InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A First Time For Everything ❯ "That Should Be Me" ( Chapter 21 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: MIztikal_Dragon 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.22.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 278 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.22.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 278 | Status: Work In Progress
DISCLAIMER: Nope, still don't own anything. Not InuYasha, not Rin or Sesshomaru but we'll pretend I own my computer where I hold all of the stories I think up.
Side Note: If you have not listened to the song "That Should be Me" by Justin Bieber, I'd advise you to do so. It is really the cement for the thought of this story.
A First Time For Everything
By Miztikal-Dragon
Elegant and reserved was simply not a part of who she was and yet somehow she had pulled it off as though it was second nature to her. The murmur of voices grew louder behind him and casting a glance over his shoulder he saw the small crowd gathering there. They were waiting for him to move, waiting for him to find a seat and he rose his eyebrow at the anxious glances tossed his way before he went down the nearest empty row.
He refused to sit in the front or the middle rows on either side, it was where everyone else would be located; all attempting to see the bride and groom, to capture the perfect picture and he was not trying to do either. So the back row was the perfect place for him. He hadn’t even wanted to show up to begin with. He did not attend weddings or funerals in the past, so this one should not have been any different; however, when the invitation arrived in his mailbox, he found himself unable to stop himself from sending in his R.S.V.P instead of throwing the gaudy card away like he wanted to.
And look at where it had gotten him!. He was dressed up on a day off, suit and tie, sitting on a stiff bench in the back of some church waiting for a wedding that he did not want to be at to commence. He could have made an excuse--any would have sufficed and no questions would be asked. No one would have faulted him or blamed him for not showing (not to his face at least), and all of this could have been avoided.
Regret for not finding something better to do was pulling at his stomach as the benches around him began filling up, his particular row staying quite empty much to his relief. He was unsure if he’d be able to stay sane listening to endless chatter on how beautiful everything was or how the bride and groom were perfect for each other because if he did, then no one would be living by the end of the service, not even the pastor. Murdering everyone inside the church was frowned upon in every state and country that he knew of so he pushed it from his mind and tried to keep his mind on less mundane, though not as satisfactory things.
There were still a few clients he had to follow up on, a few hundred files that he needed to put into filing cabinets that his newer secretary had shown signs of being incapable of and a new add to place in the paper if said secretary could not get their act together. His dry cleaning had to be picked up, groceries would have to be bought and then put away. And if he really wanted to, the woman who came to clean his flat could fired and he could clean his own home.
With his thoughts elsewhere, he hadn’t kept his attention on the people around him and when the music began it startled him. People he vaguely knew came and went down the isle and if he had cared enough to try to put a name to the faces he was sure he would have known who each of them where. They; however, were all unimportant to him and he watched the ceremony progression with uncaring boredom.
Her father had been dead for more years than he could remember so it was a family friend who ushered the bride down the isle when it came time for her, another face he recognized and blatantly ignored. It was the bride he had come to see (no matter how he rationalized his denials) and he was surprised again by the elegance she displayed. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised, it was a wedding after all and though he wanted to believe otherwise, it was her wedding.
At the sight of her, he had to admit that he had been made close to breathless and his heart had skipped a beat. She wasn’t swathed in white like he had always thought she would be by her descriptions of perfect wedding dresses, but clothed in a magnificent sweetheart cut dress (something else she had practically drilled into his brain) and it had reminded him of a dress belonging in one of those fairy tales stories she had always been going on and on about. It was a simple dress, no sequins or bows, just smooth fabric down the bodice until it came out in an arch, held up by undoubtedly the scratch uncomfortable material she complained about, not that he could remember what it was called.
The veil covering her face went only a little past her chin, more out of safety of the bride and anyone in her path than practicality; the longer part secured over her head as her simple, yet light-weight train. His gaze followed her, thousands of thoughts rushing by him as she grew further from him, disappointment and quiet desperation filing his chest.
His fingers clutched at the material of trousers as he willed himself to stay seated. The sudden urge to stop the ceremony around him was becoming overwhelming, the need to tear her away from this ridiculous event and tell her she was once again, doing something stupid, but he struggled to quash it. He did not want her to get married, he realized, not to the groom she was closing in on and he bit down on his tongue as it began.
