I'm heading back to school, and I'm not sure when I'll have the internet up again, so I thought I'd post one more, just one more, before I go. Sorry it's not that long!
-6- Love and War"Why haven't you called me?/ Did you forget me?/ I need to know/ When were you intending/ to break the silence/ and let me know?" - Weezer
-
Sango mad has always been a sight to behold.
I couldn't get her to talk to me for days. She would hang up the phone or slam the door in my face. This wasn't the first time a woman had done these things to me, but usually there was a good reason - I'd cheated, I'd flirted, I'd slept with her roommate- and both of us knew it. This time I had no idea what I'd done to merit such treatment, and it came down to me shouting that through her door.
She shouted back. Ah, what a classy scene we made.
She said she didn't want anything to do with the probable existence in my "shitty family of some tradition of wagering love across the card table, wooing and bedding women who are worse at them at cards so they can feel privileged and not threatened."
I nearly punched down her door.
In fact I tried until my knuckles were bloody and several beads broke off my rosary, and then we went back to shouting.
I reminded her that in fact, she was as good as I was if not better.
She said she wouldn't be a gamble made between me and my sense of obligation.
I told her she was no obligation.
I said "Sango, you and I are a pair, the perfect pair. We're like the king and the queen, we-"
She said "I don't want to hear any more of your stupid card analogies! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of just being your poker fuck buddy! You're not worth crying over if that's all I'll ever be for you!"
That was the first time she tried to break my heart, that anyone had tried and succeeded, and I didn't know what to do. My Sango, crying? I made her cry? So I leaned against her door, my forehead touching the cold, uncaring wood.
"If you won't listen to that, will you listen to me if I tell you I love you."
There was silence.
It must have been days and days before she asked quietly, muffled by the two inches of solid oak that kept us apart, "Do you really love me?"
"I love you, Sango. I love you so much I can hardly tell you."
A week passed, and I finally pushed back from the door-
"Miroku, I love-"
-exactly when she opened it.
Right in the face.
Like I said, when Sango is mad, she always aims above the neck.
We made up by spending an evening on the couch as she tended my bloody nose.
I bought her engagement ring the next day, but I didn't actually ask her to marry me until several months later.
Because what had somehow gotten lost in our relationship was the story of my curse.
-
I'm groggy, dizzy, nauseous but somehow hungry, and I am in the WPS.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, but Bankotsu came too close for my comfort with my own king -asshole- and all for me to find out that he was already in.
I want to fall into bed, but I have to call, I have to try one more time.
The phone rings and rings, and her voice answers, but only thanks to mocking machinery.
Dammit.
Where is she?
A brief, horrifying thought crosses my mind -what if she's gone into premature labor?!- but my last few reserves of logic give me a swift kick in the butt before they go to bed. No matter how upset Kagome is, she would have called the moment something happened to Sango or the baby. So she's not in the hospital.
Where is Sango McHoushi?
"Sango, it's me." I sound somewhere between drunk and in traction. "Sango, please pick up the phone if you're there. I know it's late, but PLEASE pick up the phone. I miss you, I miss you so badly, I made it into the tournament and I won ten thou, just tonight. Please, Sango. I love you so much, and I'm so tired and I miss you snuggling up to me and...and..."
I fall asleep with the phone cradled under my chin and my shoes still on.
