Disclaimer: Yep, well, I don't own FY. Bet you knew that, huh?
Chapter 26 Run Away
At some time in the night, we close our eyes and sleep. Neither of us want to. We want to stay awake and look at each other, talk to each other, love each other. But we sleep, wrapped together so tightly our breathing matches.
I wake up just past dawn. A beam of the sun assaults my face, stirring me from my sleep. When my eyes focus, I see him lying next to me. His mouth is open wide, his deep snoring echoing in the room. It's a startling sound, hard on the nerves and the mind; but it doesn't bother me the least bit. As I listen to him more closely, I find that I somewhat enjoy it. It is him in his most vulnerable, truest form, and I adore it.
His beauty is ravishing to me. Maybe it's because it is the morning, and the beauty of all things is obvious in the light of the morning. Maybe it's because my heart knows I may never see him like this again. But I refuse to ponder the reasons for him being so lovely to me; instead, I just look at him.
Everything about him makes me happy, releases that emotion in my veins that makes me feel weightless and undeniably satisfied. I lie still for a moment, my face close to his, just watching. I close my eyes and mold myself to him, resting my cheek against his collarbone. I force myself not to think of where he will be before the day is over. Of where I will be.
I sit up and lean over him slightly. My hand reaches out to his face, and my fingertips graze gently over his features. I trace the shape of his nose, running my finger over the prominent arch and down the sides. When I reach his lips, his gaping mouth closes and he turns his face toward me, nudging my fingertips. Smiling, I trace over the skin bordering his lips, feeling the tightness transform into smoothness. A fang protrudes from his mouth to bite down on his lower lip, chewing silently before retreating back into his mouth. I cup his cheek with my palm and run my thumb over his lips, pressing gently to feel their softness and moisture. His face moves further into my hand, recognizing my touch.
Even in his sleep, he craves me as I crave him. I am touched by this simple subconscious action. Almost saddened.
I begin to doubt myself and my ability to watch him leave me. Only a few hours remain, after all, before he and the others begin their journey to Hokkan. I truly don't know if I will be able to stand still and silent, watching him go. But what can I do? How can I avoid the pain that I will inevitably feel, knowing he's not anywhere near me any longer? Can the things I stored in my heart the night before really supliment my need to be near him, to speak to him, to touch him?
I pull my hand away from his face, almost terrified of him and the power he holds over me. I feel myself loosing control. I feel my mind fleeing, refusing to deal with the panic beginning to flood my veins. I have to leave. Before he wakes up, I have to get away from here, away from him. I cannot watch him leave me. I cannot hear him tell me goodbye.
I force myself not to become frantic. I force my heart to keep a slow, steady pace in order to keep my blood calm. I manage to keep calm somehow and carefully peel myself away from him, slowly unwinding his arm from around my back. I am sorry to move away from him. I feel hollow when I am no longer touching him. Still, I force my body to go, to slip off the bed and walk quietly across the floor to the hearth. I take my gown from the back of the chair and squeeze it firmly to check for dampness. Satisfied that it is dry, I slip it over my shoulders and tuck the sides around my waist and hips, securing it tightly with my sash.
I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling the tangles out as best as I can without a comb. And then I wonder why I am doing it. No one will see me. No one will care what I look like. Momentarily dazed, I lower my hands to my sides and stand motionless, just staring into nothingness. The emptiness of my body is so overwhelming I fear I will begin to crack under the weight of myself. With nothing inside to support me, what is left besides a hollow shell?
I turn around and face the sleeping man lying carelessly on the bed. His arms and legs are splayed and entangled in the linens. One of his hands unconsciously caresses the vacant space beside him, and I realize that he thinks I am there. My heart compresses within my chest, sending a jolt of pain along my nerves, affecting my entire body. I am tempted to give up my plan of escape and return to him. To feel the warmth of him, to listen to the sound of his breathing, to watch his face as he sleeps on, oblivious to me. I take an uncertain step toward him. I expect him to whisper my name as the hero always does in the love stories, calling his lady back to him, stopping her from running away. But he doesn't. He sleeps quietly, his snoring softened to a heavy breathing.
