"Stay away from Sango!"

Sango blinks. Once. Twice. Did Miroku just…? Her hands fly to her mouth, trembling against her lips. Her eyes wildly dart between the two men. The one gripping his nose while crimson paints the floor in slow drops. The other whose chest heaves with each breath, eyes sharp. They cut to her. Her heart twists in her chest.

Senses flood back into her body as she takes a step toward Kuranosuke. "Stop! What the hell, Miroku!"

An incredulous, "Me?" shoots out of his mouth. He rubs his right hand, flexing his fingers. "What about you? What the hell are you doing?"

Sango kneels next to Kuranouske, glaring up at Miroku. Jealousy was one thing, but violence was another. "Why does it matter to you what I do?"

"Because I thought—" He stops to take a breath, collecting himself. "I thought you were better than this."

His words are a slap to the face. Tears sting, and she wishes she could control her emotions better. "Yeah, well, I thought you would care enough to come check on me. Instead, I found you with another girl while Kuranouske actually sought me out."

"As he should have to apologize . Instead, I look over to see him taking advantage of you!" His hands curl back into fists. They shake as if he's physically holding himself back from punching Kuranosuke again.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Sango insists. Kuranosuke's eyes flicker to hers. They crinkle with a hesitant smile. "He apologized. He realized he fucked up with his words earlier and that he went too far. He knows what he wants, and he went for it. I wanted to kiss him back."

"Sango, you're drunk off your ass! You don't know what you want right now. Just a while ago, you were all over me. I honestly don't even know if you will remember any of this in the morning. I was coming to defend you."

Sango hoists Kuranouske off the ground. Her heels wobble with the action. She smooths the wrinkles out of his blazer. Her pony-tail whips against her neck as her eyes narrow at Miroku. "I don't need you to defend me. I am perfectly capable of defending myself!"

He retorts, "Not when you're wasted."

"You're being an idiot! He actually likes me, and has for the last six years. He wants to be with me. He's allowed to kiss me."

Miroku laughs while shaking his head. His cheeks redden in exasperation. "It's been six years since he talked to you, and you couldn't even remember him at first. Hell, you were running away scared shitless just a while ago because of what he said to you. He doesn't know anything about you."

Kuranosuke breaks his silence. He wipes his bloodied hand on his pants, sighing. His nose is starting to swell. Blood trickles over his mouth as he speaks, "I apologize that it seemed as if I was taking advantage of Sango. It was not my intention. I misspoke earlier, and if I could take back those words and just express my happiness at seeing her, then I would. Alcohol," he says, eyes flicking to Sango for a brief moment, "tends to lower inhibitions and self-control. But I want to know more about her. I loved her years ago, and never had the courage to tell her. I lost the chance, and I don't want to let that slip through my fingers again. Not when I regretted it for so many years."

"If you know alcohol does all of that, then you would have never kissed her tonight," Miroku says, taking a step toward Sango. His eyes glance around, meeting curious gazes who circle around them. "Let's go, Sango. It's time to leave."

"You're not the boss of me." She holds out her palm to Kuranouske and demands, "Phone." Wordlessly, he hands her his cell. She types in her number, saving it. She adds a heart after her name, just for spite. "So you have my number."

Miroku grabs Sango's hand, voice low as he says to Kuranouske, "Let me make my intentions clear." His eyes flash dangerously along with the lights in the background. "Pull a stunt like this again and see what happens."

"Hit me again and see what happens." Kuranouske tucks his phone in his pocket. He touches his nose gingerly as his eyes survey the scene around them. "I think it would be wise for you to walk away, Mr. Houshi."

Miroku's muscles jump in his neck, teeth grinding together. "What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?" His fingers squeeze Sango's.

"Come on," Sango murmurs to Miroku, staring down at their intertwined hands. His knuckles are white. They shake with silent, barely contained rage. Her fingers are red with how hard he's gripping her. They ache, pulsating along with the beat of her heart.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Sango," Kuranouske promises with a soft smile. "Or I guess, later today. I'm glad fate brought us together tonight."

Sango can barely get a smile out in response as Miroku drags her off the dance floor. She stumbles over her heels at the sheer force of his walk, trying to keep up. He weaves them through the crowd of people that seem to stare them down. Sango wants to close her eyes. Tries to ignore their pointed stares. Ignore the way the lights seem to collapse amid the dancing. A million shooting stars, falling all around her, pulling her along with them.

