The Taisho fire

Without you

At last !

Gwen's widened when he pulled her by the sleeve and all but dragged her up to his office. There were not many men left in the common room. They passed by in a blur, the young woman struggling to keep up with his hurried steps. Even though he was limping, she nearly had to run to keep up. Didn't the damn dog realise how insanely long his legs were ? She would have snickered at the image had Tōga's energy not been so erratic.

His skin danced out of reach, warm fingers touching and going as he pulled upon the cotton at her wrist. Teasing her as she wondered if he was going to bite her head off anew. She'd poured her anguish and sadness into the piano, leaving her protective walls raw and withering. In her flayed heart, she knew that he had the power to break her. Tears begged to escape, and she blinked them away, wiping the residual moist upon her cheek with her other sleeve.

Her heart thundered a hundred miles a minute when they passed the door. Shaking hands folded in her back, but the mask of indifference refused to settle over her distraught features. Taishō closed the door at her back, brushing so close that she shivered. Then he heaved a great sigh that melted her insides.

Gwen kept her eyes glued to the floor stubbornly, feeling the tears win the battle against her iron will.

Damnit ! She didn't want him to see her like this. Shame crept up her spine; wasn't she strong enough to grace his unit ? But then, why was she crumbling down now ? It was too much. All too much. To lose his esteem would be to lose the world, but she had no ounce of battling spirit left. A pair of legs, clad in safety boots appeared before her, but the moist brimming in her eyes prevented her from seeing anything else than a dark blur upon the pale ground.

"Gwen."

And his voice rumbled like stones rolling under stormy waves.

"Gwen, look at me."

How could a command seem so regretful ? There was softness in his voice that he usually kept for children, or next of kin. The young woman took a deep, shuddering breath in hopes of chasing away that awful tension wrapped around her lungs. Tears leaked down her cheeks; she allowed them to fall, blinking some more away as she lifted her head.

Molten gold caught her gaze, worry oozing out so strongly that it threatened to shatter that line drawn in the sand. It was but an inch wide; it didn't stop his discreet smell from permeating, neither the energy that so effortlessly reached out, fuelled by his sturdy frame. But the line still stood, solid like a challenge, daring them to indent it...

"I..."

The words wouldn't come out. And thus, thoroughly vanquished by the sight of her distress, Tōga reached out and folded his arms around her lithe frame. The invisible line was blown away with the power of a sea storm, the winds shattering every single ounce of reservation as her body snuggled against him. It felt so right that he wondered why he'd denied himself for so long.

Gwen didn't gasp. Didn't cry out... and didn't push away. Overwhelmed by the encompassing embrace, she felt her control shatter and wither. The sobs came, unbidden and shameful, weakening her stance. The wobble of her knees didn't matter; his strength kept her standing. She wasn't sure her feet were touching the ground anymore. Gwen fisted his dark red t-shirt, anguish pouring out of her in long, heartbreaking waves.

"Gomen," he stated, reverting to his father's language.

An apology. Her heart lurched, wondering why he had to grovel for her mistakes, but she was too busy trying to rein in her tears to communicate it. They just kept pouring, two endless rivers, as if her heart tried to escape its confines. It was downright humiliating, but the rumbling wall of his chest only coaxed more emotions to overflow. He was a pillar of strength around her, safety and acceptance.