InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Four Seasons ❯ Spring -- Evaporated ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: LuxKen27 
Submitted for the "Seasons Challenge" at dokuga_contest on LiveJournal.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.22.2008 | Updated On: 09.23.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 459 | Status: Completed
Submitted for the "Seasons Challenge" at dokuga_contest on LiveJournal.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.22.2008 | Updated On: 09.23.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 459 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media
Author’s Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author’s notes entry for this piece on my LJ.
“Evaporated” © 1997 Ben Folds (Ben Folds Five)
Spring had been Inuyasha’s favorite season. It had something to do with the rest of the world being reborn with unlimited potential – at least, that’s what his mother always claimed. Sesshoumaru spared no kind feelings for her, believing her naïve and foolish, but perhaps she was only trying to comfort her chronically ill child with such happy psychobabble.
Sesshoumaru peered out of the window in his tiny office, stuffed though he was at the end of a long hall in the west wing of the building. The rest of the room was covered in files, boxes and boxes of back-filed medical charts which were waiting to be entered into the new hospital database. The work was mind-numbingly boring, something he could complete with his eyes closed, but it paid decently and allowed him to be by himself – a much preferred state of affairs.
If he’d known how much time he’d spend here outside of his working hours in the last year, he never would’ve taken this job. Inuyasha’s last bout of illness landed him at this hospital, and it seemed his entire family camped out here for months on end. They finally released him, allowing him the privilege of dying at home, and Sesshoumaru could never quite face this place with the same remoteness as before.
His gaze slid over the small white blossoms of the trees, the sun reflecting back in his golden eyes as it shown down on the shiny young leaves. He stared out into the middle distance as memories consumed him.
It had been six months since Inuyasha’s death. Because it had been a long, complicated illness, there weren’t many loose ends left to tie up. He’d managed to cope in his own quiet way; only now was his life returning to some semblance of normal.
He had shoved this grief and trauma back with all the rest, blocking it from his mind completely, wanting nothing more than to move on with his life. He’d had more than his share of pain; all he really wanted was to lead a regular, boring, non-demanding life. He envied those with such mundane existences.
“I never took you for a daydreamer,” came an amused voice.
Sesshoumaru glanced towards the door of his office, surprised – and yet somehow, not – to see the young woman who stood there. She looked much the same as she had the last time he’d seen her – but then, how much could six months truly change a person’s appearance?
“What are you doing here?” he asked, folding his arms atop his desk as he regarded her.
She lifted the bag she held in one hand. “I’d heard rumors of some cold, rude man who worked down here, and I thought he might like a bit of company.”
“Hmph,” he sniffed as she settled in the chair across from him.
Kagome laughed as she spread the makings of a modest lunch out on the desk. “It seems you’re the talk of the psych ward,” she began, spreading soft cheese on a piece of brown bread. “Everyone’s afraid of you.”
Sesshoumaru watched her complete her neat ministrations. The skin on the backs of her hands was so smooth and pale…hands that showed no signs of facing a hard life. “Why are you in the psych ward?” he asked absently, his gaze sliding down the lengths of her fingers.
“I have an internship,” she replied. “A grief counseling rotation.” She pressed the halves of her sandwich together and took a bite, sitting back as if expecting an interrogation upon this little revelation.
“That’s a brave choice,” he murmured, “considering your history.”
She nudged the condiments and bread toward him, but he made no move to make use of them. “We all have different ways of dealing with things,” she said, taking another bite. “Speaking of, how are you holding up?”
He stared at her impassively, but inwardly he was rolling his eyes at her rather awkward bridge in conversation. Frankly, he was surprised she was sitting across from him so amicably, considering how things ended the last time they were in the same room together. Should he humor her?
“I’m fine,” he replied.
She eyed him seriously. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you,” she said plainly, lowering her sandwich into her lap. “I feel like I owe you.”
His heart skipped a beat, a flash of memory assailing him. “Don’t,” he bit out.
She gave a soft smile. “You won’t let me thank you outright,” she reminded him. “You were such a good friend to me then. Please, allow me to return the favor.”
Good friend. The spring after that awful trip to the clinic, she’d forgiven Inuyasha for his actions (or, more appropriately, the lack thereof) and resumed their relationship. Sesshoumaru remembered it well, because Inuyasha’s health had been poor, and the rekindled romance seemed to give him something to live for.
