Update! Finally… Watch my amazing ability at trying and possibly failing at to keep up with two stories (and I've got plenty of ideas for other ones too) and my real life, and my coursework, and my part time job. :3

Lay on My Leather Couch

Chapter Two

He was beautiful, but he was also ugly.

He bore deeper scars then I could ever understand, and his life was a series of heart wrenching or terrifying -- sometimes even both -- events, that followed one after the other. Lady Luck, although she had been kind on the surface, obviously had a rather twisted sense of humour. For every 'success' he earned, there seemed to be a catch. Or an rather unfortunate repercussion.

It was no wonder he had developed those mangled views and opinions. It was the only way he'd lived; he didn't know any other ways to think.

After all, a tightened string could only withstand a certain amount… before it snapped.

>>>>>>

"So tell me about your childhood."

Inuyasha sneers disdainfully, and I think if he has half the mind to toss his hair, he would. "Don't think I haven't heard that line, wench. I could've just turned the TV on, instead of coming the way all over here." With a expressive roll of his eyes, he shifts his gaze to stare moodily out the window.

I, however, am intrigued. "All the way over here? Where did you come from?"

Inuyasha flicks me a surprised glance. At least I think it's surprise. There is a tinge of scornfulness mixed in there too. "You don't know where I live?"

A beat. "…Should I?"

He laughs; a short, sharp bark of laughter that seems to hold no mirth whatsoever. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Inuyasha." The name tastes so familiar on my tongue, the syllables seeming to be some kind of distant chant that I had once chanted before, but have forgotten. The knowledge dances teasingly in front of me, darting just out of hand when I try to grasp it. "You're… Inuyasha."

It's as if he can sense my blatant puzzlement, because he shakes his head, a wry smile quirking those supple lips. Inuyasha really is… beautiful. "You still don't know who I am." The words brook no argument, no protestations.

Abrupt. That's… the only word that comes to mind when he grips my hands, holding them secure in his, the warmth enveloping me. His golden eyes burn into mine, holding me still, practically entranced. I can't breathe, my ability to respire has stopped, and my heart beats almost painfully in my chest. He leans forward, a hair's breadth away from me. I can feel his breath tickling my face gently, can smell the mint of it. I swallow.

"Then I promise you… once you've met me, you'll never forget me."

>>>>>>

I sip at my latte, before grimacing and reaching for a packet of sugar.

"So how's the therapy going?" Sango tips her head back, exposing a creamy throat, seeming to handle the espresso (no sugar, I might add) fine. She sets her cup down, gently swilling the dark, hot liquid around, as she gazes earnestly at me.

At twenty seven, and a good deal taller then me, Sango is not what you'd call cute. She has strong features; a straight, almost Roman nose, and a full, sensual mouth; wonderfully dark expressive eyes that she fixes upon me now -- and due to faithfulness to the gym and a balanced diet, she is slim. Independence and loyalty are perhaps her most prized traits, and she is often highly moralistic, yet understanding of other's wrongs.

So it comes to a little puzzle as to why she is still single. If you were to ask me why, and if I was in my 'therapist' mode, I'd say that she's scared to get hurt -- and scared to be involved with another.

"He's…" I pause. It's far too hard to describe him, even harder to fit in an single sentence. Instead, I ask her, "Do you recognize Inuyasha from anywhere? He seems to be famous…"

My voice holds a anxious note that even I wasn't aware about, until it sounded out loud.

"Me? God, no." She laughs, taking another sip of her espresso. "You know me, I don't watch much TV, or read those gossip rags."

She suddenly becomes serious. "I can ask around if you need to though. Would you like me to?"

"Oh -- no! I was just wondering. You know -- it's best not to let details out. And it'd be even worse if he did turn out to be famous -- just imagine, all the reporters turning up here."

Sango nods. "That's true. We wouldn't like to disturb this, would we?" She waves an arm around us, indicating to the peaceful scenery. A small, thatched cottage in which the baker lives in -- with his wife and child, I know -- the florist's, with her shelves of flowers; roses, tulips, lilies, among a thousand other kind of flowers, in a myriad of colours that dazzle the eyes -- the school nearby, educating many children. The pharmacist's -- Lauren Klidmorth. Quaint houses, ranging neatly side by side, holding many families, families I'm all on first name basis with. Lola Vern, mother of two. Michael Rivern, a single man who is devoting his life to his career at the moment. James Aford, a man nearing his eighties, who lives with Ronald, his nephew, who has a son who was born just three months ago.

So to speak, it is a homely, friendly place - one that I belong in.

>>>>>>>>

I dump my bag on the couch, turn around and lock my door before tossing my keys onto a little side dish I keep especially for them. It's with a practised ease that I move around in my house: jab the red button on my answer-machine, open the fridge for glass of juice, feed my cat, Buyo, and then flop down onto the couch to listen to my messages.

Message One: Kagome, honey, it's Mama. Would you like to come around for dinner on Friday? You know what time we have dinner at, and I'm making oden! Take care, honey, bye.

Dinner at Mama's on Friday… at six on the dot. Hmm… Souta will be there, doubtless… and he's much more informed about all things media then me. I could probably ask him about Inuyasha.

Message Two: Kagome, are you coming down to the bar tonight? We've got a missing slot - one of the singers blew it off, so I really need you… please? I'll buy you a drink.

