InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cut and Paste ❯ Maybe ( Chapter 4 )

Maybe

 

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I am lost to the warmth of the past, and bleed in the presence of the future.

 

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He thinks she's the most beautiful thing in the world. Her eyes are soft and warm and understanding, and he can fall into them, melting away as his soul becomes one with hers. He thinks that she is the reason he is still alive, she is the one was his savior, a goddess to him when he was a mere bug. And he loves her more than anything because of this. He loves her more than the wind and the trees, more than when the moon is gone and his demon blood sings. He loves her more than the freedom of movement itself.

 

He would sacrifice his life for her. He would sacrifice everything for her. He would kill for her.

 

If forced to, he would sacrifice her love for him, only for her.

 

Because that's the way it is, the way it was. He loves her more than words and speech, and it's just those words that could never express the thing he feels that leaves him speechless and alone. Sometimes it makes his eyes water, sometimes it makes him bleed. Sometimes it's as simple as the flushing of his cheeks, or a shocked blink, or even the flip of his stomach and pitter-patter of his heart when she leans her shoulder against his.

 

And, yet, he can never be with her. He can never do her justice, because he is restricted by the past, as she by the future.

 

The bonds that chain him to the death of her sister in soul holds him back from taking her as his own, from making her happy, because he could never do that. Her joy is a fragile bud, so beaten and wilted, but ready to bloom all the same. Maybe a haphazard wolf or buzzing bee might be able to fulfill her, but he will always be left behind, because he is not the one for her, no matter what she thinks.

 

And he has to remind himself of this when she smiles at him, when she whispers in his ear, or snuggles the top of her head into the crook of his neck. It's so hard, he thinks.

 

If only things could be different, of only there couldn't be two of them, two woman—his heart shackled to both. He thinks that maybe this is fate, his punishment for being an abomination to humanity. Maybe that's way he's been cursed so.

 

One his dead, but that means nothing when their memories live.

 

And so he only thinks on her beauty and the way he loves her. He will never act, just muse over her loveliness, and the way she melts him on the inside.

 

Maybe in their next life, things will different. Maybe he will meet her in the future and they will be happy, and he can make her content with life—instead of consuming her with paranoia over the other shackle attached to his heart. Maybe he would love her without restraint then.

 

He thinks he'll muse on that too.

 

~*~

 

Memories consume, but I am saved by what could be—what I have with you.