“All the rumors you’ve heard are true,” he said by way of reply. “I’m just as cold as I’ve always been. I have no use for other people.”
“Are you going to tell me to leave again?” she asked, her gaze as direct as her question.
Words bubbled up within him. He wanted to tell her just exactly that – to leave, get out of his life and take her stupid memories with her. He was sick of reliving his past at the expense of sleep and sanity. With her reappearance, he just knew he was in for another bout of insomnia. Unfinished business would once again roar up within him, undoing all of his hard work in keeping it locked away.
On the other hand, now that she was here…he didn’t want her to leave. Along with all of that resentment and pain, the flicker of affection he’d always carried still lingered. She was one of the few who’d never looked at him with judgment, who had accepted him for the snotty, arrogant bastard he was – and for everything he could’ve been.
“No,” he said gruffly.
His response seemed to please her immensely. “Good,” she said, gathering her belongings once again. She stood up and walked to the door, the impromptu meeting apparently over. His eyes followed her, flickering with surprise as she turned back to him.
“I lost you once,” she said softly, her hand on the knob. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling around for his keys, his eyes trained to the ground as he walked along. The sun was beginning to set, bright orange and red reflected across the sky. He sighed as he pulled out the appropriate key, more than ready to push this niggling thought from his mind. Exhaustion hovered at the periphery of his body; maybe if he went straight to bed, he’d be able to get some sleep.
“Sesshoumaru!”
He stopped short, swallowing an irritated groan as he realized who had called his name. His hands unconsciously clenched into fists as he stared down at his stepmother, who was sitting on the stoop of his building in a mass of tears.
“Oh, Sesshoumaru, thank goodness!” she whimpered, launching herself at him. He held himself steady, arms at his sides, hoping her fervent embrace would be short.
“Your father is gone!”
He stiffened, then forcibly separated himself from her. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“He’s just – gone!” she repeated, her eyes growing wide, tears pouring down her cheeks. “When I returned home from work, all of his things were packed, his car was gone. I just can’t believe – !” She choked on her words, covering her face with her hands once again.
Sesshoumaru couldn’t breathe. His heart was racing, thumping heavily against his ribcage. He left me, he thought helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, he was three again, watching his father stroke his mother’s hair and cry. The same fear clawed up in him, threatening to rage out of control. He inhaled sharply, clamping down on the feeling, pushing the childish memories from his mind.
“Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?” Inuyasha’s mother whispered between sobs. “I’m so afraid for him! He hasn’t been the same since Inuyasha died, but I never expected him to react like this!” She stifled a crazed whine, borne of fear and worry, as she regarded her stepson. “Please, Sesshoumaru! Please, if you know where he is – !”
Sesshoumaru turned his back to her, determined to get away from her hysteria before it engulfed him as well. His feet propelled forward, away from his apartment. Faintly, he heard her screech at him, but he didn’t look back.
His nerves were on end, his heart still racing, the fear and resentment he held at bay threatening to once again break free. If he couldn’t find his escape through sleep, he’d have to use another means.
His mind was already cloudy as he pushed into the bar at the end of his street. He relinquished all sentient thought, allowing his body to take over. All he wanted to do was shut it out: everything.
Inuyasha’s death.
Kagome’s return.
His father’s disappearance.
“We all have our own way of dealing with things,” she’d told him. His father’s way of dealing was to run, apparently. Why was it that nobody in his life stuck around for him? His mother was dead, his father was gone. Even people he didn’t necessarily like – his brother, the people he’d gone to school with – they all drifted away, leaving him alone.
Was he really so disposable?
The Russian vodka was cheap here. He ordered glass after glass, the alcohol burning the back of his throat as he choked it down. He didn’t know how long he sat there feeling sorry for himself, but when he finally shoved himself up, his head spun and his stomach threatened to return its contents. He never drank very much at a time, finding the taste rather unpalatable and the end state completely pointless, but he found it was a fantastic means for numbing nagging insecurity.
He managed to stumble home, explicitly reminding himself to lock the door, and went straight to bed, falling down face first without bothering to undress. His head was absolutely pounding now, his eyes two seconds away from literally burning out of their sockets, his mouth raw with the bitter taste of the unvarnished spirit.
Should’ve eaten, he thought as his eyelids drooped forward. Gonna be a bitch in the morning.
