Was It Out of Pity? Chapter 32
I had a dream the other night about strangling somebody. 0_o ... It wouldn't be the first homicidal dream I've ever had, but this is the first one, that I can recall, where I actually knew the person I was beating the shit out of.
And, as odd as this may sound, I didn't really mind it. The dream had quite the upbeat mood to it ^_^
Perhaps it's a little creepy that I had such a dream. Creepier still, that it wasn't a bad dream.
What does that have anything to do with the subject above? Absolutely nothing, I just thought I'd share. Also, pubescent girls who pretend to be grown women, and adolescent girls who act like pubescent girls who pretend to be grown women, I find I really dislike. At times, makes me think of wanting to do to them the maschetti bit that--hm, was it Erzstbeth?--did. We'll give them something to cry and play drama queen over, won't we now?
I guess I just have an innate malice toward small boobs and pimple cream and shitty school-girl spelling, lol. And all the petty, self-absorbed whining. I think that maybe I should write a story where the serial killer targets the little fucktards--but that would be incredibly acrimonious, even for me, I should think.
Yes, creepy.
Um, moving on (cut me some slack; it is, after all, the season for sinister thoughts, is it not?), I do have a new chapter, and it is posted at both the fanfiction sites, I believe, as of yesterday evening. If Claire is reading this, it is unfortunately not an addition to the story I sent you (do let me know whether you like it or not, won't you?)--but I'll work on that one some time this week, if it pleases you ^__^
“Shuichi.”
Kurama looked up from his desk. “Yes?” he replied, somewhat cautiously. The tone in his step-father’s voice, the expression on his face, told the Fox this was no mere drop in.
Kazuya stepped into the room, noticing that Shuichi remained seated, instead of rising to greet him as usual. “You’re … behind, in your work,” he said, trying not to sound critical.
“I know,” the redhead acknowledged.
“More than a little behind.”
Kurama nodded his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
The older man examined him. “If you’re having any problems …” Kazuya began.
“No, I’m not having any problems at work. I just need to focus more. I’m sorry.” He returned to working on the computer, hoping that Kazuya would not question him further, relieved when he didn’t and soon left.
Yusuke was hungry when it was time to leave. “I’m not going to contribute to the competitors!” he exclaimed when Kurama suggested a ramen house. “You weren’t two-timing our shop before we closed, were you?”
He gave Yusuke a look that clearly told the latter what he thought of that question. “You’re serious about re-opening, then?”
Now he was the one to receive the Look. “I told you I was. I’ve even talked to someone who’ll help us. Go there!” he yelled, pointing to a nearby McDonald’s. Kurama cast the eatery a disgusted eye, despite occasionally eating there himself, but pulled into the parking lot.
“Make it quick, Yusuke,” he murmured.
“You want anything?” the brunette asked.
Kurama shook his head. Hiei had startled him the other night by observing that he was “getting soft.”
“You’re not fat or anything,” the Koorime had said when Kurama didn’t speak immediately. “But you live like a human now, and humans are tenderer than demons.”
Considering Hiei’s rationale, Kurama knew the latter did not intend to insult him. But the comment still hurt a little.
The redhead was so deep in thought that he accidentally hit the horn when Yusuke returned, slamming the passenger door as he got in. “You’re jumpy,” he observed, tearing into his sandwich. “How’s Hiei? I haven’t seen him since … uh, since he and I got back.”
“He’s hung around the house a lot,” Kurama replied monotonously, careful to conceal the trouble he was feeling. Hiei had grown more silent and sullen since this last trip, and …
The night that he returned, the night that Kurama passed out, was the last night the two had been intimate. Since then, every advance the Fox made was rejected. Hiei told him that he wasn’t angry over how that night ended, but still … He heaved a sigh.
Yusuke heard. “What’s wrong?”
The Kitsune shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What do you want for dinner?” Hiei inquired, taking a break from one of the new books Kurama had picked up.
“I’m not very hungry,” he replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Besides, it’s not as though my tender human body will starve to death.”
Hiei, feeling weary this evening, made no attempt to enliven Kurama or defend his self. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked.
“I already have something, thank you.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I’m fine.” Kurama took a large swallow.
“You don’t want anything to eat?”
