#bus writing

[xoxopandapanda]

The longest of days were the days when Inuyasha didn't come home. It was weird just how much of her life he presided in. Weirder that she didn't notice he filled her every waking and sleeping thought until he wasn't there physically. Being married hadn't changed their dynamic as a couple very much, but training to become the next healing woman of the village had. Kagome Kagome was almost always needed, and leaving for an extended period of time was no longer an option. So when Inuyasha was asked to join Miroku on a slaying journey a few days away, Kagome tried to not feel the slight sting of jealously that she wasn't able to go. Sango was there to keep her company, and as much as she loved the children, she still missed her tall, obnoxious, and needy husband. Which was why she was in her hut, staring at the far too much for only her, because out of habit, she made enough to feed Inuyasha. Kagome looked at the pot of stew she had made, sighing loudly, before packing it up to bring it to Sango. "Not you too," Sango exclaimed when Kagome walked through the door. Both of the women sighed, looking at the feast they had unintentionally made. "Where are the men when you need them?" Kagome joked, earning a good natured chuckle out of her counter part. "Off doing whatever it is men do, I guess." Was her reply. Kagome smiled, before reaching to take the baby boy out of Sango's arms and kiss him over and over again. Since there was no way to keep the food, Kagome invited the single men of the village to eat with them, earning them grateful smiles and extra hands for cleaning the dishes. Kagome slept at Sango's that night, snuggling close to the twins. In the morning, the older of the girls woke her up by whispering, "two days". Kagome cracked an eye open to look at the child. "Two days?" She repeated. "Daddy. Two days." The younger girl waggled three fingers at Kagome, who presumed she had intended to use two fingers, and placed one of them down for her. "Right, two days until daddy and uncle Inuyasha come home." Kagome sat up and kissed the girls on the top of their heads. Sango was feeding the babe, and offered her opinion. "I know it was the weeks, but somehow it feels so much longer and yet so much shorter than that all at the same time." Kagome laughed. "Oh yeah, it was weird to not have them around, and yet so nice." Sango barked out a laugh, causing the girls to giggle in glee, for no reason other than their mother had laughed. Kagome waved goodbye to the young family as she made her way to Kaede's hut for her daily training, as she had everyday for the last almost three weeks. Kaede regarded the woman before her. "I hear you and Sango have been feeding the bachelors of the village while your husbands have been out. What will they do when the husbands return?" "Starve, I guess," Kagome good naturedly joked. Two days came and went, and when Inuyasha came back home, Kagome found that her days were back to their normal pace, and food in her house wasn't having to be pawned off on the village's younger men. Although Inuyasha had brought her back a span of beautiful cloth, the best present was having him back.

[xoxopandapanda]

