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hide-in-imagination · 3 years

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“New Year’s Eve Is Okay (maybe even amazing)” - Simbar oneshot

The continuation of the Christmas oneshot you all asked for!!! ♡

Happy New Year, everyone ^^

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In her grandpa’s words, Christmas was for family. New Year’s Eve was for friends, your chosen family.

Because family has always and will always be with you, he had told her once. New Years is to celebrate new things. The new people in your life.

Yes, it sounded a little cheesy, and considering her history, Ámbar shouldn’t be very ecstatic about celebrating friendship, but she understood what he meant. She had always seen change as an opportunity for something new instead of something to be afraid of. And thank god for that mindset because she’d had to restart and do over a lot in her life. But now she was finally in a place where she felt accepted, and most importantly, fully comfortable with who she was, the friends she’d made along the way and the plans she had for the future.

And so, her tradition was to spend the New Years at some friend’s house or at a dance club, partying the night away and welcoming the new year dancing. It wasn’t that she was the kind of person who went ‘This is gonna be my year!’ or something and awaited midnight with vibrant excitement and twinkling eyes— She actually found it a little silly since every year always ended up being pretty much the same as the previous one and everyone she knew that made New Years resolutions never fulfilled any of them. But hey, it was a great excuse to get drunk, break free from all and any worries and dance and sing until her feet and throat were sore. As far as holidays went, that made New Years her unbeatable favorite. The only day better than that was her birthday.

This year, the pre-party was at her friend Emilia’s house, which consisted of about two hours of food and drinks before they all moved to a near club around eleven and waited for the stroke of midnight.

That was where Ámbar was right now, chatting with some friends in her dark blue shiny dress as she sipped from her drink. Normally, she would be checking the crowd, either here or at the club, looking for a handsome stranger to close the night with a flourish and then never see him again. But this year was different. This year, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Not because she’d gotten bored of the ‘good’ one-night stands which never quite managed to be ‘excellent.’ She could’ve carried on with that.

No, the reason was rather a person. A person that started with ‘S’ and ended with ‘imón, the unexpected friend of Luna who I can not stop thinking about.’

He hadn’t asked for her number that night at her grandpa’s Christmas dinner party, and she, stupidly, hadn’t done it either. Because, what if he got to know her better and decided she wasn’t his type? What if he turned out to be an awful guy and she ended up disappointed? She didn’t even know if he already had a girl he liked. Maybe she should just stay with the memory of one perfect night instead of risking it.

Thoughts like that circled in her head on a loop until he left along with Luna and Matteo and she lost her chance. Later, surrounded by nothing but the solitude and quiet of her own apartment, she had regretted it immensely. She was Ámbar Smith; she was supposed to be braver than that.

It’d been hard to sleep that night, between flashbacks that made her smile and the memory of their lingering stares when they said goodbye which wiped it right off.

Fortunately, her state of disappointment and self-loathing didn’t last too much, for the very next evening, she got a text saying:

‘You still haven’t managed to change my mind’

Ámbar may had reacted a little too excitedly, doing what could only be described as a victory dance in her room. Which was ridiculous and so not warranted by a single text, but she really couldn’t help it. By the time she calmed down somewhat, she had two more texts.

‘Just a reminder in case you want to rectify that’

‘It’s Simón by the way’

Of course I know it’s you, her melted heart responded. Why did she find it so cute that he felt the need to clarify? She guessed it was just funny how he could act so confident and laid-back one minute and then shy and awkward in the next. Were they both part of him or did he hide one with the other? She didn’t really know him to know yet, but she found it endearing.

‘I’m guessing Luna gave you my number?’ She texted back, just to appear a little nonchalant. After all, contrary to what her attitude in the last five minutes may imply, she was not a twelve-year-old with a crush.

‘Maybe’ he replied.

He appeared as ‘writing’ for some time (during which her heart did not pound, thank you very much) as if he deleted and started again until he finally tapped sent.

‘She shouldn’t have?’

Now, Ámbar could’ve kept playing it cool and reply with something like “nah, it’s fine” or “I don’t mind either way”— that was probably the smartest move. But just as that night next to the snack table where her chest had ached at just the idea of him thinking that he was bothering her, she couldn’t bear to make him feel like that. So, she decided to be honest.

