Chapter Eight

The train ride had been longer than Chikako had liked. Kyoya had been on the phone the entire time doing God knows what, and she had tried to do many things that she later realized required silence, like reading and thinking. Sighing, she snatched a notebook from her purse and a pen from Kyoya's breast pocket before standing up. He mouthed, Where are you going?

Out loud, she answered, "To the dining car. You're being obnoxious."

He rolled his eyes, dug through his coat pocket, and handed her a few pounds to pay for a snack. She felt like a child as she accepted the money and scurried away. When she was out of sight, she slowed her gait and sighed. The dining car was completely empty, save for the bored waiter at the bar, leaning against the back counter and texting on his smartphone. Chikako slowly sat herself down in the first booth and formed a pillow for her head with her arms. Burying her face into her sleeves, she breathed in the scent of Kyoya's new cologne. It had spilled in her suitcase. After drying out her garments, she had yelled at him for a) putting it in the wrong suitcase, and b) not storing it in a plastic bag like she had told him to do. This had then invoked a larger argument about why Chikako had needed to change her clothes at all. The train was colder than the car. The car had been messy. This. That. Arguing, bickering, and quarrelling rows.

She let out a soft groan of exhaustion and turned her head to the side to breathe in fresher air. I'm so pathetic, she thought, bitterly as she sat up and stretched her arms in front of her. She glanced over to the bar to notice the young waiter looking back at her, eyebrow cocked, curiously. "You want anything?" he asked with a thick Scottish accent.

Chikako nodded and sat up straight. "Water, thanks."

He chuckled. "You look like you'll be needing more than just water."

A tired smirk tugged at her lips. "Then add ice," she purred.

He snorted and pocketed his phone. Walking over to the sink, he filled up a tumbler and plopped three ice cubes into the glass. "So, are you an addict or somethin'?"

Chikako took a deep breath. "To alcohol? No, I just would rather keep a clear head," she murmured. In her head, she added, I'm also underage.

He nodded, tossing a towel over his shoulder with a rugged flourish, and he brought the drink over to her. She smiled, picking up the glass, and raised it in a mock toast. "Cheers, mate."

As she chugged it down, the ice gave her shivers, waking her up a bit. It wasn't enough though. She swirled the remaining cubes in the tumbler, mesmerized by how they clinked against the sides.

The young man slid into the seat across from her, hands folded on the table. "Now tell me, lass, why would a pretty girl like yourself look so sad?"

She giggled. "You're a flirt."

He smirked, leaning forward. "Only with young ladies as tragically beautiful as yourself."

She looked down into her glass. "Well, I suppose the 'tragic' part is true."

"And why is that, love?"

She looked up at him and knew that face. It wasn't a caring expression. It was a sly, sneaky, only-charming-until-you-want-me expression. It was oozing with deceit and something inside her suggested that he would only say what she wanted to hear. And as terrified as she was to admit it, he reminded her of Jake.

She held up her left hand and her wedding ring glinted in the overhead light. "I'm married."

The bartender laughed, jumping up. "Ack! Always my luck."

She traced her finger around the rim of the glass. "Sorry to disappoint." Her voice was low and apathetic now. She was so tired. It was as if the weight of everything from the past year was dropped from the sky and was now crushing into her stomach. She wanted to scream, cry, and sleep all at once. Her chin found its sorry way back to her propped up hand.

The young man was back at his bar, but still curiously looking over at her. After a moment, he said, "Married, huh? You don't look too happy about that, I take it?"

She shook her head, half-heartedly. "No, no, I am, I mean, I should be, it's just…it gets difficult."

He leaned against the back counter. "How old are ya?"

Startled by the question, she sat up. "What?"

"How old are ya, I said. You can't be more than eighteen. Though, I have heard you all age slower and won't give us wrinkly Scots the secret. Greedy bastards," he added with a playful wink.

She smiled. "I'm old enough to know that you don't need an answer to that question unless it's under eighteen."

He chuckled. "Is it?"

She gave him a judgmental smirk.

He shrugged and pretended to be scrubbing the counter with his rag. "I'm just wondering why someone as young as you look would be married and already unhappy."

"Well, it was arranged, but that's not completely why I'm unhappy," she answered, honestly.

"Why was it arranged? If you don't mind my askin'?"

"Tradition and for our families' companies. It's all rather complicated when I think about it and it just makes my head hurt." She sighed. "On second thought, scratch the water. I'll take a cuba libre."

He shrugged, starting on her drink. He twirled the rum bottle for show, but she wasn't looking. "If I was in an arranged marriage, I think I'd die."

