InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Fleeting ❯ Desperation ( Chapter 13 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: LuxKen27 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.11.2012 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 511 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.11.2012 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 511 | Status: Work In Progress
un_love_you prompt: #15 – “This is my desperation in action.”
Please don’t let it be true…
This was agony, absolute agony, waiting and wondering, doubting and fearing. She cast a glance down the foyer as she passed by, half-hoping, half-dreading that the door would open at any minute, knowing all the while that she wouldn’t be ready for it.
That last conversation looped endlessly in her mind:
“Could it be, because he’s using you as a means to an end?” Inuyasha sneered. “That he doesn’t want you, so much as the power you wield?”
Her eyes flashed as she met his gaze once again. “Prove it.”
He startled at the ferocity of her reaction, but his gaze turned thoughtful before he answered her. “I can’t,” he said simply. “But I can tell you where to find it.”
She narrowed an assessing glare at him. “How do you know about any of this, anyway?”
He shrugged, dropping his eyes to his plate. “I work for his family on the side, and there have been rumblings. Apparently his father is preparing to make a move on your family’s company, and this is, like, some sort of test, for Sesshoumaru to prove himself as a worthy successor.” He looked up at her imploringly. “I only want to protect you, Kagome – and if there’s any way I can stop him from hurting you, I will, proof positive or not.”
Kagome crossed her arms over her chest as she continued to wear a path into the carpet. She hadn’t walked away satisfied by that conversation, but she also couldn’t put it out of her mind. She’d been steadily growing frustrated with the stunted growth of her relationship with Sesshoumaru, and those doubts were only fueled by the fire of Inuyasha’s accusations.
She had to know, once and for all – why were they together? Why didn’t he want her as much as she wanted him? Was he really just using her?
Had she misjudged him so thoroughly?
True, he was unlike anyone she’d ever been with, but she’d known that from the start. He was quiet, assessing, aloof, searching for a roommate who understood the fine art of being considerate. She had been struck by his unusual appearance at first, the longer-than-fashionable silver hair and mysterious golden eyes, but the more time she spent around him, the deeper her intrigue ran. He was an enigma – silent, icy, impassive, yet always so keenly aware of what was going on around him, even if he chose not to acknowledge it. He seemed content to merely observe her life instead of being sucked into the whirlwind, and she saw that at as a challenge.
It had all changed last Halloween, when she’d finally managed to get him to go out with her – even if it just casually, as friends. Somehow, she’d made a complete fool of herself – enough that he’d felt the need to swoop in and rescue her (when he’d shown no such tendency before); enough to make herself a pariah among her social set. Sesshoumaru had been there for her, in his own uniquely indirect way, during her exodus in the social wasteland, and had even defended her honor against Kouga’s nasty accusations. Unfortunately, he’d done it reasons other than chivalry, and the hurtful argument that had followed was enough to drive her away over the Christmas holiday, to mourn her misbegotten crush and lick her wounds in peace.
But, something had changed then, something she hadn’t really expected – instead of her crush fading away after confronting his cruelly honest impression of her, it only strengthened. He’d done something few others of their societal caliber were willing to, in giving her the cut direct; she’d found that she appreciated his honesty, if not his abrasiveness. She’d also realized that if she wanted him, she would have to pursue him, find a way to engage him and dig beneath his icy exterior. It wasn’t a position she was entirely comfortable with, or even used to, quite frankly. She’d always been the bait, never the hunter; she’d always been in control of the situation instead of at its mercy.
And it had been worth it – at first. All of her heartache, awkwardness, and internal struggle had been rewarded with a searing New Year’s Eve kiss, one that had led to an incredibly intense relationship. He’d let her in, at least partially, and she still was learning just how amazing he could be – so intelligent, so driven, so patient and loving, if a bit shy. Two glorious months had come and gone since that fateful kiss, some of the happiest in her recent memory, but the gild was beginning to fade.
She’d always known he was the independent type, forever holding his cards close to his chest and weighing all of his options before finally making his move. It had been – and still was, admittedly – one of the challenges in getting to know him, figuring out how to lower the barriers he held so high around himself. He maintained those self-imposed boundaries with such persistence that she’d started to wonder just what had happened in his past that could’ve possibly made him act this way. Had his heart been broken? Had his trust been betrayed?
Still…
It didn’t explain other things – such as his reluctance to have sex with her.