Such was his last conscious thought, the sleep he so craved falling over him all at once.
His day was going according to plan, until Kagome showed up for another lunch meeting. His stomach turned at the sight and smell of food, so he didn’t even bother to face her as she ate. He stared at the computer screen, watching the cursor blink as it waited for his next line of code.
“You look like hell,” Kagome remarked between bites. His back was to her at present, but she’d had time enough to take in the pinched draw of his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks when she arrived at his door.
“Hmph,” he grunted, tapping his fingers on the keyboard, spilling a line of junk across the screen.
“Is everything okay?” Her napkin rustled as she wiped her fingers.
“Dad skipped town, apparently,” he said tonelessly, flicking the backspace key to delete the nonsense. “Guess he finally snapped.”
“Whoa,” Kagome breathed. “I’m surprised to hear that.”
I’m not, Sesshoumaru thought.
“Are you okay? I mean, wow. That’s got to be tough.”
Sesshoumaru’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he swiveled around to face her. “I’m fine.”
Kagome swallowed convulsively, a bit startled to suddenly feel the intensity of his gaze. “How about your mother?”
Sesshoumaru gave a short laugh. “My mother’s dead,” he declared, his hands curling into fists. “My mother’s dead and my father’s gone. Now, don’t you feel sorry for me?”
“I’m sorry, Sess,” she whispered, her hand stealing across the desk to cover his. She ignored his wince at her touch. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He unleashed his signature glare. “No,” he ground out, pulling away from her. He gave her his back once again.
“Don’t keep it all bottled up inside,” she told him. “It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not one of your weepy patients,” he bit off. “Don’t patronize me with your empty platitudes.”
There was a pause before she answered. “I’m not speaking to you as a therapist, but as a friend. Please, Sess, don’t do this to yourself.”
He glared at her over his shoulder. “You’re free to leave at any time,” he informed her sarcastically. “If you don’t want to watch me ‘do this to myself’, there’s no reason for you to stay.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “You don’t scare me,” she said levelly.
He didn’t have an answer for that; he merely looked forward again, staring at the computer screen with complete focus. Anger and frustration swirled within him. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? He was nobody’s pet psychology project.
Kagome released a long sigh. “I have to get back,” she said, rising from her seat. She repacked the makings of her lunch, impulsively reaching out to touch him when she finished. “Take care, Sess,” she murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not alone.”
The warmth of her words poured over him as she left the room, but he resisted the comfort. Allowing comfort meant allowing her in, allowing her to poke around where she had no business, allowing old flames to burn as brightly as they once had.
No. Better to be cold and composed. He didn’t need anybody…just like nobody needed him.
He’d rather not think about it.
His stepmother hadn’t returned to his apartment after that awful day, and he hadn’t returned to that dark, dank bar. He lived his days in isolation, allowing time to slip past unmarked. His work was as mind-numbingly boring as it had always been, and it seemed that he’d finally achieved the heights of emotional repression as well. Aside from the occasional flicker at Kagome’s nearness, he felt hollow inside.
This was what he’d always wanted, yes? Numb the pain, stop the trauma, live life in mediocrity, just like everyone else.
So why did he feel like complete shit? It was exhausting to be so alone in the world, to go out of his way to avoid people.
The days were growing long as spring wore on. He was almost finished with this database, and he was beginning to feel a bit antsy about his next project. Should he take some time off and get away, maybe find his father? Should he plow on with his life as it was? Should he work up the inclination to ask Kagome out?
He sighed, turning back to his computer. She wasn’t outside today; he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days, actually. He didn’t know why, but something told him to reconnect with her. Nostalgia, perhaps? She hadn’t asked to be left with the majority of his brother’s personal effects, to step back into his life the way she had. She’d only wanted to be nice to him…to return the favor, she said. They’d had a nice friendship back then.
He thumbed through the stack of files yet to be coded, indirectly happy with the efficiency with which he’d gone through it. He was up to the T’s, the last of the most common last names. Looking at the same names over and over made his eyes glaze over after awhile. Good, he thought. Let’s get on with this.
He flipped open the file on the top, positioning his fingers on the keyboard before glancing back. As he read the name, however, he involuntarily sucked in a breath.
Tashiro, Inuyasha.
