Anti-Love Romance by Aki

Coffee Addict

Title: Anti-Love Romance
Chapter 1: Coffee Addict

Aki’s Note: I don’t InuYasha or any of the other characters I use in this fic, I also don’t own YouTube. Also, in this story, Kagome might be considered something close to “EXTREMELY” offensive, so, if you have a problem with how she is, I’m sorry? D: It’s part of the story. xD

Enjoy, it’s also a first person piece, BTW. Another note, I moved Kagome’s birthday to Valentine’s day.  <3

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    Some people say it’s hard to fall in love; others say it’s easy. But honestly; what exactly is love? I never actually understood it. I’d always related it to crazy hormones that trick your mind into becoming sexually obsessed with someone for a prolonged period of time. There’s no such thing as “love at first sight”, only red-hot physical attraction. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they’re lying to you. That need to give someone flowers for Valentine’s Day? You want to have good sex that night.
    
    You say you want to do anything for that person? You’re thinking with your dick because you want to stick it in your girl’s vagina. You want him to feel special? No, you just want to know you can make him feel special; it’s a simple power trip, not this ‘love’ people keep spewing about. God loves us all and if we do the right thing we’ll all end up in heaven? Nope, that’s just the Church with their undying need to control the masses, earn money and attempt to rule the world.
    
    You’d rather die than go on living without that special someone? Jesus, that’s the biggest load of bullshit of them all! I’ve heard that so many times, and watched as they complained to their significant others about how shitty their life is because of said significant other. That’s what this crazy thing called ‘love’ is. Human beings detest being alone by nature, so they seek out another pathetic life form to annoy and keep to themselves, just to make sure they’re not alone until the day they die. Marriage? That’s just a deal you make to ensure that you have someone to help support you. Paying only half the bills is great, isn’t it?
    
    “Kagome, come on, that’s just impossible.” I eyed my half empty cafe latte and frowned, the frigid air burning my already chapped lips. Nothing was more impossible in the morning than my daily argument of some kind with my best friend and neighbor, Johanson Sango. No, she’s not Jewish. Get it? Yes, I’m a horribly anti-Semitic bastard whenever I get the chance. Sango was adopted by this uber rich American family that works at one of the banks around Tokyo; I never really asked which one, and she never really sees them a lot, so I never bothered with asking.

     They send her a shitload of money every month, and she goes to see them during holidays, because they believed she’s still in college. Well, she is, but Sango only takes like, two classes a semester; she loves her coffee shop too much. Anyway, this particular morning our argument was about that age-old topic of love. Ah, the wonderful sickness that plagues the human race and causes grown adults to behave like rabid dogs with nothing better to do than fuck all damn day and night.

    “Why is that so impossible?” I asked. This innocent question earned me a strange look and another shot of caramel into my already sweet and almost gone coffee. There’s nothing more I love than cream and sugar with a little bit of coffee to get my day going, and Sango definitely knows how to make it the way I like it.

    The gorgeous brunette eyed me suspiciously, her out-of-control locks sat in a ponytail on her head that made her look six inched taller.

    “Because that’s heartless!” She exclaimed. Once I saw my next finished latte, I held out my hand and waited the few moments it would take for my slightly air-headed friend to realize she was done with my usual order. I reached for a cup guard and fetched the steaming hot caramel latte with extra milk and a shot of espresso for fear of burning my fingers before I was even at work. Yeah, I need another cup of stronger coffee after my first one; it’s the job, I need to practically be shooting up adrenaline to survive.

    “It’s not heartless,” I challenged. Sango shot me one of those ‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me’ looks, and I took a chance to steal a sip of the sweet goodness I now held in my boiling hot hand. Closing my eyes and basking in the glory that is a coffee my best friend made is one of the most wonderful things in the world. However, I couldn’t help but realize that despite how much I loved her coffee, I really didn’t like talking about serious shit when my shift at Lafayette hadn’t even started. “I just think that today is pointless.”

