Past Tense

Aamalie: Title won’t make sense until you read the ending, and possible themesongs would probably be either “Hanging By A Moment” by Lifehouse or “I Feel You” by 3 Doors Down... “The Road I’m On” also works. Hn.

Right. Enjoy, if at all possible.

In the meantime, I'll kill QuickEdit for eating my usual dividers.

I disclaim all rights to Inuyasha.

.o.

Past Tense

I’m closer to where I started
In chasing after you...

.o.

I’ve never been one to believe in falling for one person upon first sight. Attraction is another story, but undying love? Never. Fate, if there is such a thing, doesn’t work that way.

But now, as the bus doors open, I happen to look up from the business section of my newspaper, and I see her.

She almost makes me revoke my beliefs, though not quite to a full extent. Let me say this, though. Just at a sight of her, I know she’s something special. She’s someone I want­— need— to get to know.

While she pays her fare, pretty and flustered and juggling a briefcase and several bags at once, I can’t help but watch from behind an article on the stock market. Did I say ‘pretty’? I meant beautiful, because that’s what she is, in her gray, businesslike skirt-suit and her pumps, and with long, dark tresses most working women don’t bother with these days.

Still trying to keep a hold of all of her possessions, she scans the bus for an empty seat, which are nonexistent this time of morning, as early as it is. Not even bothering to be discreet, I make a show of moving my briefcase from my side and moving closer to the window, meeting her eyes in a momentary glance as I do. Thankfully, she catches my meaning with a smile, and just manages to drop next to me, arranging her bags on the floor hurriedly, as the bus starts up again.

“Thanks,” she says. I like her voice immediately. It’s quiet and sweet, and a bit more feminine than I would have imagined, but nice nevertheless.

“No problem, beautiful,” I reply, giving her a grin. She looks startled, and a blush spreads across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, making her eyes look brighter. “Mind if I ask what all of the bags are for?”

She shrugs, reaching down to adjust one of them before its contents manage to spill out. “Oh, it’s just that today’s my first day at a desk job. I’m just bringing in some extra things I need, that’s all.” Almost purposefully, she brushes a lock of hair over her shoulder with her left hand as she sits back. I see her meaning as she does so, and I fold my paper onto my lap with another grin.

“Husband, or fiancé?” I inquire, surprising her again. She gives a short, somewhat incredulous laugh.

“You’re bold,” she accuses, making it my turn to chuckle.

“I don’t deny it. The name’s Miroku Seijitsu. Yours?”

She eyes me, still disbelieving, but tells me anyway.

“Sango, eh? A lovely name for an even lovelier woman, indeed. Now, I must insist that you answer my earlier question before I die from being so bedazzled.”

“I must say, you’re rather adept at flattery, Mr. Seijitsu. Dare I wonder if it’s practiced?”

My, this Sango...she had a quick wit. I like her more and more with each word exchanged. “Dare I wonder if you’re evading my question on purpose?”

“Alright, you win. It’s an engagement ring. The wedding is still a good six months off.”

I smile at her, and inform her that that is a good thing. When she asks why, I tell her, “Because, Sango, that gives me half a year to get to know you.”

She laughs again, and I think I’m starting to love that laugh already.

“You are bold,” she says. “I really should slap you.”

“But you won’t.”

Sango smiles.

“Well... Not just yet.”

.o.

“We’ve known each other for two weeks now, Sango. I do insist that we must have lunch together.”

She raises an eyebrow at me from beneath her bangs, as if to say that it was a crazy idea without actually vocalizing it. I don’t care; I couldn’t resist at least suggesting it. She’s a wonder to look at today, with her thick hair up in a bun and dressed in slacks and a short sleeved blouse and a blazer. To me, it seems that this get-up emphasizes her figure better than her tailored suits, and the design on the blazer makes the outfit seem more like her.

“Mr. Seijitsu, you should know better. I’ve told you before that my fiancée and I work on the same floor, albeit different offices— but it’s through him that I got the job! Never mind the fact that we usually eat lunch together, but I doubt he’d like the idea of me running off to share a meal with another man he’s never even met before.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” I remark, and a deep frown materializes on her face. I keep talking, hoping to appease her before she gets angry. “After all, if it would bother him that much, we could always meet up when he’s on one of those business trips you say he goes on frequently. And, Sango, I’m not saying that it would be a date. It could just be a lunch, between friends. You should know that I’m not trying to destroy a loving relationship.”

Sango scrutinizes me, looking a bit as though she were at a loss.

I sigh, reaching up to request a stop; hers was next on the route. “Please?”

