A/N: It's been awhile since I've actually been able to write, but now the semester from hell is over and I can get back to my stories. I'm gonna redo them first and then add new chapters. This was just a one-shot that came to me one morose day.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. (Actually, people claim me on their 1040).

"Over My Head"

He walked through life apathetic.

He resisted the love, not knowing he had fallen until it was too late.

The friendship was peculiar from the beginning; he found someone who didn't want the material luxuries that came with his position and she found someone to give her unconditional support no matter how badly she had fucked up with Inuyasha. Their meetings consisted mostly of silent companionship and comfort. Every problem they had drifted away when they were together.

Kagura, his wife, noticed the changing emotions between them first. She began to point out the gleam in his eye when he talked to Kagome. Her envy at the girl's power over him was palpable even though she continued to meet with her own male "companions."

He didn't notice he had fallen until he looked at her one evening and suddenly realized the differences in their relationship. Silence became long, winding conversations about everything from family memories to music choices. They sat closer together, touched each other often with little reason, and his body began to respond to hers—hers to his as well. It was at that point, eating pizza on her couch and sitting close together, that he realized he had somehow let her through the protective shell and into his heart.

A hurried excuse got him out of the house and into the sleek black sedan that he drove around for hours, debating how it had happened. He thought he loved his wife; they were passionate lovers, caressing and touching frequently and constantly having heated arguments about everything. Sexual urge and gratification he understood—it became love in his mind. But he realized that he did love his best friend and not his wife in the full textbook way: gleams, smiles, comfort, longing, and most of all trust.

He realized he was now in over his head. She was constantly on his mind. What the hell was he to do?

She walked through life emotionally broken.

She knew from the beginning she would probably be brokenhearted.

His friendship from the beginning had been more than just a friendship. Sesshoumaru had been her ideal male, her knight in shining armor. Complete with the white horse. She fell in love with him immediately; nothing mattered except that their "friendship" stayed as it has always been.

Sango, her close friend, was the only one to know of her secret love for him. Continual warnings weren't heeded, and Sango began to fear that Kagome would never live her life; instead, she would be happy to have only half of a relationship.

She was thrilled when they began to act more like a couple in the beginning of a relationship, even though there was no sexual passion indicated. No kisses. No soft petting. Just complete intimacy with each other. Her life became a little sunnier and there was always hope that life could continue in such a way—even though she sensed the rain cloud in the back of her mind, warning her that she would get hurt. She always did.

Her obliviousness to his realization that night could be expected.

The next day her call went unanswered; it alarmed her. Over the next week 20 more phone calls were made and handled in the same fashion. She began to worry and the little rain cloud moved to the forefront of her consciousness, berating her for not listening to what she had always known: he would leave her.

Everything was falling through the floor.

Life for Sesshoumaru became half-lived as he tried to disregard his feelings for Kagome and continue on in his normal fashion. But once you've tasted manna you can't leave it be.

He ended up at her house one night, standing on the front porch listening to the sounds of some silly late night infomercial playing and providing the only light in the small house. His knock was answered promptly and he stepped into her house, grabbing the bag of chips and settling next to her to watch whatever trash was on the television that night.

She smiled at him, grateful to have her friend back, and asked no question about the sudden cold shoulder he had given her.

And life went on.

Everyone watched and held their breath as the romance budded, blossomed, and finally… it stopped growing. It never fell off its stem or became a beautiful bouquet. When the mist of indecision cleared they realized that the two had the best romance the world could offer. Lack of passion was seldom regretted except for late at night when they were in their own beds. Their intimacy proved to last longer than any marriage ever could and they were rarely really lonely—that deep loneliness only felt when near a lover. The truth of their love was only acknowledged once; to them that was enough.

He had to be apathetic to disregard his love for her around others.

She was tearful and heartbroken every time he went home to his wife.

Their friendship lasted until she died from cancer forty years after they met.

Sometimes the romance between two friends is better than the passion felt between any lovers.