VII. Loves Me, Loves Me Not
Part Two
Trevor kissed her hand again, lips coursing fire up through Murrue's arm. She was stunned, surprised by this stranger's actions so much she didn't even try to pull away.
Trevor paused in the silence. He'd expected something from the girl he was to woo that night—a gasp, smack or a giggle, just something. But this one neither said nor did anything. He glanced up, dark eyes catching Murrue's wide amber.
He was drawn into their swirling color immediately.
He straightened up and held out his arm to Murrue. She stared at it for a moment before getting the message of 'escorting' and she tentatively touched at his arm. Trevor noticed the way she kept the distance between them as he gentlemanly led his new-found date to the car Michael had for them. Mike and Kara in the front, Trevor and Murrue in the back. Simple, but scaring to Murrue, still stunned by everything Trevor was doing to capture her favor. He was certainly capturing her attention. When they neared the car, he had the door opened gracefully for her, then he helped ease her inside the car by way of another hand holding—which he kissed yet again.
As he sat down himself down beside her, Murrue couldn't help the slight flinch as part of his sleeve brushed against her thigh.
Trevor stared at her in curious amusement. She seemed so innocent, acting so awkward around him and his simple advances—yet he knew she was powerful by the way her eyes almost glared back at him if they ever did catch glances, the power taking away each of his breaths with each breath he took. She lightly pushed back some thick auburn hair from her face before coupling her hands back in her lap.
It amused him. With a smug grin, Trevor leaned closer to Murrue and his fingers faintly found her hair.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered to her ear, him close enough she could feel his breath against her. "I don't bite."
Murrue felt like slapping him—she wasn't sure where the urge came from, but her hands clenched as she resisted. She had no premise for slapping him—he had to do something more . . . harassing first.
"I love this restaurant," he brought up in that deep voice of his, grinning. "You've been there before?" Murrue suffered a nod.
"Yes. Once."
"Well, they've done up the place a bit," he grinned. "It should be very beautiful."
"Really," Murrue sighed quietly, glancing out the window. She was working on "not being interested"—intent to scare this Trevor off before the night went on for too long.
Mu was waiting for her at home after all. Just the simple thought of that brought a warmth to her core, and a smile to her lips. Him and the kids—or maybe just him.
Then Trevor interrupted her wild thoughts, fingers brushing against her cheek. Startling her, making her jump.
But his touchwas thin but warm, contrasting with Mu's usually thick and calloused fingertips. Trevor lightly pushed some more hair to behind Murrue's ears.
"You look better this way," he grinned, smug. "—Which is surprising. I thought you couldn't become any more radiant than you already were."
Murrue knew it was just a play—a sweet line that really meant nothing, but even so, she couldn't stop the faint pink creeping its way to her cheeks—though it was nowhere near noticeable.
Then Trevor grabbed her hand, kissing it again. Murrue didn't pull away, just stared back.
Something stirred within her at the sight of this man in black with the dark eyes sitting beside her, her hand wrapped in his. If she counted how many advances he'd taken just since they met . . . Even Mu wasn't so obviously persistent. But Mu . . . he started truly acting that way after all the 'falling in love' was done. This man had to start from scratch. It had been years since Murrue had had a man work so hard for her.—Besides Mu.
But Mu was different. He didn't count. Not in this register at least.
"Ah, we're here," Trevor grinned, breaking Murrue from her thoughts as he pointed at the lit up restaurant they were approaching.
The car stopped, the date officially beginning.
Trevor stepped up his game a bit, knowing from the car ride over that Murrue was one he'd have to really try with.
As he helped her from the car, Murrue wasn't surprised when Trevor placed another light kiss, but this time to her palm. But what surprised her was how she was expecting it and how it actually felt . . . good.
Murrue guiltily squirmed as they stepped inside.
---
Murrue looked around the place. Romantic in every sense of the word. She remembered Mu taking her here once. It was before they were married. They sat at that small table by the dance floor and he forced her to dance. And they ran out without paying the bill.
Ah, the memories.
Murrue glanced at the handsome man across from her.—He wasn't Mu, nor was he anything like Mu.
