So I'm home from work with a migraine, and I thought "what better way to
feel less like I'm wasting my day than to work on Rouge?" (wonders absently
how grammatically incorrect that last sentence was.) And so, here I am!
Totally winging it, and hoping that my brain is functioning well enough to
make sense. Hope you all enjoy!
cielenvoye@yahoo.com
slr_europa@yahoo.com
*********************** 'Rouge' Chapter VII
It was all Mamoru could do to blink, let alone speak. For the moment he wasn't sure if his embarrassment or his pure, seething rage was more powerful. To be standing this close to such a useless lump of testosterone filled flesh, and to know exactly what condescending little thoughts must be dancing in his head was almost too much.
"I see our little Mother Superior, Mamoru himself, has taken time to climb down from his high horse in order to get a little satisfaction."
Mamoru wasn't sure how to reply - he was busy trying to figure out exactly what that look on Nicholas' face was. Smug? Cocky? Mamoru couldn't tell. Besides, his brain was occupied with attempting to not only cover his embarrassment - he'd made such a big deal about how degrading these clubs were, after all - but also with hoping to exit as quickly as possible, with as little commotion as possible. But it was plain to Mamoru almost immediately that the Englishman had been drinking already, and seeing as how he had no conscience or inhibitions while sober, he doubted things got better when he'd had a couple rounds under his belt.
"Don't tell me you're leaving so soon, darling." Nicholas chortled, throwing an arm around Mamoru's neck and pulling him close. Mamoru gagged at the stench of liquor that radiated from the blonde - it was so thick he almost expected to see vapor waft from his mouth along with the words. "Let me buy you a go-round with the lady of your choice.
"Just between us," he continued, attempting to wink and pulling the now visibly revolted Mamoru closer, "there is the cutest little blonde with the absolute best arse in this entire hell hole." He roared with laughter at some joke, still oblivious to the shock and awe on Mamoru's pale face, whom he'd now loosened his grip on. In his drunken stupor, Nicholas barreled on and slapped him on the back, knocking Mamoru off balance. He was hardly paying attention to the animals that had now gathered around him at this point.
'Usako' his mind mumbled over and over again. Nicholas could only be talking about his Usako.
"But you'll have to wait until I'm through with her if you want a piece of that, Mamoru, sweetheart." He was practically rolling on the ground in hysterics as he added. "That is, if she can even stand up afterwards."
It took every shred of patience Mamoru had left in him not to slug the cocky bastard right in his Abercrombie & Fitch face. 'Hate' didn't accurately describe what he felt at that moment - revulsion was prominent before, but now it had moved beyond the nausea that just the sight of him caused. Hell seemed too kind for Nicholas - at this point, Mamoru wanted him to suffer, and he wanted to be there to watch.
But Nicholas was not privy to the sadistic tortures Mamoru was concocting in his head, and was still high on the beer and Tequila he had consumed moments before, so he slung his arm around his neck and pulled a less-reluctant Mamoru through the doors once again. He'd grown accustomed to the club at this point, but would never really like it there. And now he liked it even less.
Somehow, he had to find a way to keep Nicholas from finding Usagi. He prayed - as ludicrous and disgusting as it sounded, even to him - that she'd already found another Jon and was, for lack of a better term, "busy". Despite how sick to his stomach it made him, he knew she must be popular. For the same reason he had first been attracted to her, and for the same reason Nicholas was here - her innocence was more alluring and arousing than all the bare skin and pungent perfume in the world.
He quickly scanned the small bar room, breathing a sigh of relief when he found her missing. His shoulders sagged a bit, and he shifted his prayers to those of haste. If Nicholas were as randy as he seemed, he wouldn't mind that his first choice wasn't around. Mamoru made a sudden movement to the left, and Nicholas's arm dropped to his side, now preoccupied with selecting his "product".
"Guess I'll have to settle for something else, eh?" The Brit sighed reluctantly, although he was so busy eyeing a leggy redhead that he hardly seemed disappointed.
The erratic thoughts were now slowing down considerably, and Mamoru sank wearily into an armchair, utterly exhausted. He watched the group of about half a dozen young men peruse the merchandise at their whim, and felt a new distaste for his gender. He fought back the accusing voice that called himself a hypocrite - he came not because he wanted to (although he did), but because he needed to. Sexual appetite, he learned a long time ago, was easy to fight off - it wasn't insatiable like the world wanted you to think.
No, there were other thing that had a much stronger drive, urges that you couldn't fend off - at least, that's what he believed. He'd given in to them and not even bothered to try to fight them at this point, so he wasn't totally sure that it was impossible. He, however, was not making any plans to test that theory. Giving in, he decided, was much more fun.
"Oh, the gods must be smiling on me tonight." Came the elated squeal of Nicholas. Mamoru's senses came to attention, and he craned his neck just in time to see his little blonde rabbit descending the stairs. She looked horrible - or maybe that's just what Mamoru saw on the inside. She'd just finished and he knew that her self-respect was drained. He ached for the innocent little girl that wanted so badly to be let out of this woman's life. She was good at what she did, but the pain that she carried deep inside was plain as day to Mamoru - he knew it all too well. It was something he'd had to fight off himself just a few short years ago.
Like a hat, Nicholas dropped the tall redhead he'd been propositioning, and made a beeline for Usagi. She looked horrible, like she'd been through a hurricane and barely came out alive. But as soon as the apparently familiar blonde was within eyesight, her eyes widened in a fear that sent a tremor threw Mamoru's body. The reaction was plastered over by a fake smile though, and Mamoru could taste bile as she cooed and cuddled up close to the prospective client. Any gentleness that Nicholas might have had was awash in a sea of alcohol now. He grabbed her waist tightly and nuzzled the nape of her neck drunkenly.
Mamoru told himself that it was just her bedside manner and that it didn't mean anything, but something like blinding jealousy and corrupting possessiveness ripped through his core. He felt the blood rise every inch as it rushed to his head and he wasn't even aware that he had stood up and forced his way to towards the stairs. Usagi hadn't paid attention, and Nicholas was so driven by lust, so neither saw him. The couple had disappeared before he'd even had a chance to do anything.
The compelling rage that overwhelmed him made it impossible to see or even think straight. He couldn't stop the images from flooding his consciousness; the screen in his mind flickered with tawdry skin shots, sounds of ecstasy and a pungent humidity generated by body heat. It was his Usagi; she was his. He'd known what she did on a regular basis, but seeing it was colliding with his fantasy. It was cheap and easy and did not measure up with how he felt for her. She deserved more than any of this - and she certainly deserved more than Nicholas.
