Even If [Skip Beat!: Sho/Kyoko, PG]
Title: Even If
Rating: PG
Warnings: Manga spoilers up to chapter 105
Word Count: 1429
Summary: It’s Kyoko’s big day, and Sho could think of a thousand reasons for not going.
Prompt: 17th - Skip Beat, Sho/Kyoko, regrets/loss, maybe he loves her/maybe he always has.
“Good morning, and welcome to five-minute cooking with Kyoko~!”
Sho had gotten used to that greeting for the last two years now, and set his TV every night to wake up at exactly 6 in the morning. He had never missed the show-even when he stumbled home at five, muscles aching from the tour and eyes begging for a rest. Lately, it was all he could get from her. A little piece of the past that he couldn’t- wasn’t able to let go.
“I’ve cleared your schedule for the afternoon, Sho,” Shoko muttered, walking into his living room, scribbling things in her agenda. “You’re free to go anywhere after the interview at the radio station.”
He looked up just in time to see Shoko hiding a sad smile behind the locks of her wavy hair, and sighed. “I don’t feel like going.”
“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side, a teasing grin curving her lips. “Go where? It’s not like I was suggesting you should go somewhere you’re supposed to.”
“The wedding, I mean--” He trailed off, and realized his manager had cornered him into talking about the one topic he had tried not to think of. “Did they invite you too?”
Shoko shrugged, and closed her agenda. “We’ve talked several times, and I found myself liking her, despite the horrible first impressions.”
In the TV, Kyoko was performing a marvelous chopping skill with a carrot and a kitchen knife. She winked and smiled at him from the screen, and he felt his chest tighten. “Told you, I don’t feel like going.”
-
“You’ve dyed your hair back.”
She turned to look at the newcomer, pushing her veil out from her line of vision and Sho could see that Kyoko was trying hard not to grit her teeth at him.
“Just for today, I’m Kyoko Mogami again,” she muttered, straightening her bangs. “God, don’t do that. I almost jumped to choke you.”
The church’s stained glass had refracted shades of rainbow on her wedding dress, and Sho knew she had never look so beautiful. Not from the make up, not from the-like-it-came-out-from-a-fairy-tale-dress, but from the ever existing beam that hung out of her face. Something he had failed to see from their childhood, and even now.
“You look beautiful today.”
Kyoko looked at his reflection at the mirror, and actually stopped fixing her hair to open mouthed-ly stare at him, “Did you hit your head or something? I’m not going to tell you that you look gorgeous or something like that, you narcissistic little prick.”
He sighed deeply and leaned back on the wall beside the dressing room’s door. “What? I’ve said the same thing before.”
“Shotaro-“
“Don’t call me that,” He said, fighting the vein from showing on his temple with mixed success.
“Have you come only to make my most important day miserable?”
Sho stared back at her reflection in the mirror. His next words surprised him even more. “Let’s escape from here-just both of us. Ditch your wedding, ditch that man and come with me.”
The room’s temperature dropped several degrees at least when she actually turned around again to look at him squarely in the eyes. Sho thought he’d feel unseen forces choking and paralyzing his limbs again, muttering about hate, destruction and divine punishment. There was nothing, just a confused look. Kyoko's lower lip wobbled and gradually her face showed a look of disappointment. “Y-you, could it be-don’t tell me, after all this years?”
“Come on, Kyoko. Look how we’ve been together.” He walked forward, advancing toward her and realized she wasn’t backing down. “Those years you’re by my side-tell me it meant something for you. Please.” Even the last word suprised him.
She was furrowing her eyebrows, lips pursed in thoughts. “Which part? The part where I got isolated and bullied to no ends by my classmates because I live at your house? The part where I trained myself endlessly so I can meet your parent’s expectations? The part where I slaved myself for you, dropped out of school until you reached stardom, and then you dumped me like a-an used tissue or--” her voice shook, and her gloves furling into fists.
“And even after all that, don’t you love me anymore?” He gripped her bare shoulders, and they were face to face now.
“I loved you once, Sho.” Kyoko shook her head, “Loved you so much until I broke myself to pieces. But you never taught me, never showed me how is it to be loved. But he-he might be manipulative, he could be the emperor of the night so many times, but all those times, he showed me how to be loved and how to love again. If you-if you really love me, you’d let me be happy.”
Something inside of Sho broke, and he found himself staring blankly at the door of Kyoko’s dressing room. He was sweating profusely, and he finally realized he had been too paralyzed to even knock at the door ever since arriving at the church.
“Sho?” There was the voice of his worried manager from behind him. “Are you okay? If you want to meet Kyoko-chan, you should hurry. You’ve been standing there for more than five minutes.”
“I-I’m just having a day-dream,” He waved her off, forcing an awkward smile. “A horrid one, that is.”
“I’ll save you a seat in the church. Don’t take too long, the ceremony’s about to start.” Shoko said, leaving him pondering in front of the door again.
He started a hesitant knock, and waited for an answer.
Kyoko opened the door, and his breathe stopped. She had looked beautiful in his imagination, but in reality, she was breath-taking. Her hair was black and longer from the time when they first arrived at Tokyo, and looking at her reminded Sho of Kyoto, of wasted childhood and years of unconditional affection.
“Shotaro,” she said, and much to his surprise, she smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you for coming.”
The words ‘don’t call me that’ surfaced into his mind, but he let it slid. Just for today, he is Fuwa Shotaro again. “Congrats,” he said, giving her a otoshidama, “this is from my father.”
Kyoko took the offered elaborate envelope. “Oh, he really shouldn’t have…”
“And from my mother,” At this, he pulled out the small box and opened it, showing a pretty pearl bracelet. “When she heard about that ‘something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue’ tradition, she told me to give you this.”
Kyoko fingered the bracelet carefully, and continued to clasp it on her wrist. “Please tell your parents thank you, Sho. They’ve done enough by raising me.”
“Kyoko?”
Both of them looked up to hear the speaker, and Sho racked his mind to wonder where in the world he had seen the blond man in the black tux before.
“Fuwa,” the blonde said, “Thanks for coming.”
The voice registered into Sho’s mind instantly. “Tsuruga? ‘Zat you? Why in the world did you dye your hair?”
“I’m always a blonde,” Tsuruga said, “And just for today, I’m Hizuri Kuon again.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you said the Americans believe it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.” Kyoko said, dusting off invisible dust from her dress.
“I’m half Japanese, so that superstition doesn’t work for me.” Tsuruga/Kuon’s eyes flicked from his bride to Sho’s for a split second. “Besides, I came here to check up on you.”
Sho caught all the sentiment in that one line clearly, and stepped back. “It’s time for me to leave. Congratulations, Tsuru--Hizuri.” he said, offering his hand to the blonde, who in turn gave Sho a mildly surprised look. There was no hint of triumphant grin or hints of alpha male on the taller man’s face when they shook hands. “Make her happy, or I’ll break your bones.”
“You’re one to talk.” Tsuruga-Kuon grinned, tightening his grip, but his face lightened up. “I believe nobody’s bones are gonna be broken.”
Sho turned back to Kyoko, who watched their weird banter from the sidelines, and offered his hand to her. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Sho,” she smiled, and he took this chance to pull her forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, whispering ‘be happy’.
Tsuruga was yelling some profanities when Sho managed to scurry out of the dressing room unscathed, laughing to himself and the pain in his chest, until he noticed what it was at last.
A bittersweet pang for the road not taken.