Love from Venus: Arc 2, Part 2
Title: Love from Venus
Part: ARC 2, Part 2
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Rouge/Ryoma
Genre: Romance/Erotica/Friendship/AU
Rating: varies from PG to NC-17
Word count: 5,972
Summary: Sales representative Ryoma Iwakura's life careens off course when a business deal brings him to a hostess bar, and into the company of hostess and strip club dancer Rouge. A spark of attraction ignites between them, one Ryoma tries to deny. Despite his reservations, he embarks on a scandalous friendship with Rouge that questions his plans for the future.
Author's Notes: One last chapter to go!! Prompts are from 10_prompts.
#35 (1:7 Lost)
Rouge pressed the doorbell and hiccupped, belatedly remembering the wet streaks running through her cosmetics. She brushed them away hurriedly, cursing when they smeared, and again when a loud exclamation sounded through the door. A wince tugged at her lips; she looked away as the door was flung open. It would have been ideal if she was alone right now, but she needed somewhere to stay for the night.
"Rouge! What the heck happened to you?" Cassie gaped at her in her nightdress, ushering her into the apartment. "Were you attacked along the way?"
She sank numbly onto the couch and shook her head, clutching her bag to herself. It felt very much like a security blanket right then. Cassie's gaze was a little too piercing; she stared fixedly at the rug beneath the coffee table, wishing she could just hide somewhere and not be bothered by anyone. "I wasn't."
"What happened, then?" Mindhi joined them in the living room, walking over and peering at Rouge in concern. "It's Ryoma, isn't it?"
She flinched. It stung when his too-solemn face flashed into her mind. What was he doing now, without her? Rouge cursed at herself when her eyes moistened again. She shouldn't be crying over a man, of all things, but it just hurt so much.
"Damn. What did he do to you, girl?" Cassie sat down beside her on the couch, pulling her into a tight hug. For the first time that night, she felt cared about, leaning into the blue-haired hostess as her vision blurred again. Cassie's warmth wasn't quite like Ryoma's, but it was a fair substitute. She only wished that it was him embracing her instead. He hadn't understood what she said before she left, had he?
But even if he had, what was she to do? Ryoma didn't love her any more than he wanted their relationship to continue. She was a mistake, and only a mistake. Rouge huddled against Cassie, sobs wrecking her form. Did he know how much she was hurting? Would he miss her?
"I'll go get you something warm to drink," she vaguely heard Mindhi say, burying her face in Cassie's shoulder. Her body trembled; she bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut at the thought that she wouldn't see Ryoma ever again. He would love and marry another girl and move on with life. She was nothing like his ideal woman, just someone he liked and had a fling with. It had been nice pretending that they didn't have an expiry date to their relationship.
"H-He's g-getting married," she mumbled into Cassie's shoulder, gasping for breath. What was she to do after this? There was nowhere she could go, too. It was impossible to stay in the same apartment as him, knowing that it'd gradually eat away at her. Hell, she wasn't even welcome there anymore.
"He's getting married but not to you? What the hell?" Cassie stiffened against her, pulling her closer. "How could that two-timing bastard do that to you?"
"H-He told m-me about it l-long ago." She hiccupped, lifting her face from Cassie's shoulder when she realised that her makeup was running onto the girl's clothes. "I just-- I just went on with it until it was too late. S-Sorry about your clothes." She sniffled.
"Not a problem." Cassie rubbed her back comfortingly, waiting until she had pulled away. "But aren't you important enough that he'd call off the marriage for you? You've been going out with him for so long, and you've never said anything about another girl!"
"I don't know. He-- He said he didn't have an answer." Rouge mumbled her thanks when Cassie handed her a tissue, wiping the botched makeup off her face. She probably looked a mess right now. At least Ryoma wasn't left with a bad impression of her... Not that it mattered to him, anyway. She'd fallen so hard for him that walking out of his life so suddenly tore a gaping hole in her, as if she'd left part of herself behind. "It's an arranged marriage. There wasn't a girl before this."
"That's all the more reason he should cancel it! Wouldn't you stand a greater chance than a girl he doesn't know?" Cassie exclaimed indignantly.
She shrugged, shaking her head. Ryoma hadn't seemed like he wanted to let that marriage go. "It's more important to him."
"Rouge, he's such a bastard," Cassie spat vehemently, frowning. Rouge didn't answer. He wasn't one, not truly.
"Here." Mindhi handed her a mug of hot tea and settled down at her other side. "To be honest, though, you brought it on yourself if you already knew he was getting married."
"I did." Rouge took a sip of hot, sweet tea, thankful for the hydration. She'd cried so much on the way here that she was amazed she still had tears left in her. "I... I just thought I had longer with him."
She watched ripples race across the surface of her beverage, remembering the times he'd kissed her of his own volition. Those memories brought with them a bittersweet warmth that forced more wetness to her eyes. What had he meant by those? He'd come so far from the stuttering, blushing man she'd first met at the hostess club. She relished his change, felt a little proud that she had induced it.
"You poor girl." Cassie gave her a single-armed hug, clucking her tongue. "Do you love him?"
She nodded, taking a too-large gulp of tea and scalding her mouth. He was gone and she felt so lost without him that it was embarrassing.
"You deserve better than this, Rouge." Cassie patted her shoulder lightly, pulling another tissue out for her when her eyes started to leak again. "There're plenty of men out there."
None who had impacted her as deeply as Ryoma had, however. He was the one who brought her to the hospital and visited her throughout her illness. He'd been sporting of her interests, caring about her in a way that made her feel loved, even if he didn't see her in that light. Ryoma had been so utterly accommodating with how different from him she was.
"Well, there's another way you can look at this, Rouge," Mindhi suggested. "You know what they say, 'To love someone is to let them go'. I think it means you should try to be happy for him."
Rouge blinked, momentarily struck by that logic. It sounded like something Ryoma would say. She nodded slowly, absorbing the idea. If there was one thing she could still do for him, it was to send him goodwill, in the hopes of him having a better life. Seeing as how she hadn't the chance to be selfish any more.
Despite the dull ache in her chest, she knew there wasn't a point in pining for Ryoma, even if he was all she could think about. She would keep him in her heart, move on with life, and always remember him fondly.
Rouge set her mug down, conjuring Ryoma in her mind and pressing a goodbye kiss to his lips, tearing up again. Then she pulled Cassie and Mindhi close, thanking the gods for their existence.
---
#36 (5:9 Missing)
Ryoma didn't sleep that night.
He tossed in bed for hours, acutely aware of the vast space on the mattress that wouldn't be there if Rouge were with him. It was different from the previous nights, when he'd gone to sleep with the assurance that she'd join him in the wee hours of the morning. He'd wake up with her curled up next to him, looking more innocent than she actually was. Yet there wasn't going to be another morning like that.
It had stung to see her tear-streaked face, to hear her voice break, knowing he had caused them. Hell, it was the first time he'd ever seen her cry. His instincts had told him to go after her, to make her stay no matter the consequence. But he'd forced himself to keep his hands off her. There was no chance for them, after all. He was such a lowlife for giving her hope for something that would not exist.
Ryoma glanced around the dim apartment time and again, seeking comfort in the various articles Rouge had left behind. There was her alarm clock, an old-fashioned, gilted one with its minute and hour hands, and the pieces of clothing she'd draped around to air. He pictured her belongings in the bathroom and her dresses in his closet, savoured his memories of her riffling through them.
