life in moderation
Disclaimer: ahem FAN... fiction...
I wake up to the smell of coffee and eggs. Pushing the sheets from me, I nearly fall out of my bed. Hair lopsided, and my shirt twisted to partially reveal a breast. This is my morning face.
Needless to say, mornings are not my thing. But I've got a class at 10:00, and we do what we have to do.
Stumbling into the hall, I rub my eyes, following the smell into the kitchen. Per usual, a wet-haired man flips eggs, not even looking up at me as I enter.
"I tried to wake you."
"Yeah," I yawn, brain too numb to think of anything else to say, "I know."
The splayed yolk sizzles as I sip the hot caffienated drink that'd been put out for me.
"So, when do I get to read your book?"
"When it's published," he says, putting a plate in front of me before sitting down himself on the stool next to the counter. Damp, silvery strands stick to his broad shoulders, covered by a black T-shirt.
"What's it about?"
"Same thing as yesterday, Kagura."
"You're such a tight-ass."
He still refuses to let me know. So I eat my eggs, take a shower and gather my things from my messy room. He snorts as he walks by, telling me to clean. I stick out my tongue, and ask him to put up my hair.
He does, carefully, smoothing it back so I look half-decent. He makes sure the comb doesn't bite into my scalp, and he never catches the elegant earrings I put in for effort. Fingers soft, I become silent for a while. I have no words, they escape me.
I can only be spared two words of his breath.
I guess not many college girls live like this. With an almost boy-friend who refuses to sleep in the same room as me. Hell, I don't even know how old he is! The topic never came up, and, well...
I don't care!
He sits at his desk in the living room, typing. Deleting. Reformatting.
He's got two published already, and I had to admit, they're pretty good. A little deep for me. But who am I to deny talent, when I don't have any to speak of?
I guess he's the only person keeping me going through life. One day I just moved into his apartment, as opposed to begging nights from friends. I wanted nothing to do with my parents, or my siblings. I was all on my own.
But he found me, one day, walking down the street. And he bought me a coffee. Actually, he got coffee, and I insisted on having am iced frappachino with a donut. With rainbow sprinkles. I made him pay for it too, but he didn't seem to mind all that much.
Somehow, I brought out the strength to take the money I had and go to school, while working part-time in the library. He pushed me for it. Without words, he showed me how. It's been six months now. Six months I've lived like this with him, and I've never been happier.
Life is funny like that.
I open the door, flourescent light leaking in. The doorhanger reading 'Not Welcome' swings off beat, the only noise in the lonely hallway.
Keys clack in response.
"I love you."
The clacking stops abruptly.
"It's about you," he mutters, "Alright?"
A pause, as I adjust the purse hanging off my arm.
I never expect to hear it back or anything. I just say it sometimes. I'm not even sure if it's true, but it feels right coming from my mouth. Finally I'm able to wet my mouth, and pick up where time left off.
It's about me...?
"See you this afternoon, if you're still alive."
I shut the door, then lean back on it from the outside, sighing. It's blissful torture. But torture all the same.
Still, he's writing about me? Why would he do that?
"You're going to be late."
"Kagura," I hear him take one of those sexy, deep breaths I make him take after our rare kisses.
"I love you."
I smile and head down the hall without another word, as his ring in my ears.
ende chapter 1