Broken
...Twentieth Part: Krad...
Dark came trudging back into the house close to nine o'clock in the evening. He was scowling to himself, shifting his eyes and nodding his head about in a way that told me he was definitely warring with himself over something.
"Emiko told me you'd be back in a couple hours, not a couple days," I remarked, jokingly.
Dark looked up from the puddle he was creating around himself to me, still looking very seriously contemplative. He blinked a couple times then shook his head, glancing absently away toward a wall.
His tension was making me nervous. "Dark? What's going on?" I asked, turning his face toward me so he would actually look at me.
"Oh, what the hell," he muttered.
Suddenly, Dark snapped out of his strange behavior, grabbing my face and pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss that didn't stop until I thought surely both of us would die of asphyxiation. When he pulled away, my first reaction was: Okay, I forgive you... but then his eyes met mine in a look I couldn't exactly place.
"Tell me if I'm crossing any lines," he whispered, still trying to regain his breath from that kiss.
"What...?" I yelped as he pushed me backward, hoisting me up by my waist so that I was sitting on the dining table. He kissed me again, pushing his tongue through my lips to explore my mouth. I was a bit scared from the ravenous kissing, added together with the lack of explanation.
"Not in my kitchen, Dark," Emiko sang, tapping her fingers against the surface of the table as she walked by.
"Not what...?" I squeaked when Dark released my lips again. "Dark, what are you doing?"
He told me, "I don't really know," before kissing me again, this time the side of my face. "Never mind." I heard the final resolution in his voice, though it seemed reluctant.
Dark pulled away, sighing, and waved a hand in front of my face. "Krad? Angel, you're stiff as a statue."
I blinked at the pet name, trying to pull my thought process back together. "What was all that about?" I demanded.
"Uhm... I missed you!" he said, tossing his arms around my neck. It sounded like an excuse.
Rolling my eyes at him, I pushed back his bangs and kissed his forehead. I pretended to ignore the purplish bruise there. It seemed to explain a couple of things... but how had he gotten it? "Likely story," I retorted.