I am so tempted to touch him again, just once more before I run. But I know that if I do, I won't be able to let him go. Oh dear gods, how did it ever get this far? So far that I have to flee from love just so my heart won't crumble.
I curse myself in my mind, and I curse Tasuki. I am angry wtih myself for everything that I have dared to do in the last few weeks--fall in love, act on that love, defy everything for the sake of that love, and now, allow it to leave. And I am angry with Tasuki because he is the one that began it all. I saw his fire red hair when I looked down from the balcony that night, and so began the descent.
I can't change what happened, and I don't have a desire to. I am angry with myself for falling prey to the one thing that could destroy me and save me, but I also feel honored to be the fortunate victim of such a thing.
I smile faintly. I can't touch him. It is better this way. I walk to the chair where Tasuki's black coat is draped. I press my fingers to the fabric and caress it, feeling that it has dried in the night from the heat of the fire. He is so present in this garment. Everything that represents him seems to be here, under my fingers. His courage, his power, his wit, his humor, his beauty, his love. I can feel all of him. How I will miss him when he is gone. I smile again, even more faintly but with a hint of defiance. How I will treasure him more when he returns.
Before my fragile mind allows my body to betray me, I grasp my fingers to my chest and walk briskly and quietly to the door. But somehow, somehow by the grace of the gods who seem to have finally noticed my presence on the earth, he hears. He still hears me, even when I can barely hear my own feet touch the carpet. He hears, and I can feel his eyes on me.
"Tansho," he says, his voice showing no indication that he was asleep only a few moments ago. Did he feel me move away from him and get dressed? Did he listen to me all this time and pretend to be asleep? I don't know whether to thank him or curse him for deceiving me.
I stop, but don't turn. Please don't make me look at you, I pray to him. I refuse to lower my head. To do so means that I'm ashamed of myself and the selfish act I was about to commit. So what?! I, of all people, deserve to be selfish. After the hell that I call my life, I deserve it. Why can't I just do this one thing for myself? I must do it. He doesn't understand.
"Tansho," he repeats. My name on his tongue has that sorrowful tone, like a father disappointed with his child for misbehaving. "Why, Tansho?"
I knew he would ask me that. Why? Why would you want to run away? Leave me to face my journey alone? Never even let me kiss you or tell you goodbye. He doesn't know. He doesn't know what that simple word would do to my mind, what that last kiss would break inside of me. Both of them combined, that word and that kiss, would take hold of me like a giant hand and slowly crush me until my lungs collapse and my heart is nothing but a red smudge in the center of me. I would be left an invalid; I would be a deformed, mangled monstrosity that would cause people to turn their faces in pity and hold back the bile in their throat. I would become like the lepers outside the city gates, moaning as the rot ate my body away slowly.
I almost cry knowing that he could do that to me. His words. He would never intend to, of course. He would never purposefully do such a thing as that to me. It would be just a horrible accident, mostly the fault of the one whose soul is so sad and full of nothingness that she can't control herself or the things that happen to her. But why? Why can't his love heal me instead of slowly tearing into me, ripping me, breaking me? Why must I always feel pain with him along with pleasure? Is that truly love?
"Tansho", I hear my name again. He has mastered my name. He knows just how to say it to make the burning in my womanhood ignite, to make the erotic cramping in my stomach grow, to make the feeling of euphoria in my brain expand. He knows all of me; no wonder one word or action from him could cause my destruction.
I hear him get out of bed and stumble for a moment to pull his trousers on. And I smile in spite of myself and my pain, giving me at least one comfort in this torture. I hear him approach me, feel his hands on my shoulders, feel the tension in his muscles as he turns me to face him, hear the beating of his worried heart, see the tousled fire of his hair. See his eyes. For once I do not feel intimidated or possessed by them. I see purity and wholeness. Worry. Confusion. Wonder. Love. His eyes see me trying to leave him; no wonder they are overflowing. And then I feel the shame. Like a goddamned flood that I should have known would come sooner or later, it just bashes into me again and again, no shelter, no protection. I just stand and let it pound into me, waiting patiently for it to end.