He'd never thought he would bring her such pain, during all the times they'd spent together. These past months had been the best in his life. With Rouge, he had been happy, almost carefree, and far bolder than he'd ever been. They had chatted at coffee houses, gone on outings that were never labelled as dates. They taught each other about their pastimes and watched rented movies together on the couch. He had seduced her on a couple of occasions, much to her delight. Embarrassment always consumed him after that. Ryoma hadn't thought that being with a woman (specifically, Rouge) could have that positive an effect on his life.
But all that belonged to the past, now. He couldn't possibly compromise his resolutions. Tradition dictated the way his marriage should be; he had long since resolved to follow it for the sake of his parents. Failure to wed an ideal wife would bring dishonour upon his family, and he didn't want that, even if Rouge's non-virginity didn't matter to him.
All the same, he wished he could've caught her in his arms, wished he could have held her warm frame against his and kissed her neck. He'd meant his kisses, every single one of them. They were the only way he could tell Rouge how much he felt for her. Actual words would hint at a concrete relationship they had no chance of having.
It hurt, now that she was no longer returning. Ryoma hadn't expected the deep ache in his chest, as if a part of him had disappeared. He thought of Miho, of her sweetness and innocence, and knew that she would never be able to replace Rouge. Rouge, with her musky scent and athletic frame, her playful glances and knowing smirks. They'd all become part of part of his life, and the mere thought that he wouldn't be able to hold her again wrought tightness within his chest.
Ryoma turned towards Rouge's side of the bed, hesitantly reaching over to touch her pillow. Sometimes she snuggled so close that she'd be on his pillow instead. He smoothed his fingers over the fabric, thinking how she'd just been lying there the night before. Rouge would never be around to greet him in the mornings again.
He'd miss her kisses, her warmth. As much as she liked the heat, he'd relished hers, and how right she felt against him. He couldn't quite imagine the days ahead without her, with just a wife he couldn't quite love because Rouge had already taken so much of his heart.
He didn't love her, did he?
Ryoma froze, staring blankly at the other half of the bed. All he knew was the hurt that throbbed within his ribs. Sure, he liked her, but just how deep did his feelings go? Deep enough that he'd needed to show it to her somehow. Deep enough that he regretted telling her about the marriage so soon, if delaying it could buy them a little more time.
He reached over and pulled Rouge's pillow to himself, burying his face in it to breathe her scent. It both relieved him and twisted his gut, reassuring him that he still had something left of her, yet reminding him how far away she was. Where was she now? Ryoma dearly hoped she was safe on the streets. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
The pillow was nowhere close to what Rouge was, but he imagined it was her when he hugged it, gently at first, for fear of hurting her, and then tighter, because he wanted her back so badly. He missed her, damn it.
And she wasn't coming back.
Ryoma cursed, clenching his jaw. Rouge was so important to him. She didn't know that, did she? He'd never told her anything about it. Hell, he'd wanted a last kiss from her, but he had been too afraid that he wouldn't let go of her after that, and he needed to. Rouge's return to collect her things was his sole consolation. He'd see her a final time when that happened. It gave him a trickle of hope -- he thirsted for her so much that just a glimpse of her would do. He wouldn't even ask for a touch or kiss.
He hugged the pillow and tossed more in bed, sleep eluding him entirely with thoughts of Rouge haunting him at every moment -- memories, speculations and fantasies -- until dawn broke, and he abandoned his attempts at dozing off, trying to forget her but failing.
The ache in his chest remained through the motions of his morning routine. Ryoma ignored the dark rings under his eyes, too distracted by the bottles of beauty products Rouge had left on the shelves. He'd told her once before that she was beautiful even without all these.
Falcon knew at once when he stepped out of the door, shaking his head in sympathy. All he offered was a single sentence, "Face it, buddy, you've fallen head over heels for her."
Ryoma brushed past him, too miserable to hear the truth in that statement.
---
#37 (6:1 Tears)
Ryoma's trip home would have been almost passable had Falcon not decided to dog his footsteps the entire time. As it was, the blond had volunteered to prepare his trademark grilled prime ribs for dinner that evening, just so Ryoma could take a break from his usual routine. (Falcon rarely cooked, because he was only good at whipping up that one dish, and also because he often voted to leave the chef's hat to Ryoma.)
Despite his friend's well-meaning intentions, Ryoma wished that he could be alone that night. He wasn't hungry; all he wanted to do was mope about amongst Rouge's things, to savour their presence before she removed them entirely from his life. Worse yet, he hadn't been able to concentrate on work all day, making mistakes that Falcon had to catch on more than one occasion. His superior hadn't been too happy with him.
Right now, though, he was just glad to be on his way home. How was Rouge faring? He guessed that she was at work. Perhaps she resented him. It would be for the best if she hated him, because she could move on with her life more easily that way. Even if it made him ache.
He ignored Falcon's empty chatter as he unlocked the door, kicking off his shoes. The blond had taken it upon himself to talk the uncompanionable silence away since they ended work. He'd turned a deaf ear on most of it.
Ryoma realised that something wasn't right the moment he stepped into the apartment.
The alarm clock was gone. And so were the different articles of clothing that Rouge had left draped over his furniture. His grip loosened; his briefcase fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
Trying to quell the building anxiety in his middle, he strode over to the closet and flung it open, forgetting to breathe when vacant clothes hangers stared dully back at him, as if they'd never been occupied. He swallowed hard, cursed. This couldn't be happening. His thundering heartbeat egged him on, towards the bathroom.
Bare shelves greeted him when he glanced tersely in from the kitchen. He flicked the light switch, raked his gaze over every inch of the bathroom counter, trying to find something, anything, that told him someone else had occupied this apartment just yesterday. But there wasn't.
Rouge was gone.
Ryoma bit his lip, swamped by a wave of emptiness that left his mind staggering. Rouge. He wouldn't see her again. Not unless he went to her workplace, and that was out of the question. He clenched his jaw, breathing shallowly. She really was intent on leaving him. He fisted his hands in a bid to stop them from shaking. It was so difficult to accept that he hadn't even got to say goodbye to her.
"Hey, buddy," Falcon began hesitantly, stepping into the kitchen behind him. Light washed through the tiny room.
He turned away, dipping his head so the blond couldn't read his expression. His eyes felt unnaturally hot. His throat had sealed up, and Falcon's company was the last thing he wanted right now.
"Right, you don't have to answer me. I just need the kitchen so I can start on dinner," the blond said, easing behind him to set the plastic carrier on the draining board.
Ryoma took the cue to leave, walking out of the kitchen as quickly as he could. The lights of the main room had been turned on. Something silvery gleamed on his desk, snagging his attention and slowing his footsteps. He approached it with the intent of distracting himself, instantly recognising the key to his apartment that he'd given Rouge. His breath caught. With an unsteady hand, he reached for the metal piece, slowly closing his fingers around it. It was cold and the jagged edges pressed into his palm.
"This probably isn't the right time," Falcon called from the kitchen, "but I found a key next to the door. It's on your desk now."
Oh gods, Rouge...
She'd truly removed herself from his life. He squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with his hand as hot tears trickled onto his fingers.