She shook her head, tightening the brace of her arms across her chest, a bitterly wry smile rising to her lips. She knew how petty it was to be so concerned about such a thing; after all, she was perfectly aware that there was more to a healthy adult relationship than just physical intimacy. She enjoyed the other aspects of their relationship – sharing tea at breakfast, holding hands on the way to class after lunch, curling up together to unwind at the end of the day. She was comfortable with him, and it seemed he felt the same way about her. She’d tried to rationalize why he was so hesitant about sex; maybe he was shy, or it had been awhile (forever?), or maybe he’d been insulted or berated by a former lover.
But the longer she was with him – and the closer they came to crossing that ultimate line – she realized: he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to kiss her, where to touch her to make her gasp and write and mewl with pleasure. He even knew how to bring her down, those secret, intimate places that always melted away her frustration and anxiety and disappointment in being refused.
In the moment, at least.
If the act of lovemaking was, as she contended, the ultimate display of attraction and affection – how one showed another how much they really liked them, so to speak – then what, exactly, was she doing wrong? She’d tried everything she could think of, but he was always able to stop, to break away, to regain control of the situation – and himself.
The only thing left for her to do was beg, but she had her dignity.
It only made matters worse that he was always so damn stoic and silent, never telling her how or why he pulled out of her reach.
Was this the reason why – because, in reality, he was using her?
No, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. I just can’t reconcile such a thing to him. He’s too damn honorable. The memory of the aftermath of that Halloween party flashed behind her eyes; she had sloppily attempted to seduce him then and there, but he’d refused to take advantage of her inebriated state. And even last night, he’d had the perfect chance to take advantage of her vulnerability following the creepy stalker incident, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d soothed her fears and calmed her nerves, staying with her, holding her through the night, in silent reassurance that she wasn’t alone –even if she’d woken up that way.
Surely such actions meant he wasn’t capable of being so callous and cruel as to use her to gain a job…?
The sound of a slam startled her from her brooding. She looked up sharply, her heart in her throat as she eyed the foyer, only to realize that it hadn’t been her front door making that sound. She bowed her head again and resumed her restless walk. He should be coming home any minute now…am I really ready for this?
She wasn’t a confrontational person by nature, but this was absolutely eating away at her. While Inuyasha had been unable to offer concrete evidence to back up his allegations, it had spurred her into action nonetheless. She’d cut her last class that afternoon and taken the train across town to the main headquarters of her family’s corporation. She had ready access to most of the company files, including personnel – and all of the applications for the various jobs and internships SHK had on offer. She’d checked all of them, probably leading the HR specialist to think she’d gone crazy, but her search turned up nothing. She’d even taken the time to read through the backlog of secure correspondence in her email inbox, finding nothing but nagging guilt for allowing it to languish for so long. There wasn’t the first mention of any of this season’s candidates yet; it made sense, considering invitations and applications had only been mailed out a scant few weeks before, at the beginning of March.
Still, her own lack of evidence did nothing to allay her anxiety, or her fear. She just couldn’t quite shake off Inuyasha’s accusations. What reason would he have to lie to me? she’d asked herself during the train ride back home, feeling frustrated and defeated all at the same time. After all, he’s never been anything less than totally open with me, whereas Sesshoumaru…
It sickened her to even think so badly of her boyfriend, but even from the start of their relationship, she’d had this nagging feeling, like he was keeping something from her. She’d done the best she could, making herself available for him in every way she’d known how, but still, he held back, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to share.
This would certainly be a good reason why, if it was true.
And so, here she stood, waiting in agony for him to arrive home, so she could find out once and for all just what the hell was going on.
Please, God, don’t let it be true…
She came to an abrupt halt when her phone buzzed against the table, indicating that she’d received a text. She snatched it up, flipping it open, her heart plummeting as she read the message:
“Sorry, but my meeting with the thesis advisor is running late. Don’t wait for me re: dinner. Don’t know when I’ll be home.”
At that moment, something inside of her snapped.
She hurled the phone across the room, heaving a deep breath, desperation clawing through her chest. He couldn’t even bother to call? she thought bitterly, tears heating behind her eyes.
“And yet again, he denies me,” she said aloud, covering her face with her hands.
Really, it was becoming par for the course. She couldn’t share his body, she couldn’t share his life, she couldn’t even share his space. He’d shut her out of all of these things, without explanation.
Didn’t he trust her?
Or was there some reason that she shouldn’t trust him?
It was too much. She couldn’t – she wouldn’t – stand for this any longer.
She shoved out of the common area, pressing down the hallway towards her room, when she stopped short, eyeing his bedroom door from afar. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she told herself, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she contemplated the consequences of her actions. Slowly, cautiously, she continued down the hall, her palms clammy as she reached for the knob of his door.
Locked.
Of course.
She should have expected nothing less.