And when it does end, he is there. Waiting. He always waits for me. Always. He has yet to leave before taking me into him, comforting me, loving me, telling me all that I am to him, all that I am to myself, all that I am to the world. And I wonder why on earth I would ever want to hurt him.
His arms are already open, holding onto my shoulders, knowing that I am coming to him sooner or later. So I do. I lean hard into him, burying myself in the nakedness of his chest and the scent of his body. Letting myself sink. Disappear. Vanish.
"Why would you want to leave, Tansho?" he asks, breathing into my hair, calming my anxious heart, soothing my burning nerves. "Why wouldn't you want to stay just a little longer?"
I ponder that. My true reason? I don't want to fall apart. I don't want to howl like the lepers. I don't want to become a monster. No. He doesn't understand the abnormalities of my mind. He wouldn't be able to understand. So I search for the truth in words that he can understand. I breathe deep when I find them, for they tell all in so little. Thank the gods for that.
"Because I can't hear you say goodbye to me," I answer, my breath hitting his chest and returning to warm my face. Yes. That's the truth that he can understand. Maybe one day he will learn the language I speak in my mind and the world that I have created there for myself and my hurting being. Maybe one day he can penetrate it, draw me out of that dark world, draw me next to him, draw me into the light. Save me. But for now, I suppose I am content knowing that he finally understands at least a portion of me.
I know, I know, I KNOW!!!! Happy chapter, depressing chapter, happy chapter, depressing chapter!! *Iseult, make up your damn, demented mind!* ^_^ Well, yes, 'tis true--I'm as fickle as they come. So sue me *umm, no, please don't ^_^* I am very sorry for the angst and cliffhanger *bows in apology* I will make up for it somehow, I promise!!
Ok, so I've had a few people tell me which chapter was the last posted on FF before they deleted my account a few months ago. One told me it was a couple of chapters back, but another told me it's the next chapter after this one. Well, either way, a brand spankin' new chapter of "Tansho", the Fushigi Yuugi romance epic by yours truly will be making an appearance very very soon!! Yay!!
Thanks for the reviews!!!
Chapter 26 Run Away
At some time in the night, we close our eyes and sleep. Neither of us want to. We want to stay awake and look at each other, talk to each other, love each other. But we sleep, wrapped together so tightly our breathing matches.
I wake up just past dawn. A beam of the sun assaults my face, stirring me from my sleep. When my eyes focus, I see him lying next to me. His mouth is open wide, his deep snoring echoing in the room. It's a startling sound, hard on the nerves and the mind; but it doesn't bother me the least bit. As I listen to him more closely, I find that I somewhat enjoy it. It is him in his most vulnerable, truest form, and I adore it.
His beauty is ravishing to me. Maybe it's because it is the morning, and the beauty of all things is obvious in the light of the morning. Maybe it's because my heart knows I may never see him like this again. But I refuse to ponder the reasons for him being so lovely to me; instead, I just look at him.
Everything about him makes me happy, releases that emotion in my veins that makes me feel weightless and undeniably satisfied. I lie still for a moment, my face close to his, just watching. I close my eyes and mold myself to him, resting my cheek against his collarbone. I force myself not to think of where he will be before the day is over. Of where I will be.
I sit up and lean over him slightly. My hand reaches out to his face, and my fingertips graze gently over his features. I trace the shape of his nose, running my finger over the prominent arch and down the sides. When I reach his lips, his gaping mouth closes and he turns his face toward me, nudging my fingertips. Smiling, I trace over the skin bordering his lips, feeling the tightness transform into smoothness. A fang protrudes from his mouth to bite down on his lower lip, chewing silently before retreating back into his mouth. I cup his cheek with my palm and run my thumb over his lips, pressing gently to feel their softness and moisture. His face moves further into my hand, recognizing my touch.
Even in his sleep, he craves me as I crave him. I am touched by this simple subconscious action. Almost saddened.