---
#38 (12:7 Saviour)
Ayame slid into the booth across Falcon with an icy smile, greeting him as she usually did. This time, however, there was a definite frost to her demeanour. She did not sidle up to him, merely proffering a dish with the towel for his hands. "How do you do, Mr Falcon?"
"Whoa, what's with the cold shoulder?" Falcon blinked in bewilderment, realising the reason for her behaviour a second later. It wasn't even his fault that Ayame was acting this way.
She shifted over to him reluctantly at his raised tone, her gaze skirting his in a blatant snub. "Please lower your voice if you're gonna have negative comments. I'd appreciate it."
Falcon took the towel and wiped his hands clean. "Right, lady, I'm sorry for being loud. What I'm not sorry for is the mess concerning our mutual friends." At an indignant look from the hostess, he corrected himself, "My mistake, my friend and our mutual friend, Rouge. The thing is, I'm not responsible for what Ryoma did. I'm just as pissed as you are about that marriage of his."
Ayame scrutinized him, as if a little convinced. "And? What is your purpose here?"
"To be honest, I'm getting pretty sick of how things are goin' right now." Falcon frowned, replacing the towel on the dish. Ayame was still sitting stiffly away from him, and he didn't like that, not when she'd been pliant with him all the other times he'd been here. He slouched into his seat. "It's been a week since things, y'know, died, and Ryoma, that damn idiot, is overworking himself! He's almost a zombie now. I'm starting to wonder if he even sleeps these days. He doesn't want to eat, he works overtime, and he's just looking like something the cat dragged in ten times over." Falcon ticked the points off his fingers.
"Really?" The raven-haired hostess leaned in slightly, her eyes wide with curiosity. "How would I know if you aren't lying?"
Falcon rolled his eyes. Women. Frustration was gathering in his chest with the mention of Ryoma, and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as he could. "Look, Ryoma is practically my best friend, Ayame. I live two floors above him and we work together. I'm concerned about him."
She settled her hands on her hips, looking distrustfully at him. Falcon had the inkling that she could be quite the spitfire if she bothered. It was a trait he liked. Their conversation paused when a runner dropped by to collect their drink orders. "And you aren't here on his behalf?"
He snorted. "Ryoma? Asking me to do his dirty work? He'd rather pretend that there's nothing going absolutely wrong with his life."
"I know he's your friend and all, but you seem keener on this relationship than Ryoma does." Ayame tilted her head to a side. Falcon smiled inwardly at how her indifference was melting away, wondering how soon it'll be 'til they were regular friends again.
"I was there when he broke down and cried like a baby -- right, he didn't actually cry like a baby, but you get the idea." Falcon waved his explanation off. Ryoma hadn't eaten most of his ribs that day (what a waste), but he didn't mind having a second helping. Prime rib cuts were expensive, after all. "Anyone can tell that he looks like a lovesick sod right now. I've told him to forget that arranged marriage stuff, but does he listen? No."
Ayame smiled when he rolled his eyes, leaning closer to him. "He cried?"
"Sure did." Falcon smirked. Ryoma hadn't actually sobbed, but he'd peeked out at the man from the kitchen and seen enough to know. "So, how has Rouge been doing?"
"Going by what you've said, she's doing better than Ryoma." The hostess sat back, looking up at the ceiling in recollection. "She was in a pretty bad state the first day, Cassie told me, but she's better now. We think she might be suppressing her feelings, though."
"What does she feel for him?" He waggled his eyebrows. Ayame giggled.
"Rouge loves him. But we've convinced her to let him go. She's trying to." Ayame leaned against his bicep; Falcon grinned when he curved his arm around her kimono-clad form and she didn't pull away. The girl slanted her gaze up at him. "I'm sorry for being cold to you, it wasn't really fair."
"Nah, it's okay." Falcon flashed a smile at her, before remembering his primary purpose at the hostess club. He snapped his fingers. "Right, I still need to know where Rouge is."
"She's staying with me and my roommates, why?" Ayame regarded him with interest.
"Because Ryoma will just let all this go if he doesn't get a push in the right direction." Falcon rolled his eyes again. Their conversation paused when the runner returned with their beverages. "He's the sort of guy who sticks to his beliefs, and that includes going through with that marriage of his."
"But Rouge--" the hostess began uncertainly.
"He'll let go of her just for that." Falcon shrugged. "I don't understand that part of Ryoma. Anyway--" He pulled his phone out. "--Your address."
Ayame laughed. "In any other scenario, that would've sounded so wrong."
"It can still sound wrong." He looked obliquely at her and smiled. Ayame blushed faintly, suddenly coy.
"I have roommates," she protested.
"Want to make them envious?" Falcon knew his grin was on the verge of being wolfish. It was one of his many charms, after all. The colour on Ayame's cheeks deepened; she swatted at his arm.
"That's indecent, Mr Falcon."
"Hey now, I told you to call me Falcon. Or Edward, should the occasion arise." He grinned smugly at her, tightening his arm around her waist. Unlike Ryoma, he knew his way around women.
"Right, Falcon, my address. Get ready to take it down." Ayame elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He waved his cell phone at her. "Bluewoods Drive, Apartment 220."
She watched as he keyed the address in, her smile matching the one on his face. After he'd hit the "Send" button and put his phone away, Falcon snuggled up against Ayame, slanting a winning smile at her. "Now, that's enough about Ryoma and his girlfriend. I'm thinking of gettin' to know you a lil' better, Ayame. How's that sound?"
Bluewoods Drive, Apt 220. She's there. The rest is up to you, buddy.
---
#39 (6:3 Blurred)
Ryoma fidgeted outside the pastel green door, glancing down at his phone. He'd checked the address multiple times, heard sounds from within. But he couldn't bring himself to push the doorbell. Granted, he'd made his way to Bluewoods Drive within some hours of Falcon's text message. Yet he'd been standing here for the past few minutes, hesitating when he was right at Rouge's doorstep.
He couldn't move on with his life without her. That much was certain. He hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been eating quite enough. Hell, he was on the brink of exhaustion. Falcon got on his case every day, and he'd started to wonder if keeping with tradition was worth going through all this. The ache in his chest never dissipated; in fact, it hurt more knowing that she would be with another man in the future, that she would smile at someone else the way she did him. He loved her, damn it.
Perhaps he hesitated because he was afraid of her rejection now. He'd hurt her so much, to the extent that she'd moved out the day after. Did she hate him? She'd asked if Miho would love him as much as someone else did. Was she referring to herself? His chest tightened to think that she might feel the same way. Yet with how things had progressed... If she had no place for him in her life any longer, he would be able to marry Miho without regret. But if she wanted him, if she did... His hands quivered with hope.
He would travel back to Moonland and talk to his parents about cancelling the marriage, if it meant that she would return home with him tonight.
Ryoma shoved his phone in his pocket and fisted his hands, taking a deep breath. Rouge was in the apartment somewhere. He knew her schedule by heart. She would have ended her shift and gone home to rest by this time. She would be freshly showered and smelling of flowers.
He reached up and pressed the doorbell before he could second-guess himself.
Rouge sat cross-legged on the sofa, hugging a cushion to herself as she watched the news on TV. Her hair was spread out around her to dry; at her friends' encouragement, she'd pampered herself, taking her usual half day off work and lounging in the bathroom to give her tresses a good wash. It felt heavenly to be clean and refreshed.