‘Actually… I think it’s the best thing she has done in a long time.’

After that, they had talked every day. About many things, general topics like music, movies, TV shows, memes, funny videos… They’d talk about stuff that happened to them throughout the day, whether to vent (“The weather it’s way too hot, I’m melting here!”) or share something good (“A friend just got me the game I talked to you about!”)

Ámbar found herself laughing at every little joke he made, and she felt so happy whenever she made him laugh. She was a little embarrassed at how attentive she was to her phone, practically jumping at the smallest sound or vibration to check if it was a message from him. She got so disappointed when it wasn’t, but oh so very excited when it was. It was dumb and exaggerated, she knew it, but texting with Simón made her heart sing.

(And his ‘Goodnight, bonita’ might as well had made it explode.)

The voice notes didn’t take long in making an appearance (she may or may have not bookmarked some of his), and then there was that day Simón called her because he said he had his hands busy doing the dishes and so he couldn’t write.

Ámbar had told him that if he was busy then they could talk later (a stupid move considering how happy it made her to hear his voice and oh god, what if he hangs up now?) but Simón had replied that he’d put on earphones precisely for this reason and begged her to please save him from boredom while he washed his mountain of dishes. (He was not exaggerating; he had a big family).

They’d talked for hours that day, long after he’d finished his task. They’d told each other stories of their lives and their families, shared dreams and goals they had in mind. She had laughed a lot and learned a lot about him, more than enough to completely erase her made-up story of the dedicated social worker and shape it into the passionate musician slash part-time waiter that he was. And yet she wanted to know more. Way more.

They didn’t talk about the kiss under the mistletoe in any of their conversations or made any plans about going out somewhere together. Ámbar didn’t know if she should bring it up or if it was too soon; they’d only been talking for a couple days after all. She’d probably seem too intense.

(“You are,” Emilia had told her the day prior, backing it up with the fact that in these few days she’d already memorized all of his band’s songs. It wasn’t her fault the songs were good. Or that his singing sounded so beautiful.)

Besides, Simón was making the most of spending time with his family now that they’d finally managed to arrive from London, and she herself had been meeting with different friends and co-workers around the city to exchange gifts and catch up, so maybe it wasn’t the best time to start anything either.

It didn’t stop her from wishing she could see him though.

He did ask her if she had plans for New Year’s Eve— a not so subtle question that made her smile because it meant he felt the same.

Sadly, she had already made plans weeks ago to attend Emilia’s party along with many mutual and not mutual friends and ex college classmates. He said he too had planned to attend a friend’s party, and since he had pretty much helped organize the whole thing, he couldn’t not show up.

Which brought Ámbar here, to the party with her friends, many guys hitting on her and she rejecting them all. She felt a little foolish, to be honest. It’s not like she was dating Simón or he had made any comment about them being exclusive or something. (And could someone be ‘exclusively talking to someone else’? Because that’s all they did. They were nothing. Seriously, it was laughable.) For all she knew, he could be sucking face with another girl right now at his party and here she was, dodging advances from hot guys.

They were handsome and smooth and the look in their eyes promised very fun things… but they weren’t Simón.

Ámbar felt very, very stupid.

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Thirty minutes before midnight, Ámbar was singing along to the tunes the DJ played as the countdown steadily proceeded on the club’s wide screen. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as packed as a can of sardines since most people were either outside waiting for the fireworks display or at their homes waiting to hug their families so they could run out and join some party. That didn’t mean it was empty though, not in the slightest, but she could move from the bar and back without needing to elbow her way through, which was enough for her.

Many from the pre-party had already disappeared in the crowd, Emilia, the traitor, being the first, because “You may have put yourself in an imaginary leash but I’m free to do whatever I want, and what I want is for someone to do me.”

Ámbar would’ve defended herself but she’d asked Ramiro to be her kiss at midnight and that basically proved she was right. Ramiro was the closest thing she had to a male best friend; they’d known each other for years so she trusted him enough for it. Also, she knew he was just getting out of a toxic relationship, so he would not think of it as anything more than what it was.