Miroku curses beneath his breath. His arm loops under hers, shoulder bracing her. "Sango, you're killing me."

She hates the way her lip wobbles at his words. "I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience for you." She inhales sharply. "Just let me go, Miroku."

"If I do that, you'll never make it out of here. You can't even walk straight."

"I can walk fine."

He shakes his head. The annoyance in his tone is palpable as he says, "Just stop. Sango, just stop."

Sango bites her lips, teeth gnashing her skin to keep herself from snapping at him any further. She's so angry. So tired . She hates herself. She hates him. She loves him. She doesn't want to be near him. She wants to relish in the heat of his body against hers.

She wants to cry all over again as he practically carries her to their friends. Kagome's eyes are warm as she reaches out to grab her hands, taking her from Miroku.

"Let's get you back to our house," Kagome says in a gentle tone that soothes Sango's troubled soul. A hand rubs her back gently, and she allows her eyes to drift shut. "Let's get you home."

"Bring her back to our place tomorrow," Miroku says. "I trust you to take care of her."

Sango's eyes snap back open, head whirling. "You're not coming with us?"

Miroku's eyes have never looked such a cold shade of blue as he glances away from her. "No. I think it's best if I don't."

A pleading, "Miroku," leaves her lips. She realizes she never even apologized to him for how she acted before. She never got the chance.

He doesn't turn around, and Sango watches his retreating figure as the heavy weight of the night comes crashing down upon her. Fat tears cascade down her cheeks.

"Come on, Kid," Inuyasha's gruff voice comforts, hand upon her head. "Let's get you cleaned up." She allows Inuyasha and Kagome to lead her out of the club and into a cab.

When Sango wakes up, a wave of nausea rolls over her body. Eyes peer open, and immediately close. The light from the sun sneaks in through the blinds, brighter than Sango ever thought possible. The tendrils of light infiltrate her lids, hammering on her skull repeatedly. A low moan leaves her lips.

Sango vows to never drink again.

"I see sleeping beauty is awake."

Sango cautiously lifts her head, peering at Inuyasha leaning against the door frame. He laughs, loud and boisterous. It's sandpaper on her eardrums, rubbing over and over again.

"Maybe beauty isn't the right word. You look like shit."

If she had the energy, she would have chucked a pillow at him right then and there. "Fuck you."

"Bet you feel like shit too. Pain meds and water are on the nightstand. Take some and come down for some breakfast. It'll help."

"Go away," she groans, falling back down on the pillow. "Leave me to die in my misery."

"Well, die with us or die alone, that's up to you."

Sango heaves a sigh, sipping the water with care. Her stomach churns uneasily. She hopes she didn't throw up in front of Miroku. Glancing down, she realizes she's still in her dress from last night. She winces as her cheeks flame. She hopes she didn't embarrass herself too much.

She groans as flashes come back to her. Grinding upon Miroku on the dance floor. She wants to hide under the covers for eternity as embarrassment infiltrates her cheeks in simmering heat. The rest is a bit hazy. She gets up slowly and checks herself in the mirror, grimacing. Mascara smudges beneath her eyes, tear lines tattooed black on her face. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Sango frowns, touching her cheeks. Crying. She had been crying because of Miroku. More specifically, because of his reaction to Kuranosuke's words.

Oh, shit.

Mortified doesn't even describe how she feels. Her face burns so badly she thinks she will combust on the spot. Why did she do all those things last night? What does Miroku think? She needs to find him. To say she's sorry for how she acted. For being a goddamn mess.

She finds Inuyasha and Kagome in the kitchen, the smell of bacon wafting through the room. She can't decide if she's hungry or just wants to skip eating altogether.

"Where's Miroku? Is the lazy bum still in bed?" she jokes, trying to hide the nervousness pooling through her tone.

The two share a look. Inuyasha turns, prodding the bacon with tongs. Kagome pats the table. "Why don't you come sit down and eat some food."

"What's…going on?" Sango hedges, slipping into the seat slowly.

Small hands gather hers across the table. "What do you remember?"

