The Last Wish - 23

Choosing A Fate. 

~*~

Miaka was waiting for him just inside the door when he got back, slim arms folded over her chest, eyebrows pushed so closely together that they nearly touched.  "Nuriko," she growled.  Her foot tapped against the polished wood of the entryway, made him glance at her almost guiltily.  "Where did you go?  Why didn't you tell me?  I was worried!"

The eighteen-year-old slipped carefully in through the door, slid it closed and pressed his back against it.  And, it was strange, but the weariness, the pain…it had bled from his mind, left nothing but a warm kind of peace and a strong desire to finally put the scattered pieces of his life in order.  He closed his eyes for a moment, a soft smile touching his lips. 

Arrigato, Hotohori.  You've been a better friend to me than I've ever been to you.

"Ne, what're you smiling about?!  Nuriko!!"  Suddenly, there were hands on his arms, fingers clutching at his biceps almost fearfully.  "Nuriko, you're hurt!  What were you thinking, leaving the house like that without even telling me?  I thought something happened!"

His eyes slid open.  Miaka was standing there in front of him, staring up at him with wide, worried green eyes, clutching his arms as if afraid of letting go.  Had she…had she really been so worried?  And…why?  Injured or not, he was an adult--he had a right to leave his own house, didn't he?  But…somehow, he knew that she'd been worried for a good reason, even if he wasn't entirely certain as to what it was.  Was she still worried that he was going to…die? 

Nuriko shook his head slightly, pushed the thoughts of death far to the back of his mind.  No.  No, right now, he had other things to think about--other decisions to make.

Do I love her?

Yes.

Do I want to be with her?

…yes. 

If Miaka and I are together…is it going to hurt Tamahome?

Yes. Definitely.

Do I -want- to hurt Tamahome?

No.  God, no.

This…this isn't right.  It just doesn't -feel- right.  Miaka and me?  Mattaku, how is it even possible?  I love her, hai…but, is it really that kind of love?  Do I love her like Tamahome does…or, do I love her like I loved Kourin?  But, even if -my- kind of love isn't romantic love, what about hers?  If she really does love me…how can I hurt her?  And, yet, if I -don't- hurt her, then I hurt Tamahome!  Aaaagggggh!  How'd my life get so complicated???

"Ne, Nuriko…"  A soft voice in his ears; a warm breath on his cheeks.

He snapped out of his thoughts a little abruptly, found wide green eyes hovering just in front of him.  The intimacy of the physical closeness--of having Miaka pressing up against him like this, her lips mere centimeters from his own--was more than a little uncomfortable, and if he hadn't had his back pressed up against the door, he might've tried to slip away.

"Gomen ne," she murmured, smiling gently.  "I didn't mean to yell at you.  But, I was--"  A flicker of fear trickled into the forced-softness of her eyes.  "--worried.  I…"

"Miaka."

She blinked.  "Nani?"

His voice was very soft, so soft, in fact, that if Miaka hadn't been standing as close as she was, she wouldn't have been able to hear him.  "Do you know when I first knew that I loved you?"

The girl shook her head wordlessly.

Nuriko smiled, touched a hand very gently to her cheek, and then bent forward and lightly pressed his lips to hers.  "Neither do I," he whispered.  "But, I know that I do, and that…if you're serious, Miaka--if you're serious about loving me…then, I'll do whatever I can to make sure that you're happy and safe for as long as you'll let me."

For as long as I live, came the unspoken conclusion.

---

She was suddenly very aware of the thundering of the heart in her chest, the quickening of the breath rushing in and out of her lungs.

He's serious. 

This is it, Miaka.  This is where you change things. 

If I'm with Nuriko instead of Tamahome, it makes things different, doesn't it?  It makes...it makes fate different.  And, if I can change this--if I can be with Nuriko instead of Tamahome, if I can change fate...then, I can change other things, too, can't I?

I can...I can save them.  I can save them all.

She closed her eyes, briefly.  I know I can.

The kitchen window was open in the next room, sending a warm, fragrant breeze trickling into the house, drawing in with it the sounds of life and nature and spring.  She drew in a deep breath, tasted salt and earth and the oil of blooming lilacs, and let it out slowly, opened her eyes. 

Nuriko was standing there in front of her, his back leaning against the closed door, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.  His eyes were slightly narrowed and fixed on her, the dark smudges of sleeplessness beneath them reminding her of how tired he must be, how difficult it must be for him to deal with her sudden decision when exhausted and in pain and...

She slid forward, pulled his hand into hers, and started to lead him into the living room.  Her bare feet slapped lightly against the varnished wood of the entry hall, soon softened into muted rustles as she stepped onto the living room carpeting; Nuriko followed without word or question, seeming to understand, somehow, what she intended.