To be honest, she wouldn’t kiss anyone, but she feared if she was standing alone by the time the clock stroke midnight, some drunk guy would jump her, so she thought it was better to prevent something like that from happening.

Simón had sent her a few texts every once in a while and a quick video of how the party was going over there.

Good, she thought. So at least he remembers me in between sticking his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Yeah, by that point in the night and after her third glass of rum & coke, Ámbar had gotten pretty paranoid.

She’d responded briefly with emojis and by posting many Instagram stories of her own party. (If she happened to be with Ramiro in most of them, it was purely coincidental.)

“Who’s the guy?” Asked the aforementioned, looking at her phone’s screen over her shoulder. She was looking at a group selfie Simón had shared in his Stories to see if she could identify which of all those bitches was throwing herself at him right now. Her bet was on the curly-haired brunette with the tacky golden dress.

“None of your business,” she replied, locking her phone and putting it inside her bag.

“I’d say it is my business if you’re using me to make him jealous.”

She looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, smiling very smugly.

“Shut up,” she said, and went to the bar for another drink.

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It was one minute to the New Year and with her fourth glass left empty somewhere and the energy from dancing in her veins, she was actually pretty pumped.

That was until Ramiro went up to her and told her loud enough to be heard over the music—

“I’m gonna split up!”

Ámbar looked at him, taken aback. “W-what? But we agreed—”

“You’ll be fine!” He assured her and left her there to mix with the crowd. In seconds she couldn’t even see him anymore.

Ámbar scoffed. Thank you so much, friend.

He was right though; she didn’t need him. She was an independent woman who could take care of herself. She’d had to handle boy advances all her life; she could do it tonight too.

The excitement started growing in the crowd as the countdown on the screen marked 30 seconds. Some people ran to the bowls of grapes, ready to stuck 12 in their mouths as fast as they could. Some others prepared their party crackers and party horns. Those were pretty drunk.

Ámbar swallowed the piece of nougat in her mouth and readied herself to chant the countdown with the crowd.

Ten!

There was a tap on her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes internally. Seriously? Already?

Nine!

She turned around to dispatch whatever guy that had come to bother her.

Eight!

Her heart skipped a beat.

Seven!

Simón smiled. Beautiful, timid, excited.

“Hi.”

Six!

Ámbar couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t even respond, only look at him and look at him and look at him because he was there and her heart was going to come out.

Five!

He couldn’t stop looking at her either.

Four!

She knew that look. She’d seen it that night, when his eyes had searched hers for an answer.

Three!

There was more longing now, more eagerness, the question written on fire instead of a hopeful breeze.

Two!

She felt the same fire and more.

One!

There was no need to ask.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Simón held her face and kissed her.

Around them, the place roared with life, confetti fell like rain, but for Ámbar only his lips existed, only the softness of his hair as she drowned a hand in it, the leather of his jacket where she was holding onto him, the firmness of his body against hers, his hand sliding to her back to pull her closer.

The ceiling could’ve fallen down and she wouldn’t have let him go.

This time, she didn’t have to worry about stares or decorum. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t want more, so she didn’t. She parted his lips and deepened the kiss, rejoicing in how he gripped her hips and kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and took turns between letting him take whatever he wanted and pouring everything she felt into his mouth until neither could anymore breathe.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, only that they were left panting. They opened their eyes and time started moving again. All around them there were people dancing and singing, the music so loud it invited you to follow it.

Ámbar followed Simón instead, as he guided her by the hand to a more secluded place, far from the blaring speakers.

“How are you here?” She said in awe once they stopped. She’d think it was a dream if her lips didn’t still feel him, if it weren’t impossible for her body to simulate these many sensations.

“You shared the name of the place many times on Instagram.”

She had. She could finally admit that she had been secretly hoping he would pick up on that. She was so glad he did.

“For a moment I thought I wasn’t gonna find you on time though,” he continued. “I got here minutes ago but there were so many people. Thankfully, your friend, the curly one, he saw me and pointed me in the right direction.”

Oh my god, Ramiro, I love you, you’re the best.