Ayame and Cassie were working at the hostess club, which explained the lack of noise in the apartment. There was only Mindhi studying in her room. Rouge stared blankly at the moving pictures on the television screen, reluctant to bother her former roommate for long periods of time. Feeling lonely was an understatement; she'd grown so used to Ryoma's company these past months that her friends' chatter was the only thing which could drive the emptiness away.
She'd been here a whole week since Ryoma told her about the marriage. It hadn't been easy adjusting at first, but with the girls' help, she'd managed to get over her misery, if just a little. It was fortunate that there was a couch she could bunk on here.
It wasn't anything like Ryoma's apartment, though. Rouge forced the memories down before they could surface, remembering how she'd gone back with Cassie and Mindhi to pack her things in boxes. It had cut her deeply to ensure that the place looked as if it had never had another resident; being with her friends only aggravated her tears. How had he reacted when he got home?
Did Ryoma miss her? Probably not. He had his future wife to think about.
Rouge curled up on the sofa, clutching the cushion to herself. It was better for her to get upset than it was for him, wasn't it? She imagined him smiling, a bittersweet counterpart crossing her lips. It still stung to think about Ryoma, but her tears had run dry by now.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She blinked; no one dropped by this late. Was Mindhi expecting someone, or had a friend of Cassie's or Ayame's come to visit? Whatever it was, the person at the door wasn't here to see her, so it didn't matter that she was in her pyjamas with her hair falling limply over her shoulders.
On hindsight, Rouge wasn't sure if she should have remembered to look through the peephole before she opened the door.
Because Ryoma stood on the threshold of the apartment, gazing right back at her.
Her heart stumbled. She forgot to breathe. For the longest time, they stared mutely at each other, frozen on either side of the doorway. Ryoma looked like he hadn't slept in days. There were dark bags haunting his eyes, a day's worth of stubble on his chin, and a scab where he'd nicked himself. A T-shirt and pants told her that he'd come from home; she watched as he looked her over, a trace of hunger in his gaze. She knew that need well, could feel it in her bones.
"Ryoma?" Rouge whispered, afraid that he was just an apparition. Why had he come to find her? How had he even known she was here? Her heart thudded noisily.
He didn't respond, his gaze remaining locked on hers. She blinked; he had not vanished. Slowly, he brought his hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek. She dared not breathe. Gods, she'd missed his warmth so much. Ryoma stroked her skin with his thumb, his gesture so tender that it hurt when she pulled herself away, taking a step back.
"We shouldn't," she told him breathlessly, putting some distance between them. He couldn't give her hope again, not when they couldn't be together. "Why are you here, Ryoma?"
Something in his eyes flickered when she said his name. He stepped forward, into the apartment, glancing down briefly and kicking his shoes off, before pushing the door wide open. Rouge swallowed, stepped further back. The way he continued to stare at her sent a shiver down her spine. Why was he doing this when he knew it was pointless?
Ryoma closed the space between them before she knew it, standing so close to her that the heat from his body emanated into her chest. Rouge tensed. He dipped his chin and fitted his face against her neck, breathing next to her skin. She bit her lip, locked her hands at her sides so she wouldn't touch him. "I missed you," he mumbled, so soft she almost couldn't didn't hear it.
"Don't," she choked, even as her chest squeezed, her eyes flickering over his physique. His warmth tempted her to lean in, to feel his whole body against hers.
Ryoma trailed his lips up her throat, along her jaw, seeking hers in the barest hint of a kiss. "I can't love anyone else," he murmured against her mouth.
"What?" She couldn't manage anything above a whisper. He was kissing her. If-- If he couldn't love anyone else, then-- Rouge pulled away from him, searching his dark eyes. Ryoma stared back at her; his outlines blurred. It was moments before she realised that she was crying, that he was brushing her tears away. But that only made him turn fuzzier. She bit her lip, dashed saltwater off with the backs of her hands. He pulled her into a hug so tight she couldn't breathe. Rouge slung her arms haphazardly around him, curling her fingers into his hair and pressing her face into his shoulder, drawing deep breaths of his scent. A single sob quaked her form. "Ryoma..."
He rubbed her back for long moments until she calmed, allowing her to pull away when she was ready. Rouge gave him a watery smile. It was still a little hard to grasp that he had confessed, harder yet to contain the bubble of joy in her middle.
"But-- but your marriage..." she trailed off uncertainly, biting her lip and sniffling, a jumble of emotions clamouring within her.
"I'll talk to my parents and see if I can cancel it." He tucked her hair behind her ear, caressing her neck. Her heart trilled. She felt her spirits lift with the determination in his eyes. Maybe there was hope for them, after all.
Rouge pulled him back down for another kiss, backing into a wall and resting her weight against it so she could concentrate on tasting him properly after so long. His lips parted hungrily against hers; Ryoma welcomed her into his mouth, sliding his tongue heavily against hers, his breath soughing against her skin. His arm curved around her waist, shortly before he pulled her hips flush against his. There was a telling bulge there that made her gasp and moan, grinding instinctively into him. He grunted. Her lips quirked. Hell, if they were back at his apartment, she would've made sure he was snug in her within the next few seconds.
"Rouge? Did you get the door? I thought I heard the doorbell--" Mindhi's voice stopped short. "Oh. Uh, right, tell me when you're ready to go."
They broke apart, breathing raggedly, turning just as Mindhi's door clicked shut. Ryoma's face was tinted pink, as was hers. Rouge leaned back against the wall, suddenly shy. Her gaze skirted his. When she finally chanced a glance at him, she found him still staring fixedly away, shifting on his feet. A smile curved her lips. Ryoma only looked back at her when she wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing him into a light hug. "I missed you too."
"I shouldn't have put you through all that I did." He returned the embrace awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Rouge."
"I think it might have been necessary. We wouldn't have got this far if I hadn't left." Rouge pulled away, tracing a finger up his stubbled jaw. "You're sexy like that."
"That's all you think about," he grumbled, glancing to the side. She bit down a grin.
"Not true." Rouge leaned back into him, savouring the warmth she'd missed for so long. She was beyond elated that he was with her again. Her fingers skimmed over his strong arm. "It's just that your body tends to direct my thoughts that way."
"Hey! Mindhi might hear you." He frowned at her.
Rouge grinned mischievously, leaning in so her lips feathered across his ear. He turned to look at her in question. She slipped a hand down between them, purposefully dragging her fingers over the bulge at his loins, that had now subsided. "She can't hear this."
"Rouge!" he hissed, his face flooding with red. His glance flew towards the open front door. She grinned wider.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're mine. No one stepping through that door will argue with that." Rouge purred and gave him an experimental squeeze. He stiffened, staring incredulously at her. She slanted him an innocent grin. "Someone could step in here and see this. We haven't tested your boundaries on exhibitionism yet, Ryoma."
If anything, he stirred in her palm, firmly setting her hand aside. "Not here, Rouge."
She nodded compliantly, smirking at him. "What do you suggest?"
Ryoma paused, his receding blush creeping back. "W-Would you like to l-live with me again?"
Her heart quickened; Rouge gazed warmly at him, savouring the hope in his expression. It was as if she was home, just by being with him once more. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips with a smile. "Only if you'll help with moving all my stuff back."