And, then, she'd lowered herself onto the couch, turned so her back touched the armrest and her feet stretched out across the cushions, and drawn him down next to her.  He frowned at her for a moment, a glimmer of confusion in his eyes, but didn't speak; he let himself be pulled until he was perched on the edge of the couch cushion, his back pressing lightly against her side, his face bent towards her in search of explanation.  Just as he was opening his mouth to question, however, she lifted her arms, took him by the shoulders, and pulled him gently down beside her; he seemed to understand, then, and twisted so he was lying on his back beside her, his head pillowed on her shoulder. 

Her fingers moved automatically to his hair, smoothed it back until the silky strands of violet tickled against her throat, mixed in with her own dark hair.  "You're tired," she murmured, "ne, Nuriko?"

His head moved slightly against her.  "Hai."

"Does it hurt your ribs to lay like this?"

He seemed to smile.  "No.  It doesn't hurt."

A few moments of silence passed.  Glimmers of sunshine trickled in through the window above the T.V., bathed them in a wash of warm, sleepy gold. 

"Ne...Nuriko?"

He shifted a little, swallowed.  "Hmm?"

"I..."  She closed her eyes, let herself feel, for a moment, the comforting thudding of his heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of his breathing.  "I love you."

---

He closed his eyes, fighting back the sudden mist of tears that sprang to his eyes.  They were just words.  Just simple, stupid words...and, yet, they drove into his heart like claws, cast all breath from his lungs and all thought from his brain. 

They were just words, but they felt like so much more...

She loves me.  She loves me she loves me she loves me she loves me.

Why would she say it if it wasn't true?  Why? 

She wouldn't.  So she must.  She must really...really...

"I love you, too," he whispered.  His voice shook, just slightly, and it wasn't until he heard that quiver that he thought about what it meant, to say those words and mean them. 

It was a pledge.  A promise.  A bond.  To say those words and mean them...it was to promise that he would always be there for her, always protect her and be strong for her and keep her safe. 

It was to pledge that she would always come first in his life, that from now on, his needs came second to hers.

Living for someone else... 

Well, ne, it's not like it's something I haven't done before.

"Ne, Nuriko?"

He snapped from his thoughts, realized they'd been lying in silence for quite some time, now.  "Hm?"

She cleared her throat; her voice sounded a little strained as she spoke, the words slipping almost tensely from her lips.  "You...you know the Prom is next weekend, and that...that Tamahome and I were going to go...ne?"

He closed his eyes, the mention of his friend--

god, what's he going to do when he finds out?  how can i do this to him?  how can i do this to him???

--making him wince in anticipatory agony, and somehow he found the strength to nod.  "H...hai."

"He...probably won't feel up to going, now, after..."  Her voice sank.  "...after what happened."

Pause.

"Do you want me to go with you, Miaka?"

"W...would you?  I mean, if Mitsukake says it's all right?"

"I..."  He paused, a sudden, crippling jolt of doubt surging through him, freezing the words in his throat.

I can't do this.  I can't do this to Tamahome.  He loves her...and, damn it, I -know- she loves him, too!  She always has!  She has for so long...and, for that to just change, for her to just suddenly decide that she loves me, instead...

He felt cold, his skin bathed in ice, his lungs packed with snow.

But, why would she lie to me like this?  Why?  I know Miaka--I've known her for long enough to know that she wouldn't do something like this, not unless she had a good reason. 

But, what the hell would a good reason be for something like this?? 

He sat up more suddenly than he should have; his ribs screamed in protest, and for a moment, he could only sit there on the edge of the couch, gasping for breath against the pain, arm wrapped around himself.  He heard the rustle of Miaka sitting up, too, a moment later felt the warmth of her hands on his shoulders.

"Nuriko?"

His neck bent; his chin tilted towards his chest.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "It's just...Miaka, how can you mean it?  How?  I know you love him.  I know you do.  You...you always have.  Please..."  He felt the weary tears slipping up his throat again, fought them back with all that remained of his willpower--but, despite what comfort the last flood had brought, he knew he was fighting a losing battle attempting to hold back this new onslaught.  "Please, don't do this to me."

It just...it hurt so much.  It was unfair and painful and he was so tired and why did she have to try to make him believe that things were one way when they really weren't and...

"Don't...don't do what to you?"

His eyes squeezed shut, and he knew that he was going to cry again.

Who are these tears for?  Me?  Miaka?  Tamahome?  Kourin? 

Does...does it matter?

"Don't make me believe this is real," he managed, "when...when it's not."

---

It -is- real.  It is.  It has to be.  I...I can change things!  I can change who I love!  No one said I couldn't change who I love!! 

"I-It's real.  Nuriko...Nuriko, I'm not...I'm not pretending."

He was crying.  She could feel it in the way his shoulders heaved with each breath, the way his face was bent away from her, towards the floor.  Heart twisting in her chest, Miaka slid forwards so she was sitting beside him, legs dangling over the edge of the cushions as his were, and carefully placed her arm around his shoulders, let the top of her head touch against his temple.

