(10/23/04)
A/N: First off, I want to say how thankful I am the people that review me enjoy criticizing me. It really really helps, and I hope that one day you'll notice how much it pays off. It's just refreshing that you didn't like something, and you spoke up, and that takes real class, maturity, and oh - I'm so full of love. Anyway, on with it.
ohJoy - Right now it's almost 2:00 am, I really should listen to you, now shouldn't I? Xichiathik - I can't even remember what happens last chapter, it seems so long ago... Aamalie - ... Lily Thorne - Characterization? Noo.. No, don't joke with me ) chocolatechipp - It's all Dashboard Confessional ) FlamingRedFox -What's wrong with drama? It's about all I can write. Key word: can. RavenFireI - I must spread the Kuranosuke love. ScoRPion Blade - Well thank you, it's tough love, give me lots. ) It's the only way I'll get better, right? As I've said countlessly, the story is complete, but until all of it is posted in entirety, I can't really say more about what I chose to do with Kuranosuke. Let's just say he's human. Taishoku Kurayami, YoukaiTaijaiyaSango- Thanks, lets see how you fare with thischapter. 3 Starzki - Hmm.I don't know about Kuranosuke anymore. I tried to have a change of character for all involved, but somehow, it seems to have blown up in my face. Let's just hope everyone gets out unscathed, but it is unlikely. ) Thank you very much, I enjoy reading reviews like yours. And really, remind me to review your story you posted a few weeks ago, I've been so busy and lazy, which says something about the date and time this is being updated, when it's finished already!
Anyone who is of decent age to read mild, implicative, badly-written R can e-mail me (aprill may at yahoo) for the chunk of story that is missing. You'll know which one it is.
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"It's beautiful," Sango sighed as she relaxed into Miroku's arms. "Thank you."
"Why are you thanking me?" he replied. "I didn't make the fireworks."
"True, but you did bring me here, and you are part of what is making this whole moment beautiful."
"So are you saying I'm beautiful?" he asked smugly, preening. "A beautiful man. Imagine that."
She turned her head to bury her face in his shoulder and he could feel her laugh, warm, rich and relaxed, like ripples through hot chocolate. "Another year is gone."
He eased the side of his head to rest on top of hers. "It was a good year. Am I right?"
He felt her smile. "I suppose you could say that."
Shifting, he held her face in his hands and kissed her, her body slowly slackening. As he pulled away, she was blushing. Now this was beautiful.
"Do you think they'd let us go around again?" Sango asked in a hopeful voice, winking at him.
"Tsk tsk Sango, what about the children?"
"Oh, there are only about a hundred other cars on this Ferris wheel. More, I think," she pointed out. "The children can wait."
"I sure hope so."
She let her fingers trace little circles on his knee. "Please?"
As they descended and the little gate opened to let them out and others in, he winked at the female attendant and tucked a few notes into her shirt pocket.
"Miroku," Sango said flatly, folding her arms away as he turned back to her. "You didn't have to stick your hand in her pocket like that."
"I was merely being discreet."
"How is shoving money into her chest pocket being discreet?"
"It's the only pocket I could find without a more - thorough - search."
"You're silly," she chided, pinching his leg where she had been touching it earlier. He took her wrist and pulled her to him.
The Ferris wheel began to ascend again and another shower of fireworks lit up the sky, just as their car grazed the topmost point of the ride.
"Miroku . . . " she mumbled, nestled under the curve of his chin again. "I've . . . I . . . damn, I don't know how to say this."
He twisted a few strands of her hair between his fingers, amused. "Would you like me to go first?"
She craned her neck up at him. "If you want to, yes."
"Well," he began, leaning his head back and looking up at the glowing sky that felt so near. "I think we're quite serious now."
"No, we aren't," Sango replied sarcastically. "You just lounge around my house all the time because you leech off my utilities."
"Utilities . . . amongst other things," he grinned, squeezing her bottom. She grabbed his hand away and held it. "You have very nice utilities."
She gave him a reprimanding look, ensuring much punishment later when they were in a more . . . private place. "Continue, please. What else? Flatter me."
"Sango," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I've had my share of relationships in the past . . . and I was hit with a sudden thought; they pale in comparison to you. Although some were pretty good," he added as an afterthought.
Her hands toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "And?" she asked breathlessly. It was a stupid thing to say, 'and,' but he never failed at stealing her sense of awareness away.
"Still Sango, I have . . . I have intentions for us. And not just dirty ones either. I've never been one to commit . . . and I always thought I had some sort of relationship complex. Lately, I've been thinking that I was really just waiting for you."
