"Nothing else matters, Misao." Aoshi's voice was hard. "He hurts you. Nothing else SHOULD matter."
"I know." Misao was ashamed. She knew all too well that leaving Amakuso was the right thing to do, however, knowing what to do and doing it are too completely different things. "It's just. . .complicated."
"That doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I don't care if you love him." He said this harshly and Misao shrunk back a tiny bit in fear. Aoshi saw this and tightened the bandage, setting her hand gently in her lap. He leaned against her knees, so that his angry face was inches from hers.
"You think I'm going to hurt you, Misao? Like Amakuso?"
"No! No. . ." Misao began to cry—why had she reacted that way, as if Aoshi would hurt her? Aoshi, of all people, the man who was fixing her hand. . . Aoshi would never hurt her. "I'm sorry," she said, letting her tears course down her sore cheek.
"If you can't see what he's doing to you, I can. And if I have to kill him, I will. It all depends on whether you have the courage to leave him." Misao made the mistake of looking up to meet his eyes and broke down, burying her face in his broad shoulder. Aoshi was surprised but did not show it and made no move to force her away. He let her cry into him until she felt uncomfortable and pulled back. "I will kill him if you cannot leave him yourself." Aoshi said, sounding both gentle and angry at the same time. "I swore that I would always take care of you."
[see another day in each new sun
your life has just begun...]
An awkward silence later, Aoshi had taken the ice pack off her face and looked at her cheek.
"The swelling has gone down." He noted. His hand fell to her shoulder, and down her arm slowly, feeling for swelling or heat. . . and he found it. The elbow.
"Here, too?" he asked, looking her accusingly in the eyes. She nodded, holding his glare.
"I would've said something, but it wasn't bad and I forgot about it. . ." she shrugged. It was the truth. But Aoshi scowled.
"Torn ligaments, broken hand, bruised cheek. . ." he turned abruptly and angrily from her before slamming an ice pack to the ground.
". . .thank you for worrying about me, Aoshi." She met his eyes shyly as he turned around. She was blushing. He blinked.
"If you worry me again, I'll kill him." Misao felt a surge of warmth at his protectiveness, but he continued. "And once you've healed that hand and your elbow, I'm going to teach you how to effectively protect yourself." Aoshi continued to grumble to himself about Amakuso and his violent actions. Misao caught very little of it, except for the part he said when he had turned back towards her.
". . .he probably doesn't even kiss you right. . ." caught off guard by his own words, Aoshi's head shot up to see the very thing he meant to avoid—Misao's wide blue-green eyes. Her face flushed immediately as did his neck, and she ducked her head.
". . .And," she said softly. "How should I be kissed right?" Aoshi watched her in amazement. He had given himself away.
"Like you're the only one in the world worth living for."
[it was the night she never felt so alive
tonight she never felt so alive
it was the night she never felt so alive]
"Aoshi. . ." Misao whispered. She dropped her head, and he waited to see if she was crying, or angry, or anything. . . when she did look at him again, her eyes were sparkling with tears but she was smiling. Aoshi's eyes widened in surprise—that smile. . . he had forgotten it even existed, and now that she had shown it to him. . .
[and it's the first time I've ever seen her
smile...]
~*~*~
By Seabreeze
A/N: Got the inspiration from a song, which will be throughout the story... "Alive" by SR-71. Goooood song. 's far as I know, this is just a one-shot AU. Misao's dating Shougo Amakuso, starting off.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
~*~*~
Misao shut the door gently, keeping her palms against it until she heard a soft click. So different from the way Amakuso performed the same task. Turning to lean against it with a heavy sigh while listening to Amakuso slam more doors, she rubbed the swollen bump on her left cheek with a bruised hand. He got so out of control when he was angry. She shouldn't have moved in with him. She should've known he would. . . but that was impossible. She couldn't have known. Scowling at the pain in her hand, she put slight pressure on it and winced. Hands were so fragile. It was probably broken.
She stopped and listened as she heard Amakuso storm in her direction.
'Please go in another room, please go in another room. . .' she pleaded, but in no time he was banging on the very door she leaned on for support.
"MISAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he yelled, voice cracking in anger. Knowing it was futile to pretend she wasn't there, Misao hesitantly answered.
"Yes, Amakuso?" she asked innocently.
"Let me in!"
"Amakuso. . ."
"Damnit I SAID let me in! Do it!"
[all she's asking
is for a little more time
to walk away from his anger
and leave the bruises
far behind]
"I won't!" Misao found herself glaring at the door, imagining her boyfriend's dangerous face and feeling nothing but hatred for it at the moment.
"Don't make me BREAK the door down!" Amakuso raged. Misao crossed her arms.
