InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Contest Two ❯ Narcolepsy ( Chapter 6 )

Story Title: Narcolepsy

Author: Yume

Disclaimer: Me no own Inuyasha. Me no own Third Eye Blind. Please no sue?

Story Summary: Miroku has some sleeping problems.

Rating: PG

"I read dead Russian authors

Volumes at a time

I write everything down except what's on my mind

Cause my greatest fear is that sucking sound

And then I know I will never get back out

And there's a bone in my hand that connects to a drink

In a crowded room where the glasses clink

And I'll buy you a beer and we'll drink it deep

Because that keeps me from falling asleep"

--Narcolepsy by Third Eye Blind

Miroku sighed in disgust as he read the last few lines of Tolstoy's War and Peace. "Well," he mused out loud, "there were a few things I had forgotten from the last time I read it." He sighed again and fought back the temptation for the sigh to turn into a jaw-cracking yawn.

How many days had it been since he had gotten more than a few hours of sleep at a time? He had lost count. But so long as he concentrated on his studies he could evade the worst symptoms of sleep deprivation. Luckily for him, his Literature professor was accepting extra credit so long as the students composed a ten page paper on any author of their choosing. Good old Leo to the rescue. Miroku had read both War and Peace as well as Anna Karenina before. In fact, he had read most of what is considered "classics" once or twice.

Not that he enjoyed the temptation to bludgeon his head against said texts, but he had found long ago that reading complex literature helped to keep the nightmares away. Anything that required so much attention is bound to wear anyone out mentally. And so, he lived, day by day. When he got through his well-thumbed copies of Tolstoy, he moved on to Dostoevsky. If he was still conscious, he might resort to the writings of Pushkin, but he was better versed in the other two.

Miroku rubbed at his bloodshot eyes and moved from his reading chair to his computer desk. "Well, I suppose I could get started on this report." He looked at the clock. Three pm. "I wonder how many of these assignments Professor Myoga will accept this week. I'll finish this report by dusk, and then where will I be?"

Miroku wrote for hours until he filled the page requirement critiquing the two famous Tolstoy works. When he was finished, he couldn't repress the yawn that told of his weariness. Nonetheless, he read through his work, proofreading and correcting errors as he went. He saved the document and shut down the computer. "If being this damn exhausted doesn't get me through at least a few hours of sleep, then I don't know what else to do."

He stumbled to his bed and fell into sweet unconsciousness. Not even a half an hour later, he was tossing his head around and screaming silently as his nemesis caught up to him.

Miroku was caught in his nightmare. He'd had this recurring night terror for months, and it was getting to be damn frustrating. Not to mention the havoc it was playing on his social life. Almost every night, he would dream that he was running through a forest, like the devil was on his heels. He knew that the horror would be in front of him; yet, he still raced ahead. Suddenly - and every time he has this dream it startles him - the peaceful tree-laden landscape is gone, replaced by blackness with nothing but streaks of blinding pain to color the setting. A hollow whistle surrounds him and he's being pulled. Pulled in toward the center of the abyss at the same time he's pulled apart. Miroku was certain there must be something more terrifying than the sound of wind moving past you at alarming speeds, but strangely nothing came to mind.

With a jerk, and a few rather vulgar obscenities he made up on the spot, Miroku came awake. He looked at the clock and cursed again when he saw that it was just after midnight and he'd only spent two hours in the Land of Nod, but he did feel vaguely proud of his creativity at the vulgarities he'd produced. "I may need to write that down in case my landlord comes for a visit." he chuckled idly.

He stood up from the bed, ran a hand through his messy hair, and resorted to the more traditional, "Fuck it." Miroku decided he'd had enough "sleep" for the night, and got dressed and left his apartment, stifling another yawn as he locked the door behind him. The best thing about living in a college town is the abundance of places to get a good buzz at just about any hour. At this time of night, it was hard to miss the opportunities. Miroku selected a trendy tavern at random and approached the bar. Miroku had picked a busy night to get smashed, and there was only one stool left unoccupied at the bar, but luckily enough, it was at the end and there was a young woman sitting on the next chair, playing with a half-full beer.

