ギャグとシリアス

Author  : LuxKen27 
Tittle    : Fragments, Ch 8. This Twist of Fate


She's going to say goodbye, he realized, a spear of pain slicing through his gut. And there's nothing I can do to stop her.

"You should go," she murmured starkly, twisting the bedclothes even more tightly around herself.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a shaky breath rose in his chest. "Sango –" he started.

"No," she burst out, unable to conceal the tremble of accompanying tears in her voice. "Just go."

He moved across the mattress, reaching out to touch her, to reignite the connection that had bound them together so swiftly only a few hours earlier. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," he said, brushing his fingers across her back.

"I know," she replied forcefully, but under the intensity of her voice he heard the strength of her fear.

Another time, another place…he'd known that very fear. He could be empathetic to the pressure and strain she was under; he could understand the way she felt boxed in by her own guilt, as if she had no other choice but to submit to the manipulations of the man running the show. But at that very moment, he was also cognizant of his own rawness and vulnerability. Whether she meant it or not, the chill of her rejection struck him at the very core.

"You don't owe him anything," he muttered, surprising himself with the force of jealousy in his voice.

She whipped around to face him then, rebellious tears splashing down her cheeks. "I owe him my life," she argued through clenched teeth before burying her face in her hands.

He gathered her in his arms then, holding her as close as humanly possible, as though he'd never be able to close the gulf rising fast and hard between them. "Then why did you stay with me instead?"

She shook her head and sobbed into his shoulder, unwilling to answer him or even return the embrace. "This isn't real," she blubbered. "This isn't who I am. I don't lie. I don't cheat."

"I think you know, this is very real," he countered softly, pulling away just enough to press his lips to hers. Her response was swift, immediate, melting into him; her need and fear and anguish was acute, palpable, blatant.

She pushed away after a moment. "No," she insisted. "This isn't real. You don't know me."

Miroku's jaw dropped. "I don't know you? I know everything about you." His mind was racing. How could she say such a thing? Now? After everything we've been through – done together –

"And I don't know anything about you," she shot back.

The rational part of him realized it was her renewed grief talking, but the emotional side of him balked at the denial rampant in her words. He couldn't shove away the hurt that rose up within him, the result of laying his heart bare, only to have it thrown back in his face. Could she make it any clearer that he had no place in her world? That, because he had nothing beyond love and compassion to offer her, he wasn't good enough for her? Look around! cried the little voice in his head. Karanousuke is an idiot, but he can give her the moon!

"Maybe you're right," he conceded. "Maybe this is all a dream. But there's nothing wrong with holding onto dreams."

"Not when reality slaps you in the face," she muttered bitterly.

He could take no more of this. He'd already known he was going to suffer, whether it was with her or not. He wanted to be there for her; he wanted to hold her and show her life was worth living even after heart-rending tragedy, but he couldn't stop her from pushing him away. He couldn't – he wouldn't – force her to relive this pain and anguish every day, as her fiancé seemed content to do.

"One day, you're going to realize you deserve to be happy, Sango," he finally said, pulling away from her completely and standing up. He moved around the room, dressing and gathering his belongings. She was silent, but she stayed, alternating between watching him and looking away, as if unable to refute him but not unwilling to try.

Finally, against every good grain of his body, he made the toughest decision of his life: he left her there without another word. It wasn't until he was safely in the elevator once more that he allowed himself to give in to his own tears. Just remember, he told himself, eyeing his ruddy reflection in the mirrored steel doors. Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.

Girls
are like
apples on trees.
The best ones are
at the top of the tree.The
boys dont want to reach
for the good ones because they
are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they just get the rotten apples
from the ground that aren't as good,
but easy. So the apples at the top think
something is wrong with them, when in
reality, they're amazing. They just
have to wait for the right boy to
come along, the one who's
brave enough to
climb all
the way
to the top
of the tree.

An inspirational piece I found on someone's page. I forgot who it was, but I just HAD to post it here!