His eyes blurred as he stared down. His head felt hot and heavy all of a sudden; he became aware that his hands were shaking as they hovered over the keys. A fresh wave of emotion coursed through him as memories flashed behind his eyes.
Admitting him to this hospital.
His father sleeping in his room.
His stepmother bringing homemade soup.
The doctors telling them it was hopeless this time.
The relief he felt when he realized this was the last time he’d have to go through this.
His brother’s content smile as they met for a final chat.
“Let her have anything she wants,” he said with a happy sigh. “She made me who I am today.”
The gates were breaking; he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
He sat at his desk, visibly shaking, the blood draining from his face. His eyes couldn’t leave the first page of Inuyasha’s incredibly long medical history, locked on the characters that made up his name.
“Sesshoumaru?”
Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, taking a deep, controlled breath, willing his mind to shut off and his body to calm down. He curled his fingers against his palms, pushing away from his computer desk, putting one foot out to swivel around in his chair.
She was right there, before he could place her, her arms folded tightly across her chest, holding something, as she stared down at him with obvious concern. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, slipping over one shoulder, and he was reminded of the last time they’d been so close in proximity, how he didn’t even have to think about it, how natural it had been to embrace her and hold her and comfort her when she was so small and vulnerable and sad.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a hushed voice, crouching before him, resting her elbows on her knees. “Are you okay?”
He watched her wordlessly, concentrating on keeping his breathing even and regular. He couldn’t speak; his throat constricted as if rebelling against the very idea of speaking.
She tried to stay calm as she addressed him. “Sess, are you okay? Do we need to go upstairs to the ER?” One knee fell against the floor as she reached up, placing her hand on his shoulder, brushing away the silvery strands of his hair.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply again, pushing a pool of saliva back to coat his now-dry throat. “I’m…fine,” he choked out in a hoarse whisper.
She moved closer to him, the hand on his shoulder curving around the base of his neck, her eyes searching his face. “Are you sure?” she questioned.
He stared into the depths of her blue eyes, and he knew. Something primal broke through his self-imposed barriers, rising full within him. She was going to be the one to tear down his walls, the one to lay his soul bare. That teenage crush roared back to life, squeezing against his heart with fearsome force, scaring the shit out of him.
When had they switched roles? When had she become his confidant? When had he become so vulnerable?
The space of eight years? The space of six months? The space of fifteen minutes, when she happened upon him just now?
He took another deep breath, closing his eyes, composing himself. Was he ready to turn his life over to her? Was she ready for such a responsibility?
“I’m sure,” he finally answered. “I don’t need to leave this room.”
Kagome fell back at his reassurance, relief visible on her face as she hugged the object she held with a redoubled grip. “Thank God,” she whispered. “When you didn’t respond right away, and I had to come all the way over here just to get your attention…I was afraid you were having a grand mal!” She gave a small, hysterical laugh at that.
He looked down at her, questions rising to his tongue. “Why?” he breathed, resisting the urge to touch her, bring her close once more. Why are you here? he wanted to know, his vocal chords still struggling.
She gave him a helpless shrug, suddenly a bit sheepish as she looked up at him. “I was worried about you,” she said. “I know you told me not to, but I couldn’t help it!” She paused, her mouth working as she debated with herself. Finally, she thrust the object in her arms towards him. “I thought maybe…maybe you wouldn’t be resistant to this idea.”
He eyed the book skeptically, his heart racing, his emotions very much at the fore, rushing against him in waves, threatening to spill over. “What?”
She pressed the thin volume into his hands. “You’ve got to let it all out,” she said quietly. “Maybe you don’t want to talk about it, but all this stuff you’ve bottled up within yourself – and I can tell, it’s years upon years of resentment, frustration, whatever – you’ve got to let it out.” Her eyes met his, another helpless shrug tugging at her shoulders. “You can write it down in this book, get it all out of your system, give your heart a chance to lighten its burden.”
He stared down at the book, his eyes travelling the length of her outstretched arm. “I don’t have a heart anymore,” he said quietly, sadly. “I poured it out long ago, and it evaporated.”
Author’s Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author’s notes entry for this piece on my LJ.
“Evaporated” © 1997 Ben Folds (Ben Folds Five)
Spring had been Inuyasha’s favorite season. It had something to do with the rest of the world being reborn with unlimited potential – at least, that’s what his mother always claimed. Sesshoumaru spared no kind feelings for her, believing her naïve and foolish, but perhaps she was only trying to comfort her chronically ill child with such happy psychobabble.