She headed back to her own room, new resolve rising up within her. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but she knew a few ways around a simple door lock. She’d locked herself out of enough cars and rooms and apartments, for one – but there was also her younger brother Souta’s fascination with spy gear, and she’d picked up a few of his tricks. She gathered up the necessary equipment for her little expedition and returned to his bedroom door, determined to find some way in – and some answers, once and for all.
She knelt down, laying her tools on the ground in front of herself, and set to work.
Nail file.
She knew she was violating his privacy by breaking into his room.
Hair pin.
She also knew that, no matter what (if anything) she found, that merely by doing this, she was probably ruining their relationship.
Credit card.
What’s left of it, at least, she thought bitterly, biting her lower lip in an effort to keep her turbulent emotions at bay.
Lockpick kit, courtesy of Souta.
Finally, after much resistance, she felt the telltale click of the lock giving way, and slowly, she eased open the door, taking in the sight before her. She’d never even so much as glimpsed into this room until now, such was the extent of Sesshoumaru’s bid for privacy – and yet somehow, it was so…him: neat as a pin, organized to the hilt, clean and ordered and perfect.
She hesitated as she stood in the doorway, her breath shuttering in her lungs as she listened for any hint or sign that he’d returned. She slipped into the room, stealthily approaching the richly colored desk opposite, even after she was satisfied that she was the only one home. Gingerly, she lowered herself into his worn leather chair, her fingertips tingling as she contemplated where to begin her search.
She took a deep breath and reached for one of the drawers.
Time slipped by unmarked as she nosed through his things, going through all six of the desk drawers in the same nervous, yet methodical, way. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or upset when she came up with nothing, to either prove or disprove her worst suspicions. Just as she was about to give up altogether, her hand brushed aside a cadre of papers, revealing a half-hidden pile of neatly stacked pages.
“What’s this?” she murmured, feeling her heart gaining traction in her chest as she picked them up.
She exhaled sharply when she realized what she held – a set of internship applications, all filled out in his neat, elegant handwriting, all for post-graduate positions.
Her hands began to shake as she rifled through them, all of the doubts and misgivings of the last few weeks culminating behind her eyes.
No…
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” boomed a cold, hard voice, shattering her concentration —
– her mind –
– her heart.
Her fingers curled around five damning pages as she slowly swiveled in his chair, turning to face him, her heated gaze rising to meet his.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied angrily.
13. Desperation
Kagome paced the length of the common room in her apartment, absently putting one foot in front of the other as she anxiously chewed on the nail of her thumb. Her heart fluttered in her chest as her stomach knotted over on itself.Please don’t let it be true…
This was agony, absolute agony, waiting and wondering, doubting and fearing. She cast a glance down the foyer as she passed by, half-hoping, half-dreading that the door would open at any minute, knowing all the while that she wouldn’t be ready for it.
That last conversation looped endlessly in her mind:
“Could it be, because he’s using you as a means to an end?” Inuyasha sneered. “That he doesn’t want you, so much as the power you wield?”
Her eyes flashed as she met his gaze once again. “Prove it.”
He startled at the ferocity of her reaction, but his gaze turned thoughtful before he answered her. “I can’t,” he said simply. “But I can tell you where to find it.”
She narrowed an assessing glare at him. “How do you know about any of this, anyway?”
He shrugged, dropping his eyes to his plate. “I work for his family on the side, and there have been rumblings. Apparently his father is preparing to make a move on your family’s company, and this is, like, some sort of test, for Sesshoumaru to prove himself as a worthy successor.” He looked up at her imploringly. “I only want to protect you, Kagome – and if there’s any way I can stop him from hurting you, I will, proof positive or not.”
Kagome crossed her arms over her chest as she continued to wear a path into the carpet. She hadn’t walked away satisfied by that conversation, but she also couldn’t put it out of her mind. She’d been steadily growing frustrated with the stunted growth of her relationship with Sesshoumaru, and those doubts were only fueled by the fire of Inuyasha’s accusations.
She had to know, once and for all – why were they together? Why didn’t he want her as much as she wanted him? Was he really just using her?
Had she misjudged him so thoroughly?
True, he was unlike anyone she’d ever been with, but she’d known that from the start. He was quiet, assessing, aloof, searching for a roommate who understood the fine art of being considerate. She had been struck by his unusual appearance at first, the longer-than-fashionable silver hair and mysterious golden eyes, but the more time she spent around him, the deeper her intrigue ran. He was an enigma – silent, icy, impassive, yet always so keenly aware of what was going on around him, even if he chose not to acknowledge it. He seemed content to merely observe her life instead of being sucked into the whirlwind, and she saw that at as a challenge.