    Her innocent earthy brown eyes rolled in their sockets at my spoken thoughts. It was like she knew what I was going to say, and yes, I am that predictable at times. But only at times. I’m unpredictable in truth, and the one thing you can depend on with me is that I’ll never react how you think I will. Unless you’re Sango, and can read my mind.

    “I think you’re a dick for saying that,” She stated, frothing a new latte for the bitch waiting behind me. I swear, I could feel the daggers she was glaring into the back of my head; she clearly overheard my whole conversation with my best friend; that, ladies and gentleman, is rude! “Saying that Valentine’s Day means nothing and is a load of shit is even low for you. I mean, I’m planning on having a really nice evening with Miroku, but you totally just killed the buzz.”

    “Look,” I dead paned. “Just because I don’t believe in the completely ignoramus love of a holiday that exists just to get someone laid doesn’t mean you can’t love it.”

    “Because that totally makes me feel better about today.” Giving the woman the gingerbread latte she had demanded, Sango and I were alone in the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that was surprisingly successful. I mean, we both live in the two lofts above the tiny store, and the building itself was build in the eighteen hundreds, so it’s pretty cheap to live there.

    “I’m sorry, Sango,” I sighed and leaned on the front counter. The cold marble stung against my coffee burned hot wrist. “I just can’t help feeling the way I feel about all this love nonsense.”

    “It’s not nonsense!” She choked and sputtered on the tea she’d just taken a sip of. The stare I got while she cleaned off her roughly spun cotton work shirt made me feel uber guilty. I mean, who would actually want to hurt the feelings of a wonderfully naive girl who thought love was all roses and candy while sex is the amazing thing that comes after love? Ha, that’s enough to make even Hannibal think twice before making her his next target.

    “I should probably go to work, huh?” I asked timidly. She glared at me as a new customer walked into the place.

    “Just wait,” She said. “I have something for you.”

    Alright, I’ve always been a curious person, so I decided to bite on this one, so I stood back and did exactly what she told me to. Of course, to pass the seconds by, I thought of what she could possibly be spoiling me with next. She wouldn’t get me a puppy because I’m deathly allergic to dog fur, and I hate cats, so I already ruled those possibilities out....

    Wait. She didn’t remember what else today was, did she?

    “And your name please?” I barely caught onto the last bit of her shared conversation with the customer that had just walked through the door.

    “Sesshoumaru.” The answer to my friend’s out-going and fun tone was his quiet, reserved whisper. I remember that whisper all too well, it’s burned onto my mind. His soft voice made it seem like promised nights of passionate sex so wild that even an amazing man such as himself would blush at the thought. That tone that sent a little jolt of electric attraction jutting through my veins. And somehow, at that time I realized something strange. I didn’t understand how Sango’s charisma didn’t make him the cheeriest man in town; she had that effect on almost everyone she came into contact with. Instead he sounded half-asleep, and half-hopeless. It was really rather sad, and made me want to give him a large hug and tell him everything would be alright in his sad, pathetic little flicker of existence.

    “Okay, Sesshoumaru-san,” She smiled at him. Apparently she thought he was hot, a nice morsel for her sinister sex stare. She had that twinkle in her eyes as she wrote his name on a cardboard cup. Oh god, that poor man. Once Sango set her sights on something--more likely someone--she wouldn’t let it go. Which is strange, since she has such a flowery view on love and has a wonderful boyfriend whom she is incredibly in love with. The answer to that however, is simple; he keeps claiming that they have an “open relationship” , and he goes out with and fucks other girls, all while telling her that she is the only one for him, and once they’re ready, he wants to marry her and make babies. Total bullshit, am I right? To counter that behavior, Sango makes like a slut and fucks who she chooses to. This story isn’t all about her though, is it? If I told her love life’s story, you’d die of old age before I got past the intro. Now, if only the fucking coffee machine wasn’t in the way, I’d be able to see this Sesshoumaru guy that seemed to be so morose that he needed to have a coroner look at him. “That’ll be $3.56.”