The environment - the low lights, the deep jazz in the background, the smell of alcohol and perfume - was increasing the insanity inside his brain. His instincts said to run, to escape and calm his racing pulse. But he masochistically stayed put, casting aside all the advances of the cheap whores that attempted to solicit his business. He'd never felt more disdain for this line of work, and yet he'd never been so compelled to stay. Some internal warning light forced him to stay put. And it wasn't until an external one wailed that he realized why.
A shrill, constant howl broke his thoughts immediately. The Madame at the front desk scurried up the stairs amidst the chaos downstairs that followed the alarm. Before realizing all the possibilities, Mamoru noticed the unlit 'fire' signs and figured that it wasn't flames that set it off.
It was the safety alarm in one of the rooms.
Without thinking, he chased the elderly house-leader, taking the stairs two at a time, unaware of how his pace and already quickened heart rate were affecting his thinking. Had he been paying attention, he would have recognized that it had stopped - he was running in instinct and thought was completely absent. The door was already flung open when he reached the door marked '7', where several girls had gathered curiously. He forced his way through, and even though he intuitively knew Usagi was in danger, he wasn't prepared to emotionally handle what he saw.
Oblivious to the commotion he had already woken, Nicholas, half- naked, was straddling a writhing blonde beneath him on the satin sheets of the queen canopy bed. One massive paw was wrapped menacingly around her neck, while the other held her own at bay. He had scratch marks on his right cheek, and Mamoru guessed it was from the smaller girl attempting, in vain, to defend herself. He then noticed that the little clothing she was still wearing was in tatters - almost ripped beyond recognition, leaving very little unexposed. The fingers laced around her throat hampered the choking sobs that only intensified as he let go of her arm and used his now free fingers to grope the bare flesh beneath him. She was clearly overpowered, and struggling hopelessly. Both had yet to notice that mob at the door.
It was mere seconds before a hulk of a man barreled in, forcing the other onlookers away, and thrusting Nicholas from Usagi with little effort. A gasp and a gurgle were all Mamoru could hear come from the blonde Englishman before he was hauled ceremoniously from the room, and, he suspected, from the building. And before he could move a muscle, almost a dozen of Usagi's colleagues flanked her. She was covered in a robe, and despite the burning, searing pain that was stabbing his gut, he simply stepped back and just watched these prostitutes-by-choice become mother hens. Usagi cried mercilessly on a shoulder, while numerous gentle hands soothed her gently. The Ring Leader, whom the girls called Madame, brought in a warm towel and washed her face clean of running mascara.
It was the first time in his experience with the club that Mamoru actually respected those who dwelled there.
*****
He knew that after the ordeal, Mamoru wouldn't be permitted to just wait on the premises. Not only were the workers skittish, he had come in with Nicholas, and even though he wasn't kicked out, he was pretty certain he wasn't too welcome any longer.
Mamoru was tracing a steady trail a few feet from the entrance to the club, pacing relentlessly. He had imagined that Usagi wouldn't stay on the clock today, perhaps even tomorrow, in order to recover. Truthfully, Mamoru hoped that this had woken her up to the dangers this line of work brought. He wanted her to get out. He wanted her to be free.
He heard a door slam, and looked up just in time to run smack into a voluptuous brunette that he'd recognized from his many times at the club. She'd never propositioned him (she was one of the few) thankfully, and as she eyed him carefully now, he wondered if that wasn't out of respect for Usagi.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
Mamoru blanked on the correct reply. She could have recognized him as one of Nicholas's friends, so he didn't come out and say he was waiting for Usagi. But it was obvious he was remaining there by choice.
"Well."
"Serenity, isn't it?"
"Huh?" He stumbled, dumbfounded. She cocked a grin and tossed her head to the side. Even when she wasn't working, he noticed, her movements were blatantly seductive.
"You're the chap who comes to see Serenity on a regular basis, right?" She elaborated, even though he could tell by her tone that she wasn't looking for affirmation. "That's who you're waiting for then."
"Yes." He said simply. The girl pulled out a cigarette and lit it in mere seconds. Taking a smoke-filled drag into her lungs, she nodded.
"She'll be out in a few." She muttered as the gray fumes exited sickeningly close to Mamoru's face. He craned his head to the side to avoid them and she chuckled a deep drawl that told him she'd been inhaling this poison for years. "What do you want from her, anyway? I'm not sure she's going to be up for visitors." She asked, suddenly cautious. She emphasized that last word, 'visitors', lasciviously, implying she knew his intentions. He balked visibly at the notion.
"I just want to make sure she's going to be alright."
"She will. She always is." She stated matter-of-factly. Mamoru blanched.
"This has happened to her before?" He asked incredulously, fighting the urge to grab her shoulders. She chuckled again.
"It happens to us all, hun. That's what the panic button is for." She shrugged.
Mamoru couldn't think of a coherent response. Why was Usagi doing this to herself? Who the hell cared if the money was good? She was going to get herself seriously hurt, or worse. He shut his eyes in an effort not to finish that thought.
"Usagi will get through this, I promise. And she'll be stronger because of it." The woman replied after a deliberate pause, where Mamoru could tell she was gauging her words. It took him a second before he realized she had used her real name.
"She shouldn't have to. This is masochism, what you women are putting yourselves through."
"Usagi made her own choice, just like I did, and just like all the other girls did." She replied, shrugging again, as if it were really that simple. Her cavalier attitude made Mamoru's blood boil.
"This isn't natural. She doesn't enjoy it, and I can't imagine any other self-respecting women would, either." His words were cutting, and they should have offended, but the helpless, lost expression that crossed her face for a moment simply told him he was right.
Before she could reply though, the door opened and slammed again, revealing a shivering blonde Usagi, pulling her arms tightly around herself for warmth. Her eyes were on the ground, and she immediately heading in the opposite direction before she'd even seen the two of them standing there. Mamoru watched wordlessly, not sure what to do.
"All we need is a reason to believe we're better than all this." The woman said gently, tipping her head toward the retreating blonde. She smiled and moved aside. Mamoru smiled warily, in spite of the day's events.
"Thanks." He started, and then turned around.
"Honora." She said. He raised a dubious eyebrow, but waved good- naturedly.
"Thank you, Honora." He finished and scurried off towards the oblivious bobbing blonde head.
*****
"Usagi!"
She whirled around, her facial expression taught and tense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, recognition clicked in. It was comforting, but it didn't ease her nerves. Her eyes softened visibly though, even though she was certain it wasn't involuntary.
"Usagi.." He repeated, more out of reassurance this time. She attempted to suck up the emotions - she'd already told herself not to let go until she was safely inside her home. Not until she'd shut that door and locked the deadbolt. Not until she had locked the world out.
"Wha.what are you doing here?" She asked, but by those stormy blue eyes she could tell he knew. He always seemed concerned when he was with her, almost like he thought he would break her. The look on his face told her he was afraid to even touch her.