I begin to doubt myself and my ability to watch him leave me. Only a few hours remain, after all, before he and the others begin their journey to Hokkan. I truly don't know if I will be able to stand still and silent, watching him go. But what can I do? How can I avoid the pain that I will inevitably feel, knowing he's not anywhere near me any longer? Can the things I stored in my heart the night before really supliment my need to be near him, to speak to him, to touch him?
I pull my hand away from his face, almost terrified of him and the power he holds over me. I feel myself loosing control. I feel my mind fleeing, refusing to deal with the panic beginning to flood my veins. I have to leave. Before he wakes up, I have to get away from here, away from him. I cannot watch him leave me. I cannot hear him tell me goodbye.
I force myself not to become frantic. I force my heart to keep a slow, steady pace in order to keep my blood calm. I manage to keep calm somehow and carefully peel myself away from him, slowly unwinding his arm from around my back. I am sorry to move away from him. I feel hollow when I am no longer touching him. Still, I force my body to go, to slip off the bed and walk quietly across the floor to the hearth. I take my gown from the back of the chair and squeeze it firmly to check for dampness. Satisfied that it is dry, I slip it over my shoulders and tuck the sides around my waist and hips, securing it tightly with my sash.
I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling the tangles out as best as I can without a comb. And then I wonder why I am doing it. No one will see me. No one will care what I look like. Momentarily dazed, I lower my hands to my sides and stand motionless, just staring into nothingness. The emptiness of my body is so overwhelming I fear I will begin to crack under the weight of myself. With nothing inside to support me, what is left besides a hollow shell?
I turn around and face the sleeping man lying carelessly on the bed. His arms and legs are splayed and entangled in the linens. One of his hands unconsciously caresses the vacant space beside him, and I realize that he thinks I am there. My heart compresses within my chest, sending a jolt of pain along my nerves, affecting my entire body. I am tempted to give up my plan of escape and return to him. To feel the warmth of him, to listen to the sound of his breathing, to watch his face as he sleeps on, oblivious to me. I take an uncertain step toward him. I expect him to whisper my name as the hero always does in the love stories, calling his lady back to him, stopping her from running away. But he doesn't. He sleeps quietly, his snoring softened to a heavy breathing.
I am so tempted to touch him again, just once more before I run. But I know that if I do, I won't be able to let him go. Oh dear gods, how did it ever get this far? So far that I have to flee from love just so my heart won't crumble.
I curse myself in my mind, and I curse Tasuki. I am angry wtih myself for everything that I have dared to do in the last few weeks--fall in love, act on that love, defy everything for the sake of that love, and now, allow it to leave. And I am angry with Tasuki because he is the one that began it all. I saw his fire red hair when I looked down from the balcony that night, and so began the descent.
I can't change what happened, and I don't have a desire to. I am angry with myself for falling prey to the one thing that could destroy me and save me, but I also feel honored to be the fortunate victim of such a thing.
I smile faintly. I can't touch him. It is better this way. I walk to the chair where Tasuki's black coat is draped. I press my fingers to the fabric and caress it, feeling that it has dried in the night from the heat of the fire. He is so present in this garment. Everything that represents him seems to be here, under my fingers. His courage, his power, his wit, his humor, his beauty, his love. I can feel all of him. How I will miss him when he is gone. I smile again, even more faintly but with a hint of defiance. How I will treasure him more when he returns.
Before my fragile mind allows my body to betray me, I grasp my fingers to my chest and walk briskly and quietly to the door. But somehow, somehow by the grace of the gods who seem to have finally noticed my presence on the earth, he hears. He still hears me, even when I can barely hear my own feet touch the carpet. He hears, and I can feel his eyes on me.
"Tansho," he says, his voice showing no indication that he was asleep only a few moments ago. Did he feel me move away from him and get dressed? Did he listen to me all this time and pretend to be asleep? I don't know whether to thank him or curse him for deceiving me.
I stop, but don't turn. Please don't make me look at you, I pray to him. I refuse to lower my head. To do so means that I'm ashamed of myself and the selfish act I was about to commit. So what?! I, of all people, deserve to be selfish. After the hell that I call my life, I deserve it. Why can't I just do this one thing for myself? I must do it. He doesn't understand.
