Chapter Nineteen
"You can't be serious."
"What?" he asked, feigning innocence in the most perturbing way. She blinked, staring at the thin red lace cloth drizzling over her form. Inches of her sunshine yellow sundress leaked through every open stitch, a fair reminder of how much would be showing otherwise. She flushed, smacking the arm away. "You asked what would look good, this is my answer."
"I meant realistically, Baka! Like I'd wear that on the street."
"No, you would not." The swift, possessive comment left little room for argument as the piece was fluttered back into place. Shame burned her face at his tone, even as she turned to hide the blush. It was bad enough that he seemed incapable of being more than ten feet away from her thus far, but this particular turn of his cynical humor was doing nothing for her nerves. It was like being cooked in a pressure oven with him so close. She felt hot and leaden. Fumbling, the young blond all but buried herself in a rack of multi-colored pants before his strong hand smoothed across her abdomen. "But you could wear it other places."
"Now, now Mamoru-baka! Seducing school girls is not good for your legal health." She slid from his arms quickly, all but dancing to the other side of a table while she spoke. His laughing, strange eyes followed her, though a subtle little grin hinted at the corner of his mouth.
"Oi, legal health? Is that even a term?"
Despite the threat, he was rather enjoying their little spat. Besides, who said things like "legal health" and actually meant it? He chuckled, wishing there was some way to record the ridiculous conversation for later.
"I bet those guys in jail are riddled with all sorts of gross diseases." She simmered, glaring at him over a pile of t-shirts. The tiniest little smile teased the edge of her mouth, though, and took the sting from her words.
"Unbelievable," he murmured, eyeing her as she turned away. Usagi had always wandered off in a huff at the arcade, but little did he suspect how deliciously those hips swayed when she did. The answering Cheshire grin was lost on her. "You'd be worth it. Besides, you're legal –as long as daddy doesn't press charges, anyway."
"I'm sure he'd love to know you call him daddy." Her answering call was loud enough the whole store could hear.
Perhaps there was some strange part of him too horrified for words, but it didn't seem to be bothered by the show. For someone as fiercely introverted as he was, such a scene should have filled him with dread, but the lusting eyes of other men, the wistful gazes of jealous girls filled him with a fiery cocktail of triumph and delicious superiority.
It was wrong to feel so content in the despair of others. He'd read it somewhere.
It didn't change the fact that every time those pert little pink lips whipped into action, it was all he could do not to pin the temptress down in a corner somewhere. The hysterically-animated girl drew attention without meaning to, pulled all eyes to her and left them there; all the while staring him down with ferocious singularity.
The coiling pleasure rippled through his skin even as he prowled along behind, feigning interest in anything but the stunning woman. It was a façade, and they both knew it. The heated exchange of turbulent eyes clashed more than once from across the room.
On the surface, the blond could pretend her desires were for a simple, sweet man. In a way, he agreed. That momentary shot of honesty in the car had touched both of them, and she was responding to the taunts and jokes as easily as if they were fighting in the arcade. However, the moment the lights went out, and the world disappeared, he could read through those hot blue eyes like a children's story, could see that her mind was busy doing things other than picking out clothes.
The idea warmed him. Yes, sweet and simple, and utterly devastating. That tension growing between them, the heated ambiance that laced every glance only led to one thing. The thought thrummed hot blood through his veins, turned the world off but for the two of them. The sly smile never left his face.
Let the world see what was going on, because after today, Usagi would never dream of wanting someone else.
.
.
…..
"When hell freezes over," he growled, watching her prance around with a lavender button-up intended for him. The wicked glint in her eye was all mischief.
"I'm telling you: girly, painful lavender purple –with that stupid mask!" The gleeful, predatory sparkle of her eyes sure tried to be superior. The grinning woman was pushing the boundary for all she was worth, and it was taking every inch of self-control, and self-preservation, to set one.
"No." He snatched the ugly thing from her hand, quickly depositing the disgusting piece back on the rack. At the sight of something so hideous, he had balked and sent worried glances around the store in the event they'd walked into something gender ambiguous by mistake. Maybe a man would wear it –if he was a masochist. And maybe it would look better in a different fabric –as long as it was a different color.
Usagi had leapt on the moment of confusion with all the finesse of a dying hippo.
"What if I beg and plead and cry?" she whimpered, pulling her hands in front and allowing ever-present tears to form. He groaned, looking away from the picture and hating that the twinge in his chest sparked in response.
"Are you trying to emasculate me? It's really not okay to do that in long-term relationships." The throbbing of his skull began somewhere close to his left eye. Tired fingers rubbed the spot absently, wondering how she'd talked him into trying clothes on too. It was just like Usagi to try to push attention back on him; she was too aware of others to be healthy.
