InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ How ❯ How ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own IY and Co.

 

 

 

 

How

 

 

 

 

 

 

His wet tongue, soothing each place he placed small, hungry nips.

 

His soft groans as her hands crept on his body, caressing, exploring.

 

Their hair intertwined, as their hands do the same.

 

The light butterfly kisses, the darker, exotic battles, the sweat, the cries, the gasps, the moans.

 

Each piece of flesh a treasure, a treasure to kiss, suckle, and arouse.

 

Each glistening piece of gold, of skin, of loveliness.

 

His eyes, looking into hers as the moved, connected by their soul bond.

 

Him trusting her.

 

Him going to her. Dying for her. Living for her.

 

 

 

 

And me, standing by the side, my heart sinking and popping into small, million pieces as I see what my heart screamed at me for. I know that I should have expected it. I should have been prepared.

 

I should have been able to lie to myself as easily as I had lied to him.

 

Why did I say it would be alright? Why did I say that I would stand by him in spite of everything?

 

How could I have thought that I would be strong enough in moments like this?

 

How will I be able to keep from falling into a torrent of tears the next moment, when I would have to face his innocent, unknowing, beloved face. When I would have to look at and talk to my love and my death.

 

I sigh. I cry. I crash. I die.

 

But I know that no matter how many times I die, no matter how many times I become a little more bitter, a little darker, a little more with out hope, I know that I can't leave him. To leave would be to cut out my heart and let me die with out it. It's impossible. But I know that I can't last.

 

He's my addiction, my joy, my sorrow.

Every time I see him standing, flying through the air, fighting, bleeding, hurting, happy, I give more of my heart to him.

 

And I know that I have to give up these obsessive feelings. That I should take what I get and be happy. The slight smiles, the chortles, the friendship.

 

Who ever said it was better to love and than not to have loved at all was a fool. He had a love. A love that RETURNED his feelings. A love that SAW what he felt.

 

Will he ever see me? Me?

 

 

Not the replacement.

Not the friend.

Not the weakling.

Not the reincarnation.

Not the ugly, pathetic, lovesick idiot.

 

How will I be able to grin and joke with him?

 

Do I have the strength to ignore myself, my hurt, my scarred heart?

 

How will I be able to wake up in the morning and say my ritual prayer to him?

 

How will I be able to say….

 

Good morning, Inuyasha.