Brush Strokes of Longing by OneNotToBeTrusted [Oneshot #94]
Title: Brush Strokes of Longing
Author: OneNotToBeTrusted
Prompt: Black and Blue - Oneshot #94
Word Count: 958
Genre: Romance, Drama
Universe: AU
Rating: M
Warnings: None
Summary: Living the lonely existence of a master painter, Sesshoumaru finds himself drawn to the colors that remind him of her.
AN: ‘Thoughts’ “Dialogue”
Sesshoumaru stared intently at the glorious array of paints before him, searching for inspiration. He had every possible color available here in his private studio, organized perfectly by shade. The crimson red that reminded him of his brother lay untouched; the molten gold reflected in his own eyes unused, and even the deep greens of the forests he was so fond of remained unopened.
He kept them only for their potential future use. He was resolved to one day have need of them, but right now he was hopelessly drawn to the darker shades of the spectrum. Despite his best efforts, he always found himself returning to the same two colors: black and blue. They were her colors. The black of her long eyelashes came to mind, and the way they would flutter when she looked up at him. The many blues of her expressive eyes drew him in like a moth to the flame. The raven locks of her hair made a perfect mixture of both when the sunlight hit her just right. He was incapable of using any other colors, he longed for her so fiercely.
He handled his favorite brush with ease, his strokes slow and deliberate as he carefully breathed life into the canvas before him. He could not bring himself to paint her face, it was far too painful, so he instead painted the stormy skies he had often seen in her eyes. Dark clouds spilled into the foreground of his work ominously as he thought of the last time he’d seen her.
Tears had streamed down her face when she told him she wasn’t allowed to see him anymore. She had looked so utterly broken. That was three years ago.
When they met, she had instantly won him over with her easy smiles and genuine kindness. She was loyal to a fault and fiery in her protectiveness, but she was too trusting. They became very close and he had soon assigned himself with the troublesome task of keeping her safe, but he couldn’t protect her heart.
Inuyasha knew Sesshoumaru wanted her, knew that he himself didn’t deserve her, and threatened by the growing relationship between the two he did what any brash and selfish male would have done: he isolated her, demanded that she move in with him, far away, and never contact his brother. He twisted her love and threw it in her face, insisting that if she truly loved him that she would comply, that he was all she should ever need. And so, with her back against the wall, she had agreed. She had loved Inuyasha whole-heartedly and hoped that a new start in a new place would be what they needed to find happiness together.
“Don’t,” Sesshoumaru had tried. He knew his half-brother would not stay loyal to her, that she would endure heartbreak.
“I have to go,” she had whispered sadly, bitterly.
And because Sesshoumaru loved her, he let her.
The paintbrush slipped from his fingers and his claws clenched in fury at his own helplessness. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration and sighed heavily. Giving up on painting for the night, he walked to the balcony and stared up the moon, hoping to calm his inner turmoil.
And then her scent was in his nose again, teasing him, and he was sure he had at last lost his sanity, but then came a timid knock on his door. His eyes wide with disbelief, he lunged for the door and threw it open to find her there. He stood in shock, staring at her, hungrily taking in every detail of her face.
Her long black hair was loose and messy, blue eyes tinged red and watery from crying, and she sniffled pitifully. She was as beautiful as ever but looked so incredibly small, tired, and entirely too thin, so he frowned.
Kagome, thinking he was displeased with her for daring to come back, bit her lip nervously and closed her eyes to wait for the questions, the subsequent I-told-you-so. But they did not come.
One clawed hand stretched out to snatch her to him, and he cradled her to his chest like she was a precious and fragile treasure. She lost her strength then, and clung to him as she cried into his shoulder. She had missed him just as terribly, her best friend. In his arms again, so safe, she felt complete. She breathed him in and closed her eyes. ‘Sesshoumaru.’ The thought made her heart swell with happiness.
He pulled back a little to stare into her eyes, to be sure she was real, was really there with him again and he lost himself in the stormy skies he had become so familiar with. Overcome with possessiveness he pressed a series of feverish kisses against her lips, in her hair, up her neck, laying claim to any part of her within reach. When she returned his passion with equal fervor, he rumbled approvingly and lifted her into his arms.
He carried her from the hall, slamming the door closed as he moved them to his bedroom. They fell together in a tangle of limbs and kisses.
There were no questions, no words needed. None of it mattered now, because she was back. She was back, she was here, she was his, and she was never leaving again.
Claws tangled in her hair, surrounded by her scent, and feeling her writhing beneath him caused the most vibrant colors to explode behind his eyes. He suddenly knew that he would no longer be limited in his work to her black and blues. He would keep her near, always, and when he had her to gaze upon, the colors of the paints could never compare.