"Well, you weren't bred the way I was," she murmured, robotically. She had rehearsed this come-back over and over before.

He chortled. "Bred? Makes ya sound like a show dog."

She smirked, ironically. "Well, that is what I feel like sometimes."

"Where are ya from?" he asked, casually.

"Japan."

"No shit," he murmured. "I meant, we are ya livin' these days?"

She chuckled and looked up at him, repeating herself, "Japan. I am a blue-blooded Japanese aristocrat, actually." She blinked and sat up straighter, startled by how blunt she had been with this stranger.

"Well, your English is spot on, same as your accent. Aristocrat, huh?" he muttered, stirring up her rum and coke mix. "Sounds fanciful. If you don't mind my sayin', though, miss," he looked her way and winked. "You don't look too fanciful right now."

She rolled her eyes, smiling, and pulled out a few bucks. "Shut up and give me my drink," she purred. They traded off, drink for a tip, and that was the end of their conversation, for, at that moment, the door from the adjoining car peeled open and Kyoya stroll through. The bartender glanced from Chikako to her husband before retreating to his post. Chikako blinked, surprised. When their eyes met, he relaxed, slightly.

"Kako," he greeted her in English. "Sorry I was rude earlier, but we can't ignore our business forever." He nodded at the glass in her hand. "What are you drinking?"

She pressed her lips together. "Soda. With lime, to…wake me up."

He narrowed his eyes and switched to Japanese. "Looks a bit dark for just soda, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes, answering back in her own native tongue, "Don't get too excited, Kyoya, I'm just-"

"You're underage, Chikako."

She glared at him and pushed the drink his way. "Do you want it, then? You can drink."

He sighed and shook his head. "No, thank you, but I will get your money back."

She scoffed. "No, don't do that, he worked hard on this."

"It's rum and coke," Kyoya snapped back. "It's hardly lobster thermidor."

Chikako stood up, snatched up the glass, and walked over to the young bartender. "I'm sorry," she said in English. "My husband is a stickler when it comes to alcohol."

He smiled at her, sympathetically as he took back the drink. "It's alright; I understand. Would you like anythin' else?"

She took a deep breath, gave him the smallest smile she could, and shook her head. "No, but thank you. For the drink and for listening to me whine."

"Anytime. It's what bartenders do. Have a lovely day, miss." He glanced over at Kyoya and nodded. "Sir."

Kyoya gave him a courteous smile. After standing, he and Chikako left the car and a confused bartender, shaking his head. Kyoya's grin vanished when they were back in their cabin. "Since when have you been the alcohol type?"

"And since when have you been the snitch type?" Chikako countered as they settled into their seats.

"Snitch? You have to be joking, Chikako," Kyoya scoffed, pulling his laptop case over and rummaging for his cellphone. "I'm just trying to look out for you. It's supposed to be my job as your husband, and may I say, you are making that extraordinarily difficult."

"Well, that's my job as your wife, I guess: never let you grow bored or comfortable," she quipped.

He sighed. "Can't you be boring once in a while?" he griped, rolling his eyes harshly.

She shrugged. "I'm sure I could, but I've never given it a try."

"Well, perhaps you should," he grumbled, typing out an email on his smartphone.

Chikako watched him for a few moments in the lingering silence. "And, perhaps you should give it a rest."

"A rest?" he echoed, looking up from his phone. "A rest from what, exactly?"

"From acting like I'm a constant nuisance when I'm not; you easily lose your patience around me because you feel entitled to a short fuse. If I'm short fused, you can be too, at least, that's what I assume you think to yourself. Everyone else expects you to be cool, calm, collected, and professional. I expect nothing of you and thus you give me nothing, in a matter of speaking." She paused. "Would it be so wrong of me to ask you to do the same? Expect nothing from me as well? Or, at the very least, treat me like an equal. Just for this one silly little honeymoon?"

"Well, you have the silly part right," he mused.

She scoffed, loudly. "You were the one who pushed this damn vacation!"

He shook his head, but held his tongue.

Chikako closed her astonishment mouth, crossed her arms over her chest, and thumped back against her seat. She clucked her tongue at him and rolled her eyes. "Your father pushed this damn vacation, I take it."

Kyoya was silent. After a while, he murmured, "The trip will be short."

She glared and turned away from him to look out the window, sighing, "It better be."

A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Tell me what you think so far, but nothing's really happening besides them fighting :P If you have thoughts or rants, I would love to hear them so don't forget to review!