"Go ahead. Its your house. I'm not paying for it." She heard Amakuso storm away and breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't do anything as stupid as—
Yes, he would. With a loud smash, a 6-inch jagged chunk of door, including the handle, flew towards her, splintering as it broke out. The door swung open slowly to reveal Amakuso, breathing heavily and glaring at her.
"Stupid bitch," faster than she could understand, Amakuso had her elbow in a tight, painful grip.
"Don't call me that!" Misao snapped, trying her hardest to weasel her way out of his grip. It was impossible, and she knew it was, but she kept on trying to escape it anyway. Amakuso tightened his hold and twisted it.
"I'll call you what I like." He said haughtily, teeth gritted and near her face. His breath wasn't exactly pleasant. Misao made a face. Seeing this, Amakuso simultaneously let go of her arm and slapped her, hard, across the same cheek. He watched her as she fell unassisted to the ground, her knees hitting the hardwood and earning Misao a few more bruises. One small, broken hand to her cheek and she bit her lip so as not to cry. Her eyes watered, and she fought each moment not to let one tear hit her skin. She hated him. Amakuso continued to watch her, and then, as she expected him to, he bent.
"Misao?" he reached for her face with his fingers and she knocked them away.
"Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry, Misao." Predictable as always, Amakuso sneaked his arms underneath her and as gentle as anything, lifted her up.
"Like last time you were sorry?" Misao snapped, any hint of tears gone. Amakuso set her down on the bed and turned to leave. With his back to her,
"I'm sorry." And he meant it. He left the room, closing the ruined door quietly behind him to leave her alone. Misao glared after him. She hated his violence but more than anything she hated his apologies. The ones that always came, and kept coming, and would always come. . .
"Please. . ." The phone rang, making Misao jump. The outside world, she thought, and her heart leapt. She picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Shougo-Makimachi residence."
"Misao." The voice was deep and quiet. Her face brightened.
"Aoshi-sama!" knowing it was him on the other end, wanting to talk to her, brought real tears to her eyes.
"He was doing it again, wasn't he?" the voice held a warning in it that told her not to lie.
[but she won't talk about it
she's made up her mind
when the front door shuts behind her
she whispers...
"give me a sign..."]
"Aoshi. . . please, I really can't. . ."
"You can and you will. If you won't, I'm coming to pick you up." The more monotonous Aoshi's voice got, the angrier he was. His voice was flatter than she'd ever heard. She panicked at his words.
"No! No! I'll. . . I'll come down."
"You'd leave?"
"Only for you, Aoshi-sama." She knew they were talking about two very different things, nonetheless, she would do as she said. She would never break a promise to her friend, especially not a close friend, and even more importantly not THIS friend. "I'll see you in an hour."
"Makimachi, drive safely." His voice was efficient. Misao felt her heart swell and she smiled bitterly.
"Of course, Aoshi-sama." Misao set the phone back on the hook and stood without a moment's hesitation. Taking nothing but her keys, she went out the front door (slamming it thoroughly behind her so Amakuso knew she was out) and got into her dark blue jeep.
[and feels the power of the engine
as she climbs to 65
and every piston sounds like freedom
and every white line says goodbye]
The highway was its own sort of healing, the wind whipping her long braid savagely around her face, slapping her already bruised face as her sore hand muscles gripped the steering wheel. Driving on the highway was the perfect way to meditate, to clear her head of anything but the road and the exit the led to Aoshi's home.
[but she finds strength in her anger
and the truth in his lies]
Exit 254, and her heart leapt once again. Amazing how the slightest thought of Aoshi could do that to her, and how she had never really noticed it before. . . how he as so entirely different from Amakuso, polar opposite, in fact.
Maybe she loved him.
[when the last scar finally fades
she'll have a new life]
The thought alone sent flames running down her spine and straight into her heart, leaving her warm for minutes afterwards. Pulling into his driveway, her heart beat faster and she turned the ignition off. She locked the jeep and headed towards Aoshi's front door, unconsciously patting her highway-hair back into place. He opened it before he had time to reach for the doorbell, and he waited silently for her to come in. He was so, so, so tall. She found that just as she was passing by him, she had to throw her head all the way back just to see his face. She giggled inwardly. Once the door was closed Aoshi held her injured hand in one of his and was inspecting her swollen cheek with the other. His face was emotionless but his eyes glinted.
"Your hand's broken." He let go of her and headed into the kitchen, with her tagging along behind him. He opened the freezer and pulled out an entire bag of ice, and set it on the wooden counter. Next he brought out plastic bags and soft, used hand towels. He filled the little bags with ice and then wrapped those in the towels. He turned towards her and nodded towards the counter. Understanding, Misao hopped up, slender legs swinging childishly over the edge.