"Who said it was long-term? I'm just here for the handouts." He stopped short, glancing up at the mischievous grin long stamped on her face. Her eyes were shimmering like sunlight, her smile contagious. That same answering warmth blossomed in his chest, forced the muscles of his face upward despite himself.
"Didn't you get the memo? It's a give-take relationship, darling. I give and I take." He prowled closer, itching to touch her and feel that happiness soak through him.
"Oh? And what, exactly, were you planning on taking?" Her golden eyebrow arched in defiance, the soft cotton folding against her form with the help of crossed arms. This vision stopped him short. He was staring helplessly at the front of her dress, loving the bob of her body as a foot tapped the ground. "Pervert."
A wolfish grin lounged at the corners of his mouth as the beauty turned away. The girl could say what she liked, but the heated blush was sliding beneath the neckline at her back. Delighted, yet wary, he stalked after her.
Fingers trailed through rose-colored gauze as she walked. The soft fabric clung to her hands in yearning. It was like looking at a classy, modern princess dress, all sweetness and flowing lines. Close enough to her mother's work that it would take no great stretch to wear it comfortably, yet refined and beautiful.
"I had no idea you color-coordinated your clothes to your room." His mocking voice slid like smooth caramel over her thoughts, coated her into a dream world as she turned. "It's just that…Pepto pink thing you've got going on there." He smirked, and the sinful mouth twisted like a knife.
"Look, would you just drop it? I like pink! So sue me!" she huffed, even as he snagged the dress in her size. She tried to back away as he did, but met with the soft push of another rack from behind. It seemed even the store itself had ganged up on her today.
"I'm not against it, mind. Let's just not bring that tradition into the house." He flicked those blue eyes her direction, that mouth so quietly amused it had the audacity to pluck at her chest. Why, why did he have to be so tempting! The quiet anxiety was slowly sucking the life out of her and replacing it with something else…
"What's the matter, Mamoru? Afraid you'll come home to pink drapes?" she challenged, more fire than she really felt in the tone. He was doing his composed, standoff-ish thing, and for some undeniable, irrefutable reason, it was beckoning her closer.
"And bed sheets and tablecloths and towels. Yes." He continued the line as if the fear was more of a reality than anything else. A grin slipped across her mouth momentarily before she could replace it again.
"Well, maybe I will!"
"So…this is a long-term thing." He grinned, loving how her defiant features shifted into panic. A dark chuckle broke from his chest as she backpedaled visibly. To think, a year ago he had no idea what he really wanted from her. There had been plans to date her, the vague sense that she would be exclusively his.
But this was so much better. It was like having a mental sparring partner you constantly had to fight the urge to ravage.
"Shut up! I didn't say that," she screeched, but her anger was nothing compared to the mirth glowing from her eyes.
He'd always rather enjoyed their fights in the past. From anyone else, those decibels would be obnoxious at best, but from her…well, she'd always had a slight pass. Frankly, it was a wonder to him that things hadn't gone this direction earlier. There was always their history, and the whole superhero thing to factor in, but he found himself wondering how long it would have taken them if there had never been Moon and Kamen.
Well, there was no time to waste on that when she was spinning right in front of him, her sunshine hair brushing against his hand. His long, deft fingers flickered through a tail, following her to the next rack.
"What exactly are you saying, then?" he all but purred silkily, leaning in close to her ear. She shivered.
"I'm saying…that I'm hungry all of a sudden!"
He sighed, turning a care-worn face toward the heavens in mock piety. The girl spun and fumbled as her legs gave out, tripped against a turntable leg, and landed in a heap of golden cotton and hair.
The laughter burst from him, wholly and heartily, as he gripped at his sides and wiped desperately at the tears. Of all the times in the world this girl could suck tile!
"I swear, Usagi-chan, you are a walking disaster." The comment broke between fits of laughter and heavy breathing. Hesitantly, she reached up to take the proffered hand, a smile tugging at her mouth. Despite the shame burning on her face, even she had to admit, it was pretty funny. "How's your head? Any horrible concussions?"
It took a moment to right herself again, but the jibe was just too cutting after face-planting down the side of a mountain. The shame of that memory flared against her skin as she stepped forward.
"Baka!" she spat back, slapping his chest playfully as a pout turned her lips down. He was grinning boyishly, his demeanor so relaxed and informal it felt like just the two of them in the whole store. "Maybe you're the cause of all my klutziness!"
The accusation hung for a second before both burst into laughter again.
.
.
….
"Don't even think about it," he whispered. She jumped, nearly dropping the hanger in surprise. The short fabric was quickly gripped from her hand and returned to the rack.
"And here I thought guys like you enjoyed the miniskirt." The snippy replay came back just as quickly, as she'd done all day, meeting him head on and without hesitation. He tried to convince himself it wasn't as utterly pleasing as it seemed.