Sesshoumaru peered out of the window in his tiny office, stuffed though he was at the end of a long hall in the west wing of the building. The rest of the room was covered in files, boxes and boxes of back-filed medical charts which were waiting to be entered into the new hospital database. The work was mind-numbingly boring, something he could complete with his eyes closed, but it paid decently and allowed him to be by himself – a much preferred state of affairs.
If he’d known how much time he’d spend here outside of his working hours in the last year, he never would’ve taken this job. Inuyasha’s last bout of illness landed him at this hospital, and it seemed his entire family camped out here for months on end. They finally released him, allowing him the privilege of dying at home, and Sesshoumaru could never quite face this place with the same remoteness as before.
His gaze slid over the small white blossoms of the trees, the sun reflecting back in his golden eyes as it shown down on the shiny young leaves. He stared out into the middle distance as memories consumed him.
It had been six months since Inuyasha’s death. Because it had been a long, complicated illness, there weren’t many loose ends left to tie up. He’d managed to cope in his own quiet way; only now was his life returning to some semblance of normal.
He had shoved this grief and trauma back with all the rest, blocking it from his mind completely, wanting nothing more than to move on with his life. He’d had more than his share of pain; all he really wanted was to lead a regular, boring, non-demanding life. He envied those with such mundane existences.
“I never took you for a daydreamer,” came an amused voice.
Sesshoumaru glanced towards the door of his office, surprised – and yet somehow, not – to see the young woman who stood there. She looked much the same as she had the last time he’d seen her – but then, how much could six months truly change a person’s appearance?
“What are you doing here?” he asked, folding his arms atop his desk as he regarded her.
She lifted the bag she held in one hand. “I’d heard rumors of some cold, rude man who worked down here, and I thought he might like a bit of company.”
“Hmph,” he sniffed as she settled in the chair across from him.
Kagome laughed as she spread the makings of a modest lunch out on the desk. “It seems you’re the talk of the psych ward,” she began, spreading soft cheese on a piece of brown bread. “Everyone’s afraid of you.”
Sesshoumaru watched her complete her neat ministrations. The skin on the backs of her hands was so smooth and pale…hands that showed no signs of facing a hard life. “Why are you in the psych ward?” he asked absently, his gaze sliding down the lengths of her fingers.
“I have an internship,” she replied. “A grief counseling rotation.” She pressed the halves of her sandwich together and took a bite, sitting back as if expecting an interrogation upon this little revelation.
“That’s a brave choice,” he murmured, “considering your history.”
She nudged the condiments and bread toward him, but he made no move to make use of them. “We all have different ways of dealing with things,” she said, taking another bite. “Speaking of, how are you holding up?”
He stared at her impassively, but inwardly he was rolling his eyes at her rather awkward bridge in conversation. Frankly, he was surprised she was sitting across from him so amicably, considering how things ended the last time they were in the same room together. Should he humor her?
“I’m fine,” he replied.
She eyed him seriously. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you,” she said plainly, lowering her sandwich into her lap. “I feel like I owe you.”
His heart skipped a beat, a flash of memory assailing him. “Don’t,” he bit out.
She gave a soft smile. “You won’t let me thank you outright,” she reminded him. “You were such a good friend to me then. Please, allow me to return the favor.”
Good friend. The spring after that awful trip to the clinic, she’d forgiven Inuyasha for his actions (or, more appropriately, the lack thereof) and resumed their relationship. Sesshoumaru remembered it well, because Inuyasha’s health had been poor, and the rekindled romance seemed to give him something to live for.
“All the rumors you’ve heard are true,” he said by way of reply. “I’m just as cold as I’ve always been. I have no use for other people.”
“Are you going to tell me to leave again?” she asked, her gaze as direct as her question.
Words bubbled up within him. He wanted to tell her just exactly that – to leave, get out of his life and take her stupid memories with her. He was sick of reliving his past at the expense of sleep and sanity. With her reappearance, he just knew he was in for another bout of insomnia. Unfinished business would once again roar up within him, undoing all of his hard work in keeping it locked away.
On the other hand, now that she was here…he didn’t want her to leave. Along with all of that resentment and pain, the flicker of affection he’d always carried still lingered. She was one of the few who’d never looked at him with judgment, who had accepted him for the snotty, arrogant bastard he was – and for everything he could’ve been.
