A/N: Written for Inukag Week 2016 - Day 7: Toward Tomorrow.
He didn't believe his eyes when he saw her again.
There was a spark in his gut, his heartstrings were pulled, his knees were weak. When he hauled her out of the well, he was sure she could feel his hand shaking.
Loving was worse than any human night, and just as intense.
He didn't recognize her when he saw her again.
There was no spark in his gut, no pull at his heartstrings, his knees didn't buckle; in fact, he'd been attending her classes as a guest auditor for months before he felt anything.
It wasn't until one day, when he'd been napping in class after a hard night of working, that he realized it was her. She touched his shoulder lightly, and he lifted his head to look into huge, concerned gray eyes.
"Are you alright?"
Such a simple question… it was a pity he didn't know how to answer.
The young man drank in the professor's face as if it were the last one he'd ever see. Her short, coppery hair was a stranger's; her thin lips were a stranger's; and her sharp nose was a stranger's. Her eyes, though… her eyes were hers.
But who was she?
He was a nobody, really, but there was that nagging feeling… that wonderful, breathtaking feeling that he had been someone before. He felt noticed, even important.
As the woman's question echoed in his mind (are you alright? Are you alright? Are you alright?), he felt her genuine concern touching something deep inside.
Was this how it felt to have a crush on a teacher? He was… overcome. There were no butterflies in his stomach, but a warm feeling of satisfaction instead. She was worried about him, and it felt great.
She smiled at his confused look (man, I must look so stupid), making the warmth in his gut spread to his entire body, eventually reaching his face.
He needed to answer her, but he was too embarrassed. He also never acted this way, so contemplative. It was disorienting.
"Um… F-Fine, thanks," he stuttered. His cheeks darkened at the murmuring of the students.
She squeezed his arm gently, her eyes filled with understanding, and proceeded with her lecture.
He just sat there, dumbstruck, listening to the sound of her voice. It had been so long, so very long, almost too long.
But what had been?
The thing about tomorrows is that there will be more than one.
I'm watching with satisfied amusement. Finally, they felt the humming resonance of my knotted threads, my powerful binding.
They are not who they once were, I must remind myself. It's an entirely new story, with new people, and one can never know how it will end—not even I.
He seems so surprised it's actually funny. Doesn't he know she always comes back—through the door, the well, the grave? As his first love, second, hundredth, his best friend? It doesn't matter how she comes, or what she is to him, but if she stays. That is up to them.
Born to meet him, indeed… And most of the time, he has no idea. (All the more fun for me.)
I'm as long as their journey will be, I'm twice as strong as I appear, and still they cannot see me. Oh, I'm also red… probably from laughing so hard.
The gods may throw the dice; I tangle, but I don't snap. They know that, don't they? My pull is stronger than any jewel's.
They're so different this time… I for one will miss the puppy ears, the fights, the hunting for the shards, the new moon nights, the drama… But I digress.
It's time to live, not dwell on old fairy tales.
Toward tomorrow my little birds fly. I hope they have a good one.
A/N: I wish I could tell you what happened here, lol.
Although the idea of the red string of fate is romantic, I like to think people stay together because they want to. My diplomatic solution was: the string brings them together every time, but they get to decide if they stay that way, and as what.