Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Death Do Us Part ❯ Rain ( Chapter 2 )

Not many comments about this one…just writing what comes to mind =)
Disclaimer: This is an original story, none of it is based on actual events.

 

Let's get straight to it, then.

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Saturday.

 

She sat alone in her lounge, staring out the window at the rain pouring down. She was tapping her index finger on the armrest of the chair, annoyed that the soft material was absorbing the rhythmic sound. She held back her tears. They would ruin her make-up.

 

He was late.

 

Again.

 

Their expensive television was off, the lights in the apartment were out, the fans were off, and the kitchen was clean. She sat on the couch in a dazzling golden gown, it had a simple strapless design, but the material was bold. The perfect combination. It complemented her chocolate brown hair and highlighted her eyes, which looked almost golden when she wore this dress. Her make-up was simple and her lips were a glossier version of their natural colour.

She was ready. And he was late.

 

She looked down to her lap, her neck having gotten sore from looking in the same direction for an hour. She smoothed her dress, the skin on her hand looking tanned against the bright material. Her finger stopped tapping. She ran the hand through her long hair instead, it took an easy path, she hadn't dressed it with pins or gone to the trouble to saturate it in hairspray. He said he hated the smell of hairspray.

 

What does it matter?

By the looks of things, she was going to the party alone. She clenched her jaw and her finger was tapping again. She looked in the opposite direction this time, her eyes falling on the door to their apartment. She thought that maybe if she looked at it long enough, he would come through. Would he be sputtering apologies?

Would he even be able to look her in the eye?

She knew his work was hectic, she knew he was on the verge of another promotion and he was working hard to get it. She also knew he didn't like his job. He hadn't said it to her face, but she could tell. She was his wife for crying out loud. So then, why was he torturing himself with such a taxing job? Was he doing it for her? She suddenly felt guilty for being angry at his tardiness, and for having bought such an expensive dress for herself. But then again, she had really bought it for him. She wanted to look beautiful for him, so he could feel proud or even lucky, to have her as a wife.

So he could smile when he looked at her, smile while he was introducing to her to the people he respected. Or just…smile.

They had been in love for ten years. They had met the day he moved to Japan with his mother. A young love, her first love, but true love nonetheless. It had also been a forbidden love. She had only been 15 when things started getting serious between them. She remembered having snuck out of her house, giving no thought to her parents, the consequences. He had laid down a blanket on the soft grass in the nearby park. Memories flooded back to her at the mental image of his smiling face as he stood there at her arrival.

 

“What might you be doing out here so late, miss?”

 

“I was invited to a picnic, sir.”

Her smile sparkled in her voice and she ran into his embrace, almost knocking him to the blanket at his feet. They held onto each other, she nuzzled the side of his neck and he buried his nose in her hair. They both inhaled deeply and let it out with a sigh.

 

“Rei…”

 

He tightened his arms around her and clenched his eyes shut, so grateful for having her. He pulled away and she inclined her head upwards to look into his eyes. She lifted a dainty hand and cupped his cheek, running her thumb delicately over the small mole near his eye. It was so feminine. His face was beautiful, she thought. He could put on a dress and almost look like a girl. She ran her thumb down and stopped at his lips. He parted them slowly and kissed the pad of the appendage.

 

His own hands came up to cup her face and he drew her in for a kiss. Something innocent and chaste quickly became hot and sinful. She gasped at the onslaught of sensations running through her virgin body as his tongue probed her moth suggestively. His hands moved down to grip her hips, pulling her body flush against his as the kiss became something wild. The raging hormones in the two adolescents had their bodies growing hotter, the scent of their sweat mixing with the night air. The kiss got wetter as saliva pooled like water in their mouths, lubricating their battling tongues. He growled deep in his throat and ran a hand up her back, gripping the hair at the base of her neck and forcing her even closer. He ground his hips into hers.

 

She pulled away with a gasp, panting. Her hands gripped his shoulders and the rise and fall of her chest had her breasts pressing against him. She was looking at eye-level, her eyes meeting his chin. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against hers. Their lips were irritated, parted slightly to let the desperately needed air in and out. He gulped and said between pants,

 

“I'm…sorry.”

 

She flicked her eyes to his and got lost in deep sapphire. She stared at him with a dreamy expression. Her hands ran up and down his arms and she suddenly wanted, more than anything, to see him naked.

 

“Don't be.”

He seared her lips again with his, hands like an iron vice on her hips, bunching up her skirt. She slipped her own hands under his loose shirt and ran her fingers over his flat chest.