"Dancing," Sango says. Her barefoot taps on the floor, the tile cool to the touch. "With Miroku." She closes her eyes, humming. "Kuranosuke came to talk to us. I ran. You brought me water in the bathroom. I left, trying to find Miroku to apologize. Kuranosuke found me instead…he…we kissed." She sucks in a breath through her teeth, opening her eyes. Kagome studies her patiently. "Miroku hit him. Then we all left. Right?"

"Do you remember anything after that?" Kagome asks in a delicate tone.

Sango pauses, running her tongue over the inside of her lip. It's raw. "No. I remember Miroku leading me away. That's when things get really hazy. I'm really embarrassed with how I acted. I need to apologize to him."

"Miroku didn't come home with us," Kagome says, patting her hands. Her brows pinch together with concern. "I think he needed some space after everything that happened."

"He…he didn't come with us?" Her heart throbs painfully in her chest. "I fucked up, didn't I?" Sango says with a rueful smile.

"Well, you did end up taking my advice about making him jealous. Just after you threw yourself on him."

Sango sighs, laying her head on the table. "Why am I like this? What am I going to do?"

"Talk to him," Kagome says as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"And maybe fucking apologize this time instead of yelling at him, running away, and then kissing another guy," Inuyasha remarks, setting down plates filled with eggs and bacon. "I also wouldn't go on your phone anytime soon."

"What do you mean?" Sango lifts her head slowly, eyebrow raised. "Why shouldn't I go on my phone?"

" Inuyasha."

"What?" he barks, sitting down with his arms crossed. He leans back, chair teetering. "She was bound to find out sooner or later."

"Find out what?" Sango demands, the pieces of her heart picking up speed in her chest.

Kagome supplies with hesitation, "You…kinda ended up on the front page of the paper."

" I what?"

"You fucked up," Inuyasha says. "And because you fucked up with someone famous, you ended up with your face plastered for the world to see."

Sango cradles her head in her hands. "This cannot be happening."

"To think Miroku managed to stay out of the papers for six whole months," Kagome ruminates. "This has to be a record for him."

"You mean I'm the reason he's in the tabloids again?" Sango all but groans. "I need to go home and talk to him. Can one of you get me an uber or something? I don't even know where my phone is."

"I have your clutch," Kagome says, scooping eggs onto her fork. "I was worried about you having your phone while you were drunk last night."

"That was probably a good call," Sango says with a small sigh. "I wouldn't have trusted me either, and with good reason."

"You made a mistake, Kid," Inuyasha says, not unkindly. He takes a bite of his bacon. "Stop wallowing and go fix it."

"What are you going to do about Kuranosuke?" Kagome asks slyly, eyebrow raised with a grin.

"What about him?"

"He kissed you."

Sango decides to take a mouthful of eggs at this moment, mulling over her response. "It was a nice kiss," she decides. "I didn't hate it."

Inuyasha snorts over his cup of coffee. "They should have put that in the papers."

"I'm serious," Sango says, pushing the eggs around on her plate. "Miroku has made it plain and clear he isn't interested, so maybe it's time I pursue someone who is."

"To make him jealous," Kagome clarifies. "Like we discussed."

"No," Sango says, shooting her friend a pointed stare. "To forget about him."

"I don't think you just forget about someone you love," Kagome says, a frown pulling at her lips. "And you told me last night that you loved Miroku."

"And he doesn't love me back," Sango insists, fork stilling on the plate.

"Then why did he punch Kuranosuke for kissing you?"

"Because he was defending me!" Sango fires back, pushing her chair out abruptly. She stands, smoothing down her shimmering dress. "And I never asked him to."

"He did it because he cares about you," Kagome says in earnest. "You're the only one who doesn't see it."

"I know he cares about me," Sango practically yells, unable to contain her frustration any longer. "But caring for someone and loving someone are two very different things, and I'm sick of having to explain this every time we see each other. I need to get going, so please tell me where my clutch is so I can get an uber and go."

"Sango," Kagome pleads, placing the fork down. "We just care about you and want to help."

"Just let her go, Kagome," Inuyasha says, gold eyes blazing. "She's running away like she always does."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Fuck you," Sango snaps, hands shaking at her sides. "I can't believe you just said that to me."

"You're mad cause it's true," Inuyasha shrugs, sipping his coffee. "You're running away from this conversation. You're running away from Miroku. You're running away from the things you really want in life. Nothing we say is going to change that. Only you can, Sango. So, stop pushing away the people who care about you."

