Entanglement - Chapter Five
: Confrontation (Sano POV)
A blocked sensation in your throat, choking sounds escaping your mouth. A queer numbness in your legs, muscles frozen together and then melted apart in a split second, legs like fluid substance, stuck to the ground, and then .
Even now, two of three days later, you remember exactly what you felt. You didn't see what happened after Saito kissed his wife, but judging from the way they were tearing at each other's clothes, it's pretty obvious what happened next.
You wrenched your feet away with brute force, fled back to the inn and tried to drown your emotions in several good-sized jars of wine. You lost count of how many after eleven. It didn't work anyway. Eleven hundred jars wouldn't have worked.
He'll know you were there, you say silently. You dropped his glove there. And you saw your headband falling in a banner of red from his jacket. He kept it. He kept it. What the hell for? A souvenir of his successful conquest?
Conquest? Has he conquered you?
You call for a tub of hot water and strip for a bath. You find that the marks he left are fading rapidly. Only the bite mark on your shoulder and most of the scratches across your chest, down your arms and legs, are left.
You wonder, as you lower yourself into the water, whether you left any marks on him. Ducking under the water, you shake your head violently.
There's a knock at the door. You answer it, wearing nothing but trousers.
It's Saito.
You feel your eyes widen, and narrow. Suddenly you are very conscious of your dripping hair, slick chest, and the scratches and bite mark very prominently displayed.
Saito's eyes are darting up and down your body, expressionless and dispassionate as always. You look at him levelly.
"What do you want." It's not a question, but a statement.
He looks thrown, jolted out of a reverie. His brow is furrowed momentarily before her smoothens his face. He holds up your headband, now a forlorn, limp banner of red.
You take it. You look at him closely, wondering why he came. Your curiosity blends into fiery anger and you turn your back on him.
"Sagara - "
"What, here to gloat?" you cut in. "You think you can screw me over and leave me there like a whore from the street, take my belongings for a souvenir?"
He looks taken aback. Not really, actually. His eyebrow is just arched at an extraordinary angle - that bloody damned possessed eyebrow!
"Are you here for another fuck?" You are surprised at your own voice's iciness. "Too bad, Saito."
He glances at the floor.
"I'm sorry."
You blink. What?
"I'm sorry." He shakes his head briefly. His eyes are slanted in confusion, hair shaggy and falling over his face. "I - I don't - " He breaks off, and bites his lip. For a moment, you could almost see the boy he had been. He turns to go.
You stare blankly at his straight back.
"Saito." He turns. "Here." You toss his glove at him and he catches it mechanically. His eyes widen when he sees what it is.
"Sagara, did you - "
You don't answer. You don't hear the rest of his question, but you know what comes next. With a shake of your head, and a small shower of crystal drops from your hair, you return to your room.
Now it's his turn to look at your back.
: Confrontation (Sano POV)
A blocked sensation in your throat, choking sounds escaping your mouth. A queer numbness in your legs, muscles frozen together and then melted apart in a split second, legs like fluid substance, stuck to the ground, and then .
Even now, two of three days later, you remember exactly what you felt. You didn't see what happened after Saito kissed his wife, but judging from the way they were tearing at each other's clothes, it's pretty obvious what happened next.
You wrenched your feet away with brute force, fled back to the inn and tried to drown your emotions in several good-sized jars of wine. You lost count of how many after eleven. It didn't work anyway. Eleven hundred jars wouldn't have worked.
He'll know you were there, you say silently. You dropped his glove there. And you saw your headband falling in a banner of red from his jacket. He kept it. He kept it. What the hell for? A souvenir of his successful conquest?
Conquest? Has he conquered you?
You call for a tub of hot water and strip for a bath. You find that the marks he left are fading rapidly. Only the bite mark on your shoulder and most of the scratches across your chest, down your arms and legs, are left.
You wonder, as you lower yourself into the water, whether you left any marks on him. Ducking under the water, you shake your head violently.
There's a knock at the door. You answer it, wearing nothing but trousers.
It's Saito.
You feel your eyes widen, and narrow. Suddenly you are very conscious of your dripping hair, slick chest, and the scratches and bite mark very prominently displayed.
Saito's eyes are darting up and down your body, expressionless and dispassionate as always. You look at him levelly.
"What do you want." It's not a question, but a statement.
He looks thrown, jolted out of a reverie. His brow is furrowed momentarily before her smoothens his face. He holds up your headband, now a forlorn, limp banner of red.
You take it. You look at him closely, wondering why he came. Your curiosity blends into fiery anger and you turn your back on him.
"Sagara - "
"What, here to gloat?" you cut in. "You think you can screw me over and leave me there like a whore from the street, take my belongings for a souvenir?"
He looks taken aback. Not really, actually. His eyebrow is just arched at an extraordinary angle - that bloody damned possessed eyebrow!
"Are you here for another fuck?" You are surprised at your own voice's iciness. "Too bad, Saito."
He glances at the floor.
"I'm sorry."
You blink. What?
"I'm sorry." He shakes his head briefly. His eyes are slanted in confusion, hair shaggy and falling over his face. "I - I don't - " He breaks off, and bites his lip. For a moment, you could almost see the boy he had been. He turns to go.
You stare blankly at his straight back.
"Saito." He turns. "Here." You toss his glove at him and he catches it mechanically. His eyes widen when he sees what it is.
"Sagara, did you - "
You don't answer. You don't hear the rest of his question, but you know what comes next. With a shake of your head, and a small shower of crystal drops from your hair, you return to your room.
Now it's his turn to look at your back.