“No, Hiei.” Why was he so persistent? “I told you, I’m not hungry.”
Hiei stared at the glass as Kurama set it down. ‘At least take a bite of something in between,’ he thought, ‘so that perhaps you won’t get drunk.’
“Hiei.”
The Koorime turned around; Shizuru Kuwabara was approaching him. He placed his lettuce head in a bag, waiting for her to speak.
“I heard about what happened,” she said. Hiei knew, from her tone, what she meant. Perhaps he would break Yusuke’s jaw, he thought. A vision of the Detective’s loose mouth, wired shut, came to mind.
“And?” He shrugged, somewhat awkwardly, adding, “It’s no big deal.”
Shizuru gave him a skeptical look. “Kurama’s been sick.”
“He’s better now,” Hiei replied promptly. “And besides, the two are not connected.”
“Do you think that?” she asked. Knowing the only answer she would receive would be a glare or a sharp word, she didn’t wait for one. “Do you know what happened to him while you were gone?”
“He developed a fever,” Hiei answered snidely.
“He got drunk,” Shizuru retorted. “And someone put a move on him.”
Hiei stared, and then forced a shrug. “Kurama can take care of himself, against some human.”
“Forced a move on him,” she restated. “Pulling him into an alley, when we showed up.”
“Kurama doesn’t drink.”
“He could barely stand; we had to help him back inside, and he drank more. Hiei, he doesn’t look good. I think something’s wrong with him.”
“… He might be stressed out,” Hiei admitted. An almost predatory glint appeared in Shizuru’s eye. “From work,” the Koorime snapped. “A Fox isn’t meant to be caged up all day, everyday in a little room.”
Shizuru looked thoughtful. “Did work make him faint or vomit?”
“I don’t follow,” he said, by now thoroughly agitated. Mention of Kurama fainting made him all the more defensive.
He earned a confused look from Shizuru. “… You don’t know, then.”
Hiei narrowed his eyes. “Know what?”
Kurama had never told him about the incident at the veterinary school. Hiei found it difficult to summon a retort afterwards, settling finally for a growled insistence that Kurama was fine.
And then he had come home, and found the Fox drinking an odd-smelling beverage-the same type as he had last night, the same type that he was drinking tonight.
‘“Hiei, has it occurred to you that it might be harmful to…?’”
He tried to shake it off. For crying out loud, she was the Oaf’s sister; what right had she-had any human-to advise him on this situation?
Then again, there was unfortunately truth to at least part of what that woman said. Kurama didn’t look good … Something was wrong. ‘I want you to be happy,’ he thought, staring blankly at his lover.
“Have I done something to displease you?” Kurama suddenly asked.
Hiei blinked. “What?”
Kurama edged closer to him. “You’re not interested in me anymore,” he said.
‘Wonderful,’ the Koorime thought. He set down the Iliad. “Don’t do this, Kurama.”
He tensed as his lover grabbed his sleeve. “I’ve put you off in some way,” the redhead lamented.
“Whimpering like this isn’t putting me on in any way, eith-What the hell?!” Hiei pushed Kurama away and stood up. “Kurama,” he grumbled, re-zipping his pants, “go to bed.”
“Hi-“
“You’ve had more than I thought,” Hiei said firmly. “You need to sleep it off.”
“I’m sorry I passed out.”
Hiei rubbed his forehead. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“You’ve wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I … have a lot of things on my mind right now.”
“Then let me help you!”
The Jaganshi bristled a little, but tried to maintain his calm. “Help me,” he said, “by going to bed. You aren’t well right now.” He did his best to ignore the tears gathering in Kurama’s eyes. “I’m tired; I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bed, however, did not guarantee rest. Hiei found himself staring up at the ceiling, a torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. Was it selfish of him to suddenly leave Kurama like this? But even if it was, how could it be more selfish than-?
The bedroom door opened; the mattress groaned a little as Kurama slid into bed beside him. Hiei lay still while Kurama curled up beside him. Thinking of the tears he had caused earlier, he wrapped an arm around the Fox and stroked his hair-though he soon stopped when it was received with a flinch. His conversation, if it could be called that, with Shizuru in the grocery store came to mind.
Hiei felt bad for Kurama-but he couldn’t prove It right.