How many nights had she spent laying in his arms rambling on about wedding dresses, about styles and cuts and her dreams of the perfect day and he had blown them off without thinking. He hadn’t been wanting a marriage, hell even a commitment that could transform into a possibility of such an outcome and now he wasn’t wanting the same for her. He was trapped in the past, how her small fingers laced his larger ones, how she smiled at him in a way that made his toes curl and his insides melt. He missed the way her lips tasted after crying over some silly movie or novel, or the way she laughed at him for the most unbelievable reasons like the way he brushed his teeth in the morning.
He had forgotten about the subtle her lips quirked into a smile when she was up to something or the overdramatic way she behaved while she was angry or felt wronged. So many things were attaching him now and he frowned angrily as the world merely went on without him, how she could pick up the pieces of her life so easily and walk away from him and permanently.
Quietly he seethed and thought of why he should stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life, stop her from giving her love to a man that was not him and though he knew he should have done it much sooner, better late than never right? He forced his ears to listen for the moment he could make his rebuttal to her decision, to stake his claim on her and end this pointless parade of bad ideas and wrong turns and set things right.
He waited for the moment, waited for the words and when they finally came emptiness filled the church and several pairs of eyes ghosted back in his direction almost urgently. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins and he stared at her almost pleading her to back out (not that he would actually do such) and her eyes did the same, but begging for him to stay silent. Suddenly he was at a loss, he wanted to say something, anything that would make her his again, but he could not formulate the words, could not get them to leave his chest and he said nothing.
It ended without him knowing, the intimate kiss between bride and groom as they became one, the cheers and the people filing out after the now happily married couple departed. He stayed seated, figuratively stuck to the bench as the numbers dwindled, his eyes glued to his fisted hands. He was angry at himself, bitter and so many other emotions rolled into one big ball of crazy that he could barely process that it was all over.
“I always thought you two would end up together,” a soft baritone voice said lightly, signaling a guest to his inner turmoil and he refused to spare a glance at the intruder. His family never did know when not to pry.
His brother continued on with his monologue, the tiring, beautiful ceremony, how things had a knack for being unexpected and how happy she looked, how her smile was one everybody commented how radiant it was. The words were eating at him, devouring him and he felt as though he was stuck in a hole that he could not find his way out of.
“It should have been you up there with her,” his brother said bluntly, his voice even with conviction and he could feel himself breaking.
“For once in your pathetic existence shut up InuYasha,” he didn’t need his brother pointing out the obvious, not when he was thinking the same thing deep enough to cause pain. He didn’t need the reminder that everything had gone to hell in a hand basket because he hadn’t cared enough to horde what he hadn’t known was important.
“Sesshomaru, I--”
“Enough,” he growled getting to his feet and straightening the wrinkles from his clothing.
Sesshomaru did not want to see the pity in his younger brothers eyes, or the silent accusation that he did not do enough to hold onto what had been his. It was not his fault that she had said yes to the sudden marriage proposal from another guy, it wasn’t his fault that she had fallen in love with another man, no matter how wrong it felt to him. There was no longer any room for the could haves, would haves, should haves, or what if’s and he wasn’t planning on making anymore for them as they were nothing but excuses now.
He was the last to leave the church and one of the last to arrive to the banquet hall for the after-party. It was yet another thing he did not want to attend that he found himself at anyway. People cluttered the tables with their chatter, faces animated and happy and he felt out of place. He wasn’t happy, not anywhere near such and hadn’t been in what was now an eternity.
The toasts were over and he could see her spinning around care freely on the dance floor, her smile shaving the sides of the hole in his chest, expanding the emptiness and he let a frown slip onto his face. This was not where he wanted to be, not in his current situation and he silently promised himself that he would never let himself get this way again. There would be no pining, no longing for a woman or for something he could not handle.
He realized a little too late that what he had felt with her was love, a burning passionate love that, when it was gone nearly destroyed him and it was too dangerous now to attempt to gamble with that feeling again.
“Sesshomaru?” Her voice drifted into his ears and he would have laughed at himself had he been the type.
