Fan Fiction ❯ What a Good Boy ❯ One-Shot

It should have been, Shima reflected, a good day. He was getting used to being a married man, and he was actually on cordial terms with his wife. They'd spent the previous night talking, and while he hadn't told her everything, she had been surprisingly understanding. Amazing, that she should be so. She was not so cold as he had anticipated, and nearly as uncomfortable with their arrangement as he was. Though uncomfortable was a mild word to describe it, he supposed. Still, they were both good, dutiful children and, as such, had merely swallowed the circumstances and smiled for the cameras. It was something they would be consigned to doing for the rest of their lives.

Which just made all of it harder; that was the crux of the situation. Bad enough to come work each day, to see him and be reminded that the space between them now was too great to be bridged. Bad enough that the rift was not of their own doing. But worst to see him with the other. The other whom he did not love, but perhaps was loved by. The other, not kind and not caring, the other whom Shima was not sure he could trust him with. The other that he had chosen, and that he would be faithful to.

There were times when Shima could almost hate that other man. Not for the things that he had done before, not for the pain he had caused, and was causing, him. Not even for the softening of his mouth around that name, or knowledge of the feelings that were growing inside him, that he did not or would not see. Just for the sense of fustrated fate, of opportunity gone and never extant. The sense that Shima would never and could never have him, however he felt, while the other always would sent a sliver of something dark and aching through his chest.

He'd caught them that morning, early. Much earlier, really, than the time he should have been there. But whatever the impetus, there he had been, and there he had seen them. Only a glimpse, a mere flash through a half open door as he'd passed. Only a second, but more than enough, just the second that his mouth had opened, sweetly, eagerly beneath the other's. More than enough, the way the other's hands moved over his body with a familiarity his own would never have. And that feeling hit him hard.

But he kept walking. He kept walking, and he crushed the urge to keep looking instead, did not turn back. Kept walking until he reached his office, and closed the door behind him, locked it. Sat at his desk, ignored the burning at the back of his throat, retreated within himself. Stared blankly at the papers laid out oh so neatly on the mahogany, and did not move. Had not moved.

Just a kiss, he told himself, a simple embrace. Nothing less innocent than that. Nothing they could be reprimanded for doing on company property. But the way they had stood, the way he had fit against the other, the way that dark feeling had rushed him, suffused him. It should have been you! something inside of him screamed. Not the other. This is what it gets you, playing by the rules.

It was hard to breath.

A knock on the door, then, and Shima came back to himself with a jolt. He was suddenly overwhelmed the the sense of his presence, like dark wings fluttering inside him. Hadn't heard anything, not those sharp, deliberate steps or that quiet, well-loved voice. But then, he had never needed to. He would know that he wouldn't have to speak.

He looked at the door. Come in, he should say. Come in. He didn't. And those footsteps walked away.

Shima closed his eyes. It should have been a good day. It should have been.

END.

Notes: Yeah, it's named after the BNL song, and yeah, it's a little rough. I just figured I should give Shima some time in the spotlight, poor boy.