"On you? Hell yes. I'm just not fond of other men feeling the same way." Both hands stuffed into his pockets casually, though the feeling raging up in his chest could only be described as murderous. It was all fine and good until he caught some young idiot eyeing her like a bar of chocolate. His hands clenched painfully within their cotton hold, but his features stayed schooled.
"Are you jealous, Mamoru-baka?" Her arms folded in at the words, a trail of hair leaking over her shoulder as she turned to glance back at him. A golden eyebrow had arched curiously and her eyes were sparkling again. If he didn't know better, he'd guess Usagi liked it.
"I have my reasons. Look, I'm just starting on this whole good-guy path. I make no promises if I see some punk getting a little too friendly." He shot her a grin that was all teeth, only to find his gorgeous date seething again.
"Since when do you get to dictate what I wear?"
"Since I'm buying," he flared in response, irritated that they were still discussing it. Did she really not realize how men looked at her normally? One glance around the mall would reveal more than a few lustful stares and probably a lake's worth of drool, and she wanted to show off those legs?
"You're so charming! What a lady-killer," she muttered, shaking her head in irritation. Seriously, who did he think he was? The girl spun, stomping away from the conversation before she really exploded in his face. It didn't even matter that her mother would never let her out of the house in one; he didn't need to know that!
An arm snaked around her ribs and yanked back until she was flush against him.
"I was going for honesty. But if you'd rather, I can do charm." His fingers threaded through impossibly long locks of hair, trickling down one arm. He was so close that his hot breath on her neck almost left a scar. She gulped, feeling the magma haze drip through her as he pressed long, sensual kisses to her neck and shoulder.
"Hey, you two! I'm going to have to ask you to leave!" The voice of an older woman crackled through the din. Each froze in an instant, Usagi turning to stare over his shoulder in open-mouthed horror as the grandmotherly woman began ushering them toward the exit. The clothes were left in a pile on an island and the stern glare of the salesperson followed them. Even Mamoru had the decency to redden around the ears, though his hand never left her side as they exited.
"So…let's shoot for honesty," she muttered, trying to ignore the hot confusion sizzling beneath her skin.
All he could do was laugh. The next store opened up around them, clearly oblivious to the previous run-in across the hall. Within the first few moments of entering, however, the sunshine golden hair whipped around and Usagi's determined blue eyes met his like a bear trap.
"Let's just get one thing perfectly clear before this goes anywhere," she hissed, seething and angry and confused all at once. "I am not one of your call-girls. This is not some freakish lead-up to a porno. You will not try your little moves on me, or that will be the end of this."
"Oi, that's a bit unfair. Can't I even tease you about it?" he murmured, coming within a breath's distance of her. She tried not to gulp nervously, staring up at his face while her heart thrummed heavily. The memory of his mouth on her skin scarred her thoughts, froze the words she would have loved to throw in his face.
"No." It came out much more defiant that she felt. The single word had his eyebrow arching, his soft lips pursing downward. Her hands twitched and jerked; both aching to grip his face and pull him down to her level or clasp behind her back in chaste horror. He seemed to sense the struggle, leaning down so it was so much easier. All it would take was a tilt of her little feet to catch those lips….
"When did you get to be such a hard-ass?" the breath wafted across her mouth, made the other shoppers feel eons away. There was just him and his burning cobalt eyes. She blinked quickly, tried to force her thoughts back into place. They'd just been kicked out of the last place for doing things like this!
"When you decided to take a comment as a challenge," she replied pertly, turning away from him. The deft move blocked all of him but the scent and the steady, radiating heat beating against her back. Safely turned away now, she let her traitorous eyes slide closed, drew in a breath of his cologne. That delicious spicy musk was enough alone to twist and distort and practically own her.
"Oh. So can I take this as another challenge?" the dizzyingly smooth voice dribbled across her form like a living creature. He bent, close enough to send his breath smoldering across her neck. She shuddered, feeling the coil begin low within her. Hangers clacked within her arms, clothing swished as she shied a little further away. He wanted to play seducer again. Well, she had an answer for that if he thought he could get away with it!
"Forget it, Mamoru-baka! The only man I'll ever sleep with is my husband." The fiery comment slid from her mouth long before her brain had any say. The sumptuous chuckle rattled in her bones, made her flesh shiver. Even her face, which before had been turned away in some mock show of defiance, came back toward him. The rough pads of his fingers brushed her jaw, tilted her head just enough so his lips could flutter across the exposed ear.
"Consider it done."
That molten, glorious burn belched upward like rage, like hope. She almost choked on the cough, on the hollow yearning growing deep within. His fingers against her face, that sizzling warmth at her back smoked through flesh and form, drew her closer. A hot breath clung to the insides of her throat. His thumb traced a small circle in her cheek that seemed to make that aching void yawn wider.