Angry I Love Yous

"I love this man. I love him more than anything in this world. I love him. I really do. I really love him for all he is, infuriating and all." Kagome stalked though the village, her rage seething in waves off of her body. "What is she muttering?" A village woman whispered to the man next to her. "I don't know, but I'm sure Miroku does." Like magic, said man appeared beside the two. "Of course I do." Kagome continued her rage walk across the village, hissing out that she loves that man, she really does, causing more villagers to walk over to the monk in concern. "Is she alright?" An elderly man hunkered over to the crowd gathering, worry stretching across his wrinkled features. Miroku noddle solemnly. "I promise she is. Her mother told her that she should say she loves Inuyasha whenever he upsets her to help her get over her anger. That's why she is doing what she is." As the villagers listened intently to Miroku, Inuyasha was spotted on the edge of the horizon watching Kagome tear her way to Kaede's. A young child pointed him out to his mother, who merely nodded and said "Of course, sweetie," before continuing her washing. Inuyasha watched Kagome from a safe distance, not wanting a repeat of the incident of earlier. While it was nice to hear her say "I love you" to him, it was unsettling how much animosity she screamed it with. He was confused (but secretly pleased) with her outburst. He was so intent on finding out what she meant by it, that he had forgotten the audience they had for her eruption. Miroku was setting the stage for the villagers (who were sure to spread the story like wildfire) of Kagome and Inuyasha arguing loudly next to the corpse of a large ogre, who had been taken down with a single Wind Scar just on the outskirts of town. Kagome had made a fuss about not wanting to touch the severed pieces to get the shards, specifically the nose, so Inuyasha had made his way to get them for her. And, with the grace and maturity of a toddler, Inuyasha had flung some snot at Kagome. A few men snorted, having once been mischievous children, and the women gasped in horror. Miroku weaved the tale further, describing Kagome's recent life choice. "She has decided that she doesn't want to say hurtful things in anger anymore, and told Sango that she was going to tell Inuyasha that she loved him instead of angry words. Which is precisely what happened today. Apparently it used to help Kagome's mother when she got mad at her husband." "What a big heart she has," one woman said. "I wish my wife did that..." Her husband countered at the same time. She shot him a dirty look that said all. "Inuyasha was understandably confused, and after a bit, told her 'I find you tolerable'. Which is why she is storming through the village. Sango is probably still laughing with Shippo next to the ogre." Miroku finished his story with slight nod towards where his other companions were. The villagers looked at one another, none of them entirely sure how to react to the story. The oldest of the men present was the only way to put in his two cents. "Well that's no way to treat your future wife." Kaede listened to Kagome ramble and borderline sob her way through her version of events with a barely masked grin. She kept her head down and plucked leaves off of the herbs she had gathered to prevent the young woman from knowing about her amusement. She didn't even look up when Inuyasha burst through the doorway, his chest puffed and ready for a fight. "You can't take it back!" He bellowed at the teary girl before him. 'Oh,' Kaede thought, 'he's worried and confused.' "What?!" Kagome screeched at him, evidently not on the same page as Inuyasha. "You can't take it BACK!" He repeated, emphasising the last word as if that would clue Kagome in on his distress. 'Have mercy...' Kaede dared to glance at the two in her home. There was a strange stare down, and both of them were very flushed. Kagome due to anger, Inuyasha due to some sort of embarrassment. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING ON--" Kagome wasn't able to finish because Inuyasha cut her off. "I LOVE YOU!" He hollered loud enough for a fresh bout of snickering to come out of Sango and Shippo on the edge of the village still. "I LOVE YOU, TOO." Kagome's voice was rough as she screamed back at him. Kaede bit her lip to prevent her from laughing out loud. 'These two...' "Okay." Inuyasha was suddenly calm. "Alright." Kagome's mood matched Inuyasha's. Kaede watched them look at each other for a bit before Inuyasha extended his hand and she took it. Together they walked out, off to where ever they went after a fight was over, and Kaede gave into her giggling. In the village, the crowd with Miroku tossed looks back and forth, having also heard the odd outburst and watched the two go hand in hand towards the well. The old man, the only vocal one, nodded approvingly before saying, "I think those two will be okay."

[justcrowthings]

Somewhere other than here I own a coffee shop and bookstore combo. It has shelves and shelves of my favorite books and my least favorite books and many that I’ve never read. I wonder the idles making recommendations and chatting with the locals. Maybe I’m old, maybe I’m still young, either way I get to read and drink coffee and watch the world around me move as I create a place for people to enjoy stories.

Somewhere other than here I am a magic. I can feel the pulsing energy of the world on my fingertips and I draw shapes in the air and watch as plants grow faster and fire dances on the palms of my hands. I travel the world, collecting interesting artifacts and even more interesting stories. Maybe once I’m old and tired of adventuring, I settle and teach others the ways of magic and watch as young people light up at the beauty of creation at their fingertips.

Somewhere other than here I am a knight. Utterly devoted to my Majesty. I am a battle worn warrior with too much blood on their hands. I have fought wars, stopped assassins, and knelt at the feet of the one who holds my life in their hands. There is no place I’d rather be.

Somewhere other than here I have wings. Strong, feathered, powerful things that take me anywhere I wish to go. I can feel the freedom in the wind dispite its biting chill and I know, there’s nothing stopping me so long as I can fly.

Somewhere other than here I’ve found my love. Not the false one I thought was it for me, but the one I’m meant to spend my life with. This image comes harder for me, because I have no clue what their name is, what their personality might be, what shape their form takes. All I know is that they are mine, and I’m and theirs and it’s all what’s meant to be.

[justcrowthings]

It’s late, too late at night. I should have gone to bed hours ago. Instead I’m sitting awake, thinking about you.

I wonder what you’re doing, if you’re sleeping alright, if you miss me, I know you do (and that’s not arrogance or ego, I just can’t get the sound of your crying out of my head. I keep seeing the look on your face when I left, if I’m still thinking about it, I can’t imagine you’ve forgotten already).

I miss you, I think. I remember the good times, the staying up late at night talking about nothing—about everything—until we saw the sun come up. I miss the way you knew me, really knew me, in a way I don’t even know if I knew myself.

I miss the feeling of being in love. The joy that comes with thinking life could be this simple, this easy, that I could do anything as long as I had you…

Then I remember the rest of it. The quiet weight I felt on my shoulders. The reminders, the hidden responsibilities gently placed in my hands again and again. You didn’t do it on purpose, I didn’t even know it was happening, until the weight was crushing, the responsibilities too much, until I bent and bent and bent…

And then I broke.

