Chapter 3: Ours For The Taking.
The dark shadows came in to welcome the fallen evening. The lights of the distant street lamps warmed the empty pavements, running beside the vacant roads. The locked doors, the curtained windows and the lack of neighbours, told a winter's tale. A cold wind blew, clearing a swarm of clouds and the moonlight shined through. I stood away from its silver glimmer, garbed in the guise of the night and walked ahead with purpose. Tonight, each road I take, every turn I make, they would all lead me to her: her home, her arms, her bed.
The key she gave me serves a purpose. I keep it safe. I keep it in by shirt pocket, over my beating heart and the cold, metallic feel of even this tiny object, gives me courage, give me hope; makes me want to be better. If I could be what she wanted, if I could be who she needed; all the time, then nothing else would matter. But it does and it will. So close, yet so apart; couldn't be much more from the heart. But in the end it doesn't even matter.
I take the final few steps in a hurry. Her apartment looms like a mirage, materializing out of thin air, in this cold, suburban landscape. I see the welcome mat in the front of her main door and it seems to be mocking me like it did the last time, I was here.
Back then I had the audacity to step on its forbidden figure without permission. But I lacked the courage to walk over it and head inside, into the warm domicile and partake in the pleasant hospitality, which would have been generously, afforded to me by the mistress of this mansion.
Back then it wasn't meant to be. We left things like they were, brushed them under the welcome mat and lived to tell the tale. We just turned and made a run for it. But it wore her out. It wore me out too. I can't help but get the feeling. This is me, this is her. It's not genuine. Yet, here I am, ready to break down the doors, pull down the walls, and blow up the ceilings, of my very existence, of everything which, make me, me.
The cold, metallic key weighs heavily in the front of my shirt pocket. The large oak doors shun me and my very presence in this neighborhood. But I can see the bright, warm lights, shining through the window panes, leaving a round, innocent patch of radiance on the moist, dew soaked grass. The door might be locked, but I have the key to open it. I didn't take it from her, I didn't ask for it; it was given to me. Now I see, the curtains are not even drawn tonight. I am welcome here, I am wanted here. Haruno wants me, Haruno loves me. She said so herself.
And it's poor manners to keep a girl waiting.
The key works, the door unlocks and I walk in. I leave the rest of the world behind, try to rid myself of the thought plaguing me and I take a cursory look inside the fabled dwellings, while in the process of taking off my shoes and shutting the door behind me, with a much needed push in the right direction; how very like me.
"Sorry for the intrusion, Haruno-san."
I find her sitting on a couch, with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She is also wearing a set of red, rimless spectacles and I can see a pair of bunny slippers, peeking, from below the coffee table. There are two sets of remote lying on top of the coffee table and judging by the number of empty DVD cases strewn across the glass surface of the table, I could venture a guess and say, I just interrupted her television viewing pleasures for the night.
"Watching re-runs of old anime?" I ask playfully. I cannot see the cover from where I am standing right now, so I start moving towards her. This seems to be the biggest room of her apartment. It's more than a bit spacious and the couch, she is currently occupying, is in the very middle of the room. There are a few pieces of other furniture, sitting primly at every adjacent corner, to accommodate numerous guests, when she has to play the part of a host. There are various decorations, scattered across the white, marble floors, draped over the stylish walls, hanging from the imposing ceiling of her living room.
And in the middle of all this glitz and glamour, all this pomp and show, all this forged and fake replicas and identities of the world, created for her without her permission, there sits the woman I love: A reflection in a glass house.
"No! I, um," Haruno blushes, grows flustered and her observing eyes take in several things: the television screen, the empty DVD cases, both the remotes, and me. However, it seems like she is gauging the distance between me and her. Before I could take this into account, she made a split decision and took ahold of the remote and turned off the television set.
I frowned, "You didn't have to turn it off Haruno-san. I don't mind. Hell, maybe if it's something interesting, then I can join you on the couch and we can watch it together."
"I will keep that mind," She blushes a darker shade of red, bites her lips, hesitates for a second and then makes up her mind. She shakes her head vigorously, "Th-there's no need for it now. M-maybe later. When we are a bit more c-comfortable."
"Okay, then." A stuttering Haruno-san is a cute Haruno-san. I am not even taking into account the bunny slippers and the cute, strawberry colored spectacles.