Kuwabara browsed the seafood aisle, cringing when he saw the lobsters bound in their tank. He couldn’t stomach the idea of dining on something that had to be boiled alive, and quickly bypassed them, contemplating the shrimp, instead. Eikichi liked shrimp-but he couldn’t afford to buy shrimp on a whim. Perhaps he’d wait till Friday, when he had plans with Yukina …
And of course, he would save a piece for Eikichi.
The carrot-top, so preoccupied with his thoughts, didn’t notice anyone in front of him until he ran over the unfortunate person’s foot. A yelp brought the injury to his attention. “What…? Oh! Sorry!”
Akira stared down at his big toe, the nail of which had cracked and was beginning to bleed. “I guess I’ll add band-aids to my grocery list,” he murmured, giving Kuwabara an apologetic smile. “Sorry about standing right in front of your cart.”
“Um … it’s okay. Akira, right?”
He nodded. “I remembered you from the restaurant, and wanted to ask you a question.”
“… Okay.”
“Is Shuichi sick?”
“Uh, not that I know of.”
“Oh.” Akira furrowed his brow. “I was wondering, because his office has been empty for three days. The wiring in that part of the building is shot, so I’m always put there, and he’s bout the only one I talk to.” He shrugged. “It’s been a lonely week.”
“Yeah, Ku-Shuichi hasn’t had the best of health this year.”
“I wonder …” the willow-man began, looking thoughtful, “if what he has is not many petty sicknesses, but one large one.”
“You mean, a disease?”
Akira winced. “Hopefully not, but yeah.”
A disease. Shizuru would argue that Kurama had a disease. Had he thought he could manage it without being hurled through a window, Kuwabara might have throttled his sister the other day, when she came home declaring that Hiei now knew about Kurama’s drunken misadventure. Kuwabara decided that he would do their grocery shopping from then on.
However, just because he thought his sister was being somewhat militant, did not mean that he necessarily disagreed with her.
“I don’t know,” he told Akira, but already he was becoming wrapped up in his thoughts again. Perhaps, when one grew so familiar with something, they were blind when it began to lapse. It was harder, though, when someone with no previous history could, with the mere flip of a switch, shine a painfully bright light, and make clear as day what others allowed emotion to shadow.
And, as odd as this may sound, I didn't really mind it. The dream had quite the upbeat mood to it ^_^
Perhaps it's a little creepy that I had such a dream. Creepier still, that it wasn't a bad dream.
What does that have anything to do with the subject above? Absolutely nothing, I just thought I'd share. Also, pubescent girls who pretend to be grown women, and adolescent girls who act like pubescent girls who pretend to be grown women, I find I really dislike. At times, makes me think of wanting to do to them the maschetti bit that--hm, was it Erzstbeth?--did. We'll give them something to cry and play drama queen over, won't we now?
I guess I just have an innate malice toward small boobs and pimple cream and shitty school-girl spelling, lol. And all the petty, self-absorbed whining. I think that maybe I should write a story where the serial killer targets the little fucktards--but that would be incredibly acrimonious, even for me, I should think.
Yes, creepy.
Um, moving on (cut me some slack; it is, after all, the season for sinister thoughts, is it not?), I do have a new chapter, and it is posted at both the fanfiction sites, I believe, as of yesterday evening. If Claire is reading this, it is unfortunately not an addition to the story I sent you (do let me know whether you like it or not, won't you?)--but I'll work on that one some time this week, if it pleases you ^__^
“Shuichi.”
Kurama looked up from his desk. “Yes?” he replied, somewhat cautiously. The tone in his step-father’s voice, the expression on his face, told the Fox this was no mere drop in.
Kazuya stepped into the room, noticing that Shuichi remained seated, instead of rising to greet him as usual. “You’re … behind, in your work,” he said, trying not to sound critical.
“I know,” the redhead acknowledged.
“More than a little behind.”
Kurama nodded his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
The older man examined him. “If you’re having any problems …” Kazuya began.
“No, I’m not having any problems at work. I just need to focus more. I’m sorry.” He returned to working on the computer, hoping that Kazuya would not question him further, relieved when he didn’t and soon left.
