Author: fireblazie PM
A story of happiness, heartache, loss, and longing. KA.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Angst - Kaito K. & Aoko N. - Words: 3,304 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 33 - Follows: 4 - Published: 11-15-05 - id: 2661871
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan, or the song.
She remembers when he got down on one knee and held out a black velvet box. She remembers when she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest - happy tears, joyful tears.
She remembers slipping into that gorgeous white dress and staring at herself in the mirror. She remembers walking down that aisle, clutching her father's arm in anxiety. She remembers how that anxiety faded away the moment she'd seen him standing at the front, a cool, calm smile resting on his lips.
Most of all, she remembers saying "I do." She remembers slipping the ring on his finger. She remembers him doing the same for her.
She remembers being happy.
All her life, he has shut himself off from her. It's a subtle difference, one that nobody else would have ever noticed. He has always been there, of course, to flip her skirt and to put a smile on her face. But at the same time, he has cast himself away from her. (His heart, perhaps? Has he cast away his heart?) She tried to figure it out once, but she was never able to.
She looks up at him. They are lying on the bed. He has an arm draped loosely around her waist, and her hands rest on his chest. In the moonlight, she stares at his perfectly chiseled face, more mature than when they were back in high school. So handsome, she thinks to herself, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. She starts in surprise when she feels his laughter rumble in his chest.
"Like what you see?"
Her blush darkens as she swipes at him halfheartedly. "Oh, shush."
He pulls her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead. She burrows deeper into his embrace and closes her eyes.
Even now, she thinks, and immediately pushes the thought back to her head.. (but it's there, it's still there, and it will never truly go away..)
She doesn't know this man, this man she is married to.
He tells her that he will be home late. She doesn't ask any questions. There are nights when he just stays out late, and sometimes she wonders... but she trusts him, fully and completely. Those times, when he comes home, he holds her, tighter than ever, kissing her with a passion she has never felt before.
She sits on the edge of her bed, clad in a thin nightgown that brushes past her knees. Light blue. She stares into the darkness and wonders where he is, what he is doing. When he is coming home.
(Is he coming home?)
His scent fills the room. She clutches a curious button-down blue shirt. She has never seen him actually wear it, but she knows it is his favorite shirt. He's told her so. She holds it closer, burying her face in it. It smells of him. And yet it smells different, too. But it's still his scent, but.. there's a subtle, subtle difference.
She hears the key turn in the lock and she pads outside to the living room, his shirt draped loosely over her figure.
She falls down onto her knees.
"No," she whispers.
He says nothing - he knows that nothing he can say or do can ever make things right between the two of them again. His face holds an arrested expression, and he lingers at the doorway, shutting the door silently behind him. He reaches out for her, but thinks better of it. His arms drop to his sides.
He doesn't bother to take off the hat or the monocle.
"You lied," she says.
He doesn't say a word.
"All this time.."
She raises her head to meet his eyes.
And he doesn't lie. He doesn't lessen the blow. He tugs his hat over his eyes and he stares down at the floor.
The papers come in the mail one day. He knows what they are. His heart sinks. The envelope is heavier than lead.
He opens them up with a letter-opener. Even though he's known - seeing the bold, black print at the top of the page still cuts him, deep inside.
File for divorce.
He laughs dryly to himself as he reaches for a pen. He signs his name, neatly, on the dotted line.
A blood-red jewel rests on top of the table.
Hours after leaving the doctor's, she sinks down into a soft blue recliner by the window. The cordless phone is clutched in her fingers and she stares outside the window. It is a moonless night. Dark. Ebony.
And the chair, the room, every inch of the house -
Smells of him.
She inhales. Even now - even now -
She presses the talk button on the phone and dials his new number. She doesn't bother to stop and wonder why she knows it by heart even though he's only been away for two weeks.
He picks up the phone on the fourth ring, just as she is ready to quit and hang up. "Hello?"
Her heart still jumps into her throat at the sound of his voice, and she curses herself for it. "Ka - Kaito?"
Dammit. Why is she stuttering?
A pause. "Aoko."
She can't suppress the shiver that travels down her spine. And she enjoys it. She enjoys it when he does this to her, but then she hates him for it, and then she doesn't know what to feel. Her heart is tangled in knots.
"How... are you?" she tries, and his voice is clipped, from the other end. She can just imagine his poker face, sliding on to conceal his expression. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine him. No matter what, even with the poker face, she had always been able to figure out what he was feeling. Now, he's closed himself off from her completely. She can't feel a thing, she can't understand a thing, and this frightens her.
"I'm fine. And you?"
She draws her knees up to her chest and imagines that she's still sitting in his arms, in his embrace, with him. She's thought up a million different ways to break the news to him, but in the end, it's just him and her, a man and a woman, torn apart. Hearts broken.