Sango says nothing. Chews the inside of her cheek, willing herself to keep the swell of anger down that threatens to spill out. Because she knows he's right, and she has only herself to be angry with.

She's the best at self-destructing, afterall.

Sango slinks into her uber a few minutes later, leaving feeling worse than she had when she had woken up earlier, if that was even possible. She leans her head back against the headrest, watching the gray clouds swirl in the sky. She wonders if it'll snow again. Pulling her phone from her clutch, she unlocks the screen, eyes widening at all the missed messages. She sinks deep into the seat, eyes wide with horror. Every message has a picture of her, drunk and startled, with Miroku punching Kuranosuke. Despite better judgment, she clicks into an article one of her friends from work sent her.

Playboy author fighting for love?

"Fuck," Sango whispers, phone quivering in her fingers. She skims the article, paling. Miroku Houshi was seen late last night at his normal hangout spot, Shikon Jewel. Sources say the mystery girl is none other than Sango Taijiya, whose father was tragically murdered years ago. It seems Sango has caught herself in a bit of a love triangle between lovable playboy author, Miroku Houshi, and up-and-coming political superstar, Kuranosuke Takeda, the latter of whom she was childhood friends with. She hits her head lightly against the back of the seat. "Fuck, Sango, what did you get yourself into?"

When Sango opens the door of the car to walk up the steps of her apartment complex, she is blindsided by flashing lights and people shouting her name.

"Sango, is it true that Miroku Houshi punched Kuranosuke Takeda because you cheated on him?"

"Sango, which man do you love?"

"How did you manage to win the heart of Miroku Houshi when no other woman has?"

"Ms. Taijiya, how did you manage to meet Miroku when he's been hiding for the last six months?"

"What's going on with you and Miroku? How long have you been a couple?"

Sango takes a step back, heel catching the curb. She curses, acutely aware that she's wearing the same outfit from the night prior with disheveled hair. Apparently they realize this too, because their questions shift.

"Were you with Mr. Takeda last night?"

"Someone says they saw you leaving with Miroku, did you sleep with him last night?"

"Leave me alone," Sango practically shouts, feeling much like a deer caught in headlights. "I am extremely hungover and want to go home to my cat!" She takes off her heels, holds her head high with what little dignity she has left, and marches past the cameras and reporters. She pauses at the front of the building, whirling around, pointing a heel at them. "And don't you dare follow me."

Sango stomps up the stairs, chest heaving with panic. She fumbles with the keys to her apartment. They clatter on her doormat. She crouches down, gripping them tightly. The door opens. She looks up, eyes wide in alarm before quickly glancing behind her.

"Welcome home," Miroku says dryly.

Sango shoves him inside, slamming the door behind her. "Shh!" She covers his mouth, glaring. "They don't know you're here."

His eyebrows raise in question, gently prying her fingers away from his lips. " Who doesn't know I'm here?"

Sango grimaces. "Everyone, and I'd rather keep it that way."

Miroku shakes his head, eyebrows pinching together. "I don't understand."

"Let's just say, I know what it's like to be you now," Sango sighs, tossing her clutch and keys onto the kitchen counter. Leaves her heels by the door. She sinks onto the couch, letting her legs dangle over the side. "I was hounded by the paparazzi outside."

"Shit."

"Yeah, you're telling me." She stares long and hard at the ceiling above her, afraid to look at Miroku. Afraid to see those cold blues that froze her heart. "I, um…I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

He leans with his forearms on the top of the couch, glancing down at her. "Just clarifying. Sorry for what, exactly?"

Sango purses her lips at his expression. The way his lips tip up just a fraction, a smug sort of look about him. Like he knew she would come running back into his arms. "Everything," she says, wishing he would leave her line of sight. "I'm…really embarrassed."

"As you should be." His smile widens.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me?" she asks, hope rising in her chest. She lifts to a seated position, laying her head near his arms as she stares up at him.

"No, I'm still pretty pissed," he says with a small laugh. "Especially now that I can't leave the apartment anytime soon without them finding out I'm living with you."

"You saw the article."

"Articles," he corrects.

She says nothing, because what is there to say to that? Splotches of purples and greens catch her eye as she looks down at his right hand, bruises painting his knuckles. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

He follows her line of sight, flexing his fingers. "I know."