------
Part: ARC 2, Part 2
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Rouge/Ryoma
Genre: Romance/Erotica/Friendship/AU
Rating: varies from PG to NC-17
Word count: 5,972
Summary: Sales representative Ryoma Iwakura's life careens off course when a business deal brings him to a hostess bar, and into the company of hostess and strip club dancer Rouge. A spark of attraction ignites between them, one Ryoma tries to deny. Despite his reservations, he embarks on a scandalous friendship with Rouge that questions his plans for the future.
Author's Notes: One last chapter to go!! Prompts are from 10_prompts.
#35 (1:7 Lost)
Rouge pressed the doorbell and hiccupped, belatedly remembering the wet streaks running through her cosmetics. She brushed them away hurriedly, cursing when they smeared, and again when a loud exclamation sounded through the door. A wince tugged at her lips; she looked away as the door was flung open. It would have been ideal if she was alone right now, but she needed somewhere to stay for the night.
"Rouge! What the heck happened to you?" Cassie gaped at her in her nightdress, ushering her into the apartment. "Were you attacked along the way?"
She sank numbly onto the couch and shook her head, clutching her bag to herself. It felt very much like a security blanket right then. Cassie's gaze was a little too piercing; she stared fixedly at the rug beneath the coffee table, wishing she could just hide somewhere and not be bothered by anyone. "I wasn't."
"What happened, then?" Mindhi joined them in the living room, walking over and peering at Rouge in concern. "It's Ryoma, isn't it?"
She flinched. It stung when his too-solemn face flashed into her mind. What was he doing now, without her? Rouge cursed at herself when her eyes moistened again. She shouldn't be crying over a man, of all things, but it just hurt so much.
"Damn. What did he do to you, girl?" Cassie sat down beside her on the couch, pulling her into a tight hug. For the first time that night, she felt cared about, leaning into the blue-haired hostess as her vision blurred again. Cassie's warmth wasn't quite like Ryoma's, but it was a fair substitute. She only wished that it was him embracing her instead. He hadn't understood what she said before she left, had he?
But even if he had, what was she to do? Ryoma didn't love her any more than he wanted their relationship to continue. She was a mistake, and only a mistake. Rouge huddled against Cassie, sobs wrecking her form. Did he know how much she was hurting? Would he miss her?
"I'll go get you something warm to drink," she vaguely heard Mindhi say, burying her face in Cassie's shoulder. Her body trembled; she bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut at the thought that she wouldn't see Ryoma ever again. He would love and marry another girl and move on with life. She was nothing like his ideal woman, just someone he liked and had a fling with. It had been nice pretending that they didn't have an expiry date to their relationship.
"H-He's g-getting married," she mumbled into Cassie's shoulder, gasping for breath. What was she to do after this? There was nowhere she could go, too. It was impossible to stay in the same apartment as him, knowing that it'd gradually eat away at her. Hell, she wasn't even welcome there anymore.
"He's getting married but not to you? What the hell?" Cassie stiffened against her, pulling her closer. "How could that two-timing bastard do that to you?"
"H-He told m-me about it l-long ago." She hiccupped, lifting her face from Cassie's shoulder when she realised that her makeup was running onto the girl's clothes. "I just-- I just went on with it until it was too late. S-Sorry about your clothes." She sniffled.
"Not a problem." Cassie rubbed her back comfortingly, waiting until she had pulled away. "But aren't you important enough that he'd call off the marriage for you? You've been going out with him for so long, and you've never said anything about another girl!"
"I don't know. He-- He said he didn't have an answer." Rouge mumbled her thanks when Cassie handed her a tissue, wiping the botched makeup off her face. She probably looked a mess right now. At least Ryoma wasn't left with a bad impression of her... Not that it mattered to him, anyway. She'd fallen so hard for him that walking out of his life so suddenly tore a gaping hole in her, as if she'd left part of herself behind. "It's an arranged marriage. There wasn't a girl before this."
"That's all the more reason he should cancel it! Wouldn't you stand a greater chance than a girl he doesn't know?" Cassie exclaimed indignantly.
She shrugged, shaking her head. Ryoma hadn't seemed like he wanted to let that marriage go. "It's more important to him."
"Rouge, he's such a bastard," Cassie spat vehemently, frowning. Rouge didn't answer. He wasn't one, not truly.
"Here." Mindhi handed her a mug of hot tea and settled down at her other side. "To be honest, though, you brought it on yourself if you already knew he was getting married."
"I did." Rouge took a sip of hot, sweet tea, thankful for the hydration. She'd cried so much on the way here that she was amazed she still had tears left in her. "I... I just thought I had longer with him."
She watched ripples race across the surface of her beverage, remembering the times he'd kissed her of his own volition. Those memories brought with them a bittersweet warmth that forced more wetness to her eyes. What had he meant by those? He'd come so far from the stuttering, blushing man she'd first met at the hostess club. She relished his change, felt a little proud that she had induced it.
"You poor girl." Cassie gave her a single-armed hug, clucking her tongue. "Do you love him?"
She nodded, taking a too-large gulp of tea and scalding her mouth. He was gone and she felt so lost without him that it was embarrassing.
"You deserve better than this, Rouge." Cassie patted her shoulder lightly, pulling another tissue out for her when her eyes started to leak again. "There're plenty of men out there."
None who had impacted her as deeply as Ryoma had, however. He was the one who brought her to the hospital and visited her throughout her illness. He'd been sporting of her interests, caring about her in a way that made her feel loved, even if he didn't see her in that light. Ryoma had been so utterly accommodating with how different from him she was.
"Well, there's another way you can look at this, Rouge," Mindhi suggested. "You know what they say, 'To love someone is to let them go'. I think it means you should try to be happy for him."
Rouge blinked, momentarily struck by that logic. It sounded like something Ryoma would say. She nodded slowly, absorbing the idea. If there was one thing she could still do for him, it was to send him goodwill, in the hopes of him having a better life. Seeing as how she hadn't the chance to be selfish any more.
Despite the dull ache in her chest, she knew there wasn't a point in pining for Ryoma, even if he was all she could think about. She would keep him in her heart, move on with life, and always remember him fondly.
Rouge set her mug down, conjuring Ryoma in her mind and pressing a goodbye kiss to his lips, tearing up again. Then she pulled Cassie and Mindhi close, thanking the gods for their existence.
---
#36 (5:9 Missing)
Ryoma didn't sleep that night.
He tossed in bed for hours, acutely aware of the vast space on the mattress that wouldn't be there if Rouge were with him. It was different from the previous nights, when he'd gone to sleep with the assurance that she'd join him in the wee hours of the morning. He'd wake up with her curled up next to him, looking more innocent than she actually was. Yet there wasn't going to be another morning like that.
It had stung to see her tear-streaked face, to hear her voice break, knowing he had caused them. Hell, it was the first time he'd ever seen her cry. His instincts had told him to go after her, to make her stay no matter the consequence. But he'd forced himself to keep his hands off her. There was no chance for them, after all. He was such a lowlife for giving her hope for something that would not exist.
Ryoma glanced around the dim apartment time and again, seeking comfort in the various articles Rouge had left behind. There was her alarm clock, an old-fashioned, gilted one with its minute and hour hands, and the pieces of clothing she'd draped around to air. He pictured her belongings in the bathroom and her dresses in his closet, savoured his memories of her riffling through them.
