I stared at the blank screen in front of me, my mind whirling about, trying to find the words to say what I wanted to say. I didn’t know which way to go. Should I be direct or cordial? How do you talk to someone who you were once so intimate with? Was it right to be blunt with them, even though they seemed to have forgotten you in the passage of time?

I had tested the waters a few weeks before hand. Sending a request on Facebook to add him to my friends and having him accept it without question. A good sign I thought, but then again he was usually the kind of person to do that sort without thinking.

I should’ve probably tried a few more correspondences before getting into the grit of what I really wanted to talk about, but urgency drove me to drop the bomb a bit earlier than I should’ve. I wanted the correspondence to be on an upbeat friendly note. Like two people who had been friends for a long time, but out of touch. In my mind, it was as if we were meeting up again after a long time, trading stories and getting to know each other once again.

What came out, however, was entirely different.

The pent up tension I had been holding in for days leaked out onto the screen. I went for the cordial beginning. If I was going to drop all this on his lap, I at least wanted to soften the blow. At least that was my reasoning. I feel now that it was to dry and ease my own anxiety. Soon I was informing him of the circumstances of my correspondence and the leak of nervous energy dripping onto the screen, became a flood of low self-confidence.

My fears spilled out onto the screen, my vision blurring from time to time, because the blunt honesty of which I wrote was ripping from the depths of my being. This wasn’t a pair of friends slowly getting to know each other; this was a girl folding underneath the pressures of her life, begging for someone she trusted to listen to her when no one else would. I wanted guidance, even if his tended to be more than a little flawed.

However, I pulled back at the last minute. I knew this was asking too much of someone I hadn’t talked to in a while. My gut told me there was little chance of him even caring about my problems, since he was the one who ignored me for months on end, only contacting me once ‘to see how I was doing’. My doubts became tipped with anger at his estrangement.

I used to tell myself that he deserved, at the very least, my thanks for being my friend when I needed him. There was also a part of me seething with anger. What made him so goddamned important? What right did he have to disregard my feelings? I should have every right to be pissed at him.

I knew at this point that what I was doing was, in a word, stupid. Why was I begging advice from someone who cared so little about the people he hurt? At the same time I so needed something, anything, to relieve the nervous energy pulsating through out my body. I sent the correspondence this way. Knowing full well what it ended up being.

I didn't expect much of anything from him the moment he saw me. A cool smile, a casual wave--that was all I could hope for. Maybe some kind, comforting words before he went on his merry little way. I wasn't prepared for the firm, warm hug he enveloped me in. The vice holding my heart together from our last encounter twisted a little tighter. This wasn't how it was supposed to be now.

"Cara," he whispered, his breath warm wisps on my earlobe. "You are absolutely dazzling tonight, glowing I could almost say." He laughed and pulled away, his hand staying on my own, his thumb drawing circles on my now white knuckle.

His eyes roamed over my figure, and--as always--I felt as if I were standing there nude before his eyes instead of dressed to the fullest. I fought back the reactive shiver pressing on my spine. I would not succumb to his trickery again.

"Joshua." I breathed, managing to slip my hand away from his and press it firmly against my thigh, hoping it would somehow take away the warmth left there by his hand. "You look well. How are you faring now? Good I hope. I really don't think much of anything could ever hold you down for long."

I really couldn't tell which was more fake--the smile splitting my lips or high pitched laugh ripping itself from my abdomen. Either way I was fairly sure he could tell I wasn't at ease in this conversation. I could see it registering in his eyes. I took a deep breath and disengaged myself from the group. Though the kitchen was only a few steps from where I was, it took forever to get there.

People came from every which way, asking for this and that, not that I paid them much attention. I waved them off quickly and scidaddle before anyone new came along. I had just managed to get myself off my feet and relax when I heard that voice washing over me with unrelenting warmth.

"You look good Cara." It was Joshua again. "I meant that when I said it. Though it isn't often when you don't look so delectible."

I smiled a sad smile, there was certainly no getting away from him now, not with him looking at me like that. I glanced over my shoulder shrugging in my way. "You always had this fasination about eating me Joshua. I would be almost pressed to think that you went constantly hungry every day of your life."

He laughed. "Where you were concerned, I could say that I was always a starving man. Insatiable even. You have this way about you. I'm still not sure what it was or is, but even looking at you now, I know there is no way I could ever forget that about you."

"But even that wasn't enough for you."

His smile faded and his eyes turned downwards. "No, it wasn't. I know it doesn't help to say this now, but a part of me did and has continued to love you since you ran away from me. You were always more important to me than you could ever know and I could never say that to you because I was too scared to confront those feelings."