A shiver trembled across her skin, broke the porcelain into gooseflesh. His breath teased the outer shell of her ear; the sound of air hissing from his throat so comforting it nearly forced tears to her eyes. Another moment of this delicious torture and she'd be turning around, clutching to his shirt like a lust-crazed drug addict and sealing that heat with more than looks.
The strong pressure of his other hand slid across her stomach, wrapped around one hip while the rest of her fell flush against him. It was horrible torture; rather than let those hands wander as they would, the man actually had the gall to just hold her. His thumb still pressed to the side of her face, the fingers wrapped around her skull as if to guard her.
All the while, she retraced those words with every sense of foreboding, of longing. He'd promised her something once before–perhaps had used those very words. Sapphire blue slid up from the floor, clashed headily against warm cobalt and clung helpless in the shared gaze. There was something terrible and irresistible about his thoughtful, deep eyes; the way his mouth seemed to tug at the corner. Like she was some secret he preferred keeping all to himself.
"You, uh," he cleared his throat; the only sign that she'd affected him just as much. "You should try this one." He gestured to something in her hands, pulling quickly away. His eyes were kind, though, when he turned back to press a kiss to her forehead. The feel of his soft lips on her skin had her grinning despite all previous attempts at being angry with him.
.
.
….
She smiled foolishly, slipping each strap over her shoulders and sliding the zipper into place. There was a sparkle to her, like the burnt out bulb had been replaced when she wasn't looking. For a spare second, the girl spun within the confines of her changing room, loving how the new pink dress flirted across her thighs.
The grin echoed back through the changing room mirror, taking with it the dark circles, the worry and heartache. Even in the childish daydreams in class, she hadn't expected they would get along so well together. That attraction, that warmth billowing up in her chest wasn't the insistent, rough pull of a bond she had no choice in. It was as true, as honest as she had wanted it to be from the beginning. This was so much more fun than she had originally assumed, too, especially for how bad the last date was.
The changing room door fell open beneath her hand as she thought. At least now they were laughing and joking, he was teasing her without being cruel. The thought brought every other up short by the reigns.
He looked stony; as if he were back to being the block of ice she'd known a year ago. It froze the turbulent thoughts crashing through her skull like laughing children. The bubbly light touch hit against her conscience as if it had been a rock through glass. The uncomfortable feel of gooseflesh crawled along her arms and legs, because the villain shone through at the touch of a short blond girl.
"Ne, Mamoru-san, call me next week! I'm ready..."
The flash of uncomfortable irritation nearly didn't break the mask, but Usagi was watching all too closely. His face, usually so impassive and empty, held the tiny increments of contempt she'd grown so accustomed to at the Crown. This short blond girl was latched to his arm, coated in the store uniform, and batting her eyelashes for all she was worth. It took a moment for the strange feeling crawling between her shoulder blades to find a name.
It was annoyance.
But Mamoru caught her eye again, and she watched as the ice melted, as his mouth hung open, and the other girl was completely forgotten at his side. For that one, bare moment, she could see the furnace kick in, could almost hear that telltale rumble of approval as he stalked toward her.
"Have you seen it yet?" he murmured, so close to her ear now she could feel the heat billowing across her skin. A firm hand tugged her elbow till they were both facing the mirrors side by side. That coldness she'd seen moments before was gone, but not the store clerk watching through saddened eyes behind them. He didn't seem to notice their audience, but it was all Usagi could see for the moment. "Maybe I could go for more pepto."
Her eyes finally left the blond girl to lock against her own image. But there was something new growing within her, something born of that poor girl's frustrated look of desperation sinking into despair. Because she wasn't just Usagi with a little school girl crush. She wasn't just desirable because she happened to be a Senshi or because of her heritage.
An impish grin answered the breath of confidence filling her lungs, his openly lustful eyes.
"I give you heart burn?" she cackled. The sound ricocheted in the small store like gunfire, out of place and vibrant and charming. He grinned, shaking his head into the flesh of her neck while trying not to laugh.
"Wow. Ugh, that was horrible." He was smiling and suddenly she couldn't remember why she'd been so annoyed moments before. He pressed himself along her back, stroking her hip with his fingers as they gazed into the mirror side by side. There was something intrinsically beautiful about the lines of their faces, the shape of them in combination that seemed inhumanly beautiful. She'd heard others say that a couple looked good together, but that brilliant contrast between the two of them seemed to escalate into the realms of supernatural.
His fingers brushed the side of her mouth, but he didn't move to kiss her. The strong hand at her waist didn't wander, didn't push or invite. He was content and his smile was so beautiful and open and honest. Those deep, beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners; true, honest and actually happy. Her breathing hitched, caught on the lump in her throat. He was looking at her.