“What about your party?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not that far from here, just half an hour plus some walking. I could stay here for a while and then go back… Or I could just stay here with you, if you want me to.”

Somewhere, Ámbar was aware that that was a question, that he was hoping she’d want him to stay, but she couldn’t focus on that when she was almost out of air.

“…Did you ride a bus for thirty minutes just to come kiss me at midnight?”

Simón averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“Well… Actually, I took the subway. But it was really—”

She didn’t let him finish.

For the first time since they met, Ámbar kissed Simón not because of some tradition, not because of any excuse— Only because she wanted to.

Simón was surprised for a second before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. Ámbar set to kiss him until it didn’t surprise him anymore, until he had no doubt that she was crazy about him, until he didn’t hesitate in front of her because she was wonderstruck just by him existing.

They only parted far enough to look at each other. If her kiss didn’t fully convey it, he must have seen it in her eyes, because his arms didn’t let her go and a warm, happy smile grew on his face.

“So,” he said, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Any New Years’ resolutions?”

Ámbar thought about it, and for once, just this once, she chose to take a leap of faith.

“Ending the year like this wouldn’t be bad.”

She was scared of having said that because they only knew each other since some days ago and all her logic told her that most likely they’d only see each other for a month and then something would happen and they would never talk again. Pretending otherwise, actually thinking otherwise, was foolish; nothing more than hopeful thinking. It would only embarrass her later to know she said this.

But then he smiled that beautiful smile of his and she decided it was worth it.

“I think the same thing.”

Both danced and kissed until late into the night, and two days later, they had their first real date.

And at the end of the year, when holiday season came, Ámbar arrived with Simón at her granpa’s house, and their New Year’s resolution came true when they were, once again, each other’s kiss at midnight.

…

#simbar #simbar fic #sl fanfiction #simbar fanfic #hope you like it!#My Writing #happy new year everyone #short writings

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tentoriwrites · 6 years

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Time-Scattered Blossoms: Part One

This is whole thing ended up right at 10k words. That is WAY too big for one post so it’s going up in at least two, possibly three parts. I will post the rest as I finish editing it. Speaking of, I make no guarantees the editing on this is any good. At a certain point, it all runs together. ^_^;

THIS IS SUPER SPOILER HEAVY FOR SHINGEN’S ROUTE

Inspired by this part of Shingen’s route, Backstreet Boys - Unmistakable, and Skillet - Watching for Comets

That’s right, this is a 10k long songfic! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Was it chance or fate that caused Yukimura to find her that day? The longer he knows her the stronger the feeling grows he’s made a promise to someone to protect her. That she’s waiting for someone, they both are...

One. Two. Three. Does he love me? Or does he love me not? Remember or forgot? Four. Five. Six. Will time fix, a broken heart, when time tore it apart Seven. Eight. Nine. Will love ever be mine? And ten. If so, when?

She recited the poem as she plucked the petals one by one from a flower in her small hands. She finished with one petal remaining and a bright smile on her face. A pair of teenage boys sauntered up behind her snickering. One of them plucked the flower out of her hand and crushed it in his fist while the other kicked her book bag. The contents spilled out and skid across the pavement.

“Didn't anyone tell you, you can't predict anything with a stupid flower?” One jeered, a wicked chuckle under his breath after saying so. On the other side of the park, another boy took notice. Something about seeing the events unfolding caused his chest to get tight with anger. His hands coiled into fists as he got to his feet.

“And what exactly are we doing, Dear?” Saizo asked disinterested as the boy passed him by.

“Isn't it obvious? I can’t sit by and let them bully her!” He declared as he marched forward. He knew he couldn't explain it. Even if he could, Saizo had no reason to believe him if he said something in his very soul told him had to protect this girl. It was something so strong it caused him to move, caused him to speak without even thinking. There was something intensely familiar about her, intensely comforting. Like she was home, or part of it. Like, she had always been a part of his life. Which is why watching one of them push her out of her seat set him over the edge. He didn't need courage to call out to the delinquents, courage meant he was afraid. No, in that moment he didn't feel afraid, he felt anger and an odd sense of purpose.