Any lasting visages of the great mood I had at the start of the evening disappeared right then along with my smile. "You're right, it doesn't mean anything coming from you now."

"Cara--" He started to say, but I stood suddenly and whirled around to face him.

"No, there is no excuse you can use now to make it right. And you shouldn't have to. I knew as much back then, as I know now, nothing would have ever happened between us. Maybe it would have been worth the try even if it ended in failure, I don't know. What I do know however is that even if it didn't work with the two of you in the long run, you would regret it if you didn't try." I smiled up at him again, tears whetting and burning the back of my eyes. "That's why I ran away from you. I knew some part of you would continue to hang on to me as long as I stayed and willingly let you break my heart over and over. So I ran away so you would be guilt free and able to give her your all. She really deserved nothing less from you."

I touched my hand lightly to his face, letting my fingers dapple down to his chin. "You brought me back from nothing, I owe so much for that, even if it means for you to be happy without me." My lips brushed against his mouth in the way I'd always done in my dreams. "Just don't forget me too long. I'm still here if you need me."

The night, though relatively warm, stirred with a chilled wind. I swipe at my hair, wishing I'd thought to put it up before I'd left or at least grabbed a hair tie. The blonde tendrils danced in the air like virtual ghost straining to leave the living world.

It seems almost odd that this would be my focus at the moment. I'm reluctant to move, reluctant to speak. Yet, every nerve in my body is screaming in agony.  I wonder, however briefly, what it was that brought me to this point. I'm beside myself with confusion? Anger? Too many things--feelings--bounce around inside my head, constraining my breathing. And then there's that voice--so near, yet so far--calling my name…

"Cara." It says over and over. Though I don't really see the point. Its not as if I don't remember what my name is. I'm not some fool who can just forget things. But my annoyance is great. I tip my head up slightly, peering through the dancing strands, my hazel eyes penetrating through the dark. I see him. That man who would destroy me.

"Cara," he says again. "You're not saying anything."

I blink a few times, my voice unwilling to work, my thoughts scattered. What am I supposed to say? I have no idea. I'm lost beyond the moment of his confession. This is not the moment I have been working towards.

He reaches out towards me, his hand skimming over my shoulder when I pull away. His eyes reflect a pained confusion, though I have a feeling it is nothing compared to the pain I feel. I step back as he steps towards me. "Cara!" He pleads. "Don't do this."

I shake my head, tears boiling in my eyes, spilling over in warm lines that cool all to soon against the wind. "No. You don't have the right to tell me what to do."

He reaches out for me again. "No!" I screamed, my hand lashing out to swat his away. "No! You lied to me!" My voice drops down to a barely audible whisper. "You bastard. All those times. All those things you told me. Did you ever mean any of them?"

He didn't say anything, only moved his mouth when he was unable to speak. I only shook my head, unable to face the false hoods passed off to me as truths, and ran off before I would allow him the pleasure of seeing how deeply he had cut me. I am stronger than that. I will bleed and cry in solace, far from the pain destroying me from the inside out.

I only wonder why I hanged on as long as I did. I should never have been so foolish.

I have no idea when it started raining. At the moment it doesn't seem to matter. My feet keep plodding along, splatters of water soaking the bottom hem of my jeans. I could have gone home after leaving him behind in the park, but home was just as lonely and cold as I am now. I don't want to continue this loneliness. It hurts too much to bear on my own shoulders.

My heart long since broken beyond recognition, I follow my feet to the only place filled with warmth and at least a willing ear to listen and shoulder to lean on.

Through the heavy ash-filled air, filtered dull, lifeless light brave enough to punch through the drifting remains of the once great empire now scattered in the atmosphere. Senerian, once the trade capital of the entire Tersian continent, now burned unchecked in the never-ending night.

Aneria watched plumes of black smoke spiral up to the sooted sky as wind stirred the dust at her feet. Here is where time spilled over, yet again. Ruins, marred by fire and war, would rot and turn over into the earth. Then, as this age was forgotten and turned to myth, another would rise to take its place.

Dust stirred at her feet as ribbons of grayed hair danced around her face. The deep blue pools of her eyes flickered over the destruction once again before she turned and walked away. A chill set in the air, carrying on the brisk wind rolling over the land. Without the warmth of the sun above, heat would be a hard commodity to find for those traveling about. No one would be borrowing from the fires in the valley below, tainted as they were.