No, he was looking at her.
"Usa..." he whispered urgently, trying to keep his hold on her hips as she dove back toward the changing room. The tears were already leaving heavy streaks down her face and she couldn't force the air back into her lungs no matter how she leaned against the door and fought. Her fingers fumbled with the latch uselessly, the clicking mumble of the door all she could focus on past the sound of his voice bleeding through.
The mania was crawling up through her chest and throat while she struggled, fighting back the sobs that didn't make sense. Though he called through the barrier and although he was pleading with her to come back out, to come stand beside him, she couldn't bear the thought of doing just that, because it meant….
She shuddered, hiccupping deep in her chest till it felt like her bones were giving way beneath the pressure. The tears were falling harder now, as she huddled into a stall and crouched into the corner. What was wrong with her? It was one thing to get angry at him, another to think he was a waste of time, but…but the second that he actually cared; all she could do was run away.
It was all she'd done this year. Yes, she pretended to get stronger, to fight harder, but what did that mean when he called her a pet name, when he held her so close she felt like she was suffocating?
She fumbled through the subspace pocket, looking for nothing in particular. Her fingers brushed the communicator and instantly recoiled. What would the girls say of her predicament? She'd gotten herself into it, like she always did. It was time to be a big kid and get herself out.
The sleek cover of her new phone slid against her thumb. She stilled, gripping the object to pull it free. She'd tried not to look at it before, too embarrassed at such an expensive gift, and perhaps fearing what he meant by it. The baby pink case sparkled in the half light as the dim bathroom lights caught against white gems.
They formed a tiny crown across the top of the case, swirly and cute and completely and utterly Usagi in every way. It just made the tears fall harder. It just made the ache in her chest expand beyond reason. Things like this weren't anomalies, per se. They were just him assuming anything cute and girly would be close enough. She was a book to most people: easy to read, everything on the cover. He didn't know her! This was all just an elaborate game to get him exactly what he wanted in the moment.
The sobs were subsiding. Her fingers slipped across the face of her gift, wishing she'd at least had the sense to give it back to him before running off. Now, she'd have to face him after that last ridiculous outburst–again–and hand this back.
The tears burned her hot face as she stared downward, watching the screen come to life. It must have been a factory preset, but the swirling night sky hid behind the many icons gracing the home page. She sniffled, flicking through the apps thoughtlessly for a few moments before finding the dial screen.
The girls teased her about knowing their numbers by heart, but the skill sure came in useful at a time like this. As the tone hummed, and the silence of the girls changing room closed around her, she felt like everything was made of plush velvet. It was like the store had closed around her tiny room to give her time to think, to figure out exactly why she was sobbing and why she'd locked herself away.
"Moshi moshi!" The familiar tenor voice crackled through a bad connection and suddenly her nerves didn't feel so frazzled. A stuttering sigh fell from her mouth before the words could come out.
"Ohayo, Onee-san." She hiccupped again, gripping her forehead. Heaven blue eyes closed finally and she felt her breathing start to regulate again.
"Oi, Usagi-chan? Are you crying?" Motoki's voice was garbled, the homey sounds of the arcade cushioned his words till they were muffled and distorted. A loud ping echoed through the earpiece, a sure sign someone had gotten the better of the crane machine again.
"H-hai." Another ding marked a level-up for a Sailor-V fan, followed quickly by screaming. They must have finished up repairs in time for the afternoon rush.
"Is everything ok? Where's Mamoru?"
The question hung between them for a moment, while she traced a pattern into the smooth wall with a finger. For that one, aching moment, she wished she'd gone out with the girls instead. They could have had a movie marathon or gone gaming or shopping….
"I didn't want…." The words plugged harsh in her throat, one hand gripped at her throbbing forehead. What? Everything he offered? Even the memory of his hands on her made her skin break in gooseflesh; they'd laughed and flirted for nearly two hours at this point, if her phone was set up right. His cynicism had been charming and those hot blue eyes glued to her every second as if he couldn't help it as much as she couldn't.
"Oh." Motoki's voice crackled over the phone, and she started harshly. Her wandering mind had taken her someplace else the past few minutes. "What happened?"
"Nothing." She felt like a petulant child even saying it.
"…So, it was a bad date?" he pressed quietly.
"Well no." She sighed again, wiping at another stray tear. It was hard to imagine that just a few minutes earlier, she'd been thinking how wonderful it had all been, remarking to herself how well they seemed to get along. Her mind shuddered away again, carried off from the painful thoughts toward oblivion. Everything in her yearned to just space out into a daydream where everything was perfect and the real world didn't exist anymore.