Anyways, all of this to say. I’m still sitting here, in my room, I should be sleeping. But all my thoughts are still on you. It’s a strange feeling, missing something you don’t want back.

[justcrowthings]

The worst thing in the world, I think, is having to walk away from someone you love. It’s knowing that even though you both love each other, sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes people just don’t fit together. They aren’t supposed to be together in the long run. They give you the lessons you need to learn, they break your heart along the way, and you let them go.

Looking someone in the eyes and telling them you have to leave is awful. Because it’s just based on a feeling, something that feels so wrong but you know it’s right.

Trying to explain why we suddenly don’t work feels impossible. It isn’t because of the one fight, or because of work or something else that could change. Trying to explain that it’s simply you. At the ugliest core part, the person you’re with simply isn’t a match for you no matter how hard they try. And that’s the worst part. You have to look at them, and say without saying that there’s nothing they can do, there’s nothing they can change. It’s just them. It’s just me.

And when they cry you still want to comfort them, because that’s what you’ve always done. You’ve spent four years learning how to comfort and take away their hurt. But now you are the one hurting them. You are the problem. And when before your hands were a soft bandage, and your lips kissed a cooling balm. Everything is tinged with poison.

And the worst part is, a small part of you is relieved it’s over. Even though your heart is shattered, your world has turned absolutely upside down, something in you can breathe again.

[justcrowthings]

Small cramped room, stuffed with too many memories. Outside the door there’s yelling. Dad and sister are fighting again. Loud voices, so loud, why can’t they ever be quiet? Too much noise, too big of personalities, drowning in the sea of people’s opinions.

Sitting in a small room, cramped, trinkets and boxes crowd every surface. One box wobbles and tips over, spilling pages and pages of writing on the ground. Old poetry, diary entries, letters, notes, words asking for peace, asking for a break, asking for a little bit of attention please?

The door cracks open, a sliver of light reveals a small lump on the bed. A body, curled up under too many blankets, the weight either comforting or suffocating, they’re too still to tell. The voices outside continue as a smaller creature pads into the room. A cat, it jumps onto the bed, pawing at the covers until the a head peaks out.

Quickly, the child opens the covers just enough for the cat to slip in. The cat settles, curled up in the arms of the child and a soft purr fills the cramped space. The figure under the blanket settles deeper into the bed, temporarily soothed by the warm rumbles pressed against their chest.

[justcrowthings]

“I’m sorry.” The words always fell a little too quickly off my tongue. Too used to apologizing for being too loud, too in the way, too quick of movements, too many bursts of energy.

“I’m sorry?” A question more than an apology—said paired with sincere confusion over another social interaction I must have misread, because someone is angry at me and I don’t know why.

“I’m sorry!” Only shouted with exasperation or frustration, you can take your pick, when I truly give up on understanding what you want. Because clearly I’m incapable of understanding what you need from me.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, meaning it more than I ever have in my life as I left, one last time.

[justcrowthings]

There is chaos in this small two bedroom apartment. Boxes and bins shoved in every corner available. Cabinets emptied, clean dishes sorted, games distributed amongst us all. Four lives that meshed together over two years now neatly separated into piles.

The other two have already gone. All that’s left is you, and me.

I stare at you as we stand in the kitchen, eyes watering. I’m desperately trying to not let them fall.

You’ve already lost that battle. The box of Kleenex in our room has been practically attached to your hip these past couple of days. I’m surprised you haven’t blown your nose off.

I look up at you. You’re only a couple inches from me yet those inches somehow hold all four years of knowing you. The distance heavy, uncrossable, that is until you lean forward and all but collapse in my arms.

My hands were already braced to catch you. I shift my weight to hold you better, bearing the brunt of your tears.

My shoulder feels wet.

I don’t know how long I hold you. Maybe just a minute, maybe thirty. It feels like eternity as I wait for you to let me go.

My phone rings. It’s my sister. She’s gotten more boxes so I can finish packing. You still don’t leave my arms. My neck hurts from leaning back so you can tuck your head under my chin.

Eventually I pull back. Because I know you never will. That was always our problem right? I just know by now that I can’t keep standing here.

You look so sad. I try to find words to comfort you, my throat closes up. I want you to leave. I don’t want you to go. I want you to hold me. I want you out of my arms. I want so many things. I only want this. I want to tell you to stay. I know we both must go.

In the end, I don’t say goodbye.

Just, see you later.