Murrue let her mind drift pack to the past. That night, they had talked the entire dinner through, but Mu had been so reserved, she knew he wasn't telling her something. And now, tonight, the two people at the table were having conversation through dinner, but Murrue was the one reserved.
And Trevor easily noticed. He shook his head in understanding, and let his eyes drift over Murrue's fair face. He studied her, especially her eyes—They were beautiful, the color so rich and alien, he decided that by the night was through he'd have thought up a name for the color of her eyes.
He sighed. He may have been satisfied in just looking at her, but . . .
"You really don't want to be here, do you?" He smiled, grin lopsided and knowing. Murrue, though, was shocked from her reverie, the hidden emotion in her eyes suddenly replaced by surprise.
"No!" She tried to assure him. "No, I do, it's—" Trevor sighed again.
"You don't have to pretend, Murrue. I understand." Then he grinned, a large smug grin. "So, what's his name?"
"What?" Murrue, still not over the shock from before just stared blankly ahead at Trevor, completely blown away by all the sudden questions—each hitting their mark.
But Trevor looked like he was having fun, artfully overplaying a sigh.
"Your boyfriend. What's his name?"
"No, I don't—I . . . I . . ." Murrue froze.
Her entire world stopped, even Trevor across from her stopped.All that there was, was her slowly beating heart.
She had . . . She'd almost denied even him. She—she was caught up in the moment, but to act as if he . . .
Murrue took a swallow, calming herself down. How could she ever do that when even the thought of him brought a warm smile to her lips?
". . . Mu. His name's Mu."
She couldn't lie, not about that. Trevor blinked back surprise. He hadn't really expected an answer. But there was something even more unexpected. Murrue, for some reason, suddenly looked amazingly more beautiful.
Suspicions raised, Trevor started again, gaining momentum with each moment.
"Hmmm, 'Mu' . . . Is he handsome?"
"Excuse me?" Murrue gaped at the man sitting across from her. She only faintly heard what came from his mouth. Trevor leaned forward, dark eyes matching hers. He looked up, studied her, smiled.
". . . Is 'Mu' handsome?" He asked again, face and voice both teasingly smug. But even so, Murrue couldn't resist the way her eyes fell away, heat rising to her face, pinking her cheeks all the more.
Trevor grinned, eyes flashing. Her sudden silence, the obvious reaction. . . . It only meant one thing.
"You love him?"
Murrue heard him that time, the first time. At his most forward question, her face reddened so much in response. To Murrue, it felt as though everybody in the room had heard his question, was waiting on her answer. But again, she didn't have to answer. Trevor understood.
"He's lucky," Trevor murmured. But, his voice had lost its smugness, and when Murrue looked up, Trevor's dark, deep eyes held a sudden shallowness she hadn't seen before. He coldly looked away from her—to gaze upon the table beside, where Kara and Michael were having their own date.
Murrue's face was still amazingly red, and she couldn't believe how completely bashful she was. When had she become so amazingly soft? But, as answers weaved their way through her, Murrue found that strength she hadn't forgotten.
"Why are you asking me these questions?" She inquired quietly, feeling the red of her subsiding as Trevor turned her way again. "What about you?"
He looked at her for a moment, then his eyes glanced at his watch. Trevor went on as if she'd said nothing.
"We cant necessarily leave until they do," he brought up, motioning over towards their friends. He gave a slight shrug. "And they wont be leaving for a while yet. This obviously isn't a date anymore, so what's left to do but talk?"
"Shouldn't you be telling me something about yourself?" Murure pushed, staring at him from across the table. But Trevor didn't react at all to her hot gaze and only shrugged again, fixing his coat.
"Why? There's nothing for me to tell.—But, you've got a boyfriend, and that's something to talk about."
Murrue's eyebrows couldn't stop an arch. She understood this man's game. Her eyes narrowed in return.
"Meaning if I ask you a question, you'll ignore it, but if I tell you about my . . . Mu, you'd be all ears?" When Trevor cracked a grin back at her, Murrue wanted to hit herself. Murrue had almost said 'boyfriend'. Trevor's smug speech was starting to rub off on her. But he just kept on grinning.
"That's about right. But I don't need you to tell me some things. . . ." He softened, dark eyes weaving gracefully over her form as he told her.