"You're going to have to use your words, Usagi-chan. I'm not so good at mind reading." The reprimand was given as gently as he could muster, but she winced at it anyway.
"I just…he…." She gulped, forced the words forward no matter how they stung in her throat. "He'll just hurt me, Onee-san. I can see it and I can't…." She was shaking. Even the fingers biting into the skin of her neck seemed to tremble.
"Aw, Usagi-chan! Is that why? You're scared?" She grumbled something pathetic and unintelligible in the following quiet. "Being scared is ok. Letting it drive you isn't."
"Ne?"
"Usa, if you're not happy with him, then that's fine. You're a big girl, you know what you need to do. But if you're just scared to try, you might miss out on something really good." Usagi drew in a deep, labored breath, leaning her head back until it hit the wall of her cocoon with a solid thump. It made sense and she hated her older brother for pointing it out. These fears had plagued her for so long that it just seemed silly to talk about it now. "Besides, aren't you like a champion of love or something?" The question was whispered conspiratorially, probably hidden behind both a hand and a grin.
"'Nee-chan!" She couldn't help her answering smile from leaking through, though she hated it.
"Have you had fun?" the manager asked quietly, now that the sounds of the arcade had disappeared from behind him. Quietly, the events of the evening were retraced in detail. He had been focused on her right from the start, had teased and goaded and had shared moments with her. She gulped.
"Hai." There was a slight pause at the thought of them standing side by side. It hadn't been some broken little girl with a hopeless crush, it had felt like equals. Partners. Even the thought of that, though, had her heart jumping again, had her fears crashing down around her like weights from a high shelf. "He's being really charming. He's never been like that, though."
That bothered her too, because he couldn't be both. Not unless he was putting up a front, not unless he was lying about one or the other.
"Oh, I beg to differ. Mamoru-kun is quite the charmer when he wants to be."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she groaned in response, hating that the tears kept falling even now.
"You think he's faking it?" He seemed to pause for a moment, sighing away from the mouthpiece. She could almost see him lean against a wall, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when something bothered him. "Usagi, he really does love you. He's broken and messed up–there's no denying that he may never be normal like you and me. But you should know how he looks at you, how he talks about you."
"But I'm the Odango," she interjected, feeling the rush of fear pummel her chest again. She was flushing, trying to hide her face though no one was around to see it.
"Hai, you know, I think he really likes it? You should have seen his face with that little boy." The manager chuckled lightly and cleared his throat. "Usa, it's not my place to say, but I think you should give him a chance. I think you'll be surprised."
"Yeah, but you're his best friend," she volleyed, knowing even as the words left that it was useless. Because it wasn't like Motoki's word was law, and she could still walk away from this.
"I'm yours, too." It was, however, how much she loved and respected her brother to take his words under serious consideration.
But she didn't want to face him, not after running off and locking the door behind her. Not after calling his best friend for help. Again, she retraced the events of the evening; saw those smoldering blue eyes staring at her, like he couldn't look away. As much as she wanted to pretend like she was the strong, invincible super hero, right now all she felt was stupid and childish. All she could hear was the drivel of his fan club's latest article, the bitter claims of college girls. She shuddered.
"Do you think I could get a ride, 'Toki-chan?" the girl murmured quietly, almost hoping he couldn't hear her. It was true. Everything he said was completely true.
"I'll come if you want."
She didn't answer. The alien trinket in her hand could mean salvation from a world of confusion, pain and misunderstanding, but all she could do was press the hang-up button instead.
"I tried to tell him before." The familiar rumble of his voice practically burned through the door. She jumped, cursing under her breath as the pile of clothes and hangers hit the floor with a clang. The phone slipped from her fingers, but fell against the soft cushion of clothing as she ripped the thin partition open.
He was standing a few feet down the hall, close enough to hear her pathetic phone call. His shadowed eyes were downcast, mouth open and twisted. It didn't matter that they weren't connected anymore, because his pain was so tangible she could almost touch it. It felt….
It felt like her; like he was bleeding from the same wound, like he echoed everything back from her. The thought made her blood chill, because he was turning away.
"Mam...moru..." She stepped forward, fear locking her jaw in place. He wasn't supposed to hear! A part of her had known he'd just been talking through the door, but her stupid, spacey brain had conveniently scrubbed the fact free.
"You broke the bond. I should have taken the hint."
"Wait! I'm sorry, it's just that..."
"Stop, Usagi-chan. You don't owe me an explanation." He flicked a wrist her direction as he turned, murmuring to himself as he went. "You don't owe me anything."