There are no formalties. She simply tells him.
And she knows that he knows that the baby is his.
He twists the jewel in his hands. It is hard and cold and jagged. He knows that if he applies just enough pressure, he could cause himself to bleed.
A second chance.
He throws the jewel on the ground with more force than he ever knew he possessed, and then watches it split apart into a billion fragments.
He moves in against her wishes, despite her protests. He shrugs off her halfhearted stammers, her excuses. He shows up the next day, three suitcases in tow. He smiles at her - a little differently, a little more guardedly. His footsteps echo throughout the house. His scent intermingles with hers.
In a way, it's almost as if he never left.
(The way it was supposed to be.)
She offers to help him unpack, but he says no. She wonders what this will bring about. Will they - will they -
Don't go there.
"It'll never work," she tells herself, listening to her words reverberate off the walls, trying to convince herself that this emotion will eventually go away and leave. "It'll never work."
He sleeps on the couch, and she leaves him be. He doesn't say a word about it, and they bid each other cordial goodnights before going to bed.
As she draws the covers up to her chin, she imagines his arms around her.
He wakes up to the smell of scrambled eggs and bacon in the morning. He sits up drowsily, hair unruly and unkempt. He lets out a yawn, fumbles for his slippers, and shuffles into the kitchen.
There's a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast sitting on the table. But she's not there. He turns around, wondering where she is.
He hears retching from the bathroom.
He doesn't hesitate. His feet automatically lead him to the master bedroom, despite the screaming insults his mind is flinging at him. He pushes the bathroom door open and watches as her head jerks up at the sound of his steps. Her hair has been slung over her shoulder, and her face is red. She is leaning over the toilet, and his mind promptly ceases any vacillation at the sight.
The distance between them closes.
And then he has his arm around her waist, and his other hand pulls her hair back, away from her face. She only has a split second to flash him a curious and surprised look before she begins throwing up again.
Like this... he thinks to himself, wistfully, like this, it's almost like we're an ordinary married couple.
He stares out at the window. There's a full moon, and it hangs, in solitude, in the starless sky. He can't sleep. The couch is too small, the armrest too high for him to use as a pillow.
He can't sleep.
He wasn't able to go to sleep in his apartment, either.
But it's harder... it's harder now, knowing that she's so close. Knowing that he could walk to her door in a matter of seconds, climb into bed with her, and hold her.
(But she would never let him.)
He closes his eyes and turns over. He tries to go to sleep. Nothing works, nothing works.
To hell with it.
He rolls over and lands on the floor. He slides on his slippers and walks to her room. It's past midnight. Is she still awake? He can't simply barge in. He's lost that privilege.
A pause. "Come in." She sounds wide awake.
He opens the door. It creaks. He sees that the windows are open, and the full moon's beams fall directly on her, and it hurts, gods, it hurts, to see her so beautiful, so vulnerable, and knowing that he can't have her.
Knowing that he hurt her.
At this point he realizes that he shouldn't be here. It will only hurt more, in the end.
But his heart doesn't obey reason. It never has. He speaks in a voice that betrays the uncertainty he feels, "Can I come in?"
She closes her eyes. He turns to leave.
She wakes up in the morning to the feel of somebody's arms wrapped around her. Securely. She is lying right on the edge of the bed, in danger of falling off, but she's not afraid.
He's there, after all.
"You awake?" His voice rumbles in her ear. She shivers. He chuckles and decides to get up, and she turns to face him, her body achingly cold.
She takes in a breath. His hair is tousled, messier than usual. His rumpled black shirt hangs, slightly lopsided, on his lean frame. He wears that same, slow smile, the one that always sent her heart pounding.
He stifles a yawn. "I'll go make breakfast." She wants to call out to him, to tell him to stay. She knows she's already crossed the line by letting him stay with her last night. And it's not like they even did anything - but.. but.. simply being there, with him holding her... that had brought back feelings, feelings from long ago. Burning, tearing at her.
"Kaito?" Her voice is louder than she wants it to be. He stops at the doorway. Turns.
Nothing comes out. She climbs down from bed and puts on her slippers. She half-jogs towards him.
She's curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over her body. An arm is draped across her belly in an almost protective way, and she closes her eyes, half-listening to the news.
"The Kaitou Kid hasn't shown up for a heist in over two months now! No warning notes, no more heists, no more free shows! Let's take you out to the city, where we'll see what other citizens think..."
He tenses, too, and turns towards her as she looks away. "Aoko.."
She's already buried her face against the pillow. "What?"
"If you're giving up being - being a thief, just because of me -" Her voice is trembling. Stop. Stop! " - then that's stupid. I'm not stopping... I'm not stopping you from... from..."