"—like the way you're blushing right now, or that light that sparkles in your eyes whenever you say his name. How even now, he's the only one you're thinking about—how it's so obvious. But you're not one toreadily wear your heart on your sleeve either. Who could make you like that? Him. And that's who I want to hear about. Okay? Your wonderful boyfriend Mu."
Murrue just stared at him, Trevor, staring back and waiting for her to start. There was no way she'd get out of the situation quick enough. So, looking back at him, Trevor with his dark eyes and flipped back black hair, faint tan and smug smile . . . Murrue started to laugh. Giggle rather.
"Um, well, for starters, he isn't my boyfriend. . . ."
---
He couldn't hear them, but he could see them. He could see every flick of that man's eyes as they looked her over. He could see every turn of her lips as she spoke to him. From where Mu was standing, hiding—he had a perfect view of the pair.
It wasn't hard to track Murrue down, Mu relayed to himself silently as he watched them. He knew the restaurant. All he had to do was find a table where he could see them but not the other way around.
Mu didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived, part of him didn't want to imagine. But when he saw her sitting down with that man—they just seemed so familiar with each other, having dinner, talking . . .
Mu easily felt the fire start raging inside him. But he couldn't act rashly—war taught him that. As much as he so wanted to, strutting over to give that guy a nice punch in the face wouldn't do. There was alwaysthe possibility of misunderstanding—though Mu's heart didn't honestly believe it.
So Mu watched. Mu watched everything.
But Mu still couldn't hear them.
That man leaned forward on the table to look up into Murrue's eyes, he said something and Murrue blushed. She blushed so easily. That man said something else, dark eyes flashing and Murrue turned an even deeper shade of red.
Mu couldn't hear them, but he could see. Mu knew every simple habit of Murrue's—the way she idly tucked hair behind her ear when awkward, the way her fingers curled around her lips when she softly giggled. So when after more talking he saw her hand come to her face in that way, Mu knew what was happening.
Not that many people could make Murrue laugh like that. Especially in public. Mu prided himself in being one of the few who could. But that man . . . She was laughing—giggling before him, because of him.
The fire grew hotter, quickly raging bigger.
Then her lips moved, but she must have been quiet—that man moved closer as if to hear her. Murrue said it again and that time her words caught that man's ear and, in an instant, that man was back in his chair, slight pink to his own cheeks.
"What? Really!" He said. Mu didn't need to watch that man's lips to know what was said. That man was loud enough to hear. But then Mu watched Murrue quickly trying to quiet him, face redder than before.
With that Mu pushed himself up from the table, head low in quiet thought. And then . . .
He began to walk away. Silent and reserved.
He couldn't take watching them anymore. It was starting to sicken him: what he saw and how he saw it.
He couldn't watch them anymore.
--------
Dinner went on, Murrue and Trevor having an amazingly good time. She shared stories of Mu and he shared, on occasion, some jokes of past girls he'd dated. He had been right—it wasn't a date after all that, just a dinner with a new found friend.
And Murrue was impressed. Ever since Trevor found out she was actually married, he'd kept his physical distance, trying hard to not even brush hands with her in respect.—Or maybe just in fear. Even through his condescending attitude, Murrue could find a man hesitant about making the wrong 'impression'.
But still, Trevor found ways of opening up those doors within her Murrue usually took the greatest care in sealing shut. The first to enter besides Mu in a very long time.
Through dinner, Murrue found herself idly wondering how even with the obvious differences, whether Trevor reminded her of Mu, or if Mu was the one who reminded her of Trevor. It was a complex idea her mind teetered on in-between sips of the wine Trevor had bought and the occasional rubs at her empty ring finger.
Murrue was getting increasingly used to the empty feel.
"Well—You two done talking or should we be staying the night here?"
"Mike, I should be asking you that," Trevor snapped back at his redhead friend with a laugh as he pushed himself from the small table. Michael just waved away the quip before making his way to the front with Kara.
Before Murrue could stand herself up, Trevor was beside her, pulling out her chair and extending his hand to hers. Murrue took it, still as hesitant as before, but that too, she was getting used to.
Guided up to her feet, she was escorted to the door holding lightly on Trevor's arm. When the door opened and a cool blast of icy wind shot inside, Murrue paused in the doorway to further button up the black jacket she'd worn all through dinner. She could never feel so comfortable in public wearing just the dress Kara'd bought for her. She could never wear it unless she was with . . .