“Didn't anyone ever teach you not to pick on girls like that?” The stern voice that called out, accompanied by cracking knuckles was not the boy she expected. She had thought it would be her friend, an older boy named Inuchiyo, mean mugging the older boys. To her surprise it was a boy she'd never seen before. He was older than her, but not as old as the boys antagonizing her. The older boys didn't seem to pay him much mind.

“Oh, and are you going to teach us a lesson?”

“Damn right I am!” Suddenly, a hand clapped over his shoulder.

“And if he doesn't, I sure as hell will.” The voice beside him growled, low and threatening.

“Toshiie...”

“Damn right, Toshiie. And this is my martial arts junior, Yukimura.” He went on pressing forward. “He's never understood how to hold back.” He slowly cracked individual knuckles with each step he took. “Then again, neither have I...”

“Hey... We don't want any trouble...” The delinquents were back pedaling now. Hands shaking and voices quaking as the school's martial arts champion and his protege drew closer.

“If you didn't want any trouble, you shouldn't go around bullying others.” Yukimura growled, stopping next to the girl.

“Especially not my family friend...”

“We... we didn't know!” They were tripping over themselves as they tried to back away faster.

“It doesn't matter! You shouldn't be bullying anyone. Now, get out of here and if I ever see you screwing with people again you'll regret it!” The delinquents scampered away and Toshiie turned back to Yukimura and the girl. Yukimura looked deeply distressed as he tried awkwardly to sooth the crying girl.

“Geez, you always were a crybaby...” Toshiie sighed in exasperation but his face was nothing but fond. He helped her up to her feet again. “Skinned your knees, huh?” She nodded as she wiped the tears from her face. “It's not too bad.”

“That's not why I'm crying!” She blurted out in frustration. “They said there's no such thing as true love and I'll die an old, gray. lonely woman!” She sniffled looking like she might burst out crying again.

“You're not going to end up alone.” Both boys spoke in near unison, with equal measure of resolution. Toshiie looked at Yukimura incredulously.

“You just met her, how would you know?” He wilted under the gaze of his superior.

“I... just... I have this feeling, ya know?” He knew there was no way he could explain it to Toshiie either when he didn't even fully understand it himself.

“A feeling he says...” Toshiie sighed in exasperation as he bent down to start picking up the girl's scatter belongings. “Well anyways,” he looked over to the girl, “whaddya say we take Yukimura here to the restaurant to meet Mom, Pops, and Yahiko?” She sniffled one last time, gave her face one last good swipe of her hands, and nodded.

Several years passed and she came to be good friends with Yukimura. Somehow, he had an almost as inexplicable sense for when she might be in danger as Toshiie. As they got older, Toshiie went off to college leaving Yukimura the task of protecting her. Though he had been asked, Yukimura would have done so anyways.

“You can count on me, Toshiie! I promise on my honor as a man I will protect her! And Sanada Yukimura never breaks his promises!” Though he had said it so enthusiastically, something in the back of his mind gave him pause. A nag saying maybe he didn’t always keep his promises. He brushed it off as a bit of anxiety over his friend leaving and went on.

The passage of time made the feelings he had around her no less explainable. A new one had started to coalesce that seemed to be related to them though. A feeling like he was waiting for someone, he had to get her back to someone. Someone important to them both. He never talked about it though, not until one day at the restaurant she broached a topic he never would have thought to discuss.

“Yukimura... Would you, I don't know, want to go out sometime? Like on a date?” Her straightforward question made his body stiffen and cheeks redden.

“I... um... well...” He stammered and fumbled for words and she giggled. The smile on her face told him she didn't understand the cause of his distress. Realizing that, he knew he had to be honest with her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel his resolve and calm his nerves.

“I never considered the possibility.” She looked utterly crushed, he knew she would. “From the day I met you I knew there was someone out there for you. Someone truly great and strong. I know I'm not that person.” Her brows furrowed as a memory came back to her. A memory from when they first met, the resolve in his eyes when he said she wouldn't end up alone.

“It probably sounds crazy... but...” He looked away, eyes clouded with doubt. “For a long time I felt like I had to protect you, because I made a promise...”