He didn't say a word; he just pulled her close and buried his nose in her nest of hair on the crown of her head. She was shocked, but didn't fight it. She'd stopped fighting him a long time ago; stopped fighting her own feelings.
She didn't cry, but only because her mind was too clogged. She was ashamed of the events that night, and even though it wasn't the first time it had happened, she was careful never to complain. It was part of the guilt she, and every other colleague, had to deal with. This was a choice she made, and like every job, it came with hazards peculiar to every other profession. In some sense, she reasoned, she asked for it. It's only understandable that a man, especially a drunken one, would be rough. And when you buy something, you begin to see it as your own. And anyways, she was for rent, an hour at a time. Shouldn't he be able to do with her what he likes?
But even she didn't believe that. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't convince her heart of that.
"Where's your place?" He asked softly, craning his neck back so that he could look down on her.
"'Bout three miles west." She said, studying her shoes, not able to look him in the eye. He noticed that and immediately grabbed her chin, keeping one protective arm around her waist. He forced her gaze upwards. When she wretched her face from his grip, she was acutely aware that she couldn't help it. "The Ahorn apartments." She said quickly, trying to cover the action with a head bob to the left.
Mamoru noticed her unease, but let it go considering the circumstances. He couldn't imagine all that was going on inside her. Peculiar behavior was not his chief concern at this point. He kissed the top of her head gently and began slowly down the walkway.
The journey, though small, took close to an hour, which was walked in silence. She wondered if perhaps he was feeling overwhelmed. He scared her still, not just because of her past, but because she loved him enough to know that he was in a position to inflict a lot more pain than any Jon ever could. She didn't get close to people, let alone men, for this reason. The rigors of her choice in careers was something she was accustomed to, albeit grudgingly. But outsiders, she feared, would not be able to take it all in. She lived this life, day in and day out. It was all she had, and therefore could handle it. But someone else, someone as stable as Mamoru, could not live his normal day-to-day existence and then support her as well. It was implausible, she told herself, to think that he would stick around for any considerable amount of time. It wouldn't be long before he figured out that he was in over his head.
The air was brisk as they stepped along the broken concrete and the frigid breeze that blew Amsterdam at night was raising gooseflesh on Usagi's arms. She unconsciously shivered, but didn't say a word. Mamoru looked down at her, quaking slightly, and pulled his wool overcoat off and placed it on her shoulders. She didn't say a word; didn't even look in his direction, just pulled the too-large jacket closer. He gritted his teeth against the cold.
She inhaled his scent from the scratchy material. He smelled like a real man. One who didn't bathe in cologne, but used it sparingly. His own personal odor was pungent enough to overpower it and mix to make a very distinctive fragrance. She couldn't imagine a more comforting smell in the world.
It wasn't long before the squatting, middle class apartments appeared a few thousand feet ahead, and Usagi could feel her distractions melt away. The night's events were playing once more in her head in sickening detail. She bit her lip, trying to stop the chastising words that whispered in her ear. 'I didn't mean to do it. I swear.' She whimpered. 'I just couldn't be that person. Not after.."
"I think we're here." Mamoru said softly, rubbing her arms through the thick material of his coat. Her head snapped to attention. He was giving her one of those unintentionally sweet smiles that only covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes and forehead betrayed the worried mind inside.
She yanked at the heavy jacket and shook it out before handing it to him. He gave another weak smile and gently pushed it back into her arms.
"You'll probably need it tomorrow." He said. She selfishly "forgot" to mention she had simply forgot to bring her own coat this evening. She wanted to keep this one. "What's your number?"
"102."
He laced his fingers through her own and entered the front gates. She was confused, wondering when he was going to say good night, as she pulled out her key when her door was in view. Before she could say a word in protest, he had snatched the key from her grasp and deftly let her inside, following closely behind.
"Wow, how can you keep it so cold in here?" He said absently as he shut the door, letting a little shiver escape. She blinked. "It's almost as bad as it is outside"
"Mamoru." She began. He gave her a blank, oblivious stare as he set down in a large chair in her front room. He was doing his best to appear easy-going, even though it took all his energy and patience to appear "normal". She wouldn't open up if he pried. He played dumb for the moment, knowing that she had to do it on her own time. And she would, even if he had to stay with her all night. In fact, he mused, he kind of hoped he had to.
Usagi stared for a moment, quizzically, a little cautious. Mamoru was making himself at home, and she simply shed her outerwear (or rather, his outerwear), trying to gauge his behavior. She'd never invited him back to her place, but not because she didn't want him here. In the club she felt safe - all the sex in the world went on under that roof. But her home was sacred, and the goings-on of the club were dirty. She didn't want Mamoru to think that she was a whore off the clock as well. And up to this point in time, he'd never even expressed a desire to come home with her. Even the few times their interactions heated up, he would leave when his time was through without a fuss.
"Uh, can I get you something to drink?" She asked after a moment. He smiled and nodded. She began to anxiously set up the coffeemaker, biting her lip unknowingly. Mamoru recognized that she was still on edge. He even suspected he was the cause of some of it.
"This is a nice place." He said, standing up and taking it in a little better. The small complex was cozy, if a little old. He walked a few feet to the window that overlooked a tiny little walkway covered by trees that wove in and out of the buildings. It was quiet; not at all like he'd expected. Somehow, despite how well he knew Usagi now, he'd expected something loud and trendy and smack dab in the middle of town. The stereotypical part of his brain reasoned that that was the kind of place a prostitute would live. At least according to the movies they would. But the other part, the one that had gotten to know Usagi as more than just her career choice, knew that something low-key and modest was more her style. He liked it. She'd decorated very comfortably, and he could tell that the décor was probably where all her money went; it was pretty expensive, if rather unremarkable. It had a feminine touch too, which didn't surprise Mamoru a bit. Something told him that Usagi was probably insanely girly deep down. He grinned in spite of himself, picturing Usagi as a giggling schoolgirl at an ice-cream shop or a video arcade. He even stifled a chuckle at the thought of her in one of the characteristic Japanese High School uniforms, complete with bow and pleated skirt. He sobered quickly though, reminding himself that Usagi never had a chance to be the typical kid. She was stuck in this grown-up lifestyle, acting mature but still so innocent and naïve on the inside. His smile was gone now as he heard a door shut softly, and Usagi came back into the room wearing grew Capri sweat pants and an oversized printed tee. Her hair was back up in those adorable buns, too.
"I like this complex." He restated now, following her into the kitchenette. It was small; barely enough room for two, but it was full with a stove and dishwasher. She retrieved two ceramic mugs from the cabinet above her head and poured the brown liquid into each and handed him one.
"Cream or sugar?"
"None thanks."
She tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her nose. "Black?"
He grinned. "I like it strong."