"Trevor."
"Hm?" Murrue blinked.
"How do you like him?" Kara had popped up beside her friend, green eyes sparkling.
"He's nice, but . . ."
"Did something go wrong?" Kara quieted, moving closer as the pair waited for the men to pay. Murrue would have offered to help with the check if not for Kara's . . . "Whenever I looked over, you two looked so nice together. If I didn't know better, I'd say you two were in l—"
"Never."
Kara swallowed her words at the quick almost harsh answer Murrue gave without hesitation. "I could never. It's just as you said, 'him and I' ends tonight the moment you drop me off home. I'll never see him again and this night will fade with memories. That's the sole reason I agreed to come. The assurance that it would all be forgotten."
"You know, sometimes things should be remembered," Kara muttered, truth to her softly whispered words.
"Not this." Murrue paused, glancing over her pale hands. She could still feel Trevor's soft kiss that warmed up her hand when they met—the tingle seemed to return with her recollection, the odd sensation. How she both wanted to feel that once more but forget it all as well. Murrue held off an inward shiver, but then her hand was grabbed by him—the problem, how warm her hand felt against his.
It scared Murrue.
"C'mon. Time to go." Trevor smiled, smiling with the smugness Murrue now knew him for. The pair finally escaped the beautiful restaurant, followed closely behind by Michael and Kara.
Murrue shivered.
"You okay?" Trevor asked, moving closer. Murrue tried not to notice.
"Fine." She started to walk ahead to try to catch up with the leaving Michael and Kara, but as she stepped out into the road, a dark car quickly pulled up right before them. Its speed was such, Trevor shouted out:
"Hey!" And then he pulled Murrue closer—as if to save her from the large car that almost hit her. But Murrue knew exactly how close the car was, and it no where near required Trevor's help.
Her hand enclosed over the arm wrapped about her waist, amber eyes flaming in warning.
"Hey . . ." she threatened darkly, Trevor instantly letting go and taking steps back from Murrue, hands up in surrender.
Too close.
But that car that had pulled up . . . Nothing was happening. It neither moved forward or back, engine cut off it just sat there. Murrue just half realized the familiarity of the car, but in the dark and in the moment, where she's seen the car before didn't matter.
When the door of the car opened, and everybody's eyes fixed themselves on that one place. Time seemed to stand still as they waited in curious anger, Trevor furious, Murrue just startled.
But when a head of golden locks popped up, blue eyes flashing, Murrue felt her world drop.
"Need a ride?" Mu grinned.
Leaned against the hood of the car, Mu stared at the dressed-up pair with a waiting face. He was like he always was, casual to a fault and filled with good-cheer, but he seemed more cheerful than usual, jovial mood brimming over in his eyes, spilling over into the world around him.
The moment Murrue could, she found her lost breath.
"M-Mu!" Fear ripped through her eyes, the sweet amber frozen. The dark man beside her took a step back, black eyes dashing over the blond newcomer.
"That's Mu?"Trevor murmured beneath his breath, dark eyes wide. "Him?—That's some competition. . . ."
Murrue had long since stepped away from Trevor, and quickly made her way over to Mu, who, with a laugh and smile to rival joy itself, had moved before the car, coming closer.
The faint breeze of the cool night caught with the tails of the long coat Kara had set out, Murrue suddenly grateful she'd buttoned the covering up before stepping outside. She tucked some of her hair back, voice still faint, face still pale.
"Mu, what are you doing here?"
"What?" His eyes widened in an incredulous chuckle. "Why, I came to pick you up, Silly," he laughed—a full jovial laugh.
"But . . . why . . . ?"
"I'm betting on the fact that their date isn't over yet," Mu said, voice coming from deep in his throat, eyes twinkling as they looked at her. He motioned to Kara and Michael talking a ways off, heading towards some black car off to the side.
"So . . . What do you say?" Mu played, leaning over to open his car's passenger door, holding it open—obviously for her.
As he grinned down at her, door open, Murrue felt another emotion sliding into her right beside her fear and confusion—stunning familiarity. Mu standing there, waiting, doting . . . It was the same as when she met Trevor—Trevor did the same thing.