“Okay...” she decides. “I’ll find out when he’s leaving again sometime this week. Make sure you remember your words, Mr. Seijitsu. ‘Just between friends.’” She gives me a piercing look until I nod my understanding, and then she gives me a weak smile before departing.

I watch her go.

Does she know that I’m lying?

.o.

I had to wait a month before I got that lunch with Sango, but getting to watch her as she bit her bottom lip whilst trying to decide on what she wants for dessert makes it worth it. It also makes me want to kiss her, but I doubt it’d be wise to act on that impulse right yet. It’d scare her off, probably.

It’s funny. How can one not want to lose someone they’ve never had? That they’ll most likely never have? Maybe I’m going crazy.

Yeah. Crazy for her.

“Find anything you want?”

She wrinkles her nose, which I’ve found she does when she’s indecisive about something. “Hmm... No, I don’t think so. Nothing sounds particularly appealing today, but maybe that’s just the side of me that’s constantly worrying whether I’ll still fit into the wedding dress I chose when the big day comes that’s talking.”

I can’t help but dislike it when she talks about getting married, but I can’t let her know that. “You’ve already picked out a dress?”

“Yes, last week. I thought I told you?” When I shake my head, she sets down her menu and digs into her purse, pulling out a paper that looks as though it’s been cut from a magazine. She smoothes out the folds and pushes it my way so I can see.

It’s a picture of what I assume to be the dress she chose. It’s definitely a good choice, and I can imagine it on Sango perfectly. The fabric is a pearly white and the dress is sleek, with straight, clean lines that are very much like her. It’s completely sleeveless and lacks any frills, save for the lace that trims the bottom of the skirt.

She’ll look gorgeous in it.

I look at Sango now, to find that she’s looking at me with some expectation. She wants to know what I think, I suppose.

“It’s very fitting for you,” I tell her, handing back the clipping. Her eyes flash, and her lips turn downwards as she tucks it back into her bag.

“Don’t be like that,” she says. I must have sounded as forlorn as I felt to get that reaction.

“Like what?” I asked, playing the fool on purpose.

She slams her palms onto the table, drawing a few curious looks our way from other patrons, but they all turn back to their own conversations a second or two later. Sango looks upset, and I wish she didn’t. I much prefer it when she’s smiling and happy.

“Like the idea of me getting married is breaking your heart, Miroku!” she hisses, neglecting to call ‘Mr. Seijitsu” as she usually does. It makes her point all the more personal, and therefore, more forceful. “You’ve known about it since the day you met me, and I remind you of it constantly! It’s you who is pushing this entire ordeal, and this ‘friend’s lunch’ was all your idea, remember? Don’t act like I’m wounding you by going through with the plans I’ve had for longer than I’ve known you!”

I stare at her for a while, unsure as to what I should say. Only one thing comes to mind, so I vocalize the question. “Does this feel like a friend’s lunch to you, Sango?”

Sango falters, her eyes widening. Her mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, before she closes it with determination and stands up.

“I... I have to go.”

She flees, and I take a deep breath.

Perhaps... that was her form of an answer?

.o.

She took a different bus for three weeks after our lunch date before she found the courage to face me again, and such a long three weeks it was. Even though there’s an empty seat in the back today, she chooses to sit beside me again. I murmur a greeting and she merely nods, staring straight ahead. It isn’t until we near her stop that she finally does speak to me.

“You know that new restaurant in the Downtown area?”

I look at her profile; she’s still gazing unfalteringly out of the bus’s windshield. “The Italian one?”

“Yes. Meet me there at eight tonight?”

“Okay.”

She gets up and goes.

I get there early. She’s waiting outside. For me. I approach her, intending to ask her why it is that she looks so distraught, but she shocks me by suddenly closing the gap between us and embracing me tightly. I’m too overwhelmed by her sudden display of affection to do anything but hug her back and revel in the feel of her against me.

I think I love her.

“Sango...”

She draws back, pale and strained in the face. The sweet cadence of her voice is shaky when she speaks. “Please, don’t. Just, don’t talk, Miroku. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m getting married in three weeks, for heaven sakes! But you... You were right. It was more. I feel... like you’re more than a friend. It’s completely ridiculous and stupid of me, but it’s... the truth.”

I couldn’t help it. I kissed her then, and I knew, the very moment our lips meet, that it was the most amazing kiss I’d ever experienced. I’d exchanged such mementos of affection with many other girls, as I was something of a lady’s man during my high school and college days, but this... Kissing Sango was like having the air stripped from my lungs and being given a precious, addictive drug in its place.

In hindsight, I realize that that feeling could never surmount the way Sango made me feel when she started to kiss me back.