From there they moved into the quaint little living area and sat facing each other on the plush love seat. She tucked a leg under her and leaned her head against her palm, watching him adjust his position to get comfortable. He took long sips from his cup and she let her emotions get the better of her as she just began to appreciate the beauty in this man before her. She didn't want to let her guard down, and her common sense told her to stop giving in, but she reasoned that after tonight, she didn't have the strength. But if she were to listen to her heart, she'd know that she just didn't want to play her defenses tonight. She never wanted to when he was around. Inevitably he'd leave and she'd convince herself to keep her distance next time - always "next time". But as soon as he'd smile at her, or even worse, put those massive arms around her, she'd melt and it would all go to pot. She would give in and once more, the fear would fade into oblivion. He had a way about him, she mused to herself.
"I like this part of town. It's a lot quieter than the around the college where I am." He said, craning his neck to look out the window again.
"How far is the college?" She prodded, not only curious but also hoping to keep the topic of conversation off of the past few hours. He paused and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. She smiled. He sure was cute.
"Maybe 10 or 12 miles from here." He nodded, taking another sip from the mug before setting it on the coffee table. "I've been in Amsterdam for months, and I still get turned around on the streets. I don't even know where we are."
"You shouldn't have trouble getting back."
He got a devious grin on his face. "I dunno. I'm afraid I might get lost."
She didn't catch on as she shook her head. "You can always call a cab."
"You gonna send me out into the cold at this time of night? All alone? What happens if they find me tomorrow morning, all frostbitten and blue.." He waxed woe.
She finally smirked, and pressed a socked foot into his chest. "Dork. Something tells me you'd find a way."
"I'm kinda tired, too.. What if I pass out from exhaustion?" He sighed heavily, playing the distress card by putting the back of his palm against his forehead. "In fact, I'm feeling a little faint right now. I think I'd better lie down.." Mamoru closed his eyes and changed position so that his head was cradled in her lap. She giggled, a high-pitched sound that Mamoru was sure he'd never heard from her before. He settled in, enjoying the warmth he could feel from her body through her clothing against his face and head. She too readjusted, now leaning backwards into the armrest, stroking his hair gingerly. This was what she imagined a normal relationship was like - joking, poking fun at each other. She was acutely aware that her guard was not only down, but completely forgotten, and her mind was still nagging her to kick him out before something happen that either of them might regret. But feeling his body rise and fall as it lay against her own; touching him freely without any fear; knowing that he was just as relaxed as she was, it all was too much for her mind and good judgment to combat. So for the moment, her anxiety departed and she simply fell into whatever it was she was experiencing. It wasn't just love - she'd admitted that to herself long ago - it was security. And she realized that she'd never felt it before. This was completely new to her. She marveled silently that Mamoru was teaching her things that seemed so simple and she wondered how she ever lived without them.
"I love you, you know."
The words were so matter of fact that she had to stop and question whether she'd really heard it.
"Wha.what?" She stumbled, her movements pausing. He didn't even blink when he said it. She must have misheard him.
"I love you." He repeated.
Somehow, deep down, she'd known. But it was the bad news her mind wanted to convince her of otherwise, so she put it out of her mind.until now. Her heart was pounding; her mind was reeling, trying in vain to cover up the sincerity in his voice, trying to rationalize it away. Her brain was working overtime to convince her that the words he just spoke were a lie, a complete fake. But it wasn't working.
Mamoru felt the tears fall before he ever heard the cries or felt the shaking inside her chest. He sat abruptly up and turned to face her. She wasn't sobbing though, he marveled. Brushing the tears away with his fingers, he just stared at her, wondering how she would respond. He knew that if she was honest with herself she would realize that she could feel nothing else but the same, and yet he knew how bottled up she was.
"I love you, Usako." He paused, letting the words sink in again and then brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes so that she had to look him in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."
The cries came out in huge, wracking sobs now and she couldn't stop them. He shushed her and within seconds the noise had died down, but her eyes were none the drier.
"Why?" She demanded with such a fervor that Mamoru almost laughed. He cupped her face in his hands and held her gaze for as long as he could without letting the words spill anxiously from his lips.
"Because I do and because I can." He said simply, and then continued about thinking. "Because I'm alive and breathing and sitting here next to you. There's no other reason for it and if there were, it wouldn't really be love. It would be justified affection. I could name a million things I think are cute about you, or things that make me smile, but they are just tiny, miniscule factors that make up a larger fact." He smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I don't love you because of all those things, I love those things because they are a part of you. And you are what I love."
"Oh God, Mamoru. if you only knew.." She started, choking on the words.
"Knew what? Your past? Your career? Your choices? You can't tell me something that I haven't already considered." He kissed her forehead.
"How can you love me in spite of all that?"
"I don't. I love you because of it. It made you who you are." He smiled widely and leaned in closer, pulling her into his arms. "And, I've already said it, but I'll say it again since I like the way it sounds." he winked, "I love who you are and what you've become."
"Mamoru, everything that happened tonight. all the stuff that I've struggled with these past few weeks.." She struggled to put it all into words, but as she fought back the fear and hesitation, her desperation faded farther and farther away. "It's all happened because of you. You are what's messing up the finely crafted illusion I've lived in the past two years.
"I can't stop thinking about you and all I want to do is run away and never come back. I've had to face so much because of all that you've offered me." She wrinkled her forehead, trying to find the words. "Tonight, at the club after you left me, I tried to go about my business like before. But that English guy paid and I tried to perform." She stopped and it was all Mamoru could do not to show his disgust, but he wanted her to continue. He wanted to hear this. "But I just couldn't. I couldn't equate what I'd been doing for two years with a job. Nothing seemed to fit anymore. You confused the hell out of me. And when that guy tried to start. I froze. I just. couldn't." She erupted in sobs again, more scared than she ever remembered being before, wanting nothing more than to give in.
"I'm so sorry this night ever took place. I'd spend every waking moment with you in that club if I could, just to make sure no one ever touched you again." He said, finding it hard to mask his revulsion at the thought of someone laying even a finger on his Usagi. He was awed by the selfishness he felt boiling inside him; she was his now. He wanted to be the only one to whisper in her ear, brush hair from her face, reach for her at night, stroke her flesh. He could honestly imagine himself ripping someone apart for infringing on his property. It was simple - she was his.
"Mamoru, I love you and I have since that first night. I just never thought it was safe to feel that way." Tears feel fresh as she spoke. "But I can't hide it like my mind wanted me to."
"Good." He said, pulling her close. "Because I wasn't going to leave until you told me. And now that you have, I don't think I can leave..."
She sighed, relieved for the first time that night as he whispered.
"Ever."
*************************************** WOW.
It's been a long time since I've written anything..
And I'm very happy I waited. I really like this. I know where it's going now, how it's gonna end and what the epilogue will be. ^^ I'm very excited. I might actually FINISH a series this time.