“No,” he said gruffly.
His response seemed to please her immensely. “Good,” she said, gathering her belongings once again. She stood up and walked to the door, the impromptu meeting apparently over. His eyes followed her, flickering with surprise as she turned back to him.
“I lost you once,” she said softly, her hand on the knob. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
~*~
Kagome’s words rattled around Sesshoumaru’s brain as he walked home that evening. What did she mean by that? Did she miss him? How could that make sense? The absolute love and devotion she held for his brother had been obvious – in action, if not in words. After forgiving him, she spent most of her free time doting on him and nursing him back to health. If she’d lost touch with the rest of the world, well, that was on her shoulders, not his.He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling around for his keys, his eyes trained to the ground as he walked along. The sun was beginning to set, bright orange and red reflected across the sky. He sighed as he pulled out the appropriate key, more than ready to push this niggling thought from his mind. Exhaustion hovered at the periphery of his body; maybe if he went straight to bed, he’d be able to get some sleep.
“Sesshoumaru!”
He stopped short, swallowing an irritated groan as he realized who had called his name. His hands unconsciously clenched into fists as he stared down at his stepmother, who was sitting on the stoop of his building in a mass of tears.
“Oh, Sesshoumaru, thank goodness!” she whimpered, launching herself at him. He held himself steady, arms at his sides, hoping her fervent embrace would be short.
“Your father is gone!”
He stiffened, then forcibly separated himself from her. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“He’s just – gone!” she repeated, her eyes growing wide, tears pouring down her cheeks. “When I returned home from work, all of his things were packed, his car was gone. I just can’t believe – !” She choked on her words, covering her face with her hands once again.
Sesshoumaru couldn’t breathe. His heart was racing, thumping heavily against his ribcage. He left me, he thought helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, he was three again, watching his father stroke his mother’s hair and cry. The same fear clawed up in him, threatening to rage out of control. He inhaled sharply, clamping down on the feeling, pushing the childish memories from his mind.
“Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?” Inuyasha’s mother whispered between sobs. “I’m so afraid for him! He hasn’t been the same since Inuyasha died, but I never expected him to react like this!” She stifled a crazed whine, borne of fear and worry, as she regarded her stepson. “Please, Sesshoumaru! Please, if you know where he is – !”
Sesshoumaru turned his back to her, determined to get away from her hysteria before it engulfed him as well. His feet propelled forward, away from his apartment. Faintly, he heard her screech at him, but he didn’t look back.
His nerves were on end, his heart still racing, the fear and resentment he held at bay threatening to once again break free. If he couldn’t find his escape through sleep, he’d have to use another means.
His mind was already cloudy as he pushed into the bar at the end of his street. He relinquished all sentient thought, allowing his body to take over. All he wanted to do was shut it out: everything.
Inuyasha’s death.
Kagome’s return.
His father’s disappearance.
“We all have our own way of dealing with things,” she’d told him. His father’s way of dealing was to run, apparently. Why was it that nobody in his life stuck around for him? His mother was dead, his father was gone. Even people he didn’t necessarily like – his brother, the people he’d gone to school with – they all drifted away, leaving him alone.
Was he really so disposable?
The Russian vodka was cheap here. He ordered glass after glass, the alcohol burning the back of his throat as he choked it down. He didn’t know how long he sat there feeling sorry for himself, but when he finally shoved himself up, his head spun and his stomach threatened to return its contents. He never drank very much at a time, finding the taste rather unpalatable and the end state completely pointless, but he found it was a fantastic means for numbing nagging insecurity.
He managed to stumble home, explicitly reminding himself to lock the door, and went straight to bed, falling down face first without bothering to undress. His head was absolutely pounding now, his eyes two seconds away from literally burning out of their sockets, his mouth raw with the bitter taste of the unvarnished spirit.
Should’ve eaten, he thought as his eyelids drooped forward. Gonna be a bitch in the morning.
Such was his last conscious thought, the sleep he so craved falling over him all at once.
