A/N: Alright, here's the prologue to Grey Flower, mostly just as a teaser to those of you who are about to wait about a year for the rest of it to be put up. I'm a horrible person, I know.
"Should I hate you because you hurt me? Or should I love you because you make me feel special?"
We sat in complete silence, back to back, each of us on our respective turf — he on one side of the bed, I on the other. My hands were laced into tight and clammy fists, my head bowed so I wouldn't have to see him even if he decided to come over and try to understand. I didn't expect him to though; we were both pretty angry at eachother, and with good reason. It was to my understanding that sharing the secrets of my mother and I had been one of the absolute most braindead things I had ever done.
I heard his bed shift and he sighed, but said nothing. The silence was nearly agonizing in my ears as I waited — no, hoped — for him to say something. Nothing came and I was deeply disappointed, though I didn't express it in any way. My mind screamed at me to turn to him, to look at him in his sorry state and fall in love with him all over again. But my heart — which had been deeply wounded — told me to keep my back to him and stay silent. I was guessing that his said nearly the same thing, but that his will was obviously not as strong as mine was. He shifted again, and I sat still.
"Senri..." he breathed, though I barely caught it. Typically, he was already beginning to shatter under the pressure that ignoring me put on him. I could imagine his glassy emerald eyes shut tightly in a sort of pain that the seeming seperation had given him. I gave a quick, audible huff — served him right. Though... the thought that he was hurting in any way stirred something that I otherwise wouldn't have felt. Stupid Takuma....
I refused to answer him, however.
"Why are we even fighting?"
As if he didn't already know. The fact that he'd even ask me that was beyond angering.
We were fighting because I had decided to bring up my mentally ill mother, whose secretly insane tendancies drove Takuma to what I had at first assumed was hatred. I had told him that ever since I was young I had allowed her to take my blood from my neck, which was seen as a strictly passionate act between lovers. Of course, I had felt compelled to tell him the truth when he asked me if I still allowed such an act, though Takuma and I were together. That was why he was angry. But, because of Takuma's innate kind, selfless, and mostly understanding heart, that anger had become diluted into a fizzing jealousy.
I was angry because my own boyfriend hadn't even bothered to begin to understand why it was that I made the choices that I did in those situations. What had been the point of falling for someone who didn't care that you had justified your own actions long ago... and though you wished you could change it... it never would...?