She shook her head as she climbed down from her lookout. God’s Fire is what they called it. It was said almost everyone was killed in the last attack, and those whom survived died not too long after from a blistering sickness. Many were on the move now. With the Capital gone, there was hardly any reason to stay. Outlying villages thinned out as the days past. She would be among them, as she always was.

Her feet shuffled along the ground, kicking up pebbles and rocks with clouds of dust. She paused briefly, surveying her small camp. The small fire still crackled in the pit, a small kettle of water steaming away off to its side. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

I remember him in my dreams mostly. His face is a constant reminder of what flavor of stupid I was in my early years. Though, it’s only now, in these past few months, that I realize the entire depth of what I gave up. And for what? Fear of rejection and isolation?

What I remember most is the way my stomach twisted in knots when I called out his name. Which was something I rarely ever did. I was always aware of that feeling and did anything I could to avoid it. Its only now I realize what that feeling was. Love. I’d only felt it once before with one other person, and--even way back then--I was afraid of what that meant.

Funny thing is I can’t identify that rush with anyone else, not even the father of my children. With anyone else it was just blah, but with him it was something more.

I remember our first kiss. It was when he was closing the restaurant we both worked for, and also when we were supposed to have our first date. I’d come sliding into the dining room because he had just moped the floor. I was about ready to fall when he came sliding out to catch me before I did, and--right after I all but fell into his arms--he kissed me. It was so unexpected and so amazing. I’ve never had the feeling since then.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.


Every Little Thing


#43: Strategist


She’s doing it again.

Shikamaru groaned, his face warming to light pink as he took to gazing at some random object in the distance. Anything was better than keeping his eyes locked on to that face. That…undeniably cute…oh so adorable…face. His face pinked up a bit more as he glanced back at her. She worked her teeth over her bottom lip, her brow furrowed for all he could see of it under the heavy fringe of bangs almost sweeping in her eyes.

She was hunched so far over the game board it took some really steady looking to identify her face behind the ribbons of inky hair acting as a curtain between her face and his eyes. Her own eyes, usually a pale lavender, now darken considerably as they continued to look over the board, their rapid movements back and forth indicating the level of thinking she was doing.

He looked away again, smiling. Never had he seen anyone so intent on making one simple decision. This was checkers they were playing, not something as complicated as Go or Shogi, or even Mahjong, where strategy could go a long way to helping. There were really only so many moves she could make. So what was there to really think about?

His smile widened when he heard the soft click on the board when she made her move. When he glanced down he shook his head and chuckled, jumping and taking the piece she’d just moved. Then smiled across the board at her. “Your over thinking this Hinata. This isn’t Shogi or Go.”

She returned his look with one of her own. Her smile widened and her eyes crinkled at the corners as she tilted her head with a soft laugh. Then without breaking her gaze she moved. Click. Click. Click.

What the hell?

He looked down and saw what his eyes had previously missed. The trap she’d steadily lead him too. She’d managed capture three of his pieces. He glanced back up at her, and noticed one other thing. The crinkle in her eyes he’d previously noted was actually Hinata cleverly disguising her Byakugan, which he had no doubt she’d been using to read his movements better than she could have done with her naked eye.

His jaw dropped in disbelieve. “No way!” Then he closed his mouth tight, settling back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, grumbling. Hinata chuckled softly. “I can’t believe my own girlfriend just cheated me at a game of checkers. Th-that’s dirty…and underhanded.”

Her smile widened. “Wanna see all the other dirty and underhanded things I can do?” She asked in soft throaty voice.

His mouth tilted up in a smirk. “You have to ask?”

Snakes and spiders. Spiders more than snakes though. I will scream bloody murder if I see one, but I am also well stocked on bug spray so I can deal with them should the need arise. Snakes are a close second, but only the kind of snake that isn't tame. i actually want a pet snake one day. ^_^

It lingered there, like a frost bitten breath in the middle of winter. It’s notes touching her heart.

A breath of music.

Beautiful like ice, warm like the spring sun. Sadness crept in as it faded away, accompanied by loneliness and longing. Still, her body moved in its absence. Following an unheard beat, swaying with its rhythm.

Singing a sonnet.

Her voice rose high in the surrounding emptiness. Calling. Begging.

Hear me. Please, hear me.

Soul wishing, body moving in praise. No form more artistic. No need more powerful.

Breath in my love.

Rain drops dancing in moonlight, twisting in gusting wind. Lithe and subtle, petals of flower soaring over head.

Take hold of me.

Fedual Era Japan. Reason: Why not?