~*~
Perhaps if his job placed any sorts of demands on his time, energy, or brain, he would’ve called out the next morning, when he woke up feeling like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. As it was, all he felt was this physical pain, so he fumbled through the motions of getting ready. He could spend a day in the dark west wing of the hospital, staring at a computer screen with bleary eyes. Maybe eight or ten hours of data entry would further numb his mind.His day was going according to plan, until Kagome showed up for another lunch meeting. His stomach turned at the sight and smell of food, so he didn’t even bother to face her as she ate. He stared at the computer screen, watching the cursor blink as it waited for his next line of code.
“You look like hell,” Kagome remarked between bites. His back was to her at present, but she’d had time enough to take in the pinched draw of his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks when she arrived at his door.
“Hmph,” he grunted, tapping his fingers on the keyboard, spilling a line of junk across the screen.
“Is everything okay?” Her napkin rustled as she wiped her fingers.
“Dad skipped town, apparently,” he said tonelessly, flicking the backspace key to delete the nonsense. “Guess he finally snapped.”
“Whoa,” Kagome breathed. “I’m surprised to hear that.”
I’m not, Sesshoumaru thought.
“Are you okay? I mean, wow. That’s got to be tough.”
Sesshoumaru’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he swiveled around to face her. “I’m fine.”
Kagome swallowed convulsively, a bit startled to suddenly feel the intensity of his gaze. “How about your mother?”
Sesshoumaru gave a short laugh. “My mother’s dead,” he declared, his hands curling into fists. “My mother’s dead and my father’s gone. Now, don’t you feel sorry for me?”
“I’m sorry, Sess,” she whispered, her hand stealing across the desk to cover his. She ignored his wince at her touch. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He unleashed his signature glare. “No,” he ground out, pulling away from her. He gave her his back once again.
“Don’t keep it all bottled up inside,” she told him. “It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not one of your weepy patients,” he bit off. “Don’t patronize me with your empty platitudes.”
There was a pause before she answered. “I’m not speaking to you as a therapist, but as a friend. Please, Sess, don’t do this to yourself.”
He glared at her over his shoulder. “You’re free to leave at any time,” he informed her sarcastically. “If you don’t want to watch me ‘do this to myself’, there’s no reason for you to stay.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “You don’t scare me,” she said levelly.
He didn’t have an answer for that; he merely looked forward again, staring at the computer screen with complete focus. Anger and frustration swirled within him. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? He was nobody’s pet psychology project.
Kagome released a long sigh. “I have to get back,” she said, rising from her seat. She repacked the makings of her lunch, impulsively reaching out to touch him when she finished. “Take care, Sess,” she murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not alone.”
The warmth of her words poured over him as she left the room, but he resisted the comfort. Allowing comfort meant allowing her in, allowing her to poke around where she had no business, allowing old flames to burn as brightly as they once had.
No. Better to be cold and composed. He didn’t need anybody…just like nobody needed him.
~*~
Kagome didn’t return for the daily lunch routine after that strained conversation. It seemed her work was picking up; sometimes when Sesshoumaru took a break and looked out the window, he could see her with her therapy group, sitting outside under one of the dappled trees. She wasn’t there every day, but often enough to make him wonder if she chose that particular spot, given the vicinity of his window.He’d rather not think about it.
His stepmother hadn’t returned to his apartment after that awful day, and he hadn’t returned to that dark, dank bar. He lived his days in isolation, allowing time to slip past unmarked. His work was as mind-numbingly boring as it had always been, and it seemed that he’d finally achieved the heights of emotional repression as well. Aside from the occasional flicker at Kagome’s nearness, he felt hollow inside.
This was what he’d always wanted, yes? Numb the pain, stop the trauma, live life in mediocrity, just like everyone else.
So why did he feel like complete shit? It was exhausting to be so alone in the world, to go out of his way to avoid people.
The days were growing long as spring wore on. He was almost finished with this database, and he was beginning to feel a bit antsy about his next project. Should he take some time off and get away, maybe find his father? Should he plow on with his life as it was? Should he work up the inclination to ask Kagome out?
He sighed, turning back to his computer. She wasn’t outside today; he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days, actually. He didn’t know why, but something told him to reconnect with her. Nostalgia, perhaps? She hadn’t asked to be left with the majority of his brother’s personal effects, to step back into his life the way she had. She’d only wanted to be nice to him…to return the favor, she said. They’d had a nice friendship back then.
He thumbed through the stack of files yet to be coded, indirectly happy with the efficiency with which he’d gone through it. He was up to the T’s, the last of the most common last names. Looking at the same names over and over made his eyes glaze over after awhile. Good, he thought. Let’s get on with this.