Without even thinking he had gone to her, his feet on a mission he could not comprehend and silently he offered his hand to her. She stared at him for the longest moment of his life before she took his offer with uncertainty. It felt alien, her fingers folding over his hand, her other hand resting gently on his shoulder, but at the same time if felt so right. She fitted him perfectly, like she belonged with him and he held her as close as he could as he lead her into a new song.
The veil was long gone and Sesshomaru noticed the messy bun she kept her hair in, the way the long midnight colored strands of her hair curled around her face, her uneven bangs giving her eyes an allure he had once labeled as her ‘bedroom look’. It made him ache for her being so close, the way they moved in time to the orchestra playing. Her smile was hesitant, almost shy and if it had been any other day besides her wedding day he would not have ignored the urge to kiss her slightly parted pouty, lips.
He was able to control his urges as the song ended and she pulled away. He had to come to terms that she was not his and now, would probably never be and he had to accept it. She did not belong to him, could not belong to him and though he felt his heart breaking a little more than he thought it could, he swallowed it.
“You look beautiful Rin,” he whispered softly, his hand touching her cheek as his lips dusted across her forehead. “Kohaku is a lucky man, I’m happy for you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes refusing to fall and a smile he remembered being solely for him graced him once again. “Thank you.”
He did give her the ‘I love you’ he had neglected to give her before or tell her that she was making the biggest mistake of her life because it did not matter. She had made her choice and in the grand scheme of things it was her happiness that truly mattered most. If Kohaku was what she wanted, was whom she loved then there was nothing Sesshomaru could do or say that would change it to his favor. If by staying quiet he could save her from the heartache of what they had been, from tears of pain or anger then he would not say a word.
E/N: So it's not really a Rin/Sesshomaru pairing, but this is what happens when I listen to Justin Bieber for two days in a row to and from work. I have a few more stories I'm bouncing off the walls of my truck and my muse Rochelle, hoping to have one or two more finished in a week or so. YAY! Thanks for all the reviews, and please, feel free to leave more on your way out!
The website for the wedding dress I had thought rocked was http-semicolon // www dot glamourousgowns dot co dot uk backslash images backslash morilee backslash blu backslash 4816b dot jpg
Converting /tmp/phpIzDjfj to /dev/stdout
Side Note: If you have not listened to the song "That Should be Me" by Justin Bieber, I'd advise you to do so. It is really the cement for the thought of this story.
A First Time For Everything
By Miztikal-Dragon
“That Should Be Me”-- Justin Bieber
He was surprised to find himself in the crowded church hall, hundreds of quiet murmurs behind him. There were silver ribbons and banners lining the walls with beautiful white and lavender flowers---tulips and lilies if he was correct. It was a beautiful arrangement, subtle and very comforting, something completely opposite of the bride. Honestly, he’d been expecting loud blasts of colors, spots and stripes. An explosion of personality and he hadn’t made up his mind to whether or not to be disappointed.Elegant and reserved was simply not a part of who she was and yet somehow she had pulled it off as though it was second nature to her. The murmur of voices grew louder behind him and casting a glance over his shoulder he saw the small crowd gathering there. They were waiting for him to move, waiting for him to find a seat and he rose his eyebrow at the anxious glances tossed his way before he went down the nearest empty row.
He refused to sit in the front or the middle rows on either side, it was where everyone else would be located; all attempting to see the bride and groom, to capture the perfect picture and he was not trying to do either. So the back row was the perfect place for him. He hadn’t even wanted to show up to begin with. He did not attend weddings or funerals in the past, so this one should not have been any different; however, when the invitation arrived in his mailbox, he found himself unable to stop himself from sending in his R.S.V.P instead of throwing the gaudy card away like he wanted to.
And look at where it had gotten him!. He was dressed up on a day off, suit and tie, sitting on a stiff bench in the back of some church waiting for a wedding that he did not want to be at to commence. He could have made an excuse--any would have sufficed and no questions would be asked. No one would have faulted him or blamed him for not showing (not to his face at least), and all of this could have been avoided.
Regret for not finding something better to do was pulling at his stomach as the benches around him began filling up, his particular row staying quite empty much to his relief. He was unsure if he’d be able to stay sane listening to endless chatter on how beautiful everything was or how the bride and groom were perfect for each other because if he did, then no one would be living by the end of the service, not even the pastor. Murdering everyone inside the church was frowned upon in every state and country that he knew of so he pushed it from his mind and tried to keep his mind on less mundane, though not as satisfactory things.