The clothes she chose to wear this evening - for tonight - it goes completely against the image of 'The Yukinoshita-san' I know. But then again, this is the Haruno-san I am coming to love. Her dress for the evening comprised of a simple, rectangular neckline, a cute, circular pair of cap sleeves encased her shoulders, and a meek, modest skirt, whose hemline, bunched ceremoniously, over her glorious thighs, made her the perfect woman of my dreams. She gave me a small, almost a little misbalanced twirl, to show off her outfit for the evening, "H-How do I look?" Haruno asked, blushing.
"…Breathtaking." I said, in complete awe of her beauty.
"No one has ever said that to me before," Haruno's blush worsened. She was turning to a deeper shade of red, "It's always beautiful and gorgeous and hot and sexy and…" her voice trailed off and she tried to evade my eyes, clearly embarrassed.
"Well, you know me," I gave an awkward laugh at both our expense, "Needless sophistry at its finest." I was walking towards her, taking sure and certain steps. She was waiting for me, to take my place beside her on the sofa cushion. Now only the coffee table was in the way. But it won't be soon. I will be with her in no time, taking her into my arms, touching her, caressing her, kissing her. Maybe doing something more, something bolder, something both of us want. Really, really want.
"Did you mean it?" Haruno asked, uncertainty tainting her voice, "Do I really look breathtaking?" She looked vulnerable, open like the book currently lying forgotten on her lap and I gradually realize this is important to her; so much more important than any other girl.
"Yes, you do. You take my breath away." I gently lower myself down on the couch, taking my rightful seat beside her and reach for her hand. She readily offers herself to me, seeking comfort from my touch and trying to search for the truth in my words.
I offer them up to her without asking, because for once, I can find comfort in the truth, "I love you, Haruno." The words send a pleasant ripple between us. It's not the first time I have said this to her, confessed my feeling to her by using mere words. But words are not enough. They are never enough.
We are both standing on the edge of the cliff, holding onto each other for support. The plunge is inevitable. Our inexperience is suffocating, stiffening. We kiss, we touch, we hold each other close. This should have been enough. But like everyone else we want more. We deserve this little piece of heaven.
"…ed." Haruno showed courage. She always does. But the words are faint, almost inaudible. She is in my arms, her face is buried in the crook of my neck and her arms are holding onto my shoulders for support. "…ta-take," I wish I could have seen her like this before. "…m-me." But then again I would have thought I had gone completely crazy, if back then, Haruno-san, said something like this during one of our talks. "…b-bed." I would possibly think she slipped something into my drink. "Take me to bed, Hachiman." She has courage, she has strength and now, she has me.
We denied ourselves to even think of intimacy, we deprived ourselves to express the most platonic of feelings, and we willfully stopped ourselves, starved ourselves of love. We gave ourselves a touch, a taste, a feel of one another. But it didn't sate our hunger. It only helped us become more ravenous.
… 'The couch seemed more than adequate when the bed seemed so far way.' The monster of logic whispered, from the back of my mind. I thought I would never have the courage to say something like this aloud, but then again, I also didn't imagine any of this happening to me. "The bed can wait," I murmured against her skin, "I. Want. You. Now." I enunciated each word, said them against her lips, between soft kisses and gentle caresses.
Always knew I had a way with words. There was a look in her eyes, the way her lips quivered, the way her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips, it made me unhinged. The last coherent words uttered between us were spoken by her. Haruno had poured them into my ears like honey: "Then take me, Hachiman."
"Goddamn you, Haruno!" I sink into her skin, knee deep, neck deep, drowning in her essence. Raising my hand, I brush them over her scalp, before tangling my fingers in her short, dark hair. This gives me the leverage I need to tilt her head sideways and expose her lips, her neck, her chin to the explorations of my lips. But I want more. A simple taste is no longer fulfilling. I bite down. Hard. Her lips are pried open, willingly. A sharp, husky moan is drawn from them. I swallow her breath, her every moan from then on, slip my tongue in, lick her teeth.
I memorize her taste. I learn the feel of her body on mine. I commit to memory the love I see in her eyes. I know this won't last. She does too. This isn't genuine. We aren't meant to be. In the end, we will lose. But despite everything…
Tonight is ours for the taking.