It had all changed last Halloween, when she’d finally managed to get him to go out with her – even if it just casually, as friends. Somehow, she’d made a complete fool of herself – enough that he’d felt the need to swoop in and rescue her (when he’d shown no such tendency before); enough to make herself a pariah among her social set. Sesshoumaru had been there for her, in his own uniquely indirect way, during her exodus in the social wasteland, and had even defended her honor against Kouga’s nasty accusations. Unfortunately, he’d done it reasons other than chivalry, and the hurtful argument that had followed was enough to drive her away over the Christmas holiday, to mourn her misbegotten crush and lick her wounds in peace.
But, something had changed then, something she hadn’t really expected – instead of her crush fading away after confronting his cruelly honest impression of her, it only strengthened. He’d done something few others of their societal caliber were willing to, in giving her the cut direct; she’d found that she appreciated his honesty, if not his abrasiveness. She’d also realized that if she wanted him, she would have to pursue him, find a way to engage him and dig beneath his icy exterior. It wasn’t a position she was entirely comfortable with, or even used to, quite frankly. She’d always been the bait, never the hunter; she’d always been in control of the situation instead of at its mercy.
And it had been worth it – at first. All of her heartache, awkwardness, and internal struggle had been rewarded with a searing New Year’s Eve kiss, one that had led to an incredibly intense relationship. He’d let her in, at least partially, and she still was learning just how amazing he could be – so intelligent, so driven, so patient and loving, if a bit shy. Two glorious months had come and gone since that fateful kiss, some of the happiest in her recent memory, but the gild was beginning to fade.
She’d always known he was the independent type, forever holding his cards close to his chest and weighing all of his options before finally making his move. It had been – and still was, admittedly – one of the challenges in getting to know him, figuring out how to lower the barriers he held so high around himself. He maintained those self-imposed boundaries with such persistence that she’d started to wonder just what had happened in his past that could’ve possibly made him act this way. Had his heart been broken? Had his trust been betrayed?
Still…
It didn’t explain other things – such as his reluctance to have sex with her.
She shook her head, tightening the brace of her arms across her chest, a bitterly wry smile rising to her lips. She knew how petty it was to be so concerned about such a thing; after all, she was perfectly aware that there was more to a healthy adult relationship than just physical intimacy. She enjoyed the other aspects of their relationship – sharing tea at breakfast, holding hands on the way to class after lunch, curling up together to unwind at the end of the day. She was comfortable with him, and it seemed he felt the same way about her. She’d tried to rationalize why he was so hesitant about sex; maybe he was shy, or it had been awhile (forever?), or maybe he’d been insulted or berated by a former lover.
But the longer she was with him – and the closer they came to crossing that ultimate line – she realized: he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to kiss her, where to touch her to make her gasp and write and mewl with pleasure. He even knew how to bring her down, those secret, intimate places that always melted away her frustration and anxiety and disappointment in being refused.
In the moment, at least.
If the act of lovemaking was, as she contended, the ultimate display of attraction and affection – how one showed another how much they really liked them, so to speak – then what, exactly, was she doing wrong? She’d tried everything she could think of, but he was always able to stop, to break away, to regain control of the situation – and himself.
The only thing left for her to do was beg, but she had her dignity.
It only made matters worse that he was always so damn stoic and silent, never telling her how or why he pulled out of her reach.
Was this the reason why – because, in reality, he was using her?
No, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. I just can’t reconcile such a thing to him. He’s too damn honorable. The memory of the aftermath of that Halloween party flashed behind her eyes; she had sloppily attempted to seduce him then and there, but he’d refused to take advantage of her inebriated state. And even last night, he’d had the perfect chance to take advantage of her vulnerability following the creepy stalker incident, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d soothed her fears and calmed her nerves, staying with her, holding her through the night, in silent reassurance that she wasn’t alone –even if she’d woken up that way.
Surely such actions meant he wasn’t capable of being so callous and cruel as to use her to gain a job…?
The sound of a slam startled her from her brooding. She looked up sharply, her heart in her throat as she eyed the foyer, only to realize that it hadn’t been her front door making that sound. She bowed her head again and resumed her restless walk. He should be coming home any minute now…am I really ready for this?
She wasn’t a confrontational person by nature, but this was absolutely eating away at her. While Inuyasha had been unable to offer concrete evidence to back up his allegations, it had spurred her into action nonetheless. She’d cut her last class that afternoon and taken the train across town to the main headquarters of her family’s corporation. She had ready access to most of the company files, including personnel – and all of the applications for the various jobs and internships SHK had on offer. She’d checked all of them, probably leading the HR specialist to think she’d gone crazy, but her search turned up nothing. She’d even taken the time to read through the backlog of secure correspondence in her email inbox, finding nothing but nagging guilt for allowing it to languish for so long. There wasn’t the first mention of any of this season’s candidates yet; it made sense, considering invitations and applications had only been mailed out a scant few weeks before, at the beginning of March.