"I'm sorry," she had; she'd broken their bond because it was a curse, because it took away her will to fight, to live on her own terms. He didn't realize it yet, but she was sure that sometime soon, just down the road for them, he'd realize what a huge mistake he'd made. Why he would ever want to be latched to her still left pools of doubt lingering in her mind. He didn't know it yet, but she may have saved both of them lifetimes of heartache and regret. "I just wanted a chance to choose." The tears began to fall finally. "You took that away from me, but it was mine." Didn't he see how much she was trying to do for him? How deeply she did care because she was willing to cut the cord and let him go? "Do you know what it's like, Mamoru? Loving someone and only seeing the bad? Wondering why you care at all when all they do is hurt you?"
He said nothing. She was right on all points, yet again. It was difficult to have this thrown back in his face, especially after everything that had happened the last few weeks. His fumbling hands found the pockets at his waist and hid there, his eyes latched to the floor.
"And then this." She waved a hand erratically at their surroundings, big and bright enough to pull his gaze up again. "One minute, you're tearing me apart and the next I feel like a princess."
"That was kind of the point," he interjected quietly.
But did it really matter? She'd been talking to Motoki, his best friend, and wanting a ride home so she could get away from him. It was ironic and funny, when he sat back to consider it. They'd had fun, and maybe he'd gotten a little suggestive, but for a second there he almost believed she enjoyed it as much as he did.
The man peeled himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and turned away. It was likely that Motoki was already on his damn way, white knight complex and all, to save the poor girl from him. She should have just said things were too broken.
"No, please! I just don't know who you are!"
A hand gripped his arm and stopped him cold. Usagi was still wearing that beautiful pink dress, her face lit from within and tears shining. His words stuck on a plugged throat. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to apologize for, so much to make right. If anything, though, the exchange could only prove how useless it was to try.
"That's why people go on dates, Usagi."
The ghostly whisper was given with monotone indifference, as if he could make it sound as futile as it really was. She didn't understand him, and worse, she didn't want to. It felt like hell freezing over his rib cage, that suckling river tearing in the back of his mind. She didn't want to. She didn't want him.
"I know!"
A jerk from her hand stopped his retreat again, though the weight of tears burdened his eyes. The subtle knife of uncomfortable loneliness dug into his back while he fought the urge to shake her off. She'd just said he wasn't good enough, what the hell else could she say more?
"I know, Mamoru. But, but...what about when it stops?"
"Complete sentences, Tsukino-san." He sighed, reaching up to rub at his weighted eyes. It was never hard to stop the tears from falling, except when she was around. It was like she had a highway straight into him and it killed. The smoking gun left a bullet hole through his chest, the uncapped wound of the broken bond at his side, the vicious burn of the thought of her. She didn't make any sense! And the worst part was that it didn't matter at all because he could feel the slow budding of his heart freeze cold and wither away.
"I'm not a toy. You keep saying this is all for me, but it's not! I think secretly, it's for you. For your pride." But the words weren't laced with anger or venom. She hiccupped, felt the cool air conditioning streak along her face where the tears had fallen. "When you're all done with me, they'll say 'serves you right, Usagi, you knew he'd cheat on you.' But I'll just..."
"Cheat? Gods, with who? With what?" The thought of it boggled his mind. Is this what she'd been scared of all along? Who the hell else in the world came close? "This is what's been bothering you? Of all the stupid, nonsensical…."
"It's not nonsense! I don't want to get hurt!"
"And what? That's my main goal? I didn't work my ass off for years just to trip at the finish line!" The irony of their situation was not lost on him. The blond was freaking out over not being given a choice, over being forced into something that would only end badly in her mind. Yet he was being shoe-horned into some ridiculous preconception based on word-of-mouth and obvious hearsay. And rather than talking out this fear with her, he was yelling back just as loud in a public area. He groaned. "Which is what I'm doing." Tired hands assaulted his face as he turned slowly away. She made him so mad sometimes! And it didn't even matter, because it was obvious this would be a scar for them forever.
"You know what? Just...forget it." He turned momentarily, thought twice, and looked back in time to see her sniffle adorably. The anger simmered down low in his chest, enough that he could school his tone and not hurt her. "Just so you know, Usagi, I have never cheated. Not once. You shouldn't believe everything you hear. Just because I didn't call someone back doesn't mean I did something wrong. I wasn't interested."
"And all of this? Isn't it some elaborate scheme to get me into bed with you?"
"Oh, heaven help me," he murmured, close to exploding. This whole day was completely pointless. He had wanted to get to know her better, make her feel comfortable and open around him, and all it had done was shutter her back into where they'd been all year. It was like watching their fights on instant replay and it forced her angered words through his brain like a screaming engine. It was pointless.
Everything was.
"It sure as hell didn't have anything to do with making you feel good!" The raging words burst from his mouth, even as despair settled cold within his chest. She wanted a fight; a reason to never speak to him again. He could give her that, at least. "Yes, I'm the bad guy, Tsukino-san. You thought it was the freaks out killing people in the street, but really, it's me. Because I'm the liar, the one who only wants you for what you can give me!"