She didn't answer, just rearranged herself on his lap to hold him closer. He held her at arms length, staring clear into her eyes.
"Sango, I'm going to give you a ring."
Her heart skipped a beat, she started panicking and her right hand twitched as she longed to bite on her nails.
"Miroku, I -"
"I know you're not ready. I'm not ready either. It's not anything like you're thinking. I may be being serious now, but you know me better than that," he said with a slight grin.
He held her face between her hands again.
"I want it to mean that you're accepting me as part of your life now. Not just the guy who revels in your utilities from time to time. I think . . . I know that I want you to have something physical, something to remind you that I'm there, and always will be, even if . . ." He took a deep breath. "Even if we don't last."
She choked on her tongue a little as she pressed tiny, frantic kisses all over his face; underneath his bangs, the corners of his eyelids, the sensitive spot where his jawbone met his ear, because she . . . she couldn't give him words.
His hands slid up her body and over her shoulders, and she felt the coolness of the thin chain as he clasped it around her neck.
"I love you," he breathed into her hair. "You're the one."
She couldn't help the icy prickle of guilt that ran up her spine.
"What did you want to say?"
Staring at him in a daze, she shook herself back to reality and smiled gently. "I feel the same way . . . and I hope . . . I hope I'll - we'll be ready soon."
--
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Any Given Someday
Chapter Nine
Beauty In The Breakdown
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--
She could feel his muscles tense beneath her fingers and she knew that enough time had passed for him to become nervous. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt and she pushed at him.
"Go."
He tried to push his lips against hers but she stopped him with her fingers against his mouth. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, before leading himself in acquiescence to her door.
She turned away and leaned against the wall, because she didn't want to see him go. Just like last time.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Her blood ceased to flow in her veins.
"You should have told me we were expecting visitors, Sango darling."
The two men were standing directly in front of one another, nearly eye level.
"Why are you here?" Kuranosuke asked in an icy tone.
"To see the owner of the home," Miroku shrugged casually. "We have a history."
"I'm well aware of that."
"So, I think," he threw a glance back at Sango. "I was about to leave."
"Not just yet," the other man threw out a hand to stop him. "I wanted to ask you a few more questions."
"Shoot."
"You know she still hasn't - she's in no condition to . . . why do you do this to her?" he exploded, despite Sango watching him anxiously behind Miroku.
"I'm sorry, what am I doing?" Miroku asked coolly, staring at him.
"She didn't ask you to come here, I know it. You're toying with her. You always did."
"You don't know the half of it." He smirked, eyes narrowed, and Kuranosuke's face twitched in an effort to remain calm..
"Get out."
"Excuse me, what was I trying to do before you came in here and demanded I answer questions?"
"You sarcastic, unfaithful jackass," he spat, taking a step closer to him. "I don't know what the hell you did in a past life to deserve to have Sango for so long. Did you care about her at all?."
Something like anger flashed across Miroku's face. "Neither do I, but don't you ever, ever imply that I didn't care about Sango."
"You did?" It was Kuranosuke's turn to smirk. "You know, right? You knew about Sango . . . or you didn't, until you found out by accident And what did you do? Leave her. She didn't deserve that. You're too late."
"You think she's any happier with you?"
"If you weren't showing your face around here, reminding her of everything, then yes, she wouldn't have to go through all you put her through over and over again. She wouldn't have to resort to slumming."
"No, slumming would be if she had to use you as a last resort." He looked around him as though he just realized where he was. "Which she is! Coincidence?"
Sango let out a small cry as Kuranosuke's fist collided Miroku's jaw, throwing his head back sharply. He staggered, touching his lip gingerly and checking for blood.
"Say, Sango, he's husband material."
He ducked aside to avoid Kuranosuke's second attempt at a hit, faintly hearing him snarling something about 'only hitting bastards'. Sango was screaming at them in the background, but her cries were distant as Miroku realized that he really wanted to hit the guy as well.
And hit him he did.
Kuranosuke reeled back, clutching his face. "Asshole."
"I'd rather she was happy and slumming than miserable and living with a pampered, rich daddy's boy that thinks he's the solution to all the world's problems. Sango doesn't need to sit on your bed like a doll that needs to be taken care of."
There were welts forming around Kuranosuke's eye, and he attempted a retaliation punch. It connected.
"I want the best for Sango," he said in a quiet voice. "I've wanted the best for her for a long time. And I've watched, knowing . . . knowing that behind the happiness she showed, there was something else. It was devastating . . . for me to know and be unable to do a thing."
He checked to see if he was bleeding and placed a hand gingerly on his face.
