For the Fandom Pride Parade 2024!
Day 1: Pink, Sex, Glitter
It was too much.
Kagome tried to focus. She'd been hired for her organizational skills, given the role of maître d' so she could greet customers with a smile but not be bogged down with individual tables.
Anyone else would've killed for the job.
Anyone else would've shown up for work every day without the weight of heartbreak on their shoulders.
Anyone else would not have fallen in love with someone who could flirt their way out of a paper bag.
She was jostled from behind as the corner of a trolly stabbed her in the back. She sighed, trying to keep herself from doing something as stupid as cry, then went to check on the hosts.
The illustrious Yasei Shou had been making a name for himself for years, adding a Michelin star to his restaurant within its first year. She'd always found it funny that someone as hell-bent on world domination had turned his ambitions into something as creative as the culinary arts.
"You look ravishing in that colour."
She stiffened, wishing she could revel in the shiver that crawled up her spine at the seductive purr of his voice, but she clenched her hands and slowly turned around. "You always say that."
There was a flash of fangs as a devilish smirk touched his lips. "It is always true." If the rest of the staff weren't wearing a variation of the same shade, Kagome would've accused him of favouritism, but as it was, even the accents of the linens and decor sported the vibrant oceanic hue, so her complaints never went further than her own mind.
She'd never pegged Sesshoumaru for having a favourite colour in general—maybe red for all the blood he'd spilled back then—but blue? It didn't make sense.
Then again, neither did him owning a restaurant or accenting his natural markings with makeup every day.
He was a little more subtle with his clothes, but he spent half his time in the kitchen, and considering how many bottles of primer he owned, she wasn't surprised he wasn't concerned with it running off.
"Is everything set for tonight?" she asked, changing the subject. At one time, she'd have accepted the compliment with open arms—and a healthy blush—but his warm words of affection had long lost their effect.
He acted this way with everyone.
She was no one special.
His stare was intense but fleeting, coloured nails running through his hair before turning back to the dining room. "As if I would accept anything less than perfection."
The old Kagome would've called him out on it, reciting how no one was perfect, but it was easier to avoid her feelings when she didn't engage in personal conversation. Being numb didn't suit her, but if she concentrated on her job instead of how much she wanted to follow his fingers with her own, it made the weight on her shoulders less imposing.
At least for a little while.
"I still don't understand why the special dessert needs to be assembled table-side. Wouldn't it make more sense to prep it ahead of time?"
Another sideways glance, and she was following him through the already bustling dining room. Each table was marked with an invite-only business card, names scrawled in meticulous calligraphy. She hadn't bothered looking at them; he'd hired extra staff for the decorations tonight, but she knew the long line outside was getting antsy even though they'd stated the doors wouldn't open until precisely six o'clock.
"The ingredients taste better the sooner they are consumed after mixing," he replied, as if the answer was obvious.
"So you've said." He'd been planning this event for months, leaving her out of most of the minor details, for which she was grateful. Less details meant less time spent alone with him. She could focus on making sure the weekly schedules were posted on time, taking into account everyone's vacation requests.
Ironically, no one had requested tonight off, and Sesshoumaru, for once, hadn't balked at having everyone on the floor. He usually preferred to spend his profits on fresh produce and local seafood, but this launch event meant nothing would be spared. The linens were washed, the cutlery sparkling. All they needed now were the customers.
"Is there anything else you need me to do?" She opened her tablet, double-checking her usual list of items before the dinner rush. He held the role of executive chef but hadn't allowed anyone to replace him as head chef. He preferred experiencing the delight of his clients enjoying his food firsthand—it was why he'd gotten into cooking in the first place.
She'd been surprised he'd landed in such a creative career, but his meticulous attention to detail and flare for the extraordinary had her quickly changing her mind. This was precisely the kind of career he was suited for.
"Allow me to fix your tie. We simply cannot have you going out there looking anything less than your best."
Kagome's head shot up, half expecting his claws to brush against her throat, but he was speaking to one of the servers, the man's cheeks slowly turning red the longer Sesshoumaru lingered. The daiyoukai squeezed his shoulder with an approving nod, and her heart sunk lower in her chest.
This was why it hurt to work for him. Food wasn't the only thing he preferred to be hands-on with; she doubted anyone in the restaurant hadn't been 'fixed' by him in some way. Some were more subtle than others, but they all thrived on his attention.
Attention he was more than willing to give.
Hands flexing, she opened her mouth to confirm the first round of appetizers, but the small group of hosts stepped between them, their questions about the seating arrangements quickly silenced when colourful claws placed flowers behind their ears. The trio turned in question, and Sesshoumaru tilted each head side to side to inspect his work.
"There. Now, you are as beautiful as the dessert being served tonight." The women dissolved into embarrassed giggles, continuing to glace at him as Kagome went over the procedure once more.
Once they'd left, she turned to him with a scowl. "Was that necessary?"
Sesshoumaru blinked at her in confusion, the glimmer of his eyeshadow catching the light. She'd have admired it if her emotions weren't threatening to break through the calm façade she'd worked so hard to keep intact.
When he continued to stare, her fingers tightened around her tablet. Was he really that oblivious? Or was he so used to people fawning over him that it made no difference?
Kagome suddenly realized that continuing to put herself in the presence of someone she felt so strongly for but was so far out of reach would only push her further into a downward spiral.
It was the well closing all over again.
Chest tight, she thrust her tablet at him. "I can't do this."
Perfectly painted eyes blinked, then stared down at the device. "Does it need to be charged?"
She'd have laughed if she wasn't holding back tears. "No. This. The job. You." She sucked in a quick breath, knowing the longer she stayed, the more chance he would be given to change her mind. "I quit."
He finally realized the severity of the situation, unfamiliar emotion flickering across his face as he reached for her. Kagome jumped backward, managing to avoid him touching her.
"I'll come back later for my stuff. I don't want to get in the way of your big event." She turned on her heel, nearly sprinting toward the back entrance. He might've called her name, but the blood pounding between her ears drowned out everything else, the hand clenching the front of her blouse helping to distract from the emotional turmoil.
She wasn't sure what she'd tell him later—she was hoping he'd be gone by then—but right now, she needed to breathe. And she refused to spend the next several hours watching him flit between tables, engaging in demure conversation while people crooned about how much they loved his food—and how much they loved him.
She needed to spend some time away. In a place where nothing reminded her of him or the life she wished they had.
So, for the first time in her life, she walked away from him out of choice, not survival.