"Is this seat taken?" he inquired to the woman, who turned out to be rather lovely-or would have been if she hadn't very obviously been rooted to the spot for quite some time. She had long raven hair, so dark it reminded Miroku of another, more eerie deep darkness. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but otherwise would have been a very pretty brown. She was slender, if dressed a bit sloppy, and appeared to be in her early twenties, about the same as his age.

"I've never even shot an arrow!" she slurred in response. Miroku took that as, "Why, no. Help yourself, kind stranger." and made himself comfortable.

"Is that right? I say, in this day and age, why should you have reason to?" the ever diplomatic Miroku came back, as he gestured for the harried bartender.

She nodded exuberantly for a moment and then looked at him strangely as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. Either that, or she recognized him from a past life, and right now, Miroku wasn't about to rule anything out about this girl he just met.

She shook off her doubtful expression and continued without taking what he said into consideration. "I don't ever mean to stick him to the tree. He looks so sad hanging there. I feel so sorry for him," her voice died a bit, and she was whispering by the time she finished.

Then she shocked Miroku. Her voice rose above many of the others in the room as she said loudly, "I don't even like dogs!!"

Miroku gestured for the barkeep again. He wanted to get drunk enough to forget his nightmares and maybe a little of his weariness too, but that didn't mean he wanted to go through the process while being verbally assaulted by the nutcase sitting beside him. Now he knew why the seat had been empty. It was such a shame, after all, she was kind of cute.

Next thing Miroku knew, she was taking advantage of his greatest weakness. It started with a low whimper, and given her current emotional state along with the quantity of alcohol one could assume she had imbibed, it wasn't all that surprising. A moment later, when she started bawling, he knew he'd been snared in her trap. The fact that she was sobbing into his shirt was another strike against him.

Miroku has been known to be something of a ladies' man, but considering his own emotional state, along with a lack of practice, he found himself with an armful of strange weeping girl, and he hadn't the foggiest idea of what to do next. He awkwardly patted her on the back, and said, "I'm rather the cat person, myself. It's not anything to be ashamed of, to not like dogs."

Adding to his growing shock, the girl giggled, but oddly enough, she didn't sound nearly so drunk this time. "I must sound like I'm certifiable," she mumbled into his shirt. She sat up and stuck out her hand. "Hello, I'm Kagome Higurashi. I'm not usually like this."

He shook her hand carefully, cautious of what curve ball she was going to throw him next. "Miroku Houshi, living handkerchief, at your service"

Kagome had the grace to look contrite, "I'm really sorry about that. I've had a bad case of insomnia lately. And then I can't stay asleep when I get there. I guess I'm a little high strung lately"

"I suppose that's understandable. No one said college would be easy. I've had some sleep disturbances myself."

"Oh, it's not just because of school, although that so doesn't help. I've had some of the strangest dreams lately. I'm shooting an arrow and I always hit this boy. Only he isn't a boy, he's something strange, he's got these cute little puppy ears on top of his head." She started crying again, quietly this time. "When I hit him with the arrow, it glows so bright. I can't see it clearly, and when the light dies down, he's stuck to a tree, with my arrow sticking out of his chest. Then the pain comes. I don't know what it means. Usually I wake up by then."

The bartender finally got around to their end of the bar. "Sorry about the wait, what can I get ya?"

"Bring us two of whatever she's having," Miroku said, "This round's on me." He looked back at his companion, "You're right, that does sound disturbing. Oddly enough, I think I can understand how you feel."

Miroku never did get quite the buzz he was looking for that night. Instead, he talked with Kagome over two beers until the crowd petered out and it was closing time. It was strange, he had known her for only a few hours, but it felt like they had been best of friends for years unending. As he let himself into his apartment and started making preparations to give this sleep thing another try, he realized that he had forgotten to get her phone number. "Ah well," he said aloud to himself, "I suppose I'll have to find her on campus, then." Shortly afterwards, he drifted into a calm restful, and best yet, dreamless sleep.

And so did the girl with the darkest black hair in the apartment next door.