"What did you do when you found out," he spat, panting. "You left her to be alone."
"Will you two fucking stop it?" Sango demanded, standing between them as the room grew deathly still. "What the hell is wrong with you? The both of you!"
Both of their harsh breathing filled the short silence as she stood there, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands outstretched to stop Kuranosuke from coming any closer.
"This isn't the time," she snapped. "I don't want to hear any more."
She opened her eyes slowly, not glaring but giving him a pleading look.
"This isn't the time to talk about this."
He dropped his hands slowly, staring at the woman who'd agreed just days ago that she'd commit herself to him. He remembered his stinging face, and for her, he complied with her orders.
"Think about this, Sango-san," he paused at the door before leaving.
There was a slight shudder throughout the house as the door slammed shut, the pealing of the wind chimes punctuating his actions.
Miroku slackened from leaning against the wall, and crumpled to the ground, touching his lip again and smiling darkly as red tinted his skin.
"And you!" she rounded on him. "You had no right to say those things!"
She fell to her knees beside him, drawing a long breath and massaging her temples. "What the hell just happened?" she muttered.
Something like a chuckle emitted from his throat. "I think it was pretty obvious."
"You exchanged a few insults as if I wasn't in the room, in full view, and then started throwing punches at each other?" she offered in sarcasm.
"The things men do for you."
She bit her lower lip for a few seconds before reverting back to her nails. "That's not funny."
"Was it meant to be?"
An awkward silence built around them as they contemplated what had just transpired.
"Why did you send him out?"
Sango looked up, her thumbnail still between her teeth, and made an incoherent sound.
"Well?" he looked towards her, the corners of his lips turned up slightly, raw and bleeding.
"Because, because . . . I - " she tried helplessly. "Let me get something for your lip."
She stood shakily and rushed into the kitchen to run a towel under cold water. Kneeling back beside him, she hesitantly raised her hand to his face, and gingerly pressed the cold cloth against his mouth.
"Sorry I don't have an ice pack or anything," she murmured. Her face was so close his ear. "I meant to pick one up that time Kohaku had a sore knee, but . . ."
"Afraid of seeing me?" he asked cheekily, his mouth shifting under the cloth.
"No, not that," she denied, uncomfortable. "I never had time."
She moved her hand a little to absorb the little splotch of blood near his chin. "Your nose is bleeding too," she noted. "I'll get you a tissue. You sit here and pinch it."
As she stood up to leave he pinched her.
"Pervert," she snapped, but she couldn't help but let a tiny ghost of a smile flit across her face.
"Has the bleeding stopped?" she called to him as she rinsed a used towel, entranced in watching the red tinted water swirling down the drain.
"Mostly."
Sango jumped involuntarily at how close his voice was. "You shouldn't walk around. At least sit, or . . . or go home, or something," she said weakly, closing her eyes and rubbing the cloth vigorously between her hands.
"I'm going to leave."
Good. He should leave.
Those thoughts were riddled from her mind as he kissed her, the faint coppery taste of blood evident on his mouth. As soon and as abrupt as it had began, it was over.
She didn't watch him go.
--
The house was vastly different when Kohaku was away. There was absolutely no one. For the few moments that Miroku had been here . . . it almost felt full again, despite the circumstances.
She smirked and her lip twisted, suddenly remembering what the house was like when Kohaku was away. Let's just say their freedom had been less . . . limited with his absence.
Drink up.
A thin stream of vodka trickled down her throat, searing, and she slammed the shot glass on the counter.
Deciding against sprawling out on the bed or the couch, she settled for pushing the coffee table aside and lying on the floor. The firm hardwood beneath her back kept her from drifting into sleep, and Kirara sauntered over, draping herself across her stomach as a warm weight.
Alone, solitary and slightly inebriated, she would finally be able to let herself think about what had happened.
She could hear him again, asking her all those questions, cutting her words off with a single comeback of his own. Now, she could piece together her answers, because even though she knew he would wait, she wanted to give them both peace of mind.
"You never said don't go."
'Because I didn't want to make you stay. I wanted you to stay with me . . . but I was embarrassed and stupid. I thought you wouldn't want me anymore after what happened.
"You think I lie, Sango? You think I keep things from you? Don't you remember?"
'I was the one that lied to you. I lied, and I was sorry, but I couldn't change, I couldn't give up my addictions, not just yet; and even though you said you'd be here for me, it's something I wanted to do alone.'
"Why are you trying to hard to say goodbye?"