He flipped open the file on the top, positioning his fingers on the keyboard before glancing back. As he read the name, however, he involuntarily sucked in a breath.
Tashiro, Inuyasha.
His eyes blurred as he stared down. His head felt hot and heavy all of a sudden; he became aware that his hands were shaking as they hovered over the keys. A fresh wave of emotion coursed through him as memories flashed behind his eyes.
Admitting him to this hospital.
His father sleeping in his room.
His stepmother bringing homemade soup.
The doctors telling them it was hopeless this time.
The relief he felt when he realized this was the last time he’d have to go through this.
His brother’s content smile as they met for a final chat.
“Let her have anything she wants,” he said with a happy sigh. “She made me who I am today.”
The gates were breaking; he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
He sat at his desk, visibly shaking, the blood draining from his face. His eyes couldn’t leave the first page of Inuyasha’s incredibly long medical history, locked on the characters that made up his name.
“Sesshoumaru?”
Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, taking a deep, controlled breath, willing his mind to shut off and his body to calm down. He curled his fingers against his palms, pushing away from his computer desk, putting one foot out to swivel around in his chair.
She was right there, before he could place her, her arms folded tightly across her chest, holding something, as she stared down at him with obvious concern. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, slipping over one shoulder, and he was reminded of the last time they’d been so close in proximity, how he didn’t even have to think about it, how natural it had been to embrace her and hold her and comfort her when she was so small and vulnerable and sad.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a hushed voice, crouching before him, resting her elbows on her knees. “Are you okay?”
He watched her wordlessly, concentrating on keeping his breathing even and regular. He couldn’t speak; his throat constricted as if rebelling against the very idea of speaking.
She tried to stay calm as she addressed him. “Sess, are you okay? Do we need to go upstairs to the ER?” One knee fell against the floor as she reached up, placing her hand on his shoulder, brushing away the silvery strands of his hair.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply again, pushing a pool of saliva back to coat his now-dry throat. “I’m…fine,” he choked out in a hoarse whisper.
She moved closer to him, the hand on his shoulder curving around the base of his neck, her eyes searching his face. “Are you sure?” she questioned.
He stared into the depths of her blue eyes, and he knew. Something primal broke through his self-imposed barriers, rising full within him. She was going to be the one to tear down his walls, the one to lay his soul bare. That teenage crush roared back to life, squeezing against his heart with fearsome force, scaring the shit out of him.
When had they switched roles? When had she become his confidant? When had he become so vulnerable?
The space of eight years? The space of six months? The space of fifteen minutes, when she happened upon him just now?
He took another deep breath, closing his eyes, composing himself. Was he ready to turn his life over to her? Was she ready for such a responsibility?
“I’m sure,” he finally answered. “I don’t need to leave this room.”
Kagome fell back at his reassurance, relief visible on her face as she hugged the object she held with a redoubled grip. “Thank God,” she whispered. “When you didn’t respond right away, and I had to come all the way over here just to get your attention…I was afraid you were having a grand mal!” She gave a small, hysterical laugh at that.
He looked down at her, questions rising to his tongue. “Why?” he breathed, resisting the urge to touch her, bring her close once more. Why are you here? he wanted to know, his vocal chords still struggling.
She gave him a helpless shrug, suddenly a bit sheepish as she looked up at him. “I was worried about you,” she said. “I know you told me not to, but I couldn’t help it!” She paused, her mouth working as she debated with herself. Finally, she thrust the object in her arms towards him. “I thought maybe…maybe you wouldn’t be resistant to this idea.”
He eyed the book skeptically, his heart racing, his emotions very much at the fore, rushing against him in waves, threatening to spill over. “What?”
She pressed the thin volume into his hands. “You’ve got to let it all out,” she said quietly. “Maybe you don’t want to talk about it, but all this stuff you’ve bottled up within yourself – and I can tell, it’s years upon years of resentment, frustration, whatever – you’ve got to let it out.” Her eyes met his, another helpless shrug tugging at her shoulders. “You can write it down in this book, get it all out of your system, give your heart a chance to lighten its burden.”
He stared down at the book, his eyes travelling the length of her outstretched arm. “I don’t have a heart anymore,” he said quietly, sadly. “I poured it out long ago, and it evaporated.”