Without even daring a glance back at her date, Murrue smiled a thank you before sliding into the car's laid open seat. It was where she belonged, after all. Mu smiled at her action, but once he closed the door for her, his attention caught another's.
That handsome man, dressed suavely head to toe in black—That pleasurable man with the dark shadowed eyes—That man who sat opposite Murrue at dinner . . .
Back turned to Murrue, Mu moved forward, hand extended towards that man in a surprising welcoming.
"Name's Mu LaFlaga. You're . . . Trevor, right?" Mu was lucky enough to have had heard the man's name, and the look on "Trevor's" face when Mu said that man's name was all too memorable to not easily forget.
The usually smug man with a grin of his own was completely and visibly lost as he gaped at Mu's extended hand.
A figure of friendship.
"Y-Yes," Trevor stammered returning the gesture. But once his hand was encased in Mu's thick grip, there was no letting go. Mu was grinning, his voice as laughing as always. To anyone else, it would seem the two were shaking hands over a business deal of sorts.
Murrue watched the men's interaction, bated fear held back. All she could see of Mu was his back, but she had a full view of Trevor's cautious face. She could hear—but only a bit—and she hung onto every syllable like her life depended on it.
It probably did.
"So how was dinner?" Mu ventured, voice bright with smiles, hand still gripping Trevor's.
Trevor faltered in his answer. His dark eyes traveled over Mu once more, taking in everything—but the most he took in was of that man's crystal blue eyes. Of what Murrue had told him about Mu, Trevor was only a bit unnerved by the man's laughing, casual manner. It must have been the 'usual' demeanor. But what Trevor knew was not 'usual' about Mu was what kept his dark attention.
Those eyes. . . .
The odd cold, frozen stone of Mu's eyes chilled Trevor down to the man's core. Even when Mu was smiling, laughing even, his eyes stayed the same, threatening, devouring.
Trevor took a moment to think over his answer. Mu's question of "how was dinner" wasn't as innocent as it seemed. The blackly dressed man knew that much. But at that moment, being sized up beneath those eyes, Trevor rethought what to say. Should he say 'fine'? Would that be a lie? Or should he say what was really on his mind the entire time?
He decided on a cautious step forward in the conversation, voice struggling for the same easiness the other was showing. Trevor failed.
". . . I spent the entire time thinking," he muttered, quiet, shaky.
Silence.
". . . about how lucky you are."
"Me?" Mu seemed surprised. His grip on Trevor's hand faltered, eyes widening. But those eyes—they were still motionless, icy and cold.—But his tone was friendly and nothing near intimidating. . . .
Trevor hid off a shiver.
"Yeah.—To have her as your wife—She's something special." Those eyes hesitated, flickered in gripping silence. Mu stood unmoved, face itself unchanged. Trevor shuddered beneath the stare, but after another breath, strength returned to the dark man's voice as he tried his most . . . incriminating comment.
"You're quite the competition, you know."
"Really?" Mu was definitely surprised there. His jovial voice broke for a moment, hand slipping from the other's, ice crystal eyes staggering. At the first moment of freedom, Trevor pulled back his hand, sticking it safely in his pocket.
Mu followed Trevor's example. Casual but a bit ruffled, Mu's tight grip on his actions was loosening. The man in black easily noticed and couldn't hold back that characterizing smug chuckle—that condescending smile.
"You don't have to worry about me. . . . Mu," Trevor coolly replied, gaining his personal strength back as his adversary lost it. But those dark, black eyes held a flicker. "I know I came too late for the race." Mu took it as a flash of 'forlorn'.
Silence gripped the pair, eyes never leaving the other as the two stood opposite each other. Murrue kept up in the car, Kara and Michael elsewhere . . . It was just those two, standing alone. The each regained their cold strength and chills ran rampant through the surrounding airs.
Mu glanced back at the car, Murrue ever intently watching them.—He smiled.
"There's room for one more, you know," he muttered quietly before glancing back up at Trevor. "We could give you a ride . . . ?"
Trevor froze. He thought he'd regained himself, was strong enough to stand across this man who'd already long stolen her heart, this great competition. But, Trevor was quickly realizing other thoughts. This man, this casual blond—How could he be so . . . ?
