InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Summer ❯ Morning People ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi et al.  I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter One: Morning People

 

Now, she loved him as much as the next girl, but she'd never actually wanted to meet him. It seemed like a good idea in theory, of course. Yet, even in the sugar-crazed throws of fangirlish worship, she'd always realized what a horrific train-wreck of an idea it was in practice.

 

Hey, this guy could kill her. Brutally. Certainly not the best person to have asleep in one's bedroom. No, despite the fact that this was quite possibly every fangirl's dream, it was Not Good. (And yes, it deserves the capital letters, due to the sheer not-good-ness of the situation.)

 

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened. Technically, it shouldn't even be possible considering the fact that he wasn't real. At first, she had assumed that she was dreaming; you know, having one of those last-day-of-school-almost-summer-vacation delusions. Yeah. Because those were oh so very common.

 

So she'd rubbed her eyes and went to the bathroom, trying to forget about the unconscious figment of her imagination on the floor. However, as he was still there upon her return, she began to suspect that something was awry. And now, here she stood, still in her pajamas, gawking at the demon on her rug.

 

She must be insane.

 

She, Carol Johanson, had watched one too many episodes of Inu-Yasha and, as a result, had gone insane. Okay. She could deal with that. She shivered and shook herself to steady her nerves.

 

“Calm down, calm down,” she said aloud. Crazy people talked to themselves right? Well, she always had, at least. Now that she thought about it, that might've been a sign.

 

“Obviously you have lost your mind. Maybe it was the four hour Inu-Yasha marathon at Cindy's last weekend that did it, or maybe it was last night's Inu-Yasha trivia quiz that set you over the edge … I don't know, I'm not a doctor, “ here she gave a nervous giggle, ”But what I do know, honey-pie, is that you are a sick girl. Very sick.”

 

She climbed onto her bed muttering `very sick, very sick' over and over again. Her alarm clock, precariously perched on the edge of her bedside table, read 6:03. A most ungodly hour to be awake, Carol had always felt, but at least tomorrow it would be summer vacation. She was somewhat comforted by this thought. Perhaps being crazy wasn't so bad, if one could still appreciate summer vacation.

 

She had about an hour and a half before she needed to leave for school. Casting a glance at the sleeping demon, she bit her lower lip and decided to pretend this wasn't happening, at least until she was dressed.

 

She threw on some jeans, fumbling the zipper a little in her haste, and then pulled a neatly pressed T-shirt over her head. Carol tended to be fussy and a bit obsessive in her organizational enterprises. She had once spent four hours re-organizing a sock drawer. Granted, it was a large drawer, but still …

 

She quickly brushed her hair, which she kept at about chin length for manageability. She was always amazed by people with super-long hair. It must take a lot of upkeep. Carol glanced at the long-haired demon; she couldn't bring herself to even *think* his name. Not just yet. She feared that she would have a mental breakdown.

 

Carol set the brush down on her dresser, exactly parallel to her seldom used comb. She stared at the demon once more and had to sit down on her bed again. It was just too much.

 

Steeling her nerves, she got up and slowly approached him. It occurred to her that, had this not been happening to her, it would've been funny.

 

She bent down and touched his face. Well, this was one convincing hallucination! Solid. Could you feel hallucinations? She wasn't sure and, to be honest, really didn't want to find out.

 

He stirred and she jumped back in shock. She knew she needn't be afraid of her own hallucination. This could not be who she thought it was. No way. Not a snowball's chance in the Sahara. But ... just in case …she felt it was best not to wake him. If it's possible to wake a hallucination, of course.

 

 

Suddenly his eyes shot open. To her embarrassment, Carol yelped. She was up and over her bed in a matter of seconds. An Olympic hurdle-jumper would've been put to shame.

 

He stood up, towering over her.

 

“You, wench!”

 

Not good! Not good! Carol's mind screamed.

 

“What am I doing here?” He was obviously not in his happy place.

 

Well crap. She always knew that he wasn't much of a morning person.