It didn't matter. He didn't. Suddenly, he felt that weight in his chest lifted just a bit because Motoki was already on his way and he and Usagi would leave his life for good, just like everyone else. He could be alone, in his car, on the road, where he belonged. No one needed to know him, because he knew himself. No one needed to be with him because he had always been the one to stand on the sidelines and watch, wait, and figure things out on his own.
Little did Usagi know that he'd done just that with her all year. With a twisted sort of self-mockery, he let the last barb fly, throwing the blame and pity right back at her.
"Did it ever occur to you that I just wanted a date? Gods! And I'm the broken one!" The changing room door slammed shut again and the wetness finally fell from his eyes. The man turned, pressed his lips to his fingers and then touched the door with all the reverence and love he felt burning through him.
Take this, Usako, he thought, and run like hell.
He was walking away, letting that door close like the one she'd just slammed in his face. The rough calluses of his hands rubbed at his eyes and face, irritated that they were in public of all places while the tears were falling. He wiped at them fruitlessly, knowing even as he did that she would be the only person to ever inspire such a deep, aching reaction straight from his gut. But it was okay because at least knowing that meant it would never happen again. Ever.
The quiet man found a corner of the store to lurk in while she changed. Though the likelihood of her even wanting a ride from him after that last comment was pretty low, he wanted to make sure she got home safe.
Which was stupid. He was on a date with the one girl he probably didn't need to worry about getting mugged on the way home. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her take out a gang single-handedly just last week. But the idea of her ever getting hurt made his whole body tremble because she was so sweet, so funny, so fiery….
"Whore queen!" The clatter of broken racks slammed against a wall. The screech of bending metal careened through the small shop like a sonic boom. Bodies hit the floor instinctively, the telltale signs of a city now used to danger. Mamoru jumped from his corner, eyeing the courtyard as a bench flew past. Shattered glass shards smoked the air around them as the window blew in. The jagged form lurched unevenly through the rubble, heavy sword swinging from an awkwardly-high shoulder.
A burst of energy exploded from behind, painting the world silvery white as the stalls fell like dominos to the ground. The huddled masses breathed a collective sigh as red boots clacked overtop the wreckage to accept the challenge. Blue eyes met in silent consent,\ and darkness pulled from the shadows.
"Where else would you be, you succubus! You vampire! I'll tear your head from your neck!" The last general lifted the closest rack and flung, barely missing his target as she ducked. Kamen slid around the side of the room, quickly ushering the guests together. Moon slid her tiara free and set the circlet blazing in her hand.
"You!" he coughed, black blood splattering his lips. The figure hunched and bubbled, popping bones into place with a resounding crack. She sought Kamen's eyes, laying two fingers down slowly. He nodded.
She dove, arching the crackling weapon between them while the poison blade rose to meet it. The clash boomed through the enclosed space, sent shards of golden tiara whizzing through the racks and across the ground. The blade edged on, sweeping upward to catch her in the ribs. She jumped back, fists capturing his broken, twisted hands to wrench the blade free. Too late, her attacker rocked forward, slamming his shoulder into her chest.
The tiny frame crumpled backward as the sword clattered to the ground. Iron clasps gripped her tumbling body, tearing her from her fall and firing in the opposite direction. Cracked drywall smashed the odd quiet, her blue and white form crushed through the debris. Tile ricocheted through her knees and arms, glass slid through her skin as she skidded to a halt on the courtyard floor.
.
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…..
AN: So yeah, I kinda like the cliffhangers…
Sorry guys, I just had to. No worries, though, because even though this took me about 4 months to finish, the Epilogue is um…perfect. Flawless. Except for that one fight scene that I've been putting off for months….
I would, however, love to invite all the followers of this story to check out my newest epic, Sleeping Death. If you haven't started reading it, get on that like me in a Cinnabon store!
HUGE MASSIVE RIDICULOUSLY LOUD shoutouts to my reviewers; this book is dedicated to the eight of you (and dear goodness, you know who you are!) who take the time to say something –you are the reason this story is getting finished. You are the reason I came back to writing after so long. You took the time to pull me out of a funk, and for that I am so, so grateful and thankful for your kind words, and for your encouragement when I feel like I suck. If numbers where everything, this would be not even a whisper in the fandom, but you guys make me feel like a superstar!
As freaking always, slightlyxjaded, you are amazing and wonderful. I couldn't have asked for a better editor, your notes and emails make me laugh out loud, let me know when I'm on track, let me know… how to use a comma… amongst many other things :D You're the best, my dear!
Thanks guys! Keep it tuned for the conclusion! (because I fangirl over it every time I read it!)
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