"No thanks," Trevor muttered in return, smile weak. "I live near-by anyway. I think I can walk."
At his answer Mu just shrugged. "Okay. Your choice." With another turn of his shoulders, Mu made to walk away. But then Trevor's deep voice stopped him in his tracks.
". . . But, she's just as lucky, you know. I'm realizing that too. She's lucky—To have you for a husband. . . ."
Mu couldn't hide the way he'd suddenly drawn breath, a constricitng gasp.
And Trevor believed that—though part of him didn't want to except it. Though, no matter how he wanted to be, Trevor knew he'd never be able to offer a gesture like that—'a ride home'—a kind favor—to somebody he held absolute contempt for.
Though Mu was all grins and laughter, in those unwavering cold eyes, Trevor saw that contempt.
Mu's hate toward him—skillfully hidden to all but him.
"See yah later, Trevor," Mu grinned, a flick wave of his hand as agreed recognition as he stepped into the car with Murrue.
That car started up, Trevor left to watch its headlight disappear into the darkness.
Alone.
--------
Murrue watched silently. Something had changed between the two—Trevor's face that she could see . . . it had lost its utter arrogance. Mu stepped away, turned towards the car, but gaze towards the pavement. Then he froze.
Then something happened and Murrue could make out the soft smile flickering across her husband's face as he continued his walk away.
Mu stepped into the car, smiled, then turned the machine on and soon they were off. But nothing was said. Mu kept his eyes to the road, both hands clenched tightly to the wheel. And the two drove off—silence spilling out of the two in the car.
Murrue curled in on herself. She wanted to say something—anything, but she was at a complete loss for words. The problem wasn't her silence, but his. She knew Mu hated absolute silence, especially silence so awkward.
But here he was, he giving silent treatment . . . He must really be angry. . . . Murrue felt like curling up into a ball, to wither away unnoticed, never to be seen by him again. She didn't know if she could take it if Mu did anything to remind her of that man—Trevor. Neither men knew how twisted her heart was. Murrue's body screamed out in awkward heat as she sat there, them driving silently in the dark.
The car slowed but Murrue knew they weren't near home at all.
Without a word, Mu took advantage of the car's slowness to reach down and dig deep into his pocket. Somehow he could do so with such smooth motions, not making a sound. Murrue watched intently as Mu pulled something out, clutched in his palm. His eyes were focused cleanly on the road.
"You still want these?"
As he held out his open hand, Mu's voice was quiet and familiar but flat. His lack of emotion chilled Murrue in her heated body's seat, shivers of the worst kind running through her.
But what he held out before her eyes chilled ever more. Her rings! She'd taken them off to keep up appearances and she put them . . .
Murrue felt her heart slow—She couldn't remember. . . . And then he found them.
Mu wouldn't even look at her. His eyes kept to road, hand still held out, rings still displayed in his palm. And the silence stayed as Murrue felt the urge to do more than just disappear. Though he wouldn't look at her, Murrue felt as if Mu was staring straight at her.
She'd taken off her rings as a sensible idea. To go on a 'date' and wear wedding rings would be absurd. So she took them off. But, oh, how she regretted it. Both in the silent car and in the restaurant. She'd found herself several times running her fingers over her bare ring finger—the emptiness awkward and scaring her.
Murrue reached forward, unaware of how her hands trembled as she fumbled for the rings.
"Yes. . . . Thank you."
It was silent in the car, Mu placing both hands back on the wheel.
Against all sense, Murrue did something amazingly stupid. She leaned closer into Mu. She had the urge to just kiss him, right there in the car, but it was too far of a stretch. Instead she leaned in onto his arm. She could easily feel his pulsing warmth through his shirt. It felt good against her.
"Mu?" She brought up quietly. Murrue was ready to talk, his silence scaring her.
But he just coldly shrugged her off, replacing distance between them once more.
"Not now, Murrue. I'm driving." She recoiled as if stung. But she was—his cold words stung her, shattering her heart like it was glass.
When had it become so fragile?
The car sped up beneath his strained touch, but it didn't matter. Mu was taking them along every back road, coasting past every shortcut sure to take the absolute longest route home. Murrue didn't mind either.