Ayame. She owns the only bar around here; sometimes she makes me come down - mostly to help out a little, but sometimes just to chat a little. It appears that tonight it's the former.

Message Three: Kagome-sama? It's Miroku. I'd like to schedule appointments for Inuyasha, so please call me back.

Hn. I pick up the phone and do as he asks.

"Hello?"

"It's Kagome. You wanted to schedule appointments?"

"Oh, yes." His voice suddenly lowers, and is it my imagination, or did it get… huskier? "I'm free all night."

Not my imagination at all. Damn it. "I'm talking about Inuyasha's appointments."

There is a laugh. "Ah, no fun at all. I was only joking, Kagome-sama."

I can feel my eye twitching. "Really? It's… funny."

"I believe so." I can practically feel the smile in his voice. "Okay, I'd like Inuyasha to have a two hour appointment every two days. Not including weekends, of course."

"Really?" My voice sounds like it's been taken over my Minnie Mouse. I force myself to lower the pitch. "You don't think that's too much?" Subtext being, you don't think Inuyasha will think it's too much?

"No, no." His tone is airy, full of confidence - or ignorance? I envy him. "I think it's fine. Or do you have any other patients you need to tend to, Kagome-sama?"

Darn it. He's got me there. "…No, I don't."

"Then that's fine." A pause. "Now, we've gotten everything to do with business out of the way… would you mind being a little sociable?"

"Sociable?"

"Would you mind telling me your beautiful companion's number? Sango, I believe her name is."

Aha. His motives come into the light. "I wouldn't mind, but I think Sango will."

"I could convince her otherwise."

I think he could too… if he really put his mind to it. "Miroku-sama, I believe that a man truly worthy for her would be man enough to ask for her number himself. I hope that's good enough advice. Goodbye."

I lower the dark green receiver, and as if by magic, my answer machine springs to life.

You have: one new message: Kagome! I thought I told you to get down to the bar? Hurry up! You're on in half a hour!

Eep. Time to go.

>>>>>>>

"Kagome, about damn time!" Ayame bangs a glass onto the counter, miraculously not spilling any of the contents. "You're up, go, now!"

I barely have time to say hello before she pushes me into the far corner of the bar, when the grand piano rests. She's already arranged the lights to be focused there, and a couple of hoots sound as I make my way towards it. I sit in front of the piano, fingers automatically settling down into their place as I seat myself, and when my fingers press down on the black and white keys, the first notes of the sweet melody ring out in the suddenly still air.

There's no music in front of me; I play from memory - a memory that's taught me how to guide my hands across the keys to make a tune, ever since a fifteen year old girl sat down and hesitantly touched the row of black and white, self tutoring herself because of her wanting to not trouble her Mama for a teacher when they were short on money.

I'm conscious of the eyes on me, but I don't bother to feel self-conscious for myself; I watch my fingers run up and down and press the keys - and then I press down harder, harder, and the notes jump out of the piano, fierce and branding. The melody stretches out, becoming slowly smoother and softer, the notes becoming quietly sweet again, until it all completely fades.

There's a fairly loud round of applause, most of it coming from the nightly haunters of the bar, who are used to me time and time again stepping up to the piano.

"Get you a drink?" Ayame smiles lazily at me as I walk towards her, panic over since the empty slot's filled.

I smile. "Malibu. Okay?" I sit down on the barstool in front of her.

She shakes her head, while pouring the coconut flavoured alcohol out into a glass. "It's a girly drink."

"I am a girl!"

"Right you are." Kouga slides into the barstool next to me, and he flashes a appreciative grin at me. "Ayame, give me a beer."

"Not even a please? Shame on you." Still, the red head does as he commands. She's in love with him. The idiot that's flirting with me, right now, I mean.

"Kagome, you're looking beautiful tonight."

I try and busy myself with my drink. "Thanks, Kouga. You don't look so bad yourself."

He leans a little closer to me, not aware of the red headed girl that's currently boring eyes of death into his head. I am though. "You play so well… you could do so professionally, you know."

Ayame bangs the beer mug sharply onto the counter, and he jumps. "Thanks, Ayame. Here." He hands her the correct coins.

"Say, Kouga… you're not involved with anyone, are you?"

"No, I'm not." He gives me a suggestive smile, which I wish was directed at Ayame instead. Judging by the look on her face, she obviously does as well.

"Are you?"

"Well, uh, no…" I raise my eyes towards Ayame, pleading.

"Kagome… why don't you help me with a couple of orders? It'll just take a short while, I promise."

Kouga looks disgruntled. Good. I hurriedly drain my Malibu. "Sure. You've got their drinks ready?"

"Yeah." Ayame shoves me a tray - red wine and a scotch. "The table in the corner, two guys." She gives me a appraising eye. "I think that outfit will do. Anything you mind washing out?"

"No, it's okay."

I brighten up my smile and walk towards the table. Okay, once I'm finished here, I can go… and hopefully without Kouga noticing. I set the tray onto the table -

"Hey, you're that girl who was playing the piano, aren't you?"

- And freeze.

That voice. It's so dangerously familiar.

Please no, please no…

I raise my eyes slowly - almost fearfully - to meet curious eyes of gold, only to see them widen with realization.

I close my own eyes. Oh, God.

Inuyasha.

>>>>>>

W00t! X3 Got it done!

Wait for the next chapter, and review, please!