“And Sanada Yukimura never breaks his promises...” She finished for him with a troubled smile. “If it's a promise you don't remember making, can you really say you're still honor bound to it?” That was the problem... The thing he couldn't explain. He did remember and he didn't at the same time.

“It's like a dream you know you had but don't quite remember when you wake up. It's a feeling like something happened and you should know what it was. No matter how hard you try though, you can't.” His eyes never could hold a lie, they were clear and earnest as he spoke. It was obvious to her now he honestly believed what he was saying, no matter how crazy it might seem. She smiled softly at him as she slid her hand across the table, laying it atop his.

“I know how I feel when I'm around you, Yukimura. I feel like you're meant to be in my life. You feel like...” She paused for a moment trying to find the right word.

“Home.” They both finished in unison, both looked at each other shocked. Blushing they promptly looked in opposite directions.

“If... If by some chance you ever change your mind. I would much rather grow old and die with you than alone.”

“You're not going to die alone.” His answer was no less resolute than it had been all those years before.

Shingen stood looking out over the city from the balcony of his hotel room. He idly plucked the petals from a flower he had taken from the arrangement inside. One by one he pulled them out and watched them flutter away, caught on the breeze, carried off to parts unknown.

“You know girls used to play a game doing that. Pull the petals off one by one chanting 'he loves me, he loves me not.' If the last petal you plucked said he loved you, it had to be true.” A woman’s voice interjected itself into his early morning musings. “That couldn't possibly be what you're doing, is it?” The indignity in her voice irritated him, her demeaning laugh infuriated him. “Let's not fool ourselves, shall we? There's not a single romantic bone in your body. So, why delude yourself with such foolish notions as true love?”

“If I were playing the game you described, that would imply there was someone I hoped loved me, would it not? Perhaps you brought it up hoping it was you?” The tiger bore its fangs, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“I have no need for your love as long as you keep giving me your body.” She replied so self-assuredly it made him sick as she ran a finger down his arm in a languid stroke. “Besides, we'll be married before long anyways. Love or not...” Those words left a knot in his stomach he didn't like but couldn't explain.

She had once been his friend and confidante but over time they had grown apart. Now all she was to him was someone to warm his bed he knew wouldn't try to blackmail him later. Their parents had arranged for them to wed to bring their family businesses together. At the time, a year ago, he had agreed to it because he had been able to force down the vague sense of wanting something more out of a marriage. He justified it as his duty to his family. But the vague feeling of wanting something more grew each time they interacted. Someone who could do more than only warm his bed. Someone who could also warm his heart.

“Anytime, anywhere, anyplace. You could be anyone today. Maybe I would recognize you on a crowded street...” He muttered as he continued to stand there, watching the people scurry to and fro, flower in hand, when a different kind of chant filled his mind. Recalled from his childhood... or maybe a time much further away.

One. Two. Three. Does he love me? Or does he love me not? Remember or forgot? Four. Five. Six. Will time fix, a broken heart, when time tore it apart? Seven. Eight. Nine. Will love ever be mine? And ten. If so, when?

He looked down at the one petal remaining, recalling that meant he was destined to find love. He laughed in self-deprecation because for one moment he allowed himself to believe in a childhood oracle. Surely his betrothed was right about that, such things had no place in their world. And yet... Why couldn't he let go off the hope the thought of true love kindled in his heart?

“You have a meeting with your Father in an hour.” Kansuke's voice pulled Shingen from his thoughts. The remnants of the flower slipped from his hand as he turned back towards the door.

“This marriage is a bad idea.” Kansuke said as if he knew what was on his employer’s mind.

“We've been over this before.” His answer was firm, firmer than his own feelings on the matter. Kansuke couldn't know that. No one could. The pair glared at each other, if one could call Kansuke’s nigh emotionless expression a glare, for several moments before Kansuke turned and disappeared into the hotel room again.

The room where Shingen and his Father sat was richly furnished with dark wood pieces and deeply colored rugs contrasted against white marble floors. Bookshelves lined the high walls on one side, flanked on one end of the room by a pair of massive double doors and wide fireplace on the other. A fired burned in the fireplace bringing much needed warmth to the chill atmosphere of the room.