We stayed together out there for the rest of the night, the rain and the reservations for dinner Sango had made gone from out minds, and we couldn’t have cared less.

.o.

The topic of that night has become taboo over the two months or so, for some reason. If I try to bring it up on our bus rides together, she’ll abruptly change the subject, which is actually rather disheartening. The fact that I haven’t been able to kiss her since then only adds to that feeling, but maybe I’ll have the change to fix things up a bit tonight...

I look to where Sango is leaning against my kitchen counter, stirring her hot chocolate idly. Unable to stop myself from smiling, I set a final plate in the dishwasher and saunter over to slip one arm around her waist, letting my other hand find its way to her backside. She starts, almost spilling her drink. She twists to give me a dark look.

“Where do you think you’re putting that hand?”

I laugh and kiss her ear, and then her cheek. I lift both hands to her shoulders to turn her so I can move to her mouth.

Oh yeah. I missed her.

“Miroku...” she sighs, giving me a mysterious smile. She’s completely given up on calling me by my last name now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, my lovely Sango?”

She sighs a little, and leans her head against my shoulder. “I’m worried.”

“Why?” I ask, taken aback at the unexpected admission. But, of course she was worried! She was supposed to be getting married in just two months, and here she was, with me. Lord... I wish it were more than two months. I wanted to be the one who was going to marry her, not some guy she refused to even tell me the name of.

“My best friend suspects something,” Sango whispers. “She’s going to be my maid of honor, so she’s helped with a lot of the planning. She told me today that she’s worried about me. She says I’ve been acting distracted, and that I’m not as enthused about the wedding as I was a few months ago... As I was before I met you..”

I tighten my grin around her a little, nervous. “And...?”

Sango lifts her head to look at me. Her warm brown eyes reflect her troubled state, and I’m tempted to just kiss her thoughts away, but that wouldn’t help in the long run. “And... I don’t know. Kagome can’t find out. She’s fallen for Inuyasha—the best man— and she’d probably tell him... And then everything would just go haywire, and that can’t happen. I can’t...” she trails off, unable to come up with words to express her emotions. I give her a smile, though it feels empty, and kiss her forehead.

“I know, Sango. I know.”

I wish I didn’t.

I wish I could convince her to let Kagome find out, to let her ruin the wedding.

I wish I wasn’t so open to the idea of ruining her relationships so that I could have her.

Only, I don’t wish those things. I want her to leave him, and be with me instead.

I love her.

.o.

Two weeks. That’s all that’s left before the day when she’ll be beyond my reach. She’s with me now. The two of us are curled up on the couch, just being together, neither of us saying much. Actually, no. That’s not true. She has made several attempts at conversation. It’s me who has not been talkative.

“Don’t be like this...” she whispers out of nowhere, staring at the ceiling. I stiffen, and my reply is cool, almost neutral.

“I can’t help it. I love you, and I’m going to lose you.”

She tells me something I already know. “You can’t lose what you never had, Miroku. You knew from the start that I was with someone else.”

“You haven’t made any vows yet,” I inform her, sitting up rather abruptly. She slowly follows my example, looking at anything but me. I, on the other hand, can’t take my eyes off of her. “You can still leave him.”

When she finally does look at me, it’s heartbreaking. She’s crying. I’ve never seen her cry before, and I never want to see it again. “I can’t, Miroku. People are going to start arriving tomorrow; my family, his family, our friends. I couldn’t do that to them.”

“But what about you? Sango...” I lift my hand to touch her cheek, examining her features so that I could imprint her face on my memory, and never forget it. “Do you love him? If you do, I’ll stop. I’ll let you go. I might die for it, but so long as you’re happy...”

Sango leans forward, touching a finger to my lips. “Miroku...”

The tears are trail steadily down her face as she kisses me with hopelessly desperate ardor.

She isn’t going to leave him.

I can’t stand the thought.

I end the kiss and tell her to go.

She does...

But she didn’t answer my question.

.o.

“I wanted to see you again,” she explains, staring down at the floor. She looks much the same as she did a month ago, breathtakingly beautiful and spirited and a little sad. I wonder, am I the one that sparked that last element in her? “I know I shouldn’t be here, and you probably don’t want me around, now that I think about it. I mean, it’s different now...”

I walk over to her and take her hands, pretending I don’t see her ring. It’s not an engagement ring anymore. It’s an actual wedding ring.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re always welcome here.” I love you.

Some of her sadness disappears, and Sango smiles. “I’m glad, Miroku. I missed you while I was gone. It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Her tone goes soft; wistful. “Pining for someone else on my honeymoon.”

I’m quiet. I let her know my thoughts on that subject the last time that we saw each other.

