The gallery had called him. They wanted him to know that they had received his photos and were very impressed with his work, and would gladly host his debut show. Inuyasha set a date, jotted down the details and thanked them. Then he'd hung up.
He didn't feel a thing. Nothing went through his head, except what Kagome might be doing at that exact moment.
Did she miss him? Did she remember him at all?
It had been so long, but she'd been the only thing on his mind every day during that time. It seemed like a dream, yet every moment they had spent together was painfully vivid in his mind as he relived the times in Chinatown, the laughter, and the hill of sand. He even missed those grey-blue days he used to dread. Back then, she had been with him, dread or not.
The silence was horrifying, he though he might go deaf.
Was he in a nightmare?
His heart, it hurt, literally. Had he ever experienced such heartbreak before? The sorrow and grief was torturing him, everything he saw reminded him of her face and every sound he heard of her laughter. Oh god, he was going to die. He doubled over, holding his stomach as sobs wracked his body but no tears escaped from his eyes. What was happening to him?
She had left, and with her she had taken his voice and his will to live. What was there for him? What was it that pushed him to get out of bed each morning, to lift the fork to his mouth, to force his teeth to chew, his throat to swallow? What was stopping him from going to bed and never waking up; nothing. Nothing, but the hope that one day she might return to him and use her gentle hands to sew his bleeding heart back together.
He'd give anything to have her by his side again.