I know I shouldn't be.
Jealous.
But I guess I am.
And it's hard to watch.
Really hard to watch.
Sometimes it hurts to the point where I have to leave the room.
Sometimes.
And I know I shouldn't care. And She denies it. Denies all feelings. Tells me I'm crazy, paranoid. He says he could never have feelings for her. He says he loves me. And then he kisses me.
And then he kisses her.
And I watch. I laugh. I guess we're all just affectionate like that. I kiss her, then I kiss him. Then he kisses her and then me. I'll hold hands with her. Maybe hold hands with him
But things have changed.
Like the little spark in his eye whenever he looks at her. The click they have. The times whenever I let go of his hand. I leave them to eachother. Walking ahead. She gives me a look wondering why I did that.
He's giving me a look of hurt.
But I can tell by the way their fingers sort of mold together. And by the way he kisses her.
Me and him just weren't meant to be.
It was him and her.
Maybe it's the way when we're watching movies and he's hold both or our hands but he caresses his fingers over her palm. Or the way he rests his cheeks atop her head affectionately.
Or maybe it's the way she knows how I feel. And she's afraid of that, so she does everything she can to have him for her.
And in her hands he's like dough. All for her to mold and twist and turn to her liking.
Because as much as he says "I love you, Kagome."
I can tell by the way he smiles.
He's really saying, "Sango."