Still, her own lack of evidence did nothing to allay her anxiety, or her fear. She just couldn’t quite shake off Inuyasha’s accusations. What reason would he have to lie to me? she’d asked herself during the train ride back home, feeling frustrated and defeated all at the same time. After all, he’s never been anything less than totally open with me, whereas Sesshoumaru…
It sickened her to even think so badly of her boyfriend, but even from the start of their relationship, she’d had this nagging feeling, like he was keeping something from her. She’d done the best she could, making herself available for him in every way she’d known how, but still, he held back, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to share.
This would certainly be a good reason why, if it was true.
And so, here she stood, waiting in agony for him to arrive home, so she could find out once and for all just what the hell was going on.
Please, God, don’t let it be true…
She came to an abrupt halt when her phone buzzed against the table, indicating that she’d received a text. She snatched it up, flipping it open, her heart plummeting as she read the message:
“Sorry, but my meeting with the thesis advisor is running late. Don’t wait for me re: dinner. Don’t know when I’ll be home.”
At that moment, something inside of her snapped.
She hurled the phone across the room, heaving a deep breath, desperation clawing through her chest. He couldn’t even bother to call? she thought bitterly, tears heating behind her eyes.
“And yet again, he denies me,” she said aloud, covering her face with her hands.
Really, it was becoming par for the course. She couldn’t share his body, she couldn’t share his life, she couldn’t even share his space. He’d shut her out of all of these things, without explanation.
Didn’t he trust her?
Or was there some reason that she shouldn’t trust him?
It was too much. She couldn’t – she wouldn’t – stand for this any longer.
She shoved out of the common area, pressing down the hallway towards her room, when she stopped short, eyeing his bedroom door from afar. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she told herself, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she contemplated the consequences of her actions. Slowly, cautiously, she continued down the hall, her palms clammy as she reached for the knob of his door.
Locked.
Of course.
She should have expected nothing less.
She headed back to her own room, new resolve rising up within her. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but she knew a few ways around a simple door lock. She’d locked herself out of enough cars and rooms and apartments, for one – but there was also her younger brother Souta’s fascination with spy gear, and she’d picked up a few of his tricks. She gathered up the necessary equipment for her little expedition and returned to his bedroom door, determined to find some way in – and some answers, once and for all.
She knelt down, laying her tools on the ground in front of herself, and set to work.
Nail file.
She knew she was violating his privacy by breaking into his room.
Hair pin.
She also knew that, no matter what (if anything) she found, that merely by doing this, she was probably ruining their relationship.
Credit card.
What’s left of it, at least, she thought bitterly, biting her lower lip in an effort to keep her turbulent emotions at bay.
Lockpick kit, courtesy of Souta.
Finally, after much resistance, she felt the telltale click of the lock giving way, and slowly, she eased open the door, taking in the sight before her. She’d never even so much as glimpsed into this room until now, such was the extent of Sesshoumaru’s bid for privacy – and yet somehow, it was so…him: neat as a pin, organized to the hilt, clean and ordered and perfect.
She hesitated as she stood in the doorway, her breath shuttering in her lungs as she listened for any hint or sign that he’d returned. She slipped into the room, stealthily approaching the richly colored desk opposite, even after she was satisfied that she was the only one home. Gingerly, she lowered herself into his worn leather chair, her fingertips tingling as she contemplated where to begin her search.
She took a deep breath and reached for one of the drawers.
Time slipped by unmarked as she nosed through his things, going through all six of the desk drawers in the same nervous, yet methodical, way. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or upset when she came up with nothing, to either prove or disprove her worst suspicions. Just as she was about to give up altogether, her hand brushed aside a cadre of papers, revealing a half-hidden pile of neatly stacked pages.
“What’s this?” she murmured, feeling her heart gaining traction in her chest as she picked them up.
She exhaled sharply when she realized what she held – a set of internship applications, all filled out in his neat, elegant handwriting, all for post-graduate positions.
Her hands began to shake as she rifled through them, all of the doubts and misgivings of the last few weeks culminating behind her eyes.
No…
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” boomed a cold, hard voice, shattering her concentration —
– her mind –
– her heart.
Her fingers curled around five damning pages as she slowly swiveled in his chair, turning to face him, her heated gaze rising to meet his.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied angrily.