He'd never thought he would bring her such pain, during all the times they'd spent together. These past months had been the best in his life. With Rouge, he had been happy, almost carefree, and far bolder than he'd ever been. They had chatted at coffee houses, gone on outings that were never labelled as dates. They taught each other about their pastimes and watched rented movies together on the couch. He had seduced her on a couple of occasions, much to her delight. Embarrassment always consumed him after that. Ryoma hadn't thought that being with a woman (specifically, Rouge) could have that positive an effect on his life.
But all that belonged to the past, now. He couldn't possibly compromise his resolutions. Tradition dictated the way his marriage should be; he had long since resolved to follow it for the sake of his parents. Failure to wed an ideal wife would bring dishonour upon his family, and he didn't want that, even if Rouge's non-virginity didn't matter to him.
All the same, he wished he could've caught her in his arms, wished he could have held her warm frame against his and kissed her neck. He'd meant his kisses, every single one of them. They were the only way he could tell Rouge how much he felt for her. Actual words would hint at a concrete relationship they had no chance of having.
It hurt, now that she was no longer returning. Ryoma hadn't expected the deep ache in his chest, as if a part of him had disappeared. He thought of Miho, of her sweetness and innocence, and knew that she would never be able to replace Rouge. Rouge, with her musky scent and athletic frame, her playful glances and knowing smirks. They'd all become part of part of his life, and the mere thought that he wouldn't be able to hold her again wrought tightness within his chest.
Ryoma turned towards Rouge's side of the bed, hesitantly reaching over to touch her pillow. Sometimes she snuggled so close that she'd be on his pillow instead. He smoothed his fingers over the fabric, thinking how she'd just been lying there the night before. Rouge would never be around to greet him in the mornings again.
He'd miss her kisses, her warmth. As much as she liked the heat, he'd relished hers, and how right she felt against him. He couldn't quite imagine the days ahead without her, with just a wife he couldn't quite love because Rouge had already taken so much of his heart.
He didn't love her, did he?
Ryoma froze, staring blankly at the other half of the bed. All he knew was the hurt that throbbed within his ribs. Sure, he liked her, but just how deep did his feelings go? Deep enough that he'd needed to show it to her somehow. Deep enough that he regretted telling her about the marriage so soon, if delaying it could buy them a little more time.
He reached over and pulled Rouge's pillow to himself, burying his face in it to breathe her scent. It both relieved him and twisted his gut, reassuring him that he still had something left of her, yet reminding him how far away she was. Where was she now? Ryoma dearly hoped she was safe on the streets. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
The pillow was nowhere close to what Rouge was, but he imagined it was her when he hugged it, gently at first, for fear of hurting her, and then tighter, because he wanted her back so badly. He missed her, damn it.
And she wasn't coming back.
Ryoma cursed, clenching his jaw. Rouge was so important to him. She didn't know that, did she? He'd never told her anything about it. Hell, he'd wanted a last kiss from her, but he had been too afraid that he wouldn't let go of her after that, and he needed to. Rouge's return to collect her things was his sole consolation. He'd see her a final time when that happened. It gave him a trickle of hope -- he thirsted for her so much that just a glimpse of her would do. He wouldn't even ask for a touch or kiss.
He hugged the pillow and tossed more in bed, sleep eluding him entirely with thoughts of Rouge haunting him at every moment -- memories, speculations and fantasies -- until dawn broke, and he abandoned his attempts at dozing off, trying to forget her but failing.
The ache in his chest remained through the motions of his morning routine. Ryoma ignored the dark rings under his eyes, too distracted by the bottles of beauty products Rouge had left on the shelves. He'd told her once before that she was beautiful even without all these.
Falcon knew at once when he stepped out of the door, shaking his head in sympathy. All he offered was a single sentence, "Face it, buddy, you've fallen head over heels for her."
Ryoma brushed past him, too miserable to hear the truth in that statement.
---
#37 (6:1 Tears)
Ryoma's trip home would have been almost passable had Falcon not decided to dog his footsteps the entire time. As it was, the blond had volunteered to prepare his trademark grilled prime ribs for dinner that evening, just so Ryoma could take a break from his usual routine. (Falcon rarely cooked, because he was only good at whipping up that one dish, and also because he often voted to leave the chef's hat to Ryoma.)
Despite his friend's well-meaning intentions, Ryoma wished that he could be alone that night. He wasn't hungry; all he wanted to do was mope about amongst Rouge's things, to savour their presence before she removed them entirely from his life. Worse yet, he hadn't been able to concentrate on work all day, making mistakes that Falcon had to catch on more than one occasion. His superior hadn't been too happy with him.
Right now, though, he was just glad to be on his way home. How was Rouge faring? He guessed that she was at work. Perhaps she resented him. It would be for the best if she hated him, because she could move on with her life more easily that way. Even if it made him ache.
He ignored Falcon's empty chatter as he unlocked the door, kicking off his shoes. The blond had taken it upon himself to talk the uncompanionable silence away since they ended work. He'd turned a deaf ear on most of it.
Ryoma realised that something wasn't right the moment he stepped into the apartment.
The alarm clock was gone. And so were the different articles of clothing that Rouge had left draped over his furniture. His grip loosened; his briefcase fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
Trying to quell the building anxiety in his middle, he strode over to the closet and flung it open, forgetting to breathe when vacant clothes hangers stared dully back at him, as if they'd never been occupied. He swallowed hard, cursed. This couldn't be happening. His thundering heartbeat egged him on, towards the bathroom.
Bare shelves greeted him when he glanced tersely in from the kitchen. He flicked the light switch, raked his gaze over every inch of the bathroom counter, trying to find something, anything, that told him someone else had occupied this apartment just yesterday. But there wasn't.
Rouge was gone.
Ryoma bit his lip, swamped by a wave of emptiness that left his mind staggering. Rouge. He wouldn't see her again. Not unless he went to her workplace, and that was out of the question. He clenched his jaw, breathing shallowly. She really was intent on leaving him. He fisted his hands in a bid to stop them from shaking. It was so difficult to accept that he hadn't even got to say goodbye to her.
"Hey, buddy," Falcon began hesitantly, stepping into the kitchen behind him. Light washed through the tiny room.
He turned away, dipping his head so the blond couldn't read his expression. His eyes felt unnaturally hot. His throat had sealed up, and Falcon's company was the last thing he wanted right now.
"Right, you don't have to answer me. I just need the kitchen so I can start on dinner," the blond said, easing behind him to set the plastic carrier on the draining board.
Ryoma took the cue to leave, walking out of the kitchen as quickly as he could. The lights of the main room had been turned on. Something silvery gleamed on his desk, snagging his attention and slowing his footsteps. He approached it with the intent of distracting himself, instantly recognising the key to his apartment that he'd given Rouge. His breath caught. With an unsteady hand, he reached for the metal piece, slowly closing his fingers around it. It was cold and the jagged edges pressed into his palm.
"This probably isn't the right time," Falcon called from the kitchen, "but I found a key next to the door. It's on your desk now."
Oh gods, Rouge...
She'd truly removed herself from his life. He squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with his hand as hot tears trickled onto his fingers.