Yusuke was hungry when it was time to leave. “I’m not going to contribute to the competitors!” he exclaimed when Kurama suggested a ramen house. “You weren’t two-timing our shop before we closed, were you?”
He gave Yusuke a look that clearly told the latter what he thought of that question. “You’re serious about re-opening, then?”
Now he was the one to receive the Look. “I told you I was. I’ve even talked to someone who’ll help us. Go there!” he yelled, pointing to a nearby McDonald’s. Kurama cast the eatery a disgusted eye, despite occasionally eating there himself, but pulled into the parking lot.
“Make it quick, Yusuke,” he murmured.
“You want anything?” the brunette asked.
Kurama shook his head. Hiei had startled him the other night by observing that he was “getting soft.”
“You’re not fat or anything,” the Koorime had said when Kurama didn’t speak immediately. “But you live like a human now, and humans are tenderer than demons.”
Considering Hiei’s rationale, Kurama knew the latter did not intend to insult him. But the comment still hurt a little.
The redhead was so deep in thought that he accidentally hit the horn when Yusuke returned, slamming the passenger door as he got in. “You’re jumpy,” he observed, tearing into his sandwich. “How’s Hiei? I haven’t seen him since … uh, since he and I got back.”
“He’s hung around the house a lot,” Kurama replied monotonously, careful to conceal the trouble he was feeling. Hiei had grown more silent and sullen since this last trip, and …
The night that he returned, the night that Kurama passed out, was the last night the two had been intimate. Since then, every advance the Fox made was rejected. Hiei told him that he wasn’t angry over how that night ended, but still … He heaved a sigh.
Yusuke heard. “What’s wrong?”
The Kitsune shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What do you want for dinner?” Hiei inquired, taking a break from one of the new books Kurama had picked up.
“I’m not very hungry,” he replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Besides, it’s not as though my tender human body will starve to death.”
Hiei, feeling weary this evening, made no attempt to enliven Kurama or defend his self. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked.
“I already have something, thank you.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I’m fine.” Kurama took a large swallow.
“You don’t want anything to eat?”
“No, Hiei.” Why was he so persistent? “I told you, I’m not hungry.”
Hiei stared at the glass as Kurama set it down. ‘At least take a bite of something in between,’ he thought, ‘so that perhaps you won’t get drunk.’
“Hiei.”
The Koorime turned around; Shizuru Kuwabara was approaching him. He placed his lettuce head in a bag, waiting for her to speak.
“I heard about what happened,” she said. Hiei knew, from her tone, what she meant. Perhaps he would break Yusuke’s jaw, he thought. A vision of the Detective’s loose mouth, wired shut, came to mind.
“And?” He shrugged, somewhat awkwardly, adding, “It’s no big deal.”
Shizuru gave him a skeptical look. “Kurama’s been sick.”
“He’s better now,” Hiei replied promptly. “And besides, the two are not connected.”
“Do you think that?” she asked. Knowing the only answer she would receive would be a glare or a sharp word, she didn’t wait for one. “Do you know what happened to him while you were gone?”
“He developed a fever,” Hiei answered snidely.
“He got drunk,” Shizuru retorted. “And someone put a move on him.”
Hiei stared, and then forced a shrug. “Kurama can take care of himself, against some human.”
“Forced a move on him,” she restated. “Pulling him into an alley, when we showed up.”
“Kurama doesn’t drink.”
“He could barely stand; we had to help him back inside, and he drank more. Hiei, he doesn’t look good. I think something’s wrong with him.”
“… He might be stressed out,” Hiei admitted. An almost predatory glint appeared in Shizuru’s eye. “From work,” the Koorime snapped. “A Fox isn’t meant to be caged up all day, everyday in a little room.”
Shizuru looked thoughtful. “Did work make him faint or vomit?”
“I don’t follow,” he said, by now thoroughly agitated. Mention of Kurama fainting made him all the more defensive.
He earned a confused look from Shizuru. “… You don’t know, then.”
Hiei narrowed his eyes. “Know what?”
Kurama had never told him about the incident at the veterinary school. Hiei found it difficult to summon a retort afterwards, settling finally for a growled insistence that Kurama was fine.
And then he had come home, and found the Fox drinking an odd-smelling beverage-the same type as he had last night, the same type that he was drinking tonight.
