In which twenty-eight-year-old detective Kiba Inuzuka, crosses paths with a girl who turns his once orderly life into pure chaos. After finding out that she is his soulmate; it spells nothing but 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞.
Warnings: infidelity, mature language...
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- Y/N -
HE'S different.
Kiba has been nothing but moody and tentative for these past few weeks. He visits me almost every single night after he's done with work - might it be at the diner if I'm working through my graveyard shift, or my apartment if I'm not on the job. Still, all we do lately is hold hands and talk.
We talk a lot.
It's not bad, as I've gotten to know him better as a result. I know what his favourite colour is now, what kind of music he likes to listen to, his favourite film, food, where he went to school as a kid... I also know that he has a strict mother, and an older sister - both of them who he cherishes dearly.
His father, I've come to realise however; is a sensitive subject he doesn't wish to talk about. I've made the mistake of asking him about his dad one night, and got punished by his silence and sour mood. Kiba didn't visit me for two days after that. It was dreadful - both for myself and him. We held hands with our fingers intertwined even tighter than usual that night.
I've since stayed clear of the subject, in fear of not striking a nerve within him for a second time.
He barely smiles, lately. The wide grin that I've come to love has practically disappeared off his sharp face. His jaw always seems set in place, and the golden brown shade inside his eyes has fallen eerily murky and dull. I hate seeing him like this - especially because I know the reason behind it.
Even if I tried to help him, he wouldn't accept my help because that's the last thing he wants. For me to touch him, or - should I correct myself - for him to touch me. The infidelity has caused his heart to fall heavy and cold. He is absolutely bitter because of it.
And tonight - he's even snappier than usual.
Currently, we're both standing in the middle of my living room, staring at each other with narrowed eyes; the rise and fall of our shoulders quick as we attempt catching our breaths. He tilts his head to the side lightly after a moment of silence - the movement more animalistic than human - and I pretend not to notice the way his dark eyes trail over me.
He does it twice; eyeing me up from head to toe so very blatantly. Just to provoke me.
"Again." is all that he says. His voice sounds assertive, commanding.
"No," I reply, shaking my head. I can feel my pulse pound behind my ears as I press my lips into a thin line to glare at him, "I'm tired."
He stares at me as the muscle in his jaw flutters, before he sets it tightly in place. He blinks - once, twice, and then he stretches his fingers on his right hand and curls them into a fist so harshly, that his knuckles turn stark white before he stretches them once more. He exhales deeply.
"Again." he repeats the word as if I haven't said anything at all.
"No, Kiba." I snap at him, my brows knitting tightly together. His snarky mood is mirroring itself onto me. I've been nothing but cranky lately, and it's all because of him.