Hey! Don't be so cynical! It can be done..
Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers thus far. ^^ You are all my new best friends!
cielenvoye@yahoo.com
slr_europa@yahoo.com
cielenvoye@yahoo.com
slr_europa@yahoo.com
*********************** 'Rouge' Chapter VII
It was all Mamoru could do to blink, let alone speak. For the moment he wasn't sure if his embarrassment or his pure, seething rage was more powerful. To be standing this close to such a useless lump of testosterone filled flesh, and to know exactly what condescending little thoughts must be dancing in his head was almost too much.
"I see our little Mother Superior, Mamoru himself, has taken time to climb down from his high horse in order to get a little satisfaction."
Mamoru wasn't sure how to reply - he was busy trying to figure out exactly what that look on Nicholas' face was. Smug? Cocky? Mamoru couldn't tell. Besides, his brain was occupied with attempting to not only cover his embarrassment - he'd made such a big deal about how degrading these clubs were, after all - but also with hoping to exit as quickly as possible, with as little commotion as possible. But it was plain to Mamoru almost immediately that the Englishman had been drinking already, and seeing as how he had no conscience or inhibitions while sober, he doubted things got better when he'd had a couple rounds under his belt.
"Don't tell me you're leaving so soon, darling." Nicholas chortled, throwing an arm around Mamoru's neck and pulling him close. Mamoru gagged at the stench of liquor that radiated from the blonde - it was so thick he almost expected to see vapor waft from his mouth along with the words. "Let me buy you a go-round with the lady of your choice.
"Just between us," he continued, attempting to wink and pulling the now visibly revolted Mamoru closer, "there is the cutest little blonde with the absolute best arse in this entire hell hole." He roared with laughter at some joke, still oblivious to the shock and awe on Mamoru's pale face, whom he'd now loosened his grip on. In his drunken stupor, Nicholas barreled on and slapped him on the back, knocking Mamoru off balance. He was hardly paying attention to the animals that had now gathered around him at this point.
'Usako' his mind mumbled over and over again. Nicholas could only be talking about his Usako.
"But you'll have to wait until I'm through with her if you want a piece of that, Mamoru, sweetheart." He was practically rolling on the ground in hysterics as he added. "That is, if she can even stand up afterwards."
It took every shred of patience Mamoru had left in him not to slug the cocky bastard right in his Abercrombie & Fitch face. 'Hate' didn't accurately describe what he felt at that moment - revulsion was prominent before, but now it had moved beyond the nausea that just the sight of him caused. Hell seemed too kind for Nicholas - at this point, Mamoru wanted him to suffer, and he wanted to be there to watch.
But Nicholas was not privy to the sadistic tortures Mamoru was concocting in his head, and was still high on the beer and Tequila he had consumed moments before, so he slung his arm around his neck and pulled a less-reluctant Mamoru through the doors once again. He'd grown accustomed to the club at this point, but would never really like it there. And now he liked it even less.
Somehow, he had to find a way to keep Nicholas from finding Usagi. He prayed - as ludicrous and disgusting as it sounded, even to him - that she'd already found another Jon and was, for lack of a better term, "busy". Despite how sick to his stomach it made him, he knew she must be popular. For the same reason he had first been attracted to her, and for the same reason Nicholas was here - her innocence was more alluring and arousing than all the bare skin and pungent perfume in the world.
He quickly scanned the small bar room, breathing a sigh of relief when he found her missing. His shoulders sagged a bit, and he shifted his prayers to those of haste. If Nicholas were as randy as he seemed, he wouldn't mind that his first choice wasn't around. Mamoru made a sudden movement to the left, and Nicholas's arm dropped to his side, now preoccupied with selecting his "product".
"Guess I'll have to settle for something else, eh?" The Brit sighed reluctantly, although he was so busy eyeing a leggy redhead that he hardly seemed disappointed.
The erratic thoughts were now slowing down considerably, and Mamoru sank wearily into an armchair, utterly exhausted. He watched the group of about half a dozen young men peruse the merchandise at their whim, and felt a new distaste for his gender. He fought back the accusing voice that called himself a hypocrite - he came not because he wanted to (although he did), but because he needed to. Sexual appetite, he learned a long time ago, was easy to fight off - it wasn't insatiable like the world wanted you to think.
No, there were other thing that had a much stronger drive, urges that you couldn't fend off - at least, that's what he believed. He'd given in to them and not even bothered to try to fight them at this point, so he wasn't totally sure that it was impossible. He, however, was not making any plans to test that theory. Giving in, he decided, was much more fun.
"Oh, the gods must be smiling on me tonight." Came the elated squeal of Nicholas. Mamoru's senses came to attention, and he craned his neck just in time to see his little blonde rabbit descending the stairs. She looked horrible - or maybe that's just what Mamoru saw on the inside. She'd just finished and he knew that her self-respect was drained. He ached for the innocent little girl that wanted so badly to be let out of this woman's life. She was good at what she did, but the pain that she carried deep inside was plain as day to Mamoru - he knew it all too well. It was something he'd had to fight off himself just a few short years ago.
Like a hat, Nicholas dropped the tall redhead he'd been propositioning, and made a beeline for Usagi. She looked horrible, like she'd been through a hurricane and barely came out alive. But as soon as the apparently familiar blonde was within eyesight, her eyes widened in a fear that sent a tremor threw Mamoru's body. The reaction was plastered over by a fake smile though, and Mamoru could taste bile as she cooed and cuddled up close to the prospective client. Any gentleness that Nicholas might have had was awash in a sea of alcohol now. He grabbed her waist tightly and nuzzled the nape of her neck drunkenly.
Mamoru told himself that it was just her bedside manner and that it didn't mean anything, but something like blinding jealousy and corrupting possessiveness ripped through his core. He felt the blood rise every inch as it rushed to his head and he wasn't even aware that he had stood up and forced his way to towards the stairs. Usagi hadn't paid attention, and Nicholas was so driven by lust, so neither saw him. The couple had disappeared before he'd even had a chance to do anything.
The compelling rage that overwhelmed him made it impossible to see or even think straight. He couldn't stop the images from flooding his consciousness; the screen in his mind flickered with tawdry skin shots, sounds of ecstasy and a pungent humidity generated by body heat. It was his Usagi; she was his. He'd known what she did on a regular basis, but seeing it was colliding with his fantasy. It was cheap and easy and did not measure up with how he felt for her. She deserved more than any of this - and she certainly deserved more than Nicholas.
The environment - the low lights, the deep jazz in the background, the smell of alcohol and perfume - was increasing the insanity inside his brain. His instincts said to run, to escape and calm his racing pulse. But he masochistically stayed put, casting aside all the advances of the cheap whores that attempted to solicit his business. He'd never felt more disdain for this line of work, and yet he'd never been so compelled to stay. Some internal warning light forced him to stay put. And it wasn't until an external one wailed that he realized why.