In the silence, Murrue looked down at the newly replaced rings now adorning her finger. The silver bands shone with a brilliance, the diamond sparking just the same as all those years before. Countless times she had admired them, admired what they stood for. But now . . .
Could it be over?
Silence weighted heavy, but Murrue noticed when Mu suddenly fidgeted in his seat, hands gripping the wheel extending their long fingers, the palms shifting their grasp.
Suddenly the car did pull over, though it was the only car on the road.
Murrue dared a look at his face. She had been afraid since she's seen how cold he was being. But this time, she didn't see the stone from before—she saw a complete mask of pain. Murrue couldn't deny how it stirred fear.
"Mu . . . !" Fear and worry took hold of her breathless voice, the emotion seizing him again, body clenching tighter.
He shifted again, wincing once more as Murrue looked on in horror.
"Murrue . . ." He breathed, every syllable pushing beyond limits. His tone matched
his struggling face, wrenched tight in stubborn inability—in pain.
". . . Did . . . Did you kiss him?"
Murrue blinked at Mu, completely lost for words. She knew she should be "hurt" at how he didn't trust her—To think she'd kiss him. But . . . she couldn't even imagine what he'd seen. She couldn't begin to hope to grip what it meant through his eyes. But she was sure of one thing. What he saw, it must have been incriminating.
Or heartbreaking.
And he'd probably been thinking about nothing else since then.
And she did that to him.
Murrue found herself forcing her look up from where her eyes had quickly rushed to her lap. And then, Murrue couldn't stop herself—what she did, neither head nor heart had reason for it.
She reached over, long fingers suddenly cradling his face, surprising. With a soft nudge, Murrue moved his face to look at hers. That stone from before shattered, crumbling.
"Mu," Murrue whispered, warmth bubbling in her heart without her knowing the reason. She shook her head, slowly enough to be sure he saw. Despite Murrue's own restrictions, she could feel hot water stretching her eyes. "No," she smiled. "He didn't even touch me."
The look of pure, un-held-back elation sprung into Mu's eyes, even resulting in the straightening out of his posture.
That look, that reaction . . . Murrue couldn't stop that one tear: whether of joy or sadness, she knew not.
"Let's go home, Mu," she smiled, voice soft and warm. Mu's still weak grin reflected hers as the car regained its life and pulled out.
Silence once more reigned in the car, but the silence reigned with content. Vut after a bit more driving, Mu couldn't help piping up.
"He was pretty good-looking though. . . ." Murrue stared back. Did Mu just ask what she thought he did? She struggled the pink off her cheeks and turned away.
"Yeah, but not extremely handsome."
"Seemed like a nice personable guy. . . ." Mu went on, shifting a bit in his seat, smile to his voice. Murrue could only imagine where his point was.
"Yes . . ." She started, cautious. "But I certainly know better—ones with more style in their approach." A chuckle escaped him, unable to wag his finger in her face, scolding.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Murrue."
"I know." She smiled. ". . . Oh, but it does."
Another round of conversation ended, Murrue's heated awkwardness gone. She stared aimlessly out the window—the back roads sure took a while. Mu kept navigating them along those roads, each turn taken with ease. But still . . . Silence.
Mu took a deep breath.
". . . He said he knew I was your husband. . . ."
Oh, so that's what's on you mind now, Murrue mused with a soft smile. She thought she understood. With only a soft hesitation:
"We were talking about you. . . . He kept asking all these questions.—He was extremely forward." Mu dared a glance at Murrue incredulous as to what he knew came next.
"And you answered him?"
"Well, it depended on the question," she fumbled quietly, feeling his eyes on her. Murrue's face flushed. "Some of them were a bit too forward . . . but he seemed to know the answers even when I didn't open my mouth." Murrue paused, finding her words. "But, the ones about you and who we were . . . Yes, I answered those. I don't have anything to hide. . . . Do I?"
Mu worked on the constriction of his chest—he wanted to answer her. He didn't know what to say, but Mu knew he had to say something.
"—Uh— " He paused, him the one awkward as he looked ahead. "Oh, we're home. . . ."
Nothing was said as Mu pulled up, parking their car and the ride was over.
Over.
Murrue was silently made her way out of the car she'd been in for some of the most trying moments. She started in her way inside, sure of Mu's following her, but when she turned around, he was still sitting in the car, door hanging open.