She looks at me, and I can see that she’s thinking. I don’t know what about, but I wish she’d look away. Seeing her this way... I want to kiss her again, and again. Then again, if I could have my way, I’d do more than just kiss her.

“Miroku?” Her hands leave mine, and one travels to my shoulder, the other to my lips. What is she doing?

“Yes, Sango?” I murmur. Her eyes meet mine with mind-blowing intensity.

“Do something for me?”

“Anything.”

There’s a pregnant pause before she leans up and whispers against my lips, “Love me.”

Love her?

That’s it?

How could I refuse?

.o.

It’s almost been a year since I met her, and looking back, I don’t know what to say about it. I’m just happy that I can have her in the small ways that I can. My time with Sango is rarer now; she has to be careful about how often and when she visits me, and she no longer takes the morning bus. She lives with her husband now, after all.

Husband... I’ve ceased to like that word.

The elevator doors open, and I step into the ground floor lobby of the skyscraper I work in. I want to get home and do a few chores before it gets dark. Sango’s planning to come over after she sees... him... off on another one of his business trips tonight. When I hear my name, however, I stop, confused.

“Sango? What are you doing here?”

She’s almost paper white as she grabs my hand, dragging me back into the elevator I just left. The doors shut with the sound of a bell, but I don’t notice. I’m too busy trying to figure out what’s going on, and why Sango looks so upset.

Finally, she blurts it out as we pass the third floor. “Miroku, I’m pregnant!”

I choke on whatever I was trying to say. “What?”

“Pregnant, Miroku. I’m going to have a baby. A child... I...” She suddenly goes silent, and takes several breaths, trying to calm herself.

I reach over and take her by the shoulders. Her eyes flicker open to return my steady gaze. I have to ask. “Who... Sango... Who is the father? Do you know?”

Slowly, she shakes her head.

“It could be either one of you,” she says, and I can feel her shaking. “I... I don’t know.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“No.” Her brow creases. “No. He left earlier than planned, and I found out after. I wouldn’t want him to be the first to know, anyway.” Sango shakes her head and takes another shaky breath. “What now?”

I pull her into the circle of my arms. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

Please, let it be mine.

.o.

“He’s so frustrating!”

I laugh lightly, trailing my hand across her swelling stomach. She giggles slightly when I accidentally tickle her, and swats my hand away, so I grope her instead. She whacks the back of my head for it, but there’s no force behind the strike. “Why do you say that?”

“Ever since he found out about this,” she explains, referring to her pregnancy, “he’s been acting as though I’m going to break or something. It’s so stupid. I try to get him to listen to me, or at least read one of those books my friends keep giving me, but he still won’t stop being so pigheaded.”

Hearing her say that about her husband makes me grin widely, and I press a kiss to her cheek for it. “Pigheaded, indeed. You’re anything but breakable, love. I would know.”

Sango snickers at the comment, and moves so that I can reach her lips with mine, and I don’t hesitate to do just that. When we have to come up for air, I can see that she’s back to thinking again.

“What now?” I tease. Ever since I found out about Sango’s baby, I’ve been walking on clouds. The idea that I might be the father of her child is one of the most wonderful things I could ever dream of.

“I was just thinking... Miroku, if the baby’s yours, I’m going to leave him, if you’ll have me after being so stupid.”

I have no words to express how much I love her for saying that.

I show her instead, because I know she won’t break.

Ever.

.o.

“She looks like you,” I remark, glancing at Sango. She gives me a weary smile; apparently, the baby in my arms is rather rambunctious at night, though one could never guess that by the way she’s sleeping at this moment.

“That’s what everyone has been saying,” she mutters through a yawn.

I set the little girl, Rei, into the portable crib Sango had brought as well. After adjusting the blankets over her, I meander my way back to the couch so I can spend some time with Sango. She shifts to lean against me, and I slip an arm around her shoulder.

“How much longer until we find out, I wonder?” she muses, a faraway expression on her face. “I can’t stop praying that you’re her father...”

I take the risk. “What if I’m not.”

She stands up suddenly, walking over to look at her daughter. “Then...”

“Then?” I prompt.

I catch sight of her face. A lone tear steals its way down her cheek.

“Then, this has to end... for Rei’s sake.”

My chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself at those words, but I force down the lump in my throat and move to go embrace her.

“It’s me. It has to be. I love you, Sango.”

She’s sobbing now, but I can make out her words anyway.

“Oh, God, Miroku! I love you, too.”

I never want to let her go.

It has to be me.

.o.

I’ve never felt this empty before. I didn’t feel this lost even when she wouldn’t leave him. But then, I somehow knew she wasn’t really gone at that point.