"That's the only reason they wrote the articles in the first place."

"You and I both know that isn't true," Miroku says, voice unnaturally calm.

She jabs the couch with her finger. "So you're putting the blame on me."

"Sango," he sighs roughly, a hand cupping the back of his neck. "What the hell happened last night?"

Sango falls back onto the couch dramatically, putting an arm over her eyes so she doesn't have to look at him. At the disappointment on his face. At the resentment in his eyes because she fucked everything up for him. Fucked up what little chance she had with him. "I don't know," she answers in a small voice. "I don't know."

"I do."

This surprises her. Cautiously, she drops her arm back to her side, staring up at him with wide eyes. His smile is forlorn. Blues somber. Understanding. "You do?"

"I do," he says again, "because it's how I deal with my grief too."

"By embarrassing yourself by getting wasted, kissing a man, and ending up in the papers?"

A chuckle leaves his lips. "More like kissing women, but yeah, pretty much spot on."

Sango smiles, warmth spreading throughout her chest. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are. I'd yell at you, but I think your hangover and being bombarded by the paparazzi is punishment enough." He pauses, wringing his hands together. "I…I'm sorry, too. For how I reacted. I should have come to look for you, and I never should have punched Kuranosuke. You're a big girl, and I know you can handle yourself."

She pats his arm, grinning cheekily. "Just don't let it happen again."

He laughs again, shaking his head as he grins back at her. "You're something else, Sango."

"I need coffee," she declares, recoiling her hand back to her side once she realizes she still has it on his arm. "And lots of it."

"Add a shower to that list too."

She sticks her tongue out at him, sauntering to the kitchen. There's a bounce in her step, like a weight has been lifted. Maybe she didn't fuck things up, afterall. The way he's teasing her feels natural. Like nothing happened last night. "Oh, you made coffee already? That was sweet of you. And you said you were mad."

"I mean, I didn't make it for you and I am mad," he says, voice high in teasing, "but whatever floats your boat, Sango. You get to run out and get me some coffee from Starbucks later now that I can't go out and get my own holiday drinks."

"Why spend the money on expensive lattes when you can make coffee here?" Sango grabs a mug and fills it. She grabs the empty pot to put in the sink when she stops, gripping the handle tightly. In the sink are two mugs. Two.

Sango is whirling. Miroku is talking to her in the background, but she only hears the blood rushing in her ears. Two mugs could only mean one thing.

Someone else slept here last night.

He calls her name. Hand on her shoulder. He means for it to be comforting. She recoils, the pot clattering against the dishes in the sink. Coffee splashes the counter, staining it brown. She curses, setting the mug down with shaky hands as she fumbles for a towel.

Wordlessly, he grabs a towel and begins cleaning up the mess she made. "Go shower," he tells her in a gentle tone, blues pinched with concern. "I think you're still hungover and need to relax. I'll clean up and bring you some fresh coffee later."

"Yeah, thanks," she murmurs, nodding in agreement. Grabbing the clutch off the counter, she retreats to the solitude of her room. She flops onto her stomach, digging her head into her pillow. Kirara pads over, purring. She scratches her ears, sighing a mournful sigh. "Oh, Kirara. What have I done?"

Sango grabs her phone, going through and deleting messages from nosy people asking about Miroku. There's a number she doesn't recognize. Her heart flutters as she opens it.

Good morning, Sango. It's Kuranosuke Takeda from last night. I know I said I would call, but I was worried you would still be sleeping and didn't want to interrupt. I am sorry for how things turned out last night, and I hope you can forgive me. But I will not apologize for stating how I felt about you, and I meant it when I said I didn't want to let you slip through my fingers again. It seemed like there was something going on between you and Mr. Houshi, and I would hate to get between that. If not, though, I would love to take you out to dinner tomorrow night, if you're free.

"Wow, so formal," she laughs in hushed tones. She reads the message again. Then another time.

She teeters her lip between her teeth, contemplating. A few minutes prior she would have ended things. But then she saw the mugs, and all hope ran down the sink along with the tainted coffee. Before she has the chance to rethink it, she types out a few words and hits send.

I would love to. Pick me up at 7.

Sango made her bed. Now it was time to lie in it.