There were still a few clients he had to follow up on, a few hundred files that he needed to put into filing cabinets that his newer secretary had shown signs of being incapable of and a new add to place in the paper if said secretary could not get their act together. His dry cleaning had to be picked up, groceries would have to be bought and then put away. And if he really wanted to, the woman who came to clean his flat could fired and he could clean his own home.
With his thoughts elsewhere, he hadn’t kept his attention on the people around him and when the music began it startled him. People he vaguely knew came and went down the isle and if he had cared enough to try to put a name to the faces he was sure he would have known who each of them where. They; however, were all unimportant to him and he watched the ceremony progression with uncaring boredom.
Her father had been dead for more years than he could remember so it was a family friend who ushered the bride down the isle when it came time for her, another face he recognized and blatantly ignored. It was the bride he had come to see (no matter how he rationalized his denials) and he was surprised again by the elegance she displayed. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised, it was a wedding after all and though he wanted to believe otherwise, it was her wedding.
At the sight of her, he had to admit that he had been made close to breathless and his heart had skipped a beat. She wasn’t swathed in white like he had always thought she would be by her descriptions of perfect wedding dresses, but clothed in a magnificent sweetheart cut dress (something else she had practically drilled into his brain) and it had reminded him of a dress belonging in one of those fairy tales stories she had always been going on and on about. It was a simple dress, no sequins or bows, just smooth fabric down the bodice until it came out in an arch, held up by undoubtedly the scratch uncomfortable material she complained about, not that he could remember what it was called.
The veil covering her face went only a little past her chin, more out of safety of the bride and anyone in her path than practicality; the longer part secured over her head as her simple, yet light-weight train. His gaze followed her, thousands of thoughts rushing by him as she grew further from him, disappointment and quiet desperation filing his chest.
His fingers clutched at the material of trousers as he willed himself to stay seated. The sudden urge to stop the ceremony around him was becoming overwhelming, the need to tear her away from this ridiculous event and tell her she was once again, doing something stupid, but he struggled to quash it. He did not want her to get married, he realized, not to the groom she was closing in on and he bit down on his tongue as it began.
How many nights had she spent laying in his arms rambling on about wedding dresses, about styles and cuts and her dreams of the perfect day and he had blown them off without thinking. He hadn’t been wanting a marriage, hell even a commitment that could transform into a possibility of such an outcome and now he wasn’t wanting the same for her. He was trapped in the past, how her small fingers laced his larger ones, how she smiled at him in a way that made his toes curl and his insides melt. He missed the way her lips tasted after crying over some silly movie or novel, or the way she laughed at him for the most unbelievable reasons like the way he brushed his teeth in the morning.
He had forgotten about the subtle her lips quirked into a smile when she was up to something or the overdramatic way she behaved while she was angry or felt wronged. So many things were attaching him now and he frowned angrily as the world merely went on without him, how she could pick up the pieces of her life so easily and walk away from him and permanently.
Quietly he seethed and thought of why he should stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life, stop her from giving her love to a man that was not him and though he knew he should have done it much sooner, better late than never right? He forced his ears to listen for the moment he could make his rebuttal to her decision, to stake his claim on her and end this pointless parade of bad ideas and wrong turns and set things right.
He waited for the moment, waited for the words and when they finally came emptiness filled the church and several pairs of eyes ghosted back in his direction almost urgently. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins and he stared at her almost pleading her to back out (not that he would actually do such) and her eyes did the same, but begging for him to stay silent. Suddenly he was at a loss, he wanted to say something, anything that would make her his again, but he could not formulate the words, could not get them to leave his chest and he said nothing.
It ended without him knowing, the intimate kiss between bride and groom as they became one, the cheers and the people filing out after the now happily married couple departed. He stayed seated, figuratively stuck to the bench as the numbers dwindled, his eyes glued to his fisted hands. He was angry at himself, bitter and so many other emotions rolled into one big ball of crazy that he could barely process that it was all over.
“I always thought you two would end up together,” a soft baritone voice said lightly, signaling a guest to his inner turmoil and he refused to spare a glance at the intruder. His family never did know when not to pry.
