5/? - Intimations

Their breaths mingled in a heated wave, their bodies tangled together as if in dance—it was a dance, the oldest dance in existence—and for a while, they can only stare at each other, as if in a spell.

Yes, it was a spell. It must be. No other explanation for it.

He continued to stare at her, his dark eyes darkening by the minute.

Their first kiss was explosive, a crushing of lips so fierce that teeth clacked against each other. The second ones were amazed, as if in question if this was really happening, the third was reverent, the fourth was to explore, and so on it went.

Until this, this situation they were in, in his bed, silk and cotton sheets underneath them in a sweaty heap and cushions scattered on the floor.

He traced her jaw with a finger, and drank in the sight of her: hair askew, eyes bright, and cheeks flushed.

I did that, he thought possessively.

"Well, that was unexpected," she said with her characteristic bluntness.

He wanted to laugh, and since this was a day when he did all and sundry, he allowed himself to drown in inexplicable happiness.

No, not inexplicable, he corrected himself. It's because of her you're so happy.

He had a brief flash of recollection about the last time they were like this, in a creepy mansion by the beach, and he was trying to scare her, teach her a lesson. This time, it was about losing himself to passion, to the fire that she stoked in his belly.

"Unexpected, but I think you can agree it was a long time coming," he replied.

She sighed, and made to move so she could sit up. He rolled from her and lay down in the bed, now focusing his stare on the ceiling.

She sat up on the bed, pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "What made you say so?" There was a fascinated inquiry in her tone.

He snorted, an inelegant noise he rarely made before. "Maybe we grew up? It's hard to keep thinking of you as that doe-eyed junior all those years ago. And I am very attracted to you, and vice versa—now don't try to deny it!" he shot sharply as she opened her mouth to argue. "I saw you staring at me from across the dinner table last week; trust me, I was doing the same."

She sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "Okay, I will give you that. So. What do we do now?"

"The only thing that has changed is that I can kiss you senseless when you aggravate me."

She laughed, "That and I can do the same back."

"I am not in love with you," he said easily. "But I like you and I know you like me too. And we can go on until one of us says otherwise."

"I can live with that." Then a thought marred her pretty features. "But it will be a long-distance relationship, yes?"

"But think of the welcome and goodbye shags we can have."

She laughed again and he found he loved—liked—the sound. She lay back down and faced him.

"Seal it with a kiss?" she asked playfully.

He can only humour her.

And so it became. He'd fly out, she'd wait—but never pine, no—and he'd come back again should his schedule allow. He was racking up air miles like they were tickets on a playground fair.

Speeches were brief, and more time was spent in exploring, tasting, being together.

It continued for a while. Until reality seeped in and physicality was replaced by two lines of text on a mobile phone.

But she knew deep in her heart it was to be expected—she expected much from herself and other people expected much from him. So she breathed in, let it out slowly, and the smile on her face was more genuine than the last.

Things came to a head one wintry day. It was the tail end of the cold months and she was able to sit outside with him for a cup of coffee without freezing her nose.

She was about to bring her drink to her lips when she caught sight of his expression.

It was no longer soft, but stoic, drawn, and a hint of regret that he could never hide from her observant gaze.

"I'm getting married," he said quietly.

She put down her cup and brought her hands together on the table.

"Congratulations are in order then," she responded just as quietly.

"I wanted you to know before everyone else."

"That's okay. We knew that this was going to happen, didn't we? Thanks for letting me know, though."

He nearly brought a hand to his hair but he stopped himself and he settled for staring at her from his wire-framed glasses.

"I wish things could be different."

She kept her silence, knowing that any response was just going to add fuel to the fire. Knew that they were empty words—were they? When she was aware that their times together was more than unbridled lust but something more passionate than she cared to admit.

She stood up.

"As you know, I might not be able to come to the wedding. It is my last year here and I have had some offers from law firms in the city."

"I understand."

"As do I."

He stopped short and sighed. He felt the disappointment coursing through his veins and wished to any deity listening that they remove her mask of impenetrability.

Was it narcissistic to ask that he wanted her to rave, scream and beg him to stay with her?

It surely was. But his heart felt painful at the thought that he was saying goodbye and not for the first time, cursed his circumstances.

"Let me know how it goes," she said and he forced himself to listen to her more intently while his insides raged. "For what it's worth, I did enjoy our time together. Brief at it was." She offered him a crooked smile that he did not return so she just stood there awkwardly.

"Best I get going then." She tugged at the end of her scarf under the pretence of tightening on her neck. She just barely managed not to touch his cheek knowing that doing so would crumble her resolve and bring everything to hell.

"Goodbye and good luck, Kyoya."

His name was like a benediction on her lips and he wanted nothing more than to gather her again in his arms and wish that the universe would perish around them until it was just her and him and…

"Goodbye and good luck, Haruhi."

Another crooked smile and she turned around.

Neither saw how he collapsed on the table, his hands on his hair and his breathing laboured or the single tear that fell down her cheek.

Author's Notes:

Erm…I'm alive? My writing style has changed drastically, and this chapter was a bit of a test and am slowly getting the writing groove back on now that work has gotten a bit more stressful than normal.

Let me know what you think!