If not hate...

Just this thing I wrote for someone about a year go, so my profile doesn't look so empty.

          There’s something, something far beyond appearances, and he’s not quite sure what it is. Something about her, specifically, that pulls him in. Something that makes it impossible for him to hate her, even though he wishes he could. It would be better for everyone if he did. It really does bother him. Claws at him, to the point of driving him insane, even more so than he already was. He’s never cared for anyone aside from his one and only God, you see. Although, because of that fact, he can’t say for certain that he cares for her. No, on the contrary, he tells himself and everyone around him that he despises everything about her, even though he knows very well that every movement, every syllable that exits her mouth, every step and graceful toss of the hair makes his insides scream out for her. She does, however, have one big flaw. Something he just can’t overlook. Despite that, he can’t seem to get himself to hate her, or even dislike her. Which is what keeps the same question circling through his mind; Why?

      “Sayomi, that’s enough.” The girl stops momentarily, the victim laying half-conscious at her feet, as her eyes scan the large man giving her orders.

       “Ah, let’er be, she’s having a blast!” Hidan suggests as his eyes scout the entire scene and a smirk plays diligently on his lips.

    “We’re wasting time here.” Kakuzu states as he begins to distance himself from the other two, expecting them to follow him as team leader. Her gaze switches from the tall man covered in stitches, to the slightly shorter, silver-haired one, as if she were waiting for his instructions, meanwhile she does not move a single muscle. He studies the situation once again, this time more closely, and sighs to himself.

          “Alright, alright. Kill the a*****e already and let’s get the hell outta here.” He instructs. He then follows the other one as she proceeds to finish off the man at her feet with a slight sinister smile, after many prolonged torture sessions, and continues on her way with the rest. He can hear her light footsteps trailing closely beside him and he can see her eyes glance over in his direction every so often. That is how it had always been. He would lead, she would follow and no one would question it.

          Ever since the day they met for the first time, there was something there. It could have been hate, or perhaps some similarities between them. It most certainly wasn’t love or affection in fact his vulgar speech and arrogant way of flaunting about disgusted her and her cold stares, sarcastic comments and vain perfection really got under his skin, but there was something else. Aside from that, he knew right away that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He subtly watched her every move as she slowly begin to make a home out of the organization. He had never wanted to be there, in fact, he had been planning on leaving and doing things as he pleased and when he pleased, but now the situation had changed. She spiked his curiosity; he wanted to know her, feel her pain.

          The days passed and that mysterious something that had pulled them in like magnets began to develop. Every now and then they would fight, mainly verbally but he would get carried away sometimes, and she would hold her own as well. However, neither one of them put much thought into each other’s words; at least that’s what they led on. But when mission time came around, they met eye-to-eye. They soon established a routine. She knew he would always be giving the orders, and he knew that she would always obey. They both fell comfortably into place, like two pieces of a puzzle they never even knew existed.

Now, that initial connection turned into something different, something bigger; bigger than a simple admiration or mutual respect. Bigger than the both of them.

          This time it could be love, although not at all likely.

          Pure lust, maybe.

          But he knows one thing for certain; it’s not hate. Not in the slightest bit.

He tried many times to figure this out, and when he realized he wasn’t getting any closer to finding the answer, he tried to hate her, with every ounce of strength he could luster, for the one imperfection that she had. Which is what brought him to the here and the now, just outside her bedroom, with the door half closed and the lights turned down. A flickering light bulb at the end of the long, empty hallway. 

She struggles against his cold body as his right arm pins her to the wall by her neck, his face an inch or so apart from hers. She’s nearly to the point of having to fight for air, yet she still feels nothing, a fact that he simply cannot put up with. Still, despite all his efforts, he has yet to come any closer to hating this woman, this Goddess-like creature, which is why he now has a new plan.

He injects more strength into his arm, pressing down harder on her neck, as his other hand holds her wrists, tightly binding them together like a perfectly tied rope. If he can’t force himself to feel hate towards her, then he will just have to help her overcome her flaw and force her to feel pain. He came to pity her, the poor thing. Not being able to feel pain, the most satisfying sense of one's existence. He really did feel sorry for her.

Her body begins to lose strength, as well as oxygen, but he refuses to let up until she feels something, even if just the slightest inkling of pain. He lets go of her wrists, letting her limp arms drop down to her sides as he reaches for a small knife, all the while her facial features remain as still as stone. It isn't until he lifts the blade to her left cheek bone, placing it against her soft, perfectly tanned skin, that she makes a slight gesture with her mouth suggesting a disturbance, but remains silent. There’s no need for her to say a word, because he knows her all to well. As vain as ever.

A smirk is now playing on his lips, while a frown still outlines hers, as he slowly lowers the blade back into place. He wants to share her pain more than anything, but there’s no need to have to damage her perfect face in the process. He will find another way, even if that means he’ll have to keep wondering for a little while longer. He will make her feel pain in some way, somehow.

He removes his arm from her neck and takes a half-step back as her arms fly up around her neck and she tumbles to the ground, taking in big gulps of air. “You’re worthless.” He spits, his cold words echoing throughout the long, empty halls as they boomerang back to stab her, hurting her more than any physical wound will ever be able to. It’s as if he had taken his blade and began to carve out her heart ever so slightly, so that she would experience what pain truly feels like. He watches her curiously and takes another half-step back, a disgusted look on his face, as she sits quietly against the wall, speechless, breathless, but most of all...hurt.

The next day comes and it’s now on it’s way out, and here they are standing in the same hallway, outside the same room, with the same looks on their faces. The only difference is, this time she knows what she wants.

“Well?” he barks, waiting for her reply. “What is it?”

She stands silently, their previous conversation running through her mind, and he begins to lose patience. After a few more seconds, he sighs loudly and takes a single step back, just as before, but this time her hands grab on to his bare chest, her nails just barely digging into his smooth skin. She takes a step towards him and her green eyes meet with his deep purple orbs, sending small chills down her spine for the very first time. Who knew two simple words could have such an effect on her. All she truly wants is for him to see her as much more than a simple comrade, if he even sees her as such. She wants him, his arrogance, his vulgar speech, his morbid sense of humor...and the way he looks at her when no one's around. But how would he know this if she never says a word about it? Falling for a sadistic psychopath is not an easy task to handle, an has very few yet damaging consequences.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he demands as she stands completely still and his hands wrap tightly around her wrists. Without the slightest of sounds, she reaches up to press her lips against his. The dark, empty halls are now more silent than they have ever been. Not a single syllable travels among them and not a single movement goes on within them. As the seconds crawl by, he begins to give in slowly, lightly biting her bottom lip and savoring the taste of iron on his tongue as he pins her against the wall once again, for an entirely different reason.

 

So then...what exactly is it? It’s certainly not hate. It may be lust after all, but lust just doesn’t seem to cut it. Or perhaps it’s fate? Though, fate is something neither one of them believes in. It seems complicated, but who's to say it's not as simple as a four letter word.

Author's Note

Written upon request. I had to work with what the person gave me, so it's not my best by any means. Though it was a lot of fun to write :)