A shrill, constant howl broke his thoughts immediately. The Madame at the front desk scurried up the stairs amidst the chaos downstairs that followed the alarm. Before realizing all the possibilities, Mamoru noticed the unlit 'fire' signs and figured that it wasn't flames that set it off.
It was the safety alarm in one of the rooms.
Without thinking, he chased the elderly house-leader, taking the stairs two at a time, unaware of how his pace and already quickened heart rate were affecting his thinking. Had he been paying attention, he would have recognized that it had stopped - he was running in instinct and thought was completely absent. The door was already flung open when he reached the door marked '7', where several girls had gathered curiously. He forced his way through, and even though he intuitively knew Usagi was in danger, he wasn't prepared to emotionally handle what he saw.
Oblivious to the commotion he had already woken, Nicholas, half- naked, was straddling a writhing blonde beneath him on the satin sheets of the queen canopy bed. One massive paw was wrapped menacingly around her neck, while the other held her own at bay. He had scratch marks on his right cheek, and Mamoru guessed it was from the smaller girl attempting, in vain, to defend herself. He then noticed that the little clothing she was still wearing was in tatters - almost ripped beyond recognition, leaving very little unexposed. The fingers laced around her throat hampered the choking sobs that only intensified as he let go of her arm and used his now free fingers to grope the bare flesh beneath him. She was clearly overpowered, and struggling hopelessly. Both had yet to notice that mob at the door.
It was mere seconds before a hulk of a man barreled in, forcing the other onlookers away, and thrusting Nicholas from Usagi with little effort. A gasp and a gurgle were all Mamoru could hear come from the blonde Englishman before he was hauled ceremoniously from the room, and, he suspected, from the building. And before he could move a muscle, almost a dozen of Usagi's colleagues flanked her. She was covered in a robe, and despite the burning, searing pain that was stabbing his gut, he simply stepped back and just watched these prostitutes-by-choice become mother hens. Usagi cried mercilessly on a shoulder, while numerous gentle hands soothed her gently. The Ring Leader, whom the girls called Madame, brought in a warm towel and washed her face clean of running mascara.
It was the first time in his experience with the club that Mamoru actually respected those who dwelled there.
*****
He knew that after the ordeal, Mamoru wouldn't be permitted to just wait on the premises. Not only were the workers skittish, he had come in with Nicholas, and even though he wasn't kicked out, he was pretty certain he wasn't too welcome any longer.
Mamoru was tracing a steady trail a few feet from the entrance to the club, pacing relentlessly. He had imagined that Usagi wouldn't stay on the clock today, perhaps even tomorrow, in order to recover. Truthfully, Mamoru hoped that this had woken her up to the dangers this line of work brought. He wanted her to get out. He wanted her to be free.
He heard a door slam, and looked up just in time to run smack into a voluptuous brunette that he'd recognized from his many times at the club. She'd never propositioned him (she was one of the few) thankfully, and as she eyed him carefully now, he wondered if that wasn't out of respect for Usagi.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
Mamoru blanked on the correct reply. She could have recognized him as one of Nicholas's friends, so he didn't come out and say he was waiting for Usagi. But it was obvious he was remaining there by choice.
"Well."
"Serenity, isn't it?"
"Huh?" He stumbled, dumbfounded. She cocked a grin and tossed her head to the side. Even when she wasn't working, he noticed, her movements were blatantly seductive.
"You're the chap who comes to see Serenity on a regular basis, right?" She elaborated, even though he could tell by her tone that she wasn't looking for affirmation. "That's who you're waiting for then."
"Yes." He said simply. The girl pulled out a cigarette and lit it in mere seconds. Taking a smoke-filled drag into her lungs, she nodded.
"She'll be out in a few." She muttered as the gray fumes exited sickeningly close to Mamoru's face. He craned his head to the side to avoid them and she chuckled a deep drawl that told him she'd been inhaling this poison for years. "What do you want from her, anyway? I'm not sure she's going to be up for visitors." She asked, suddenly cautious. She emphasized that last word, 'visitors', lasciviously, implying she knew his intentions. He balked visibly at the notion.
"I just want to make sure she's going to be alright."
"She will. She always is." She stated matter-of-factly. Mamoru blanched.
"This has happened to her before?" He asked incredulously, fighting the urge to grab her shoulders. She chuckled again.
"It happens to us all, hun. That's what the panic button is for." She shrugged.
Mamoru couldn't think of a coherent response. Why was Usagi doing this to herself? Who the hell cared if the money was good? She was going to get herself seriously hurt, or worse. He shut his eyes in an effort not to finish that thought.
"Usagi will get through this, I promise. And she'll be stronger because of it." The woman replied after a deliberate pause, where Mamoru could tell she was gauging her words. It took him a second before he realized she had used her real name.
"She shouldn't have to. This is masochism, what you women are putting yourselves through."
"Usagi made her own choice, just like I did, and just like all the other girls did." She replied, shrugging again, as if it were really that simple. Her cavalier attitude made Mamoru's blood boil.
"This isn't natural. She doesn't enjoy it, and I can't imagine any other self-respecting women would, either." His words were cutting, and they should have offended, but the helpless, lost expression that crossed her face for a moment simply told him he was right.
Before she could reply though, the door opened and slammed again, revealing a shivering blonde Usagi, pulling her arms tightly around herself for warmth. Her eyes were on the ground, and she immediately heading in the opposite direction before she'd even seen the two of them standing there. Mamoru watched wordlessly, not sure what to do.
"All we need is a reason to believe we're better than all this." The woman said gently, tipping her head toward the retreating blonde. She smiled and moved aside. Mamoru smiled warily, in spite of the day's events.
"Thanks." He started, and then turned around.
"Honora." She said. He raised a dubious eyebrow, but waved good- naturedly.
"Thank you, Honora." He finished and scurried off towards the oblivious bobbing blonde head.
*****
"Usagi!"
She whirled around, her facial expression taught and tense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, recognition clicked in. It was comforting, but it didn't ease her nerves. Her eyes softened visibly though, even though she was certain it wasn't involuntary.
"Usagi.." He repeated, more out of reassurance this time. She attempted to suck up the emotions - she'd already told herself not to let go until she was safely inside her home. Not until she'd shut that door and locked the deadbolt. Not until she had locked the world out.
"Wha.what are you doing here?" She asked, but by those stormy blue eyes she could tell he knew. He always seemed concerned when he was with her, almost like he thought he would break her. The look on his face told her he was afraid to even touch her.
He didn't say a word; he just pulled her close and buried his nose in her nest of hair on the crown of her head. She was shocked, but didn't fight it. She'd stopped fighting him a long time ago; stopped fighting her own feelings.