"Tansho," he repeats. My name on his tongue has that sorrowful tone, like a father disappointed with his child for misbehaving. "Why, Tansho?"
I knew he would ask me that. Why? Why would you want to run away? Leave me to face my journey alone? Never even let me kiss you or tell you goodbye. He doesn't know. He doesn't know what that simple word would do to my mind, what that last kiss would break inside of me. Both of them combined, that word and that kiss, would take hold of me like a giant hand and slowly crush me until my lungs collapse and my heart is nothing but a red smudge in the center of me. I would be left an invalid; I would be a deformed, mangled monstrosity that would cause people to turn their faces in pity and hold back the bile in their throat. I would become like the lepers outside the city gates, moaning as the rot ate my body away slowly.
I almost cry knowing that he could do that to me. His words. He would never intend to, of course. He would never purposefully do such a thing as that to me. It would be just a horrible accident, mostly the fault of the one whose soul is so sad and full of nothingness that she can't control herself or the things that happen to her. But why? Why can't his love heal me instead of slowly tearing into me, ripping me, breaking me? Why must I always feel pain with him along with pleasure? Is that truly love?
"Tansho", I hear my name again. He has mastered my name. He knows just how to say it to make the burning in my womanhood ignite, to make the erotic cramping in my stomach grow, to make the feeling of euphoria in my brain expand. He knows all of me; no wonder one word or action from him could cause my destruction.
I hear him get out of bed and stumble for a moment to pull his trousers on. And I smile in spite of myself and my pain, giving me at least one comfort in this torture. I hear him approach me, feel his hands on my shoulders, feel the tension in his muscles as he turns me to face him, hear the beating of his worried heart, see the tousled fire of his hair. See his eyes. For once I do not feel intimidated or possessed by them. I see purity and wholeness. Worry. Confusion. Wonder. Love. His eyes see me trying to leave him; no wonder they are overflowing. And then I feel the shame. Like a goddamned flood that I should have known would come sooner or later, it just bashes into me again and again, no shelter, no protection. I just stand and let it pound into me, waiting patiently for it to end.
And when it does end, he is there. Waiting. He always waits for me. Always. He has yet to leave before taking me into him, comforting me, loving me, telling me all that I am to him, all that I am to myself, all that I am to the world. And I wonder why on earth I would ever want to hurt him.
His arms are already open, holding onto my shoulders, knowing that I am coming to him sooner or later. So I do. I lean hard into him, burying myself in the nakedness of his chest and the scent of his body. Letting myself sink. Disappear. Vanish.
"Why would you want to leave, Tansho?" he asks, breathing into my hair, calming my anxious heart, soothing my burning nerves. "Why wouldn't you want to stay just a little longer?"
I ponder that. My true reason? I don't want to fall apart. I don't want to howl like the lepers. I don't want to become a monster. No. He doesn't understand the abnormalities of my mind. He wouldn't be able to understand. So I search for the truth in words that he can understand. I breathe deep when I find them, for they tell all in so little. Thank the gods for that.
"Because I can't hear you say goodbye to me," I answer, my breath hitting his chest and returning to warm my face. Yes. That's the truth that he can understand. Maybe one day he will learn the language I speak in my mind and the world that I have created there for myself and my hurting being. Maybe one day he can penetrate it, draw me out of that dark world, draw me next to him, draw me into the light. Save me. But for now, I suppose I am content knowing that he finally understands at least a portion of me.
I know, I know, I KNOW!!!! Happy chapter, depressing chapter, happy chapter, depressing chapter!! *Iseult, make up your damn, demented mind!* ^_^ Well, yes, 'tis true--I'm as fickle as they come. So sue me *umm, no, please don't ^_^* I am very sorry for the angst and cliffhanger *bows in apology* I will make up for it somehow, I promise!!
Ok, so I've had a few people tell me which chapter was the last posted on FF before they deleted my account a few months ago. One told me it was a couple of chapters back, but another told me it's the next chapter after this one. Well, either way, a brand spankin' new chapter of "Tansho", the Fushigi Yuugi romance epic by yours truly will be making an appearance very very soon!! Yay!!
Thanks for the reviews!!!