"Mu?" She didn't understand. But he looked up at her call, face cracking into a big smile. But that smiled quickly faltered as Murrue came closer.
"I'm still angry" he murmured. "—if 'angry' is the right word—which it's not. . . ." Mu's face screwed up at his answer. He forced himself up, standing tall outside the car, leaning on the door.
When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, as if whispering a secret. "Murrue, you can go inside—you can pay the babysitter I had to search heaven and earth for just to be home incase something happened and Evi and Matt woke up or there was a fire or something so someone'd be home, 'kay?" He grinned. "You'd be amazed at how much she charges, but, it was a bit short notice.— . . . And after that you should get some rest," he quieted, concerned. "You look tired.—We can talk later."
"But what about—"
"I still have some driving to do." That was his answer. That was all he needed.
Murrue stopped in her tracks, understanding. Her eyes began to wash over her ringed fingers. Mu kept his place in the car, soft moonlight both lighting and shrouding his face.
"Oh-okay," she mumbled. Mu laughed into a soft smile.
"Don't worry. I'll be right back."
His tone was such that it struck her—so warm and caring, so familiar, so true. With a sigh, Murrue glanced up to her husband, heart jumping at the true warmth emanating from his face.
But then Murrue came closer, Mu's face stretching in surprise with each step she took. Soon she planted her feet and stood right before him, hands coupled before her and waiting. Mu wondered only fleetingly as to why. She was close enough for him to feel her breaths lightly glance off his neck, but other than that, no contact whatsoever.
That urge she'd felt before came back strong as she moved up high onto her toes to catch his lips with hers. She kept him there with one faint hand against his neck, pushing his head down to close the gap between their heights. But Murrue pulled away as quickly as she'd come closer.
Mu smiled at her, her taste still tingling on his lips.
"See you in a bit." And then he slid himself back down into the car seat, door closing quickly after. The low engine started and before pulling out, Mu smiled at Murrue's form illuminated by the headlights. She stood there waving at him, soft smile caressing her face.
And then he left.
Murrue stood on the walk before the house until she couldn't possibly see the car drive any farther away in the darkness. Her finger came up to lightly touch her mouth where she'd kissed him. It chilled her. He hadn't touched her at all. They were close enough, a brush of his hand would have been enough, but there had been nothing.
"Mu . . ."
--------
The car Mu drove ran along the street in the darkness—the same street they lived on together. Mu kept going until he could turn—which he did. He drove a block more, positive he'd be far enough away and out of sight. Then, there, on the side of the house-lines street, Mu parked the car. Moonlight came through the window, making streaks across his face and covering the seat beside in an unearthly glow.
With the car off, Mu pulled out the keys.
He sighed, all the air completely gone from him. And then he moved forward resting his sore head against the steering wheel where his arms also rested. And Mu sat there curled forward, closed eyes looking down to his lap, struggling all he could to control his weak breathing.
It had been one trying night.
And with that, Mu suddenly threw himself back, draping himself completely over the car seat's back. His neck curved perfectly over the low head of the cushion, resting his face staring up towards the car's ceiling.
Himself, mind and body, utterly spent.
There!—Done!
Sorry Mu's a bit . . .
Probably made you hate me even more with that one, huh? But the thought just popped into my head (while I was busy trying to think up other nicer, happy stories) and it was so interesting I explored the idea, but I didn't think I would actually write it. But here it is, all 22 typed pages of it.
I'm struggling for a story with that new baby I introduced awhile ago, but I assure you it IS coming soon! (And it'll be happy and Kara-free!)
But about this story . . . Mind if I rant? Every marriage/relationship has its problems, we all know that. But with Mu and Murrue it seems they glaze over these problems, these glitches, to make them work. (but maybe I'm the only one thinking this) But, because of that, I always seem to make all these big problems for them because it's just so hard to bring out the hardship-battling couple with such trifle problems—since, as I said, they're so good at glazing over some of those things.
(There's a compliment for them in there somewhere.)
--Of course, I know, it's just a weak excuse for being a bad writer. And I'm sorry for being a bit out of line for going to the extremes a lot. But I keep trying
Till next time—a happy story!