The sobs slipped lightly from his throat, louder because of the pain the gaspy breaths were causing in his ribs; he barely seemed to notice the presence of her arm, but of course she knew that he must have...  For a long moment, she struggled to find something to say, some magical sequence of words that would convince Nuriko that she meant it, that she wasn't pretending or making it up or toying with him...but, before she could find the strength to speak, the words were sliding from his lips, choked with tears and so low that she could barely hear them.

"I'm...so tired...of crying, Miaka.  So tired.  I always...try to stop myself, when I know I'm going to cry...but, I never can."  He shook his head; a tear fell from the breaks in his fingers, glittered gold in the light before vanishing  below them.  "I want...so badly for this to be real.  It sounds strange, but ever since I realized that I...that I loved Hotohori, there was a part of me that always just wanted to be...normal.  My parents are ashamed of me, you know.  Even...even after I stopped dressing like Kourin, I never stopped loving like her, and...they never approved.

"But, Miaka...Miaka, with you...with you, I had hope.  Because...I loved you!  I loved you as much as I ever loved Hotohori, and I thought that maybe...maybe it meant I was normal.  Ne?"  He sniffled, wiped a flood of tears from his eyes and turned to look at her.  "I thought it meant that maybe I was normal all along.  I'm not...trying to say that I don't love you.  I do.  I love you and I would give anything of myself to protect you, but...Miaka, it's not like that between us.  It never has been.  It's not supposed to be.  You know that as well as I do, and...and, I don't know why you're doing this--I don't know why you're saying that you love me when you...when you love Tamahome--but...I'm sure you have a good reason, ne? 

"But, please.  Please.  Stop...letting me think that this is real.  Stop letting me...believe things about myself that aren't true."

She shook her head, so frozen with shock and anguish that it was difficult to find breath to speak.  "N-Nuriko, I..."

"Wait.  Just...just let me say one more thing."

---

The tears were still swimming in his eyes, making the world blurry and dreamlike...but he felt a new strength rising in his heart, now, a new power flooding into him, giving him the courage to keep going, even though it hurt so much...

"Miaka," he breathed.  And, then, he turned towards her, very carefully, pressed his hands to the warmth of her cheeks, and kissed her.  The tears welled beneath his eyelashes as their lips pressed together, as he showed her what he knew he could never have possibly put into words.

After a moment, he drew back from her, just a little--just enough so their lips were no longer touching, so their noses were pressed together and their eyes only inches apart.  "You see it, don't you, Miaka?" he whispered.  "I do love you.  And, you do love me.  But..."

Her eyes were suddenly wavering with tears, her eyebrows bent upwards in anguish.  "But," she continued in the same soft, choked whisper, "it's not...it's not like that...between us."  She closed her eyes.  "Is it?"

He shook his head, rubbing their noses very lightly together.  "No.  It never was.  I...I didn't realize it until just now, but...it never was."

---

She drew her face back from his for an instant, lifted her arms and wrapped them around him and hugged him close.  Her cheek fell to his shoulder, and a moment later, she felt his arms against her back, his hair against her face. 

It isn't fair.  It isn't fair. I should be able to change it.  I love him!  I should be able to change it...

"I love you, Nuriko," she wept.  "I really do.  I-I wasn't lying about that, I really wasn't...I wasn't..."

He drew a deep breath; it must've hurt him, but he didn't give any sign that it did.  His palms rubbed against her back, warm and gentle and comforting.  "I know," he said.  "I know, Miaka.  I love you, too.  But...when we kiss.  When we kiss, Miaka.  What do you feel?"

...and, all she could do was say the truth.

"Nothing," she whispered.  "I...  Nothing."

"And, when you..."  His voice seemed suddenly strained.  "When you kiss...Tamahome.  What do you feel?"

Everything...

She didn't answer, but suddenly the arms around her were tighter, the voice in her ears lower--softer.  "You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me, Miaka.  You really are.  I...I could never have pulled myself out of what Kourin's death did to me if you hadn't been there to help me through it, and...and, so I guess it's natural...that I would come to love you.  But, no matter how deeply that love might run...it's just not the same as the love I..."  He hesitated; and then, he gently lifted her from him, fingers wrapped around her shoulders, and stared into her eyes with the traces of a smile on his lips.  "It's just not the same as the love I have for...someone else."

She stared at him for a long time, gaze never wavering from those wide, strong, intelligent violet eyes, feeling so warm and so protected and so loved that, for a long time, it was easy to forget all that had been happening...all that would happen if she didn't stop it.  At last, she smiled, giving a laugh that came only slighlty choked with the tears.

"Will you...will you still go the Prom with me?"

He smiled, and with the sunlight smoothing at his features, glittering against his tears like diamonds, she couldn't help but think that he looked like an angel...

"Hai, I'll go with you," he promised, still smiling softly.  "But, just as friends, ne?"

The smile touched at her own lips; she nodded, then leaned forward and hugged him again.  "Hai," she murmured, chin resting lightly on his shoulder, eyes turned towards the sun.  "Just...just as friends."

But, good friends.

The best of friends.

~*~