She didn't cry, but only because her mind was too clogged. She was ashamed of the events that night, and even though it wasn't the first time it had happened, she was careful never to complain. It was part of the guilt she, and every other colleague, had to deal with. This was a choice she made, and like every job, it came with hazards peculiar to every other profession. In some sense, she reasoned, she asked for it. It's only understandable that a man, especially a drunken one, would be rough. And when you buy something, you begin to see it as your own. And anyways, she was for rent, an hour at a time. Shouldn't he be able to do with her what he likes?
But even she didn't believe that. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't convince her heart of that.
"Where's your place?" He asked softly, craning his neck back so that he could look down on her.
"'Bout three miles west." She said, studying her shoes, not able to look him in the eye. He noticed that and immediately grabbed her chin, keeping one protective arm around her waist. He forced her gaze upwards. When she wretched her face from his grip, she was acutely aware that she couldn't help it. "The Ahorn apartments." She said quickly, trying to cover the action with a head bob to the left.
Mamoru noticed her unease, but let it go considering the circumstances. He couldn't imagine all that was going on inside her. Peculiar behavior was not his chief concern at this point. He kissed the top of her head gently and began slowly down the walkway.
The journey, though small, took close to an hour, which was walked in silence. She wondered if perhaps he was feeling overwhelmed. He scared her still, not just because of her past, but because she loved him enough to know that he was in a position to inflict a lot more pain than any Jon ever could. She didn't get close to people, let alone men, for this reason. The rigors of her choice in careers was something she was accustomed to, albeit grudgingly. But outsiders, she feared, would not be able to take it all in. She lived this life, day in and day out. It was all she had, and therefore could handle it. But someone else, someone as stable as Mamoru, could not live his normal day-to-day existence and then support her as well. It was implausible, she told herself, to think that he would stick around for any considerable amount of time. It wouldn't be long before he figured out that he was in over his head.
The air was brisk as they stepped along the broken concrete and the frigid breeze that blew Amsterdam at night was raising gooseflesh on Usagi's arms. She unconsciously shivered, but didn't say a word. Mamoru looked down at her, quaking slightly, and pulled his wool overcoat off and placed it on her shoulders. She didn't say a word; didn't even look in his direction, just pulled the too-large jacket closer. He gritted his teeth against the cold.
She inhaled his scent from the scratchy material. He smelled like a real man. One who didn't bathe in cologne, but used it sparingly. His own personal odor was pungent enough to overpower it and mix to make a very distinctive fragrance. She couldn't imagine a more comforting smell in the world.
It wasn't long before the squatting, middle class apartments appeared a few thousand feet ahead, and Usagi could feel her distractions melt away. The night's events were playing once more in her head in sickening detail. She bit her lip, trying to stop the chastising words that whispered in her ear. 'I didn't mean to do it. I swear.' She whimpered. 'I just couldn't be that person. Not after.."
"I think we're here." Mamoru said softly, rubbing her arms through the thick material of his coat. Her head snapped to attention. He was giving her one of those unintentionally sweet smiles that only covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes and forehead betrayed the worried mind inside.
She yanked at the heavy jacket and shook it out before handing it to him. He gave another weak smile and gently pushed it back into her arms.
"You'll probably need it tomorrow." He said. She selfishly "forgot" to mention she had simply forgot to bring her own coat this evening. She wanted to keep this one. "What's your number?"
"102."
He laced his fingers through her own and entered the front gates. She was confused, wondering when he was going to say good night, as she pulled out her key when her door was in view. Before she could say a word in protest, he had snatched the key from her grasp and deftly let her inside, following closely behind.
"Wow, how can you keep it so cold in here?" He said absently as he shut the door, letting a little shiver escape. She blinked. "It's almost as bad as it is outside"
"Mamoru." She began. He gave her a blank, oblivious stare as he set down in a large chair in her front room. He was doing his best to appear easy-going, even though it took all his energy and patience to appear "normal". She wouldn't open up if he pried. He played dumb for the moment, knowing that she had to do it on her own time. And she would, even if he had to stay with her all night. In fact, he mused, he kind of hoped he had to.
Usagi stared for a moment, quizzically, a little cautious. Mamoru was making himself at home, and she simply shed her outerwear (or rather, his outerwear), trying to gauge his behavior. She'd never invited him back to her place, but not because she didn't want him here. In the club she felt safe - all the sex in the world went on under that roof. But her home was sacred, and the goings-on of the club were dirty. She didn't want Mamoru to think that she was a whore off the clock as well. And up to this point in time, he'd never even expressed a desire to come home with her. Even the few times their interactions heated up, he would leave when his time was through without a fuss.
"Uh, can I get you something to drink?" She asked after a moment. He smiled and nodded. She began to anxiously set up the coffeemaker, biting her lip unknowingly. Mamoru recognized that she was still on edge. He even suspected he was the cause of some of it.
"This is a nice place." He said, standing up and taking it in a little better. The small complex was cozy, if a little old. He walked a few feet to the window that overlooked a tiny little walkway covered by trees that wove in and out of the buildings. It was quiet; not at all like he'd expected. Somehow, despite how well he knew Usagi now, he'd expected something loud and trendy and smack dab in the middle of town. The stereotypical part of his brain reasoned that that was the kind of place a prostitute would live. At least according to the movies they would. But the other part, the one that had gotten to know Usagi as more than just her career choice, knew that something low-key and modest was more her style. He liked it. She'd decorated very comfortably, and he could tell that the décor was probably where all her money went; it was pretty expensive, if rather unremarkable. It had a feminine touch too, which didn't surprise Mamoru a bit. Something told him that Usagi was probably insanely girly deep down. He grinned in spite of himself, picturing Usagi as a giggling schoolgirl at an ice-cream shop or a video arcade. He even stifled a chuckle at the thought of her in one of the characteristic Japanese High School uniforms, complete with bow and pleated skirt. He sobered quickly though, reminding himself that Usagi never had a chance to be the typical kid. She was stuck in this grown-up lifestyle, acting mature but still so innocent and naïve on the inside. His smile was gone now as he heard a door shut softly, and Usagi came back into the room wearing grew Capri sweat pants and an oversized printed tee. Her hair was back up in those adorable buns, too.
"I like this complex." He restated now, following her into the kitchenette. It was small; barely enough room for two, but it was full with a stove and dishwasher. She retrieved two ceramic mugs from the cabinet above her head and poured the brown liquid into each and handed him one.
"Cream or sugar?"
"None thanks."
She tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her nose. "Black?"
He grinned. "I like it strong."