‘“Hiei, has it occurred to you that it might be harmful to…?’”
He tried to shake it off. For crying out loud, she was the Oaf’s sister; what right had she-had any human-to advise him on this situation?
Then again, there was unfortunately truth to at least part of what that woman said. Kurama didn’t look good … Something was wrong. ‘I want you to be happy,’ he thought, staring blankly at his lover.
“Have I done something to displease you?” Kurama suddenly asked.
Hiei blinked. “What?”
Kurama edged closer to him. “You’re not interested in me anymore,” he said.
‘Wonderful,’ the Koorime thought. He set down the Iliad. “Don’t do this, Kurama.”
He tensed as his lover grabbed his sleeve. “I’ve put you off in some way,” the redhead lamented.
“Whimpering like this isn’t putting me on in any way, eith-What the hell?!” Hiei pushed Kurama away and stood up. “Kurama,” he grumbled, re-zipping his pants, “go to bed.”
“Hi-“
“You’ve had more than I thought,” Hiei said firmly. “You need to sleep it off.”
“I’m sorry I passed out.”
Hiei rubbed his forehead. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“You’ve wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I … have a lot of things on my mind right now.”
“Then let me help you!”
The Jaganshi bristled a little, but tried to maintain his calm. “Help me,” he said, “by going to bed. You aren’t well right now.” He did his best to ignore the tears gathering in Kurama’s eyes. “I’m tired; I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bed, however, did not guarantee rest. Hiei found himself staring up at the ceiling, a torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. Was it selfish of him to suddenly leave Kurama like this? But even if it was, how could it be more selfish than-?
The bedroom door opened; the mattress groaned a little as Kurama slid into bed beside him. Hiei lay still while Kurama curled up beside him. Thinking of the tears he had caused earlier, he wrapped an arm around the Fox and stroked his hair-though he soon stopped when it was received with a flinch. His conversation, if it could be called that, with Shizuru in the grocery store came to mind.
Hiei felt bad for Kurama-but he couldn’t prove It right.
Kuwabara browsed the seafood aisle, cringing when he saw the lobsters bound in their tank. He couldn’t stomach the idea of dining on something that had to be boiled alive, and quickly bypassed them, contemplating the shrimp, instead. Eikichi liked shrimp-but he couldn’t afford to buy shrimp on a whim. Perhaps he’d wait till Friday, when he had plans with Yukina …
And of course, he would save a piece for Eikichi.
The carrot-top, so preoccupied with his thoughts, didn’t notice anyone in front of him until he ran over the unfortunate person’s foot. A yelp brought the injury to his attention. “What…? Oh! Sorry!”
Akira stared down at his big toe, the nail of which had cracked and was beginning to bleed. “I guess I’ll add band-aids to my grocery list,” he murmured, giving Kuwabara an apologetic smile. “Sorry about standing right in front of your cart.”
“Um … it’s okay. Akira, right?”
He nodded. “I remembered you from the restaurant, and wanted to ask you a question.”
“… Okay.”
“Is Shuichi sick?”
“Uh, not that I know of.”
“Oh.” Akira furrowed his brow. “I was wondering, because his office has been empty for three days. The wiring in that part of the building is shot, so I’m always put there, and he’s bout the only one I talk to.” He shrugged. “It’s been a lonely week.”
“Yeah, Ku-Shuichi hasn’t had the best of health this year.”
“I wonder …” the willow-man began, looking thoughtful, “if what he has is not many petty sicknesses, but one large one.”
“You mean, a disease?”
Akira winced. “Hopefully not, but yeah.”
A disease. Shizuru would argue that Kurama had a disease. Had he thought he could manage it without being hurled through a window, Kuwabara might have throttled his sister the other day, when she came home declaring that Hiei now knew about Kurama’s drunken misadventure. Kuwabara decided that he would do their grocery shopping from then on.
However, just because he thought his sister was being somewhat militant, did not mean that he necessarily disagreed with her.
“I don’t know,” he told Akira, but already he was becoming wrapped up in his thoughts again. Perhaps, when one grew so familiar with something, they were blind when it began to lapse. It was harder, though, when someone with no previous history could, with the mere flip of a switch, shine a painfully bright light, and make clear as day what others allowed emotion to shadow.