He sits on the other end of the couch. She feels his weight sag down on the cushions. Then she feels his arms take hold of hers, and gingerly lift her up into a sitting position. She doesn't resist.
And he begins to tell her a story. A story of the greatest magician who ever lived. A story of a legendary jewel that granted immortality with its tears. A story of how the magician tried to save it from falling into the wrong hands, and the price he paid for it. And how that curse was passed down onto his son.
"But I did it," he finishes, in a breathless whisper. "I did it, I found it, and I destroyed it. And everything is better now, Aoko, I swear it, I'll never leave you again."
Tears are rolling down her cheeks. She doesn't understand why. She looks down, stares into her lap.
He tilts her chin up gently.
"I never stopped loving you," he tells her.
He moves his clothes, his belongings, into her room. His toothbrush claims its spot beside hers in the bathroom. He leaves his clothes strewn on the floor. He sleeps in later than she does, and sometimes hogs the sheets for himself.
He still drives her crazy.
But when he holds her close to him at night, when he kisses her in the morning, when he pulls her hair away from her face during the morning sickness, when he sits there and takes all of her emotional outbursts..
That's when she realizes.
This is where he belongs.
This is where they belong.
The moon is blurry.
He lies against the grass, clutching his chest. He feels the bullet embedded deep within him. He's tried calling, screaming his throat hoarse for help. Nobody comes.
He wishes he could call her.
Just to hear her voice, one more time..
His breathing grows ragged. His head hurts. Everything hurts. Everything is numb. Numb, black, pain, agony, hurt, the bullet, and her face, her face, and their baby -
"I've destroyed the Pandora."
"You killed my father."
"And now I'll kill you."
He applies as much pressure as he can to the wound, knowing that it won't help. Nothing will. Time is up. Time is up. The sand falls, steadily, steadily, steadily, like the beat of a drum, into the bottom of the hourglass.
"I'm so sorry, Aoko," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry.."
She receives the phone call from her father. His voice is uncertain and hesitant.
The drive is silent.
When she sees his body, she cries. She sobs. She wails. She curses, loudly, at everyone and everything.
She curses him.
"How could you?" She lets the words fall out of her mouth in an exhausted whisper. "How could you? How could you leave me? Again? How am I - How am I -" She rests her hand on her belly. "You - you -"
And she finally falls to the ground, clutching his hand, ignoring the officers' protests about disrupting a crime scene. She doesn't care. She doesn't, she doesn't.
"I hate you," she says. "You - if you loved me, then you wouldn't - you wouldn't -" Her voice cracks. " - then you wouldn't have, Kaito, you wouldn't have done this - "
I love you.
She continues to cry for the rest of the night.
And life goes on.
She raises her head up from the book she was reading. "Hm?"
A little boy, the spitting image of his father, frowns. "Today's Father's Day. I was the only kid with no dad!"
She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply.
"What happened to Daddy?"
The same annoying curiousity as him..
She stands up and walks over to the bookshelf. She pulls out an album and smiles at her son, gathering him into her arms and sitting him on her lap in the recliner at the corner of the room.
And she tells him.
The story of the greatest magician who ever lived, who fulfilled his father's legacy and died because life was cruel, unfairly so. The story of the man with captivating blue eyes who stole her heart, broke it, and put it back together again. The story of the man that she loved.
He falls asleep in her lap, and she ruffles his hair. She blinks back a few tears, hoists him up into her arms, and then brings him to his bedroom. She tucks him in.
She steps into her bedroom and shuts the door silently behind her. She pulls back the cover and finds that same, button-down blue shirt. He'd told her, once - it had been the shirt he'd used on all of his heists. Except for that one, the one where she'd discovered him.
She clutches it to her chest.
Then she puts it on, pulling her arms through the sleeves. It's big on her, but it's okay. His scent is still there. Faded, but still there. It will always be there. She hugs it tighter, stretches it around her so hard that it's in danger of tearing. Trying to hide in it. Drowning in it. In her pain. In the memories.
She falls back on the bed, and tries to imagine his arms around her instead.
My love for you burns deep
Inside me, so strong
Embers of times we had
And now, here I stand, lost in a memory
I see your face... and smile.
- end -
This is for Lyn "Jarewo" Wors-chan. Without her, this would have just probably remained on my computer and collected dust. Haha.
Title: "Bluebells" - basically, couldn't think of a title, so started looking around the meanings of random flowers. Took me forever to find this one, but bluebells symbolize constancy, humility, and everlasting love. I thought it fit nicely. Plus, it has the word "blue" in it, and.. yeah. Kaito and Aoko equals blue. xD
Verse at the bottom is taken from "Adieu", which a song from Cowboy Bebop. Very, very pretty song.
And yeah. Have had a couple of crappy and exhausting weeks lately, which leads to lots of good, hardcore angst. Lucky you. xD