Author's Note: A bit of nothingness to get me back in the mood to write. Reviews, comments, suggestions for improvement are welcome.

Hold Me

I like the way Inuyasha holds me.

After we've been in battle, and he's bruised and bloody, or I'm bruised and bloody, and his arms come around me, so tight, so scared. I like the way he holds me against him then, close enough I can feel his heart beating against my cheek when I press my face against his chest, feel the heat of his body surrounding me. I like the way his sleeves billow around me, covering me, as if to shut out the cruelties of the world. Red and silver.

When we're traveling, running after Naraku or Sesshoumaru or a Shikon shard, and I sit on his back to peer at the rushing world over his shoulder, and his hands on my legs are so warm, so safe. I like the way he holds me then, tight against his back, pressed up against him, so I can feel his warmth, soothing, confident. I like the way his hair tickles my face and covers me, as if I'm really a part of him. I like the feel of his fingers, the claws he tries so hard not to let scratch my skin. Fragile human skin.

The times he's been hurt, emotionally, after he turned demon and killed all those villagers, or when he's really scared and can't hide it anymore, and he lets me come to him and wrap my arms around him. I like the way he holds me then, just a hand wrapped around my wrist in silent plea not to leave, to stay, or the tilt of his head against mine, a moment of shared contentment and peace in our lives of turmoil. I like the feel of his hand on me, his fingers tight, desperate, against my skin. As if he can transmit without words all that emotion tangled up inside. Dark and frightened.

I like the way he touches me, those rare times when he lets his guard down enough so I can see it in his eyes, golden eyes, those feelings he suppresses so hard. Is he afraid of telling me? Or is he afraid of what he feels? But I like the way he touches me, his hands brushing the hair off my face, or caressing my cheek. I like the feel of his hand in mine, when he lets me hold his hand, when we're alone and walking. I like to swing our hands back and forth, and I can almost pretend we're out on a date, at a park, or on a trip in the countryside, or anywhere away from danger and worries and things a middle school girl shouldn't have to think about. Myth and legends, demons and darkness.

I like the way he looks at me, when he thinks I don't notice, or when it's late at night and everyone else is sleeping and I wake up, sometimes, and peek up at him in his little tree above out camp. He looks so soft and sweet, and sometimes so lost and hurt and lonely. Times like that, I just want to hug him and tell him it'll be all right. It's easy to forget, in the daytime and the fighting time, between the arguing and bad manners and insults, that he's really just a scared little boy. One who's been persecuted most of his life. Betrayed and used and wounded and mistrusted.

One day, we'll be finished with this quest. The silly Shikon no Tama will be complete, and the world will right itself again. I don't know where my place will be, in this world, or in my own—or even which world really is 'mine', in the end. But the sun will shine, and good will triumph over evil. I believe that, just like I believe in Inuyasha.

No, I don't know what he'll choose—what I'll choose—what either of us will choose when it comes time to make a final wish on the Shikon no Tama. When Naraku is done and behind us, and life has to continue, one way or the other.

Until then, I'll keep my promise, and I'll stay by his side. I won't speak to him about how much I love him, because he hurts enough with Kikyou still in this world, two times over—me, her reincarnation; her, resurrected mud and bones. Inuyasha hurts enough. Of us all, Inuyasha hurts the most.

Until the very end…I just like the way he holds me.