Before I put the story in here, I'm going to explain why it happens to be in my journal. The literature feature would not work for me and I got tired/annoyed about trying to repeatedly submit this piece. And since I wanted it on dA, I'm putting it in a journal. Hope you guys enjoy.

(Warning: Small use of cursing, but nothing major. Also, this does -Not- contains nudity--one small, almost-sexual scene, but nothing happens.)

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He gave a yell of anger and turned on me with burning eyes. I glared back at him, but said nothing. I didn’t have to. Everything I wanted to say was apparent in my eyes to him. He could read me as easily as he could read a book on this night. I allowed him that much. Just to see how much he knew about me. Or thought he knew.

He strutted towards me, the grace of a predator. His face was contorted in an expression of fury, and when he slammed me against the wall of our room, I felt no fear. I never felt fear of him. Just pity at times, because he couldn’t see what I felt for him.

Perhaps I didn’t make it any easier for him to see it, but if he thought he knew me so well, he shouldn’t need my help as it was. I knew his feelings for me, and I had learned them without his help. He was an independent soul, and stubborn as I was; he shouldn’t need, or want, my help to figure this simple equation out.

I didn’t flinch as feeling left my fingers from his bruising grip on my wrists. Nor did I grimace as he tightened his hold and yelled incoherencies at me in his native language. I understood that language as well, but everything he had said so far had not been heard by my ears, simply because I had heard it all before. Why listen to his angry words again and again? I already knew the basics of what he had said.

He stopped yelling, staring into my eyes, his breath ragged. I gazed back into his and sighed, murmuring, “Are you done?” He clenched his teeth and his grip tightened even more, then relaxed a fraction. He stared into my eyes still, confusion and pain in his. I was surprised. He’d never let down his walls during a fight. Was it because I had?

“Why? Why do you love me?” he whispered, his voice small after all the yelling and screaming he’d done in the past few minuets. I blinked, surprised by this sudden submissive tone, and asked stupidly, “What?” He growled half-heartedly and repeated, “Why do you love me?”

I hesitated, wondering why he was asking such a thing. I did love him. I would always love him. Could he not comprehend that? Did there have to be a specific reason for me to love him? His eyes burned into mine with questions and I realized he really didn’t understand. I exhaled softly and relaxed against the cool wall he had pinned me to.

“I love you, but yet, I hate you at the same time,” I began to explain. He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “It’s like I want to shove you off a cliff but then run to the bottom to catch you. In fact, you make it really hard to love you sometimes.” I glanced pointedly at my hands pinned above me by his own, and then looked back into his eyes.

“You ask why I love you. It’s like asking how I could love you, isn’t it? That’s what you are really asking.” I paused, and when he nodded a little, I continued. “I love you because…well because I know you’re always there; there to catch me when I fall, when I need someone to listen or talk to, there when I feel so alone I feel as though there is no one else. You understand me better than anyone; you know exactly what I mean when I have trouble saying it, what I feel even when I’m confused myself. You know I’m not as strong as I say I am, but yet you respect me enough never to let me know I’m not fooling you. I love you because you make me believe; believe I’m not worthless…that I can be loved, am loved, and can love others. I love you because you are who you are. You don’t try to pretend to be something else; when I overstep the line, you shove me back to my own side; when I piss you off, you don’t go pout, you fight me to prove yourself; when I’m feeling sorry for myself you come to me, slap sense into my head, and tell me to get the hell off my ass and get over it.” I chuckled. “Sometimes I may hate you, but I will always love you.”

He stared at me, his eyes like a slideshow of emotions; he was trying to decide whether to believe me or not. I gave him a sad look. “Is it so hard for you to believe that you can be loved? That you are capable of loving?” He didn’t answer but I knew the answer.

“Being with you makes me feel like, for once in my life, I don't have to work so hard at being happy; that it could just happen. And I am happy with you. We fight a lot, and we’ve said some pretty nasty things to one another, but no matter what I’m still happy with you at the end of the day. You know I hardly believe in anything anymore, happy endings and fairytales. But I believe in you. And you know I don’t trust anyone; but I trust you. Because I love you.”

He was silent as he watched me. Then he asked softly, “Why me?”

I smiled gently. “Why not?”

He seemed stunned into silence again and I felt his grip loosen on my wrists. I slid my hands down and intertwined his fingers with mine. He glanced at our hands and then back to me. I smiled again.

“We’ve had our fair share of heartache, and we’ve defiantly fought enough to last us until the end of our lives. But when you find love—real love, like we’ve got—you don’t give it up without a hell of a fight.” I whispered to him. He remained silent, contemplating my words. Then he sighed and I saw his walls crumble to the ground.

I released one of his hands and touched his cheek. He met my eyes once again and I said softly, “The higher you build your walls, the harder you tend to fall when someone tears them down.” He lowered his gaze. “They’re all I have.” He murmured and I shook my head. “You have me.” I insisted softly. He frowned a bit before meeting my eyes again.

His lips crashed against mine in a bruising way, one of his hands pinning both of mine against the wall again, the other caressing my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and I responded with as much intensity as he. His hand left my cheek and traveled to my hips, where he effortlessly picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he pushed my back into the wall, his tongue fighting mine. I started to try to pull my hands away to fist them in his soft hair, but he wouldn’t release me. His free hand disappeared under my shirt and I felt my bra unsnap.

It took much of my willpower to break away from his lips, but I did. Once free, I panted, “Not tonight. I think we still…have things to sort out before that.” His eyes glowed with wanting, but his hand slid out from under my shirt. He watched me a moment before nodding and replying huskily, “Right.” I smiled and waited for him to set me down before I kissed him again. This lasted a few short seconds, for my fear of it leading to bigger things.

Later that night, I woke to the sound of thunder rolling across the sky. Lightening flashed outside our window, but when I looked to see how he was fairing, he was sound asleep in my arms. I smiled softly and laid a soft, gentle kiss on his forehead before turning over. Despite the storm and our earlier fight, he was sound asleep without any fear for the weather or anything else in that moment, all because he was in my arms. Knowing this, I felt safe as well, and closed my eyes to drift back to sleep. And when I felt his arms tighten around me, I could feel his smile and I felt this was perfection.

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Yeah, I got bored and was in the mood to write something. No true, specific characters in this one, thus the use of no names or detailed appearences. I want the reader to use their imagination and give the characters whatever features they want. =] Anyway, hope you enjoyed...hopefully the lit. feature will work next time.

~Bachiteri-Kitsune