From there they moved into the quaint little living area and sat facing each other on the plush love seat. She tucked a leg under her and leaned her head against her palm, watching him adjust his position to get comfortable. He took long sips from his cup and she let her emotions get the better of her as she just began to appreciate the beauty in this man before her. She didn't want to let her guard down, and her common sense told her to stop giving in, but she reasoned that after tonight, she didn't have the strength. But if she were to listen to her heart, she'd know that she just didn't want to play her defenses tonight. She never wanted to when he was around. Inevitably he'd leave and she'd convince herself to keep her distance next time - always "next time". But as soon as he'd smile at her, or even worse, put those massive arms around her, she'd melt and it would all go to pot. She would give in and once more, the fear would fade into oblivion. He had a way about him, she mused to herself.
"I like this part of town. It's a lot quieter than the around the college where I am." He said, craning his neck to look out the window again.
"How far is the college?" She prodded, not only curious but also hoping to keep the topic of conversation off of the past few hours. He paused and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. She smiled. He sure was cute.
"Maybe 10 or 12 miles from here." He nodded, taking another sip from the mug before setting it on the coffee table. "I've been in Amsterdam for months, and I still get turned around on the streets. I don't even know where we are."
"You shouldn't have trouble getting back."
He got a devious grin on his face. "I dunno. I'm afraid I might get lost."
She didn't catch on as she shook her head. "You can always call a cab."
"You gonna send me out into the cold at this time of night? All alone? What happens if they find me tomorrow morning, all frostbitten and blue.." He waxed woe.
She finally smirked, and pressed a socked foot into his chest. "Dork. Something tells me you'd find a way."
"I'm kinda tired, too.. What if I pass out from exhaustion?" He sighed heavily, playing the distress card by putting the back of his palm against his forehead. "In fact, I'm feeling a little faint right now. I think I'd better lie down.." Mamoru closed his eyes and changed position so that his head was cradled in her lap. She giggled, a high-pitched sound that Mamoru was sure he'd never heard from her before. He settled in, enjoying the warmth he could feel from her body through her clothing against his face and head. She too readjusted, now leaning backwards into the armrest, stroking his hair gingerly. This was what she imagined a normal relationship was like - joking, poking fun at each other. She was acutely aware that her guard was not only down, but completely forgotten, and her mind was still nagging her to kick him out before something happen that either of them might regret. But feeling his body rise and fall as it lay against her own; touching him freely without any fear; knowing that he was just as relaxed as she was, it all was too much for her mind and good judgment to combat. So for the moment, her anxiety departed and she simply fell into whatever it was she was experiencing. It wasn't just love - she'd admitted that to herself long ago - it was security. And she realized that she'd never felt it before. This was completely new to her. She marveled silently that Mamoru was teaching her things that seemed so simple and she wondered how she ever lived without them.
"I love you, you know."
The words were so matter of fact that she had to stop and question whether she'd really heard it.
"Wha.what?" She stumbled, her movements pausing. He didn't even blink when he said it. She must have misheard him.
"I love you." He repeated.
Somehow, deep down, she'd known. But it was the bad news her mind wanted to convince her of otherwise, so she put it out of her mind.until now. Her heart was pounding; her mind was reeling, trying in vain to cover up the sincerity in his voice, trying to rationalize it away. Her brain was working overtime to convince her that the words he just spoke were a lie, a complete fake. But it wasn't working.
Mamoru felt the tears fall before he ever heard the cries or felt the shaking inside her chest. He sat abruptly up and turned to face her. She wasn't sobbing though, he marveled. Brushing the tears away with his fingers, he just stared at her, wondering how she would respond. He knew that if she was honest with herself she would realize that she could feel nothing else but the same, and yet he knew how bottled up she was.
"I love you, Usako." He paused, letting the words sink in again and then brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes so that she had to look him in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."
The cries came out in huge, wracking sobs now and she couldn't stop them. He shushed her and within seconds the noise had died down, but her eyes were none the drier.
"Why?" She demanded with such a fervor that Mamoru almost laughed. He cupped her face in his hands and held her gaze for as long as he could without letting the words spill anxiously from his lips.
"Because I do and because I can." He said simply, and then continued about thinking. "Because I'm alive and breathing and sitting here next to you. There's no other reason for it and if there were, it wouldn't really be love. It would be justified affection. I could name a million things I think are cute about you, or things that make me smile, but they are just tiny, miniscule factors that make up a larger fact." He smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I don't love you because of all those things, I love those things because they are a part of you. And you are what I love."
"Oh God, Mamoru. if you only knew.." She started, choking on the words.
"Knew what? Your past? Your career? Your choices? You can't tell me something that I haven't already considered." He kissed her forehead.
"How can you love me in spite of all that?"
"I don't. I love you because of it. It made you who you are." He smiled widely and leaned in closer, pulling her into his arms. "And, I've already said it, but I'll say it again since I like the way it sounds." he winked, "I love who you are and what you've become."
"Mamoru, everything that happened tonight. all the stuff that I've struggled with these past few weeks.." She struggled to put it all into words, but as she fought back the fear and hesitation, her desperation faded farther and farther away. "It's all happened because of you. You are what's messing up the finely crafted illusion I've lived in the past two years.
"I can't stop thinking about you and all I want to do is run away and never come back. I've had to face so much because of all that you've offered me." She wrinkled her forehead, trying to find the words. "Tonight, at the club after you left me, I tried to go about my business like before. But that English guy paid and I tried to perform." She stopped and it was all Mamoru could do not to show his disgust, but he wanted her to continue. He wanted to hear this. "But I just couldn't. I couldn't equate what I'd been doing for two years with a job. Nothing seemed to fit anymore. You confused the hell out of me. And when that guy tried to start. I froze. I just. couldn't." She erupted in sobs again, more scared than she ever remembered being before, wanting nothing more than to give in.
"I'm so sorry this night ever took place. I'd spend every waking moment with you in that club if I could, just to make sure no one ever touched you again." He said, finding it hard to mask his revulsion at the thought of someone laying even a finger on his Usagi. He was awed by the selfishness he felt boiling inside him; she was his now. He wanted to be the only one to whisper in her ear, brush hair from her face, reach for her at night, stroke her flesh. He could honestly imagine himself ripping someone apart for infringing on his property. It was simple - she was his.
"Mamoru, I love you and I have since that first night. I just never thought it was safe to feel that way." Tears feel fresh as she spoke. "But I can't hide it like my mind wanted me to."
"Good." He said, pulling her close. "Because I wasn't going to leave until you told me. And now that you have, I don't think I can leave..."
She sighed, relieved for the first time that night as he whispered.
"Ever."
*************************************** WOW.
It's been a long time since I've written anything..
And I'm very happy I waited. I really like this. I know where it's going now, how it's gonna end and what the epilogue will be. ^^ I'm very excited. I might actually FINISH a series this time.
Hey! Don't be so cynical! It can be done..
Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers thus far. ^^ You are all my new best friends!
cielenvoye@yahoo.com
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