Now, though...

I never thought that I would end up like this, loving a woman I’ll never have, when once upon a time I could have any girl I set my mind to getting, and several other on the side. Perhaps there is such thing as karma, and its kicking me in the rear for all of the times I was such an idiot when I was younger.

I wish I had known Sango back then. Maybe if I had, things would be different now.

Maybe I’d be Rei’s father.

But I’m not.

She’s taking the news unflinchingly, almost resignedly. It’s been almost three minutes since either of us has said anything. It’s torture. When she finally does break the silence, it’s almost jarring.

“I guess that’s it then.”

Those words...

So, this is what it’s like to have one’s heart ripped into shreds.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I try. “You can still leave him. I don’t care that I’m not Rei’s literal father. I’ll—”

“Stop it, Miroku!” she snaps, and I stop. She stands up and paces back and forth a few times, and I hold my tongue until she speaks again. “I... I have to stay with him. It’s easier that way.”

“Sometimes,” I remind her, “the hard things are the things that are most worth doing.”

Suddenly, she’s in my arms and her lips are on mine, and she’s making me feel lightheaded from the way she’s kissing me, and I never want the moment to end, because I love her.

It’s not until she pulls away that I realize it for what it was.

“Goodbye, Miroku,” she whispers.

And then she leaves.

And now...

Now, I’m alone.

.o.

Five years, two more children, and a loveless marriage have done her ill. It’s not that she’s not beautiful anymore, because she is, and she always will be, but she’s aged in a more figurative sense. It’s as though she’s been beaten down by the course of life, and rejection weighs heavily on her shoulders.

“Remember all of those business trips he made?” she laughs humorously. “It turns out, roughly half of them were visits to some flight attendant mistress of his, and it started before I even met you. I really was blind, wasn’t I?” She takes another sip of the hot cocoa I made for her, for old time’s sake.

“No, you just wanted to do the right thing, and you were a little confused as to what that thing was,” I suggest, hoping to alleviate some of her bitterness and self-loathing.

She gives me a wry, tired smile. “You always were the optimist, Miroku, but don’t be silly. I was given ample opportunity to escape the hell I put myself through, most of it from you, and I was too stupid to catch a clue. And now, I’m the one who got served. Isn’t that dandy?”

I realize with a start that the woman who could never break has broken.

But I can't fix her.

I set down my own cup and face her directly. “Sango, I don’t know what to tell you.”

She sighs, and nods. “It’s fine. Forget it. How has life been treating you since we parted ways?”

I hesitate, but in the end decide to be straightforward with her.

“Well, I’m... engaged.”

I notice the flicker in her expression before she forces herself to smile. I wish she wouldn’t. She’d always been big on honestly. But then again, I understood her need to pretend to be happy for me, when she was really crying on the inside.

I’d done the same thing, hadn’t I?

I had just moved on.

“When’s the wedding?” she inquires, and I tell her. “That’s wonderful.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out choked. “Wow, I must seem like such an idiot, mustn’t I? Coming in here, hoping that you’re still...” She hurriedly wipes her eyes and swallows, composing herself. “I should go. I’ve got to pick up the girls soon, after all.”

I let it slide. “Okay. I’ll walk you to the bus stop then.”

“I think...” She smiles, a genuine one this time. “I think I’d like that.”

So I do, and I stay there with her until I see it coming around the bend. She pulls her fare from her purse; two rumpled dollar bills that have seen better days.

“Sango?” She looks at me expectantly, and I continue. “I meant what I said, way back when. You’re always welcome to come over, and I’ll help you if you need help. Always, Sango, no matter what.”

She smiles as the bus slows to a stop, and her eyes are shining with tears. She steps close to me and kisses the side of my face. I catch a bit of her scent, and can’t help but remember all of the other times I had felt her lips against my skin, and mine against hers.

It’s part of the past now...

“Thank you, Miroku,” she whispers, “but I have to decline.”

“Sango...”

“Goodbye, for real this time.”

I stood there as she boarded the bus, paid her fare, and watched her silhouette take a seat near the front of the bus, where we’d always sat together all those years ago.

Engine roaring dully, the bus pulled away, slowly rounding the next corner and disappearing from view.

It was to be the last time I ever saw her.

Goodbye, Sango...

I loved you.

.o.

End

.o.

Aamalie: And thus ends the mush. I left out the names of their “significant others” on purpose, in case anyone was wondering. Inspired by I’m-not-sure-what. I just thought that the idea of Miroku being the ‘other man’ would be interesting. And it was.

Leave a review, kiddies, and I might actually write some more of OA...? xD