Trance

She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew she had discarded some delusion last night. That some wall within her had been broken, or a line had been crossed. But the most terrifying part was...not knowing what. Something was definitely different now, but this change was beneathe the skin.

The kind of changes that stick.

Lying limply on her back in the centre of the bed, listening to the water shut-off and feeling the morning slowly gearing up to begin...she just didn't have the strength to look for answers for the moment.

Especially not when they matched up with questions that should never have been asked anyway.

Knowledge is the hunter. I was chasing understanding, never realizing that it was chasing me.

Understanding leads to empathy. Empathy is a very dangerous emotion.

At the same time, she knew she needed to understand-It was the only way to keep...this...from destroying them.

I'm becoming a different person, she thought forlornly. Who will this new person be...

And why am I so scared of her?

The bathroom door opened, but Aya didn't turn her head, she didn't even have the strength to be on-guard around him anymore.

I don't want to see him right now.

Apparently he didn't feel the same way, because his head blocked the view of her oh-so-appealing ceiling, and he tilted his head curiously, his brows furrowed.

A drop of water gathered at the end of one of his bangs, she didn't even flinch as it fell, landing on her cheek and sliding back into her hair like a cool tear.

"Aya, what are you doing?" A low, on the verge-of-concern voice. She really just wanted to lay there and pretend she didn't hear him until he went away. But she knew that ignoring him would actually achieve for her the exact opposite. So she slowly shifted her head that fraction to the right, her eyes seeming to drag just as slowly to his.

"Waiting," she didn't want to speak, her thoughts were moving so slowly. If they moved at all.

That look came into his eyes again, eyes seeming so much bluer when the water weighed and darkened his hair. It was that look that said, 'You are going to be difficult today, aren't you'.

She didn't mean to be. That wasn't her intention. She just couldn't seem to find even an ounce of motivation this day. She figured she wouldn't even be breathing if it wasn't an involuntary action.

"'Waiting'," he repeated slowly, clearly waiting himself for her to explain.

Something in her...niggled at the sound of growing concern in his voice. But it still wasn't enough to rouse her out of her semi-trance. Though 'trance' wasn't quite the right word, as she was fully aware. She just couldn't seem to find the energy to care.

"Waiting for you to get out of the shower." She almost felt as if she were slurring her words together. Like they were trying to jumble and stick in her mouth.

"...Okay. Well, I'm out now." But he was still standing over her, still looking down at her, clearly unsatisfied with her an answer. "Are you okay?"

Something in her wondered how many times he could ask her that before she just snapped and gave him a true answer.

"I'm tired," she said. That, at least, was part of the truth. She was really getting good at this 'lying by omission' thing.

But probably nowhere near that he was.

"Aya, I'm really starting to get worried. You haven't been yourself these last couple of days. What's wrong?"

You're in love with me, and I really don't know you anymore.

Apparently, I never did.

That hurt. Really, really hurt. She lay there as the pain chased through her, and didn't even flinch.

Plus, there were the dreams. Even in sleep she couldn't escape what she knew.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine."

"You're lying, Aya. I know you are."

She smiled slightly, it seemed just as involuntary as breathing.

Look who's talking.

Come on, Aya, she pleaded with herself. You have to snap out of this, or he's going to realize you know. Is that what you want?

She wasn't sure. But the thought of a confrontation terrified her. And fear was probably the best motivator of all.

With great effort she put her hands down on the bed and pushed slowly up. He took a step back as she slid her legs over the side. And just like that she was reminded of last night. She stared down at her slippers for a long second, seeing her shadow cast over him as she leaned forward.

Her hands twitched, but it took too much effort to fist them. Too much effort to force the image out, so she let it come, let it play out, then silently watched it dissipate back into the waiting darkness of her mind.

"I'm just tired, Aki. I didn't sleep well last night," she reiterated and explained, adding more truth to her lie. Then she tilted her head up to smile at him.

The smile froze on her face, "Why," she breathed.

He gave her a quizzical look, cocking his head to the side. Feeble lamplight glistened on his damp shoulder. His damp, bare shoulder. His gold hair was ruffled slightly, either by his fingers or a towel.

"Why what," he asked, reminding her that breath and sound had passed her open mouth.

Why...are you not dressed?

He was wearing a towel, and that was it. An innocent white towel like every other one they had in their small bathroom.

His chest was damp, too. Flat and smooth and fair. His nipples were a dusky pink, small and hard, and she found herself staring at one, her tongue thick and dry, pressed against the back of her teeth.

That didn't take in the tapered waist, the peak of well-defined hip-bones disappearing beneathe the rough white cloth. His skin was damp and smooth, a sweet scent of shampoo, and clean flesh surrounding him.

She quickly forced her eyes back to his, feeling her cheeks prickle with heat, but not knowing how to stop it.

There was a spark way back in his eyes. A recognition of possibility that he quickly shoved away. And she realized suddenly that she had been staring. And what's worse, he had caught her.

Oh gods, if he found out. If he knew that she knew...

What would he do?

What would he...

What would she do?

She couldn't line that thought up in her mind, let alone figure out where it might go next.

Brow slanted with persistent concern and puzzlement, he turned back to the dresser, neatly lifting out folded clothes and placing them on the top while he searched for whatever he was looking for.

"You know, if there's anything on your mind, Aya, you can talk to me about it. Anything at all." He didn't find it on the left side; he evenly replaced all the clothes, then began on the right.

Aya found herself staring at the low curve of his back, right above the towel. There was a graceful hollow leading to the base of his spine, a line of smooth, unmarked flesh.

Biting her lip she turned her head down and slid her feet into her pale, coral slippers. But a moment later her eyes flicked involuntarily back up. He had strong shoulders, a slender line of throat.

A tiny, unacknowledged part of her wondered how well her body would fit against his back. How warm and smooth, and firm the skin would feel under her cheek. Something in her wanted to press lips into that shallow dip of his back.

Her eyes widened, and she suddenly shoved herself up off the bed, making a quick beeline for the bathroom, and the safer view it afforded.

Though she was wondering if being alone with herself could be just as bad.

TBC...