'I was trying because I thought it would happen naturally. Friends have always said that, yes, they thought they were in love but it burned out, it died down, and they moved on. I thought that that was what would happen to us, but still, I loved you, I needed you. It scared me, still needing you the way I did, when I thought it should have been over. The truth is . . . it never faded, the feelings were always there, still so strong, and the reason that we even separated wasn't because of that. It was something just as simple yet elusive. Broken trust . . . false promises . . . lies.'
"I wanted to be someone you'd be proud to have around you."
"You were."
"Was I?"
By this time the alcohol had taken the effect she desired and her thoughts began to wander. She wasn't drunk, just relaxed enough that her mind was open, and she wasn't reduced to lying to herself and messing up her own thoughts.
'Miroku . . . you were someone I was proud to be with. Most people love you, Kohaku loved you, I loved you. You had this natural charm, you drew people to you, and yes, that included women. I was . . . I always felt as though I was average, just another faceless entity in the crowd, and that you chose me. Why, I don't know. We found one another in that crowd and I was someone.'
"Do you want to be with him?"
'Kuranosuke . . .' she smiled ruefully to herself. 'Kuranosuke Takeda, a graduate with a degree in business administration and a bright future. A nice man, handsome, young and opportunistic, and hell, I've never met anyone more devoted. He cares a great deal, always did. And even now . . . I'm still not sure about what he truly feels . . . '
'It was nothing like what I thought of you, nothing like how you made me feel. And I said it, that day. I said that he wasn't like you and I wasn't lying. I've lied to you before, I turned away when you offered me stability . . . at the end, I couldn't let myself trust enough to accept you fully.'
'We lied to each other, we were ignorant of each other. We reached a breaking point and everything spilled out at once. I still hated you for making that choice . . . in reality, it probably did make me stronger; it allowed me to handle certain things . . .'
"I can't make you do anything that you don't want to do. You have a chance to start over the right way, and have a good future."
'You can't, but you tried. I know you did. I hardly gave you a chance. I was too busy wrapped up in my faults, too defensive and too damn self-absorbed to see that you would love me unconditionally. I just couldn't stop comparing myself to everyone else. I have been trying . . . My will was renewed, for your sake, even though it should have broken to pieces when you left the way you did. I never did tell you not to go.'
'And for some reason, on that day . . .'
She closed her eyes and once more, she was whisked away to the past, where she giggled and shivered as they rolled around in packing styrofoam and bubble wrap. They were content and comfortable as they were, and she remembered thinking at that moment that she wouldn't trade this for the world.
--
Sango wasn't that much of a reckless driver; definitely not as bad as Inuyasha but a little more irritable than Miroku behind the wheel, but she seriously thought she might kill someone if they unwittingly stepped off the sidewalk.
Two lights past the corner where hoodlums stole the street sign.
The sound of the windshield wipers would be enough to lull anyone to sleep at this time of night, but she was alert and jittery, occasionally taking a hand off the wheel to chew on the end of which ever finger still had nail growing out of it.
Right turn where you see a rusty park bench. You were embarrassed when I kissed you there because it was a public place.
She turned in, swerving her car diagonally into a parking space, leaving the car next to her minuscule space to squeeze between the two vehicles, nor room to open the door on the driver's side.
Stuffing her keys in her pocket, she left everything else of importance on the seat in her haste.
Her fingers shook as they hovered over the numbers on the intercom. No, she didn't need to warn him in advance. For once, she wanted to have the advantage.
The short elevator ride was the longest one she'd ever had in her life, though not as long as the few good minutes she stood in front of his door with her hand raised.
Her fist stopped inches from his door as it swung open. He didn't look surprised to see her, or excited in the least. Instead, his mouth tightened and he forced a polite smile on his face.
"Sango," he cleared his throat. "Did you forget - "
What he asked her if she forgot, she never did find out. All she knew was that the lines she had rehearsed in the car had no vanished from her memory, and the words that spilled from her lips were raw, unfiltered, a muddled blur and the truth.
"Miroku," she gripped the collar of her shirt to keep from reaching out to him. "I've thought about me . . . us, about everything. And - and . . . " her voice was an anxious sigh. "I'm the one who couldn't give you everything, I'm the one who lied."
His face was an expressionless mask. She had hoped to detect a hint of something more, a tiny clue to what he was feeling behind that empty stare.
Seeing as how he refused to show any sign of hearing her, she continued on recklessly, all formalities forgotten.
"I - Even after all the time . . . all the chances you've given me, I'm unsure. It hurts my head, my heart, my entire body to think about it."
"You need more time?" she heard him say softly.
"We both do. But that's not why I'm here." She pinched her leg to try and stop it from convulsing.
Leave your things behind, it's all going on without you.
