Knife
She didn't love him, and he knew that.
Late at night, after the sun had long disappeared and Minako had stumbled home from whatever meeting, gala, engagement or show, she would crawl into bed, as far from him as she could get. He would reach out across the endless expanse of blankets and sheets, hovering his hand just over her shoulder, only to draw it back when she would sigh.
She wasn't herself, and she never smiled anymore. He stopped wondering if it was something he had done wrong, and he suspected it had something to do with the tattoo over her heart. He could see it now, after she had rolled on her back in her sleep, and eyed the strange symbol darkly. He asked her about it only once before, and the brief glimpse of pain in blue eyes had haunted him for weeks afterward.
He had learned to listen to silence, and her friends were no help.
"What's with her tattoo?" he had tried awkwardly, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in this room crowded with people he didn't know.
He hated parties.
Minako's friend, a tall lanky brunette, rolled her eyes. "Mars."
"Mars?" he questioned dumbly. "Like the planet?"
A shorter, blue haired girl jabbed the brunette in the ribs with her elbow.
"I'm sorry." The brunette sighed. "It's not really my place…"
He nodded mutely, rooted in place, drink in hand as the pair wandered off. His ears pricked at the tail end of their conversation, heart pounding in his chest.
"Black hair, dark eyes, who does she think she's kidding? If he were a chick, it would be a spitting fucking image."
"Makoto…"
"I know. I know. It just bothers me. He seems like a nice guy…"
"Have you heard from Rei lately?"
"No, not since…"
But they were gone now. His hands had gone clammy and cold, clutching the glass in an ironclad grip and swallowing hard, even as an arm looped through his, and Minako was smiling up at him, charming and beautiful and…
He blinked hard, not liking the sting in his eyes.
Rei. Why did that name sound so familiar?
Minako was sound asleep, lost in whatever dreams plagued her now, brows knitted together and fingers clenching the sheets tightly. He padded around the bed, kneeling on the floor beside her sleeping figure, feeling completely torn. With a gentle brush of his thumb he swept errant blonde locks out of her eyes, his heart seizing up painfully when she murmured a name that definitely wasn't his.
Rei. That's why it sounded familiar. She had only breathed it thousands of times.
He was just too stupid to catch it.
With a stab of guilt now, he removed her cell from the charger on the nightstand and made his way into the kitchen. His apartment wasn't much, but it was comfortable, even more so after Minako had moved in. He slumped down in a chair, raking fingers through an unruly crop of dark hair, and glared down at the bright pink plastic in his hand.
This was stupid, and it was going to hurt.
But he loved her.
Right?
Before he gave himself the chance to back down, go back to bed, and back to the quiet misery his relationship had become, he flipped open the device. No texts. No calls. At least, not from anyone he didn't know. He thumbed over to the pictures, briefly pausing over the 'OK' button.
Was this okay?
Was it really?
The first few were of him and Minako. Various dates, various outings, back from when she didn't look like the world was ending all the time. Too late to go back now. He clenched his jaw and pressed on. A raven haired woman took up the bulk of the pictures now, dark and beautiful. He scrolled through images of her and Minako, and his heart wrenched.
He had never seen Minako look so gorgeous, and never so happy.
He shut the phone and placed it on the table, dark eyes glassy.
Her friend had been right. Who did Minako think she was kidding? She was living a lie, and at this point, so was he. He cast a glance down the hall, and couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alone.
Weary hands picked up the phone again, and briefly he wondered if he should at least live out one more day with the girl he had come to revere as a goddess. He shook his head. No. One day would lead to two, and then a week…
He scrolled through her contact list, highlighting the name of a woman he almost hated, and quickly pushed such thoughts aside. That wasn't fair, he had never met her before, and this wasn't about him, or Rei, but for Minako. One final check down the hall. Bedroom door was closed.
Perfect. Time to fuck up his life.
He pushed call, sucking in a breath as the other line rang. With a brief flutter of panic, he debated snapping the phone shut when a low voice, masked with sleep, clipped through his thoughts.
"Mina?" Confusion, and a long pause. "Are you alright?"
"It's, uh, not Mina." He nearly croaked, wincing at the crack in his voice. Caller ID. Of course she would think it was Minako.
"Who the hell is this?" her voice was sharper now, more alert.
He swallowed hard. "This…this is someone who loves Mina, very much."
"Look, if this is some kind of twisted joke…" Rei sounded angry now, and he could hear pain in her voice.
His eyes burned. Apparently Minako was no stranger to causing heartache.
"No joke." He replied as calmly as he could, gripping the phone until his knuckles had gone white. "She…she needs you."
"What?" the voice over the phone sounded so lost, so far away…
And he poured his heart out, confiding in this stranger, numb and bitter as he rambled on about sleepless nights and broken whispers in the dark he had been too deaf to hear. He told Rei all the things that had tormented him for weeks, hollow and empty, clutching the phone in the dark as if it were a lifeline, pleading for a woman he had never met to come back and take away the woman he had loved so deeply.
When he was done, cold and shaking, he screwed dark eyes shut, waiting for a response, fearful that phone had gone dead.
"I'm sorry." A low reply, almost too low for him to hear.
He allowed himself a grin. "Not as sorry as I'm going to be tomorrow."
He hung up the phone at last and retrieved a beer from the fridge, settling back down in the chair, head buried in his hands, and waited for the sun.
Minako padded down the hall in bare feet as light began to spill through the window shades, wearing an oversized shirt and a confused expression. He rose at last, eyes bleary and red rimmed, and pressed her phone into her hands.
"Wha…"
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, effectively cutting her off.
"Call her. She's waiting."
Notes!
I almost feel sorry for that poor nameless bastard.
Oh well. Happy Late Singles Awareness Day!