A/N I got the idea fot his story from the sang Fearless by Cyndi Lauper, so to hear the inspiration check out the song :)
Kagome stared blankly at his back as he dressed. She slid from the bed as well, pulling a robe around her. She ran her hand up the back of his shirt to straighten the crease in the crisp fabric. The sound he made brought a sad smile to her face as she turned to start breakfast. He ate his breakfast behind the sports section of the morning paper, leaving his plate on the table as he folded the paper into his laptop bag. Leaning down he brushed his lips lightly across her cheek before walking out the front door. Silent tears rolled unchallenged down her face as she dropped her head to her folded arms resting on the table.
She dried her tears and carried the plates to the sink, washing them and setting them aside to dry. She pulled a package of steaks out of the freezer to thaw for dinner. That done she proceeded to the bathroom to shower and dress. Sitting at the vanity she towel dried and brushed out her long raven locks. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, she ran her finger over the pale unblemished skin of her neck. A symbol that meant more in his world than the large diamond decorating her left hand. She dropped her head, hiding from her reflection behind her bangs as the tears began to fall again.
She gathered the laundry off the bedroom floor, tossing it into the hamper. She drug it across the hall to the laundry room. Starting a load of whites she turned to the counter and plugged in the iron. Steady hands ironed each shirt, creases perfect. She hung his newly ironed shirts up one by one in the closet. Sweeping, mopping, wiping, scrubbing, till the whole house sparkled. In another room her cell phone rings, it's a reminder, no one ever calls anyway. Setting the phone back down she returns again to the kitchen. She fills a glass with water and pulls open the drawer. Placing the pills one at a time on the table she counts them twice. Can't screw it up again, have to take them properly. She swallows the pills with the help of the water.
She slides the glass door open and sits out on the balcony. She just sits and watches the midday traffic pass the gates on the other side of the lawn. Around her there is silence, always silence. She sips the water, have to drink it all, finish the glass. She should eat something, soup maybe. The sound of the door sliding closed behind her as she retreats back into the house. Once more she returns to the kitchen. There is still soup in the refrigerator, she warms it slowly on the stove, it smells terrible. Sitting at the table she spoons the soup around the bowl, he's left her the crossword, he always does. She smiles sadly at the paper and pulls it in front of her. She picks up the pencil from the table and starts to fill in the blanks, distractedly eating her soup.
She washes her bowl and spoon and sets them aside to dry. Putting away the breakfast dishes she flips the steaks over on the towel, they're thawing nicely. A cutting board on the counter, she covers it in fresh produce,. Chopping and slicing mechanically, she tosses them into a bowl. She puts the salad in the fridge. Back in the laundry room, she pulls the pristine white napkins, place mats, and tablecloth from the linen cabinet. She irons them over again, removing the folds from the cloth, smoothing the bumps. She unplugs the iron, staring at it just a moment longer.
The table cleared and set, each napkin rolled with a silver ring, the tablecloth perfectly even and smooth. Plates, bowls, forks, spoons, and knives. Each place setting perfect. A knock at the door. The delivery boy smiles at the tip, she smiles back before shutting the door. She trims the green stems to fit the vase. Purple and red, lilacs and roses, green leaves and baby's breath arranged just right. She sets the flowers on the table. Looking over the table she blinks quickly, the tears again, she crumples down into the chair, body racking with sobs. Seconds turn to minutes, the sobs subside, the tears drying quickly.
She runs a damp washcloth over her face and once more sits at the vanity. Powder, eyeliner, shadow, mascara, lipstick. She doesn't recognize the face in the mirror now. This is the face the world sees. Hands swiftly braiding long black hair, wrapped into a bun. She rises from the chair, back down the stairs. The kitchen again.
Apron in place she slides the steaks from the paper, she lays them on the hot pan to sear. A quick flip and the hissing of flesh meeting heat, the smell makes her nauseous. The heat of the oven is overwhelming as she pulls the foiled covered potatoes from the rack. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding, she places a steak on each plate, followed by the potatoes. She retrieves the cold bowl from the refrigerator, filling each bowl with the chopped salad.
She can hear his car speeding up the driveway. Removing her apron and hanging it on the pantry door she turns her back on the table. She meets him just inside the door. Taking his laptop bag she retreats to his office to place it on his desk. She follows him into the kitchen. He nods his approval to her, she just bows her head. Another knock at the door. She turns to leave, but he brushes past her to answer it instead. Voices in greeting, cheerful noise fill the entryway. She sighs sadly, but her head is high and her back is straight. She greets the guests with a smile, she's good at this now.
Conversation, laughter, the sounds of utensils on china. Her head hurts again. She doesn't look at them, instead she looks past them, only a pair of golden eyes seek out her attention. She drops her gaze, those aren't the gold eyes she's used to. There is concern there, and something else she can't define. Something draws her eyes back to them over and over, she doesn't know why. The chatter dies down, his eyes promise peace, she longs for it. She bids farewell to the retreating backs and chorus of thanks gratitude. She is left caught between two sets of golden eyes.
She leads the way to a guestroom upstairs, she opens the door for him. He looks down at her, and stares. She can't bring herself to look at him again, instead she dips her head and closes him in behind the door. She starts down the stairs but is intercepted by the golden eyes she's used to. She's turned around. She follows him into the bedroom. He tosses his clothes to the floor at his feet, sliding into bed, he beckons to her. She swallows and removes her own clothing, placing them in the hamper. She crawls into bed next to him, he leans in to kiss her, making his desire evident.
She takes him in her arms and stares at the ceiling as he kisses her soft skin. Her hands move by memory across his body, she knows what he wants. She parts her legs for him and makes no noise as he takes her roughly. She knows what he needs, she allows him to flip her onto her stomach and yank her hips up to meet him. She closes her eyes and he whispers her name, he's close now and she knows what to do. She pushes back to meet him, squeezing him with her practiced muscles, she feels him shudder before he rolls off her with a groan. He is asleep before she is back from cleaning herself up.
She returns once more to the kitchen. She washes and dries the dinner dishes, putting them away quietly. She throws away the food, and moves the flowers to the counter. She removes the linens to the laundry room, putting them in the washer for tomorrow. She smooths a clean tablecloth over the table. She replaces the flowers and begins to reset the place mats. One place finished she moves around the table.
A hand grabs her wrist gently, still she flinches. Looking up into the new set of golden eyes she freezes. He reaches around her and pulls the pins from her hair, letting it fall down her back. She turns her head away, breaking their eye contact. One finger under her chin he turns her head to look back at him. He gently tilts her head from one side to the other, noting the flawless skin of her neck. He nods to himself, a look of embarrassment spreading over her face. Taking her left hand in his he slides her rings from her fingers and places them on the plate of the only setting finished. Silver hair swirls around her as he return the rest of the utensils and plates to their respective cupboards and drawers.
Pulling her by the hand he leads her from the kitchen for the last time. She's not scared, she doesn't struggle. She follows behind him, through the hall and out the door before she turns to look back at the house that has been her prison. The door closes silently behind her for the last time. She doesn't look back as he drives her away. She lowers the window and lets the wind blow through her hair, she turns to face him, a smile on her face. A real one this time.
A/N
My proofreader expressed concern that there really was no definitive way to tell which brother was which in this story. I know which is which to me, but it might be different for you. It was for her and there's nothing wrong with that. Personal perception will hopefully make this story enjoyable for almost everyone. Please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think of the story.
Thank you for reading!
Bijou.