 

Hands were everywhere as more and more skin became visible, articles of clothing dropping to the ground. Bodies soon followed, the fall cushioned by the generous blanket underneath them. They were a sweaty tangle of careless teenagers, acting on pure instinct and what they saw in the movies, learned about in sex-ed. He had her pinned to the ground, naked, beneath his own very bare body. He pulled away from the kiss and looked into her darkened eyes as he took her for the first time. She stared at his face, loving his expression, which was almost one of pain, as he exploded inside of her, his skinny, sweaty body collapsing onto hers. It was, overall, an awkward and short culmination of their love.

 

“I'm gonna need more practice at that.”

 

He said, once he had caught his breath. He lifted his upper body, bracing himself on his outstretched arms on either side of her. He gave her a smile, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. She just smiled back.

 

They fell asleep like that in the park, tangled together tightly to keep warm from the night air, still intimately joined.

 

And that was how her father found them.

 

She faintly recalled a large fist to the face that had sent her, then, future husband crashing to the ground. She remembered yelling, the two males swearing, arguing over what was best for her. Her father had yanked her by the arm, called him a fucking scoundrel, dragged her away and demanded she never see young Satoru again. Of course, she did, and much to her father's dismay, married the aforementioned miscreant. The men still hate each other to this day.

 

She was grabbed from her trip down memory lane by the jingling sound of keys at her door. Her anger came back full force and she hoped he had himself prepared for the mouth-beating he was about to cop. The rain poured relentlessly outside and she worried for her dress. If he had come earlier, when it wasn't raining, she wouldn't have that problem now, would she? She expected him to come through the door quietly like usual, and sit back and take the verbal lashing. She promised herself she wouldn't cry this time.

 

The door opened and she stood, seeing something she definitely hadn't expected.

 

He was drenched. Soaking wet. Yeah, it was pissing rain outside, but he took the train from work, then a bus. He shouldn't have gotten that wet. But then, what else would have explained the bouquet of flowers he had in his hand. He had run to the florist in the rain and bought her a bunch of her favorites.

She rushed to him when he swayed, leaning against the doorframe, dripping with freezing water. She took his briefcase and his heavy coat, walking as fast as she could in her stilettos on the carpet, and rushed to the bathroom. She started the shower with hot water, mindful of her dress, and hurried back to him, still standing in the doorway. She pulled him inside and dragged him to their room. She could hear the shower water running and steam started to come from the opening to the adjoining bathroom. She began to undress him, his skin wet and cold, dotted with goose bumps. The flowers were still in his hand at his side, pointing towards the ground.

 

She unbuttoned the green shirt he wore and it peeled off his body like a second skin, sticking to him with the water. When she pulled it down his arms he stopped her, lifting the flowers between them. She looked at his hands, and then to his face, their eyes meeting for the first time in a few days. His sapphire pools were deep and tired, the grey bags underneath them making him look years older. His expression was defeated, utterly depressed. He had promised to be on time, had actually been looking forward to going someplace nice with her, and he had failed. He didn't know if he was strong enough to see her cry again.

 

Her heart gave a pained throb at the look on his face and she took the flowers from him, caressing his hand softly as she did so. Was he really so afraid of her? Maybe she had yelled at him too many times. She wanted so badly to make him smile. She realized how often she scolded him, treated him like a child, and berated herself for it. She held the bouquet with both hands and brought the flowers to her nose, inhaling their calming scent, loving him even more for being so thoughtful. She looked at his face again,

 

“Thank you…they're beautiful.”

 

She put them delicately on the bed behind him and concentrated back on her husband. His teeth were chattering behind his closed mouth, his bare chest was shivering. She longed to see him dripping wet like this under different circumstances. Her brows furrowed together in worry and she finished undressing him, having a light-hearted sympathy for his shrunken member. She let out a sigh.

 

“Go have a hot shower…please try and be quick, we're already late.”

 

The only sound was that of falling water. The water raining from the showerhead in the bathroom and the water raining from the clouds outside. She bent over to pick up his wet clothes and left the room to take them to the laundry.

 

He stood there still after she had gone, ignoring the cold and his trembling body. He had done it again. He had disappointed her. And if she wasn't the loving, caring wife that he didn't deserve, she would have left him in the hallway to freeze. She should have. He almost wished that she had, instead of welcoming him once again with warm, open arms and a warm, open heart. It made the corners of his eyes prickle with threatening tears. He could see the disappointment in her eyes as she had undressed him like a mother, the sad longing for a marriage to someone stronger, more reliable.

 

He made his way to the shower, sparing her of having to look at his pathetic state again. Steam filled the bathroom and he opened the glass shower door, stepping into the hot water. It heated his skin, his entire body relaxed, enjoying the beating of water on his back. He tilted his head back to let the water run through his hair and stayed like that for some time. He let his heart warm at the thought of Rei, and how she had started up the shower for him. She knew he hated baths. They made him feel like drowning himself. The usual pang of pain in his chest made itself known at the reminder.