---
#38 (12:7 Saviour)
Ayame slid into the booth across Falcon with an icy smile, greeting him as she usually did. This time, however, there was a definite frost to her demeanour. She did not sidle up to him, merely proffering a dish with the towel for his hands. "How do you do, Mr Falcon?"
"Whoa, what's with the cold shoulder?" Falcon blinked in bewilderment, realising the reason for her behaviour a second later. It wasn't even his fault that Ayame was acting this way.
She shifted over to him reluctantly at his raised tone, her gaze skirting his in a blatant snub. "Please lower your voice if you're gonna have negative comments. I'd appreciate it."
Falcon took the towel and wiped his hands clean. "Right, lady, I'm sorry for being loud. What I'm not sorry for is the mess concerning our mutual friends." At an indignant look from the hostess, he corrected himself, "My mistake, my friend and our mutual friend, Rouge. The thing is, I'm not responsible for what Ryoma did. I'm just as pissed as you are about that marriage of his."
Ayame scrutinized him, as if a little convinced. "And? What is your purpose here?"
"To be honest, I'm getting pretty sick of how things are goin' right now." Falcon frowned, replacing the towel on the dish. Ayame was still sitting stiffly away from him, and he didn't like that, not when she'd been pliant with him all the other times he'd been here. He slouched into his seat. "It's been a week since things, y'know, died, and Ryoma, that damn idiot, is overworking himself! He's almost a zombie now. I'm starting to wonder if he even sleeps these days. He doesn't want to eat, he works overtime, and he's just looking like something the cat dragged in ten times over." Falcon ticked the points off his fingers.
"Really?" The raven-haired hostess leaned in slightly, her eyes wide with curiosity. "How would I know if you aren't lying?"
Falcon rolled his eyes. Women. Frustration was gathering in his chest with the mention of Ryoma, and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as he could. "Look, Ryoma is practically my best friend, Ayame. I live two floors above him and we work together. I'm concerned about him."
She settled her hands on her hips, looking distrustfully at him. Falcon had the inkling that she could be quite the spitfire if she bothered. It was a trait he liked. Their conversation paused when a runner dropped by to collect their drink orders. "And you aren't here on his behalf?"
He snorted. "Ryoma? Asking me to do his dirty work? He'd rather pretend that there's nothing going absolutely wrong with his life."
"I know he's your friend and all, but you seem keener on this relationship than Ryoma does." Ayame tilted her head to a side. Falcon smiled inwardly at how her indifference was melting away, wondering how soon it'll be 'til they were regular friends again.
"I was there when he broke down and cried like a baby -- right, he didn't actually cry like a baby, but you get the idea." Falcon waved his explanation off. Ryoma hadn't eaten most of his ribs that day (what a waste), but he didn't mind having a second helping. Prime rib cuts were expensive, after all. "Anyone can tell that he looks like a lovesick sod right now. I've told him to forget that arranged marriage stuff, but does he listen? No."
Ayame smiled when he rolled his eyes, leaning closer to him. "He cried?"
"Sure did." Falcon smirked. Ryoma hadn't actually sobbed, but he'd peeked out at the man from the kitchen and seen enough to know. "So, how has Rouge been doing?"
"Going by what you've said, she's doing better than Ryoma." The hostess sat back, looking up at the ceiling in recollection. "She was in a pretty bad state the first day, Cassie told me, but she's better now. We think she might be suppressing her feelings, though."
"What does she feel for him?" He waggled his eyebrows. Ayame giggled.
"Rouge loves him. But we've convinced her to let him go. She's trying to." Ayame leaned against his bicep; Falcon grinned when he curved his arm around her kimono-clad form and she didn't pull away. The girl slanted her gaze up at him. "I'm sorry for being cold to you, it wasn't really fair."
"Nah, it's okay." Falcon flashed a smile at her, before remembering his primary purpose at the hostess club. He snapped his fingers. "Right, I still need to know where Rouge is."
"She's staying with me and my roommates, why?" Ayame regarded him with interest.
"Because Ryoma will just let all this go if he doesn't get a push in the right direction." Falcon rolled his eyes again. Their conversation paused when the runner returned with their beverages. "He's the sort of guy who sticks to his beliefs, and that includes going through with that marriage of his."
"But Rouge--" the hostess began uncertainly.
"He'll let go of her just for that." Falcon shrugged. "I don't understand that part of Ryoma. Anyway--" He pulled his phone out. "--Your address."
Ayame laughed. "In any other scenario, that would've sounded so wrong."
"It can still sound wrong." He looked obliquely at her and smiled. Ayame blushed faintly, suddenly coy.
"I have roommates," she protested.
"Want to make them envious?" Falcon knew his grin was on the verge of being wolfish. It was one of his many charms, after all. The colour on Ayame's cheeks deepened; she swatted at his arm.
"That's indecent, Mr Falcon."
"Hey now, I told you to call me Falcon. Or Edward, should the occasion arise." He grinned smugly at her, tightening his arm around her waist. Unlike Ryoma, he knew his way around women.
"Right, Falcon, my address. Get ready to take it down." Ayame elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He waved his cell phone at her. "Bluewoods Drive, Apartment 220."
She watched as he keyed the address in, her smile matching the one on his face. After he'd hit the "Send" button and put his phone away, Falcon snuggled up against Ayame, slanting a winning smile at her. "Now, that's enough about Ryoma and his girlfriend. I'm thinking of gettin' to know you a lil' better, Ayame. How's that sound?"
Bluewoods Drive, Apt 220. She's there. The rest is up to you, buddy.
---
#39 (6:3 Blurred)
Ryoma fidgeted outside the pastel green door, glancing down at his phone. He'd checked the address multiple times, heard sounds from within. But he couldn't bring himself to push the doorbell. Granted, he'd made his way to Bluewoods Drive within some hours of Falcon's text message. Yet he'd been standing here for the past few minutes, hesitating when he was right at Rouge's doorstep.
He couldn't move on with his life without her. That much was certain. He hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been eating quite enough. Hell, he was on the brink of exhaustion. Falcon got on his case every day, and he'd started to wonder if keeping with tradition was worth going through all this. The ache in his chest never dissipated; in fact, it hurt more knowing that she would be with another man in the future, that she would smile at someone else the way she did him. He loved her, damn it.
Perhaps he hesitated because he was afraid of her rejection now. He'd hurt her so much, to the extent that she'd moved out the day after. Did she hate him? She'd asked if Miho would love him as much as someone else did. Was she referring to herself? His chest tightened to think that she might feel the same way. Yet with how things had progressed... If she had no place for him in her life any longer, he would be able to marry Miho without regret. But if she wanted him, if she did... His hands quivered with hope.
He would travel back to Moonland and talk to his parents about cancelling the marriage, if it meant that she would return home with him tonight.
Ryoma shoved his phone in his pocket and fisted his hands, taking a deep breath. Rouge was in the apartment somewhere. He knew her schedule by heart. She would have ended her shift and gone home to rest by this time. She would be freshly showered and smelling of flowers.
He reached up and pressed the doorbell before he could second-guess himself.
Rouge sat cross-legged on the sofa, hugging a cushion to herself as she watched the news on TV. Her hair was spread out around her to dry; at her friends' encouragement, she'd pampered herself, taking her usual half day off work and lounging in the bathroom to give her tresses a good wash. It felt heavenly to be clean and refreshed.
