The said musician sighed tiredly, turning towards his nightstand and switched the lamp on. She let out a soft whimper as her eyes adjusted to the bright light, and he blinked, reaching for the cigarette pack. He shook the Gitanes box, one popping out for his waiting lips. Lighting it, the man breathed in the nicotine as he turned back to the ceiling, smoke filling the still air. One arm wrapped around her bare shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
"It's bad for the baby," she chided and he chuckled, and without turning or breaking contact, he extinguished it quickly. He shut the lamp again, long fingers running through her shorter hair.
"Do you?" she asked relentlessly.
"Nana is talking like Reira now," Takumi replied, lips brushing against her forehead. He could see her pout in the moonlight, as she cuddled closer to his warmth.
"The invisible thread connects you to your destined lover," Nana smiled, repeating the words Reira had once said.
"I know Nana," he murmured, lifting her chin up to reach him. He kissed her, one hand still threaded in her hair, the other moving down her body. She was getting bigger, he noticed, the way the bulge in her stomach was just visible. He whispered her name longingly, and she sighed, tasting the smoke on his lips.
"Takumi..." she breathed back, closing her eyes.
"Shh..." he muttered back, one finger on her lips, silencing her. "If you continue, I'll just have the urge to take you, and that won't be good for the baby."
Nana smiled, snuggling into him. He listened to her serene breathing, as it slowed to a steady pace. He waited patiently, for her to fall asleep in his arms, one hand still running through her hair.
---
He knew where his red thread of fate led to. It led to the woman sleeping beside him, small hands on his chest and petite soft body against his taller frame. Unfortunately, her red thread of fate was not him. It was the blond guitarist in his rival band, the frail romantic that could not support her. It did not make sense, Takumi reasoned, for Nana to have two red threads, only hers led away from his. Maybe his red thread did not lead to Nana. But he didn't want anything else, he realized. There was no other woman he needed.
Of course, there was no such thing as a red thread of fate. Only idealistic romantics believed in such things, as destiny and fate. Nana was one of those people, who wasted time over such frivolous things, like chemistry and true love. Takumi did not believe in such things, he simply understood that everyone loves themselves. To find someone that would provide the most happiness for himself would be a perfect match. He had always been practical like that, and Nana was a good cook, a petite cute woman that spent most of her time wondering over unimportant romantic things that dreamed of being a cute housewife, a perfect match for his busy lifestyle. He never had a motherly character in his life; he grew up with an alcoholic father, waiting until he was big enough to fight back. Having a woman cater to his whim, cooking meals and cleaning the house was enough for him.
Nana was not strong-willed, stubborn and beautiful like Ren's woman. Nana was a simplistic, affectionate girl (not a woman, only a girl) who lived for him. That was enough, so it seemed, to fill his craving. She was pregnant with his child, ready to provide a family he desired, and he was going to support them both, his wife and his child.
---
He breathed in her flowery scent, intoxicated by how she could always smell like cherry blossoms, a fact he found out the first night he explored her body. He hadn't had sex for a month, and he needed something, fast, before he was going to lose his chance before the tour.
His mind had fluttered on the blushing girl that was roommates with Ren's woman. Ren had asked him to come, and having nothing better to do, he had agreed. Upon opening the door, the girl had broken down, crying. He had remembered the tomatoes she had prepared, and he could still taste the crisp sweetness in his mouth. He could still remember the way her cheeks flushed when he sank to the floor by her side.
He had called Ren and gotten the number. That night, he wasn't quite satisfied. Nana was shy, inexperienced and a disappointment.
He forgot about her for a while. When she was mentioned upon, he had made a crass comment among men. Men did not get offended by his comment. Men did not grab his collar and think they could defeat him. The Blast's guitarist and bassist weren't men. They were still boys, passionate boys that challenged him over an inexperienced girl he slept with.
His pride was hurt by the pathetic excuse of a guitarist. The Black Stone member could go home alone with his hand, and Takumi would do the woman Nobu loved. And he did just that.
Nana had cried on his chest, and something plucked inside his heart. That night was quite different, a night he never quite forgot. She seemed to have gotten better, or was hiding this from him their first night. Maybe she was testing him, but his view of her had sharply changed. She was still the wagging puppy that desired his attention, but she was instantly a vixen, experienced at the game of love.
They had sex again, and he had seen her walk home with Nobu. His eyes had narrowed, and he had realized that he was still being challenged, that Nobu was attempting to steal her away from him. When Nana loyally went to him, he had basked in the glory as Nobu looked heartbroken. And Takumi thought the guitarist had lost; he could never beat Takumi, never.
That, however, was not quite justly proven.
---
Doubt filled his mind, his fingers tracing her silhouette. He was not the only man that had her in those brief moments of passion. Nobu had claimed her, she had belonged to him for a while, and he hated that. Takumi was a jealous creature, he would not let the woman he desired belong to anyone else but him. She was his, damn it, and always will be. Nobu couldn't keep her the way he could, Nobu couldn't support her lavish lifestyle. Nobu would never have her.
But Nana was like a puppy, she liked to stray away. Takumi was too busy, he could not spoil Nana so much, and he did not know what she did when he was not home. He worried when he had time, otherwise occupied.
What if the child did not belong to him? Would he love a child of the man who had taken Nana away from him?
He shook his head. Nobu used protection, he didn't. Nobu was responsible, and he, sadly, wasn't. The child would be Takumi's, he knew this.
---
"Nana," he muttered softly, fingers ghosting over her shoulder.
"Mm..." she moaned, her head furrowing further into the crook of his arm.
He smiled tenderly, his fingers trailing down to her hand, his little finger wrapping around hers.
"Even if our red thread of fate doesn't lead to each other," he whispered into her hair, his pinky still wrapped around hers. "We'll make it."
A/N: Comments would be appreciated. (: