Disclaimer: I don't Inuyasha or Friends. I don't own anything except for a dime. And I'm not entirely sure what counts as a dime, so I could be wrong anyways. :P Just don't sue me.
I have many obsessions. I just started thinking about them – and Inuyasha being one of my obsessions, it just turned into an idea for an Inuyasha fanfic. Yay!
-
-
-
Obsessions
Obsession can be a dangerous thing. It can take over your life, lurk in your every thought; make you do things you think you'd be above of.
An obsession cannot be controlled. You can hide it, cloak it with a seemingly innocent clothing – but it always, always ends up spiralling out of your control, and eventually even the tiniest crumb of a clue can turn into a stabbing, damning evidence.
That is why you must choose your fixations carefully.
I did. But then again, it wasn't hard. It was a talent, at the start; I was the best at it. I got praised, even though the funniest thing was it wasn't even hard for me. It came naturally. Gradually I got used to writing, and then I fell in love with it. I fell in love with the language, creating and weaving pieces – pieces? Oh, there were too many to speak of: Stories, short or small, articles for newspapers, magazines, leaflets; poems, even. But I kept returning to stories. It was a fantasyland; where I could do anything I like, make fairy tales and settings and characters come alive --- all contained in white smooth expanse of sheets, and the black, set writing.
Or perhaps it wasn't the language I fell in love with. Perhaps it was the admiration of people's faces, the emotion they went through, the laughter or tears I could make them produce, the pride I felt when they turned to me at the end with gratified faces and said, "This is wonderful. You created this?"
The ability to touch someone, however briefly, is one that amazes me. Maybe that is why I continue to arrange letters into words, and words into sentences --- and into something that will satisfy my obsession.
I never really can write around anyone – let alone Inuyasha. I like the blank whiteness of a sheet in front of me, which I can carefully fill with words or phrases to spring appropriately to mind. There is calmness, and there is just about enough light to do it in. I thrive in it.
But the strangest thing is that I thrive in the Feudal Japan too. Where all the action is: the fighting, the sounds, the smells – and the colour! The sheer brightness of it is dazzling all around.
And there is Inuyasha. That loud, cocky, jerk who never thinks before he leaps --- or opening his mouth, in fact --- but who hides a heart of gold.
At least, when he's not being a loudmouth, cocky jerk.
I suppose, though, it doesn't hurt that he is extremely easy on the eyes.
But right now, I'm in 'the future.' I can sit down and write to my heart's desire, in the calmness. And satisfy my obsession for a while – God knows when Inuyasha will come bursting in any minute, demanding me to come back.
So I start to write. I've started a recent story about a young boy who gets bullied and how he is struggling to overcome this difficulty – when suddenly, I realize, I have given the young boy long silver hair and golden eyes.
And the bullies just happen to be youkai.
Full blooded youkai, to be exact.
I assure myself it was because I was just thinking about Inuyasha that this happened, and pull another piece of paper towards me. This story is about a young teenage girl who lives in a regular house and goes to suspicious school where lots of weird things happen --- only somehow, the girl's house gets demolished in way for a shrine, and the weird things start to happen on the other side of a well they just happen to have.
The young girl happens to meet a teenage guy who has half demon blood and the proving attributes, including one set of extremely kawaii doggy ears. She wants to stroke them. I let her.
And that's not all. She doesn't want to stop there. Rena, as I've called her, wants to do a lot more things --- things like hugging the boy, and kissing him, and comforting him when he's sick and all of that.
It sounds like she's in love.
I hover over the name of the hanyou boy --- and I cannot decide one. There is only one name fit for the half dog demon boy --- and that's Inuyasha. Only, why would Inuyasha be in my writing, my obsession?
I hear my pen drop on the table, clatter slightly, and roll away from me, onto the floor. But I don't stoop to pick it up.
If Inuyasha has penetrated my obsession…
No.
Inuyasha has become an obsession in his own right.
Obsessions are when you devote yourself entirely to one thing, cannot stop thinking about it --- basically as much as falling in love with it.
That sounds about right. If I fell in love with writing --- why can't I fall in love with a person?
I've fallen in love with Inuyasha…?
"Oi, wench, turn some damn light on." I hear a click, and jump. Now the light has shooed the darkness away, I can see Inuyasha in his blazing red haori and hakama.
I bite my lip. I even love the hakama on him!
"Bitch, don't do that! You'll bite through it one day!" He leans in, and my eyes widen as I watch him gradually come closer and closer. I can feel the warmth he radiates, and I can see his amber eyes not meeting mine, since he's looking down at my mouth, and I can't breathe as he runs thumb along my lower lip to check for an injury. If I moved just a little to the left and connected the last inch between us we'd be ---
Inuyasha seems to be thinking the same thing too. He's only just noticed how close he's gotten, how much the air's thickened since he leaned in. The calloused skin on the pad of his thumb running over my lips slows, and all he seems to be capable of is breathing shallowly. Leisurely, he slants his eyes up to mine, and I almost bite down again --- this time maybe on his thumb. The infamous golden eyes are dazed, full of wanting, unfocused on anything (other than me?) but still retains some clearness to them. Uncertainty.
I swallow --- and the simple moment makes him jerk back his head --- and shatters the entire spell.
He turns his head away, his silver hair streaming past his face and hiding tinted pink cheeks. I know mine are the same. "Come on," he says gruffly. "We gotta go back."
I make little protest, being still a little fazed by what just happened, and follow him quietly to the well house, after slinging my yellow backpack on my shoulder.
What do I do now?
The thing is, I want to succumb to my obsession. I want to sink into it, revel in it. I only skimmed the surface a moment ago, and it's not enough.
Professing love --- or at least, my obsession ---I think, is the only hope.
I could write to him. I could write reams and reams of love letters, a story portraying us, a book as long as War and Peace, even.
But I don't think Inuyasha would enjoy ploughing through that. If anything, it only reminds me of that Friends episode where Rachel writes Ross that thirteen paged letter – whereas he only feel asleep trying to finish it.
I think Inuyasha would fall asleep during the first page. Or maybe he wouldn't even bother reading it. Maybe even deem it acceptable as 'firewood' material.
No, Inuyasha would understand an action much better. Something that leaves him with no doubt.
"Inuyasha…?"
He turns around to face me, his face donning a curious look.
Words won't help me now.
I reach out for his right forelock as I step towards him --- and a thousand adjectives rush through my head --- soft, glossy, silken to the touch to name a few. I tug the strands of hair down gently, pulling his face level with mine; seeing his surprised look and his rising blush being so near again, the amber eyes widening much like mine earlier. I pause for a mere second, close enough for my breath to tickle his lips --- and then rise on tip toes and close my eyes to catch his lips in a soft kiss.
I try to communicate the warmth I feel for him, in a feathery light touches. But it's not enough. The obsession still wants more, and so I deepen the kiss, where upon Inuyasha is starting to respond --- and it isn't pushing me away. He drags my body even closer to his, and enfolds me against him with his arms. The wave of relief is so intense I sag against him --- and I feel him smile against my lips. The tongue that slips past them makes me pay attention again through the hazy felicity.
Inuyasha is the first to pull away, short of breath. I feel unable to do anything but blush fiercely while maintaining his balmy gaze. Where was my determination, the minx that took over my body for a short while?
Obviously the obsession has been satisfied, because she doesn't resurface --- leaving a shy girl in her place.
Inuyasha smiles at me, and then leans forward to lay the lightest kiss on my lips; a feather of a touch.
Obsession can be a dangerous thing. It can take over your life, lurk in your every thought; make you do things you think you'd be above of.
An obsession cannot be controlled. You can hide it, cloak it with a seemingly innocent clothing – but it always, always ends up spiralling out of your control, and eventually even the tiniest crumb of a clue can turn into a stabbing, damning evidence.
That is why you must choose your fixations carefully.
Inuyasha says obsessions aren't obsessions when they concern people. He does concede the fact some things like stalkers do count as that --- ("Tell that to the wimpy wolf!") --- but he says when the people concerned return each other's obsession, it isn't obsession.
Inuyasha calls it love.