Ayame and Cassie were working at the hostess club, which explained the lack of noise in the apartment. There was only Mindhi studying in her room. Rouge stared blankly at the moving pictures on the television screen, reluctant to bother her former roommate for long periods of time. Feeling lonely was an understatement; she'd grown so used to Ryoma's company these past months that her friends' chatter was the only thing which could drive the emptiness away.
She'd been here a whole week since Ryoma told her about the marriage. It hadn't been easy adjusting at first, but with the girls' help, she'd managed to get over her misery, if just a little. It was fortunate that there was a couch she could bunk on here.
It wasn't anything like Ryoma's apartment, though. Rouge forced the memories down before they could surface, remembering how she'd gone back with Cassie and Mindhi to pack her things in boxes. It had cut her deeply to ensure that the place looked as if it had never had another resident; being with her friends only aggravated her tears. How had he reacted when he got home?
Did Ryoma miss her? Probably not. He had his future wife to think about.
Rouge curled up on the sofa, clutching the cushion to herself. It was better for her to get upset than it was for him, wasn't it? She imagined him smiling, a bittersweet counterpart crossing her lips. It still stung to think about Ryoma, but her tears had run dry by now.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She blinked; no one dropped by this late. Was Mindhi expecting someone, or had a friend of Cassie's or Ayame's come to visit? Whatever it was, the person at the door wasn't here to see her, so it didn't matter that she was in her pyjamas with her hair falling limply over her shoulders.
On hindsight, Rouge wasn't sure if she should have remembered to look through the peephole before she opened the door.
Because Ryoma stood on the threshold of the apartment, gazing right back at her.
Her heart stumbled. She forgot to breathe. For the longest time, they stared mutely at each other, frozen on either side of the doorway. Ryoma looked like he hadn't slept in days. There were dark bags haunting his eyes, a day's worth of stubble on his chin, and a scab where he'd nicked himself. A T-shirt and pants told her that he'd come from home; she watched as he looked her over, a trace of hunger in his gaze. She knew that need well, could feel it in her bones.
"Ryoma?" Rouge whispered, afraid that he was just an apparition. Why had he come to find her? How had he even known she was here? Her heart thudded noisily.
He didn't respond, his gaze remaining locked on hers. She blinked; he had not vanished. Slowly, he brought his hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek. She dared not breathe. Gods, she'd missed his warmth so much. Ryoma stroked her skin with his thumb, his gesture so tender that it hurt when she pulled herself away, taking a step back.
"We shouldn't," she told him breathlessly, putting some distance between them. He couldn't give her hope again, not when they couldn't be together. "Why are you here, Ryoma?"
Something in his eyes flickered when she said his name. He stepped forward, into the apartment, glancing down briefly and kicking his shoes off, before pushing the door wide open. Rouge swallowed, stepped further back. The way he continued to stare at her sent a shiver down her spine. Why was he doing this when he knew it was pointless?
Ryoma closed the space between them before she knew it, standing so close to her that the heat from his body emanated into her chest. Rouge tensed. He dipped his chin and fitted his face against her neck, breathing next to her skin. She bit her lip, locked her hands at her sides so she wouldn't touch him. "I missed you," he mumbled, so soft she almost couldn't didn't hear it.
"Don't," she choked, even as her chest squeezed, her eyes flickering over his physique. His warmth tempted her to lean in, to feel his whole body against hers.
Ryoma trailed his lips up her throat, along her jaw, seeking hers in the barest hint of a kiss. "I can't love anyone else," he murmured against her mouth.
"What?" She couldn't manage anything above a whisper. He was kissing her. If-- If he couldn't love anyone else, then-- Rouge pulled away from him, searching his dark eyes. Ryoma stared back at her; his outlines blurred. It was moments before she realised that she was crying, that he was brushing her tears away. But that only made him turn fuzzier. She bit her lip, dashed saltwater off with the backs of her hands. He pulled her into a hug so tight she couldn't breathe. Rouge slung her arms haphazardly around him, curling her fingers into his hair and pressing her face into his shoulder, drawing deep breaths of his scent. A single sob quaked her form. "Ryoma..."
He rubbed her back for long moments until she calmed, allowing her to pull away when she was ready. Rouge gave him a watery smile. It was still a little hard to grasp that he had confessed, harder yet to contain the bubble of joy in her middle.
"But-- but your marriage..." she trailed off uncertainly, biting her lip and sniffling, a jumble of emotions clamouring within her.
"I'll talk to my parents and see if I can cancel it." He tucked her hair behind her ear, caressing her neck. Her heart trilled. She felt her spirits lift with the determination in his eyes. Maybe there was hope for them, after all.
Rouge pulled him back down for another kiss, backing into a wall and resting her weight against it so she could concentrate on tasting him properly after so long. His lips parted hungrily against hers; Ryoma welcomed her into his mouth, sliding his tongue heavily against hers, his breath soughing against her skin. His arm curved around her waist, shortly before he pulled her hips flush against his. There was a telling bulge there that made her gasp and moan, grinding instinctively into him. He grunted. Her lips quirked. Hell, if they were back at his apartment, she would've made sure he was snug in her within the next few seconds.
"Rouge? Did you get the door? I thought I heard the doorbell--" Mindhi's voice stopped short. "Oh. Uh, right, tell me when you're ready to go."
They broke apart, breathing raggedly, turning just as Mindhi's door clicked shut. Ryoma's face was tinted pink, as was hers. Rouge leaned back against the wall, suddenly shy. Her gaze skirted his. When she finally chanced a glance at him, she found him still staring fixedly away, shifting on his feet. A smile curved her lips. Ryoma only looked back at her when she wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing him into a light hug. "I missed you too."
"I shouldn't have put you through all that I did." He returned the embrace awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Rouge."
"I think it might have been necessary. We wouldn't have got this far if I hadn't left." Rouge pulled away, tracing a finger up his stubbled jaw. "You're sexy like that."
"That's all you think about," he grumbled, glancing to the side. She bit down a grin.
"Not true." Rouge leaned back into him, savouring the warmth she'd missed for so long. She was beyond elated that he was with her again. Her fingers skimmed over his strong arm. "It's just that your body tends to direct my thoughts that way."
"Hey! Mindhi might hear you." He frowned at her.
Rouge grinned mischievously, leaning in so her lips feathered across his ear. He turned to look at her in question. She slipped a hand down between them, purposefully dragging her fingers over the bulge at his loins, that had now subsided. "She can't hear this."
"Rouge!" he hissed, his face flooding with red. His glance flew towards the open front door. She grinned wider.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're mine. No one stepping through that door will argue with that." Rouge purred and gave him an experimental squeeze. He stiffened, staring incredulously at her. She slanted him an innocent grin. "Someone could step in here and see this. We haven't tested your boundaries on exhibitionism yet, Ryoma."
If anything, he stirred in her palm, firmly setting her hand aside. "Not here, Rouge."
She nodded compliantly, smirking at him. "What do you suggest?"
Ryoma paused, his receding blush creeping back. "W-Would you like to l-live with me again?"
Her heart quickened; Rouge gazed warmly at him, savouring the hope in his expression. It was as if she was home, just by being with him once more. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips with a smile. "Only if you'll help with moving all my stuff back."
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