"We can take all the time in the world, but the words, the thoughts between us, they can't last forever. Even now, I'm not sure if us . . . will even work. We can't pin the blame on one another . . . it was both of us."
He crossed his own arms, his eyes dark as though someone had drawn curtains behind them.
"If that's all - "
"I'm not finished yet," she cut in immediately. "When I - we - in the parking lot that day, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about what would happen, how I would feel afterwards, I stripped away all my insecurities and at that moment, you were what I wanted."
Hesitantly, she took a step closer to him. "I feel that way now . . ."
He opened his mouth to answer but now she had said too much, and the words wouldn't stop coming. "I ignored what I felt, for so long. But at what price? Miroku, you say you couldn't give me everything . . . give me . . ."
Her fingers left her mouth where they had been tracing her lips and moved to touch the side of his face.
"Give me tonight."
His left hand rose to grab her wrist and hold it loosely between them. "Sango . . . I don't want to push you into something you'll regret - "
A sharp, bitter laugh rose from her throat. "Have you been listening to me at all, Miroku? I want this. I'll take - we'll have - what we want."
"I wasn't the solution then, I won't be now. And you're in a relationship."
"Shut up. Forget it. I'll forget about it. I'll even forget about that woman who was hanging out with you that time I called."
It's not like I didn't run to another in order to escape.
She entwined their fingers and drew her other hand down his shoulder, bringing his right hand around her waist. Letting go, it automatically tightened as she pushed at the back of his neck. He looked like he wanted to argue.
"Nothing is free in this world. Everything comes at a price, I know that," she whispered, parting her lips as her breathing quickened. They suddenly felt so dry.
Inside, there was little piece of her that was still so angry and confused about what he did.
"And right now I don't know, I don't care - about anything - I just need you."
Are you in or are you out?
--
She still wasn't home yet.
He was starting to get nervous.
Not because she could be hurt, or lost, or abducted . . . no, it wasn't that.He knew that Sango was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, though he'd be hard pressed to show it. She was a petite young woman, and he treated her as such. He was traditional, was that such a crime?
Despite her initial discomfort of being smothered, she'd still been gracious to him. She agreed to become exclusive with him! That meant something right? Of course it did.
He had a spare set of keys. Somewhere in the short time they'd been together he'd manage to get his hands on them.
Her set was gone.
Her home was quaint. He had hoped he'd be able to move her from here and to a wonderful mansion in the heart of the city. Wasn't that what she wanted? Success? Women loved beautiful, overindulgent, extravagant things.
His feet carried him up the stairs, and he had stopped in front of the door to the bedroom, his hand on the knob. Hesitating at first, then setting his jaw in resolve, he swung the door open and absorbed the scene before him.
It was spotless. Nothing seemed out of place or awkward. Moving to stand next to her bed, he ran his fingers along the surface of a beside table, holding his fingers up to his face to inspect the thick layer of dust that now coated them.
Sunlight filtered into the room, softened by sheer curtains that were dusty as though they hadn't been released from their bindings in a while.
Picture frames were face down.
Gingerly, he grasped the edge of one and turned it upwards.
Well, what did I think it would be?
Her, his Sango, and him. That man, not unlike any other he had ever seen. He was average, mediocre, normal -- and he was Takeda Kuranosuke. What he really wanted to know was why. Why him, Sango? How can he be better?
He wouldn't do what Miroku did, which was absolutely nothing.
Dropping the frame back face down, he was compelled to throw open her closet doors, which he did. He pulled them back with such force that the clothing inside shuddered.
There was about an inch of a cardboard box visible from an upper ledge. He reached for it.
When it had gotten along far enough for him to physically grasp it, he pulled it down and it slipped through his fingers, heavier than he had anticipated.
Pictures, letters, jewellery, every imaginable knick knack in existence sprayed from where the box lay on its side, as though it was trying to mock him. He kicked it aside.
Walking away, he nearly slipped on an eight by ten of the couple at what appeared to be the beach. He shook his head and kicked that too; it rose and flipped over. He wasn't satisfied. There were more, hundreds more, some with both of them in focus, some with just one. Some were indistinguishable but so flesh toned it nearly made him sick.
So much time; so many memories.
He held a film coated photo between his fingers.
I had waited so long for the time that I would be able to be with you, Sango. I tried my hardest to become such a man that would make any woman happy.
Shame I could never do that for you.
But maybe I can.
I haven't given up yet.
--
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I'm missing your bed
I never sleep
Avoiding the spots where we'd have to speak,
And this bottle of beast,
Is taking me home
-- Dashboard Confessional, Screaming Infidelities