His brother continued on with his monologue, the tiring, beautiful ceremony, how things had a knack for being unexpected and how happy she looked, how her smile was one everybody commented how radiant it was. The words were eating at him, devouring him and he felt as though he was stuck in a hole that he could not find his way out of.
“It should have been you up there with her,” his brother said bluntly, his voice even with conviction and he could feel himself breaking.
“For once in your pathetic existence shut up InuYasha,” he didn’t need his brother pointing out the obvious, not when he was thinking the same thing deep enough to cause pain. He didn’t need the reminder that everything had gone to hell in a hand basket because he hadn’t cared enough to horde what he hadn’t known was important.
“Sesshomaru, I--”
“Enough,” he growled getting to his feet and straightening the wrinkles from his clothing.
Sesshomaru did not want to see the pity in his younger brothers eyes, or the silent accusation that he did not do enough to hold onto what had been his. It was not his fault that she had said yes to the sudden marriage proposal from another guy, it wasn’t his fault that she had fallen in love with another man, no matter how wrong it felt to him. There was no longer any room for the could haves, would haves, should haves, or what if’s and he wasn’t planning on making anymore for them as they were nothing but excuses now.
He was the last to leave the church and one of the last to arrive to the banquet hall for the after-party. It was yet another thing he did not want to attend that he found himself at anyway. People cluttered the tables with their chatter, faces animated and happy and he felt out of place. He wasn’t happy, not anywhere near such and hadn’t been in what was now an eternity.
The toasts were over and he could see her spinning around care freely on the dance floor, her smile shaving the sides of the hole in his chest, expanding the emptiness and he let a frown slip onto his face. This was not where he wanted to be, not in his current situation and he silently promised himself that he would never let himself get this way again. There would be no pining, no longing for a woman or for something he could not handle.
He realized a little too late that what he had felt with her was love, a burning passionate love that, when it was gone nearly destroyed him and it was too dangerous now to attempt to gamble with that feeling again.
“Sesshomaru?” Her voice drifted into his ears and he would have laughed at himself had he been the type.
Without even thinking he had gone to her, his feet on a mission he could not comprehend and silently he offered his hand to her. She stared at him for the longest moment of his life before she took his offer with uncertainty. It felt alien, her fingers folding over his hand, her other hand resting gently on his shoulder, but at the same time if felt so right. She fitted him perfectly, like she belonged with him and he held her as close as he could as he lead her into a new song.
The veil was long gone and Sesshomaru noticed the messy bun she kept her hair in, the way the long midnight colored strands of her hair curled around her face, her uneven bangs giving her eyes an allure he had once labeled as her ‘bedroom look’. It made him ache for her being so close, the way they moved in time to the orchestra playing. Her smile was hesitant, almost shy and if it had been any other day besides her wedding day he would not have ignored the urge to kiss her slightly parted pouty, lips.
He was able to control his urges as the song ended and she pulled away. He had to come to terms that she was not his and now, would probably never be and he had to accept it. She did not belong to him, could not belong to him and though he felt his heart breaking a little more than he thought it could, he swallowed it.
“You look beautiful Rin,” he whispered softly, his hand touching her cheek as his lips dusted across her forehead. “Kohaku is a lucky man, I’m happy for you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes refusing to fall and a smile he remembered being solely for him graced him once again. “Thank you.”
He did give her the ‘I love you’ he had neglected to give her before or tell her that she was making the biggest mistake of her life because it did not matter. She had made her choice and in the grand scheme of things it was her happiness that truly mattered most. If Kohaku was what she wanted, was whom she loved then there was nothing Sesshomaru could do or say that would change it to his favor. If by staying quiet he could save her from the heartache of what they had been, from tears of pain or anger then he would not say a word.
E/N: So it's not really a Rin/Sesshomaru pairing, but this is what happens when I listen to Justin Bieber for two days in a row to and from work. I have a few more stories I'm bouncing off the walls of my truck and my muse Rochelle, hoping to have one or two more finished in a week or so. YAY! Thanks for all the reviews, and please, feel free to leave more on your way out!
The website for the wedding dress I had thought rocked was http-semicolon // www dot glamourousgowns dot co dot uk backslash images backslash morilee backslash blu backslash 4816b dot jpg
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