No more than a month prior, his father had announced Shingen would be marrying a childhood friend. It was a last-ditch effort on his Father's part to save their company. He had been unsuccessful in his attempts to consolidate power within the company and impose his vision on it. Shingen knew this all too well. At the same time, he wasn't willing to toss his hat in the ring just yet and try to take the reins. He certainly could, being the CEO's son, but he was on the cusp of graduating college and unproven. He had to get some experience under his belt, some supporters behind him.

Understanding the arranged marriage didn't make him anymore willing to go through with it. The older they got the more their relationship had devolved to small talk turned to sex and little more. If she walked out of his life completely, he would wish her well, but wouldn't miss her. He knew little of romance, that was true, but he knew you should probably at least miss the person you're married to when they were gone.

“You're quiet.” His father finally called after taking a puff of a cigar. Shingen turned his gaze from one of the massive windows and the snow falling outside to look at his father.

“I was thinking about something...” His response was passive, indifferent. He didn't want to be there, he'd rather be outside skiing and find himself a nice snow bunny to warm his bed in a cabin far away.

“About the engagement?” His father seemed hardly any more interested in the conversation than Shingen was. He leaned back in his chair and peered at the fire.

“Yes.” Shingen moved from the window to sit in one of the over-sized leather armchairs by the fire. “I have reservations.”

“It's not too late to add something to the pre-nup. You haven't signed it yet.”

“Nothing like that.” He answered with a low tone, eyes trained on the dancing flames. His father quirked an eyebrow at him, a knowing scowl on his face. He extinguished the cigar before picking up a glass of dark liquor and drinking all of it down. He huffed out his next breath to suppress the burn of the liquor from coming out in his voice.

“Then what is it?” The elder Takeda wondered with no small measure of irritation in his voice.

“When was the last time you saw your wife?” Shingen's step-mother had been a marriage of convenience, much like his would be if he went through with it.

“We had dinner a few weeks ago.”

“And before that?” His grip on the arms of the chair tightened to keep his expression from changing.

“A few months. I can't really recall.” His father got up, waving his hand as if the motion would dispel Shingen's train of thought. “Look, I know where this is going. You have known this girl your whole life. You even dated for a few years there.”

“There's a reason we aren't dating anymore.”

His Father pressed on, rolling right over Shingen's interjection as if he had never said it at all. He had a habit of that, sometimes, to just ignore what those around him were saying even if the advice was good.

“Why the sudden change? If there's someone else, it's fine as long as you keep it and them quiet.” He said it as if it were nothing, the simplest thing. It made Shingen's blood boil from the sheer inability to reconcile what he was hearing. Why would he marry someone he didn't care about and keep the person he did care about as a mistress? He got to his feet and turned toward the door, so his Father wouldn't see his trembling hands.

“If I wanted to marry her, I would have proposed myself.”

“It would be bad publicity to call this off now.”

“I'm not calling it off, but I'll be making my own decisions from now on.” He heard his Father start to say something, but it was abruptly cut short by the heavy thunk of the old wooden door shutting.

Later that evening, Shingen sat in his apartment, sweat dripping face as he sat in his workout room panting. A shadow appeared from the corner and offered him a towel.

“Thanks, Kansuke.”

“Are you sure going through with the engagement is the correct thing to do?” Kansuke's level voice questioned him but his face revealed nothing.

“It's what's expected of me.” Shingen answered simply enough as he wiped the sweat from his body.

“The Harunobu I knew wouldn't do something simply because it was expected of him.” Shingen's gaze shifted to where Kansuke had been standing. “He would do it with a purpose.”

“What did you call me?” The question left as lips as he turned but Kansuke was already gone. He sat on the bench staring at his hands a moment as a warm and familiar feeling settled in his chest. There was something about Kansuke calling him that name felt... right... Like that's the way it should have been all along. Once the feeling passed, he was left with the confusion of what Kansuke meant. The more he ruminated on it the more he decided what he was going to do moving forward. First, he needed out of this engagement.

Part Two

#slbp #slbp yukimura #slbp shingen #slbp saizo #fanfic #fanfiction #songfic #fluff #angst #slbp toshiie

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