DISCLAIMER: Magic Kaito is the respective creation and property of Gosho Aoyama.

AUTHOR: Melpomene-the-Tragic-Parody

MAIN CHARACTERS: Kaito Kuroba, Aoko Nakamori

CHAPTER: #4

TITLE: Wonder

INSPIRED BY: ~ Wonder, by Lauren Aquilina ~

~M.K~

Lying there, enveloped in the warmth of her plush bedspread, she gazed at the misty light slowly illuminating the unassuming world beyond her open window. Her body yearned to be still. She huddled beneath her bedding to evade the chilly draft ticking her smooth skin, and all the while, her cerulean eyes glistened wonderingly at the memory of the early morning shower in the dead of night. Her window had been shut until he had appeared to see her, soaked to the core, and cloaked in the forbidden ivory form of a man she should have loathed.

Accepting the truth about his other life had been hell these few weeks.

Accepting that his reasons were noble, despite his actions, was jarring.

Accepting that she loved him spite of it was excruciating.

She wondered if, in another life, she would have rejected his confessions and gone to her father with every shred of evidence she possessed? A respectable daughter would have done so to end the tedious life of deception. Was she considered to be a respectable daughter anymore for encouraging the lies around her? Deep down, she was sure she did not want to hear the answer.

Beside her, sweet and unassuming, was a snowy white rose on her pillow where his unruly head had been. His gift to her before he departed once the shower had ended. She counted herself fortunate that her father had not returned home in the night, or else someone's life would have been lost. Her fingers skimmed across the delicate softness of the petals. Her body shivered at the memory washing over her.

On the balcony he had stood, radiating a charming yet frightful elegance in that ivory suit with that scarlet stain bleeding along his side from the rain. A grazing wound of a bullet. He had dismissed its importance. She had been scandalized and horrified. Yet, she had understood too little of just how at her mercy he had truly been, and his efforts to evade her touch had been nonexistent. No one looking toward the window would have witnessed her forcefulness in removing his upper layers to treat the bleeding wound grazing along his toned skin.

Only he had seen the tears she shed as her fingers trembled to care for him.

Only he could have held her close, his scent overwhelming of smoke, rain, and something so distinctly his own that it had no name.

Only he could have pressed his smooth lips to hers to silence her tearful words.

She wondered if, in another life, their feelings would not be a secret to the world, a taboo of which they should never speak. Where she would not have to hide her yearning for him or worry for him day and night. Where she would not have to be so careful as not to hurt him when his hands, ever so tenderly, reached for her in ways she would never let another man dare.

Every inch of her ached of his touch, of the ghost he had left behind for her to feel. From his hands to his lips, she shuddered with yearning at the memory of his sweet advances, lost in pleasure over pain as if the world had been lost to the both of them.

He had laid beside her, his hot skin pressed against hers, with that rose held in his hand, teasing along her jaw and her neck, his hot breath in her ear. She willed him to stay with her through the night, her own hands tracing the curves and slopes of his face, sinking into the smooth crevices of his back, lost in the feeling of them together, so strongly that nothing else mattered.

She missed his touch when he had left.

She missed the feeling of his heartbeat as he held her close to his chest.

She missed those moments of seeing him, truly seeing him, without his barriers and facades to protect him.

Sunlight soon found her hiding figure, bathing her with warmth and calling her from wondering of their forbidden desires. The rose comforted her. It served to remind her of his presence, of his scent on her skin, of his love seeping into her flesh. It served to remind her that she had kept his secret, a secret resulting in her entrapment between what was right and what she wanted. They could not coexist. She wondered if they would last.

But what else had she expected? He had stolen her heart and her love. Deep down, she was sure that she never wanted them back.

~M.K~

FURTHER NOTES:

Happy Valentine's Day! Here's a short drabble for you all this time of year. Personally, I'd prefer chocolate.

Reviews and criticisms are welcome.

—MELPOMENE-THE-TRAGIC-PARODY, signing out.