 

He quickly finished up, remembering the party they were expected at. He dried himself off and walked into the room with a towel around his neck. Satoru found his wife bent over the bed, sorting out his tux for the night. He noticed her appearance, eying the beautiful gown that clung to her body. It made her skin look divine. He licked his lips.

 

She straightened up when she noticed him standing there, and noticed how naked he was. She looked away when she felt the warmth between her legs and diverted her attention to his tie. She held up two and turned to him, her heart skipped a beat when she noticed he was considerably closer.

 

“Which one?”

 

She cleared her throat when the words came out strained. He was an arm's length away. He tapped one of the ties with a knuckle and stood there watching her as she bent over again to fuss over his clothes.

 

“Okay, get dressed as fast as you can. We're really late.”

 

She turned again to leave the room and his right hand shot out to wrap around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. She could feel his bareness against her back and deliberately pushed her rear into him just a little more, just enough pressure but not enough that he would notice. He noticed. His hands clenched and unclenched in the air by her hips, mindful of the delicate material on her dress. He rested them there softly, fighting the vicious urge to grind her ass against him.

 

“What…put you into such a good mood?” She was very accustomed to his unpredictable mood swings, but was thankful that he wasn't as depressed as he had looked earlier. She felt him inhale her scent when he rested his forehead against the curve of her neck. He shifted again and she felt him plant a soft, full kiss on the back of her bare shoulder.

 

“You look…nice.”

 

“Just nice?”

“Very nice…”

“Hm. I think you can do better than that, Sato.”

 

He turned her in his arms and kissed her smoothly on the lips. The sticky lip gloss was smudged everywhere, leaving its subtle shimmer. Rei was smiling when they parted, too glad about the rare playful moment to be worried about her make-up.

 

“You look beautiful.”

 

“…Try again.”

 

She gave him a mischievous look and loved the passion in his eyes. It had been far, far too long since the last time she had been able to tease him like this. Far too long. He almost growled at the rate his length was hardening. He buried his face in her chest.

 

“Fucking gorgeous.”

 

“Mmmm…”

 

She kissed him this time, lifting his face from her breasts and wrapping her arms around his neck, toying with his damp hair. He forgot about her dress and grabbed her generous posterior through the material, slamming her against him. She pulled away abruptly and he let out a whimper.

 

“Shit! We're late, Satoru!”

 

He winced at the use of his full name and the accusation in her frown. She didn't swear very often, he must have screwed up, badly. She gave him a small shove to put some distance between them and regretted it more than anything when she saw the hurt in his eyes. There goes his good mood. She felt like crying for ruining such a moment. He must have seen it, too.

 

“I…I'll get dressed…” She cursed herself at the tone of his voice. She started to feel angry, not at herself, at her husband. She was sick of walking on eggshells around him all the time!

 

She leashed the anger and dismissed it to the seventh layer of hell as soon as it arose. Guilt soon replaced it. It hurt. He can't help it, she reminded herself. He can't help it. He probably hates getting upset over nothing more than I do, she reminded herself. It was her desire to see him happy. It was always worth the effort it took. She just wanted him to be happy. She felt a crushing disappointment with herself when she realized how unhappy he had been so often. She closed the distance she had made between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him in apology. He didn't kiss her back; he just closed his eyes, fighting the persistent stabbing sensation in his chest.

 

Like a sadistic cereal killer, it sliced through again and again and again. He felt like a stupid child that had thrown a tantrum. He pushed her away and felt the knife deep in his heart when he saw her tears. It lodged itself deeper and deeper, and then it paused. He was numb for a short moment.

 

“Just… get dressed.”

 

She sniffed and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He stared at the door for a moment, the knife, the rain, all was still.

Pain exploded from his heart as the sadist twisted the blade mercilessly. He clenched his eyes against the hurt, fisting his hand over his heart, gathering as much skin in it as he could. He tried to take deep breaths, but they came shallow and weak. He could hear her crying in the bathroom.

He gathered that she was going to be in there for a short time, willing herself to hide her pain and clean her face of the ruined make up. Then she'd need to re-apply all of it, but she didn't really have much on in the first place. He estimated about ten minutes.

 

 

It stopped raining.

Ten minutes.

Do the math.

 

How long will it take to get to Agate Bridge?

 

 

 

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To be continued…


A/N: Thought I needed to get more into the wife in this chapter, let me know what you think of her =)
What will happen next? *does the Dragonball Z episode announcers voice*

R&R please ^^