"Tilt your head back." She did, and he set one of the homemade ice packs on her cheek. She blushed. He was taking care of her, he was trying to make her better. . . she didn't know what to do. Misao held the pack to her cheek and brought her head forward so that she could watch him. Methodically he took her broken hand carefully in his, inspecting it further. He made a small grunting noise and turned back to the drawer where he had gotten the towels. He turned around, holding a role of—bandages. Misao winced, knowing what would come.
"It will hurt." Aoshi warned softly, advancing towards her with determination. A third time he took her hand in his own. "A lot." He smoothed his thumb firmly over the back of her hand and she bit her lip not to cry out.
"I suppose it is broken," she said weakly, voice squeaking a bit. Aoshi looked up from his assessment, meeting her eyes.
"As I told you." Gently, he pulled his eyes away from hers and back to her hand. "The break is in more than one place." He ripped off a length of bandage. "I have to set them together correctly, so don't interrupt me." He pinned the end of the bandage to her palm with his thumb and wrapped it once, twice, three times tightly around the hand. The pain was bad and Misao clenched her teeth heard so as not to yell out. He continued to wrap the broken hand, being firm but extremely careful with his patient. She was broken in so many more ways than one.
"You should leave him."
[say goodbye
to 'Mr. Right'
lock the door, turn out the light
pack your bags
leave this trap
run away, don't look back]
Just before this he had pulled the bandage extra tight but his words distracted her.
"What? I—I. . .I know, it's just that. . ."
[she can still feel the touch of his hands
not just the violence, but the warmth
of her man...]
"Nothing else matters, Misao." Aoshi's voice was hard. "He hurts you. Nothing else SHOULD matter."
"I know." Misao was ashamed. She knew all too well that leaving Amakuso was the right thing to do, however, knowing what to do and doing it are too completely different things. "It's just. . .complicated."
"That doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I don't care if you love him." He said this harshly and Misao shrunk back a tiny bit in fear. Aoshi saw this and tightened the bandage, setting her hand gently in her lap. He leaned against her knees, so that his angry face was inches from hers.
"You think I'm going to hurt you, Misao? Like Amakuso?"
"No! No. . ." Misao began to cry—why had she reacted that way, as if Aoshi would hurt her? Aoshi, of all people, the man who was fixing her hand. . . Aoshi would never hurt her. "I'm sorry," she said, letting her tears course down her sore cheek.
"If you can't see what he's doing to you, I can. And if I have to kill him, I will. It all depends on whether you have the courage to leave him." Misao made the mistake of looking up to meet his eyes and broke down, burying her face in his broad shoulder. Aoshi was surprised but did not show it and made no move to force her away. He let her cry into him until she felt uncomfortable and pulled back. "I will kill him if you cannot leave him yourself." Aoshi said, sounding both gentle and angry at the same time. "I swore that I would always take care of you."
[see another day in each new sun
your life has just begun...]
An awkward silence later, Aoshi had taken the ice pack off her face and looked at her cheek.
"The swelling has gone down." He noted. His hand fell to her shoulder, and down her arm slowly, feeling for swelling or heat. . . and he found it. The elbow.
"Here, too?" he asked, looking her accusingly in the eyes. She nodded, holding his glare.
"I would've said something, but it wasn't bad and I forgot about it. . ." she shrugged. It was the truth. But Aoshi scowled.
"Torn ligaments, broken hand, bruised cheek. . ." he turned abruptly and angrily from her before slamming an ice pack to the ground.
". . .thank you for worrying about me, Aoshi." She met his eyes shyly as he turned around. She was blushing. He blinked.
"If you worry me again, I'll kill him." Misao felt a surge of warmth at his protectiveness, but he continued. "And once you've healed that hand and your elbow, I'm going to teach you how to effectively protect yourself." Aoshi continued to grumble to himself about Amakuso and his violent actions. Misao caught very little of it, except for the part he said when he had turned back towards her.
". . .he probably doesn't even kiss you right. . ." caught off guard by his own words, Aoshi's head shot up to see the very thing he meant to avoid—Misao's wide blue-green eyes. Her face flushed immediately as did his neck, and she ducked her head.
". . .And," she said softly. "How should I be kissed right?" Aoshi watched her in amazement. He had given himself away.
"Like you're the only one in the world worth living for."
[it was the night she never felt so alive
tonight she never felt so alive
it was the night she never felt so alive]
"Aoshi. . ." Misao whispered. She dropped her head, and he waited to see if she was crying, or angry, or anything. . . when she did look at him again, her eyes were sparkling with tears but she was smiling. Aoshi's eyes widened in surprise—that smile. . . he had forgotten it even existed, and now that she had shown it to him. . .
[and it's the first time I've ever seen her
smile...]
~*~*~