    He didn’t pay with cash, but with a credit card. Which meant one of two things. 1) He was rich as fuck and definitely worth looking into if he was on the single’s rack--for Sango. Or 2) He was a poor as shit procrastinator who loved nothing more than to wrack up debt he couldn’t pay, which wouldn’t make him worth looking into--for Sango.

    In a few moments I was in luck, he actually made his way around the coffee machine, our eyes met, and a funny thing happened.

    My breath caught.

    My lungs felt like they couldn’t suck in air.

    My heart did a weird thing in my chest.

    My eyes didn’t want to believe that they were seeing.

    What the hell was wrong with me?

    He was a young one, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. His hair was out-of-this-world and normally that kind of hair you only read about in trashy romance novels. Perfectly straight, perfectly shoulder length, a perfectly striking shade of silver, and perfectly able to catch a blind woman’s attention. It was borderline creepy. And let’s not go into deep detail with those eyes, I mean hot damn! A brilliant gold shone innocent intentions, almost teetering on completely naive. The more I outright stared into them, the less like eyes and more like a pair of pretty cat’s eye stones they seemed. This man was dangerous to the bone for one so sex-starved as myself, and my stomach did a funny flop as our eyes kept that stare going.

    I looked down, not bothering to hide the fact that I was, as a swoony, annoying socialite would call “scoping him out”. Ew, I couldn’t believe that I used that phrase towards myself. But his perfect face with marble cut skin and a nicely subtle but square jawline and amazingly firm and full lips weren’t the only nice features on him. His built frame was slim, but I could just see the muscles ripple on tight flesh underneath that way too small sweater top that he purposely wore. The fabric of the top seemed really stretched out around his shoulders, which made him seem like close to the perfect candidate for a football player. That annoying black winter scarf was a wonderful contrast to his dark gray sweater, and his khaki colored slacks were topped off by a pair of Doc fucking Martins. Yeah, you read that right. Doc fucking Martins. Those three million dollar a pair boots; the ones that most attention seeking “rebellious” teenagers would cum all over if they could just touch a pair.

    And just as I was admiring the sketchbook he carried with the cover riddled with doodles that made my best drawings look like a kindergartener’s job, it suddenly hit me.

    A man with good fashion sense?

    Gay. Fucking queer. Like, fag status. Limp wrist sold separately!

    ... God, when did I become such an asshole?

    Too bad for Sango. I thought. That smirk on my face was purely because I was tired of Sango’s slutty habit of fucking every hot guy she came across, or hot girl, depending on her mood. It was only in the middle of imagining laughing my ass off at Sango’s annoyed face upon the realization that her newest potential meat puppet was indeed a homosexual that I realized he was standing RIGHT in front of me, with a worried and nervous look highlighting his features.

    “Um... Too... bad...?” He hesitantly stated. My God. I thought. My fucking God with Goat Cheese and marinara sauce! Even his voice was the sexiest thing this south of Main Street. Sure, that cute way he said his name was orgasmic in its own right, but God this boy had a tongue that could make my clitoris cry! The instrument in his throat that were his vocal chords created a tone that was light and soft with a twinge of insecurity, a nice change to the “Wassup, baby?” in that horribly macho deep shit that just makes me want to kill a dead baby... but not in a mean way, I swear!

    ... Wait, what is he reacting to? Didn’t I say that in my head?

    “Yeah,” I said, trying to cover up my mistake. “Too bad... it’s too cold for a milkshake. I love those, and I wanted to get one, but it’s too cold for that, hence the latte.”

    Wow, could I have sounded like more of an idiot? I almost shook my head at myself, but I didn’t need the guy thinking I was more insane than he already thought I was. His face morphed into utter confusion and bewilderment this time. If I was one of those brainless broads who wanted nothing more than to do that damned swooning, I’d comment on how adorable his face was when he looked confused, but since the man’s gay, I didn’t really need to comment. I’m a woman, so my opinion automatically goes to the dogs.

Woof Woof.

    “Oh,” His mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ in response to my winged, bullshit statement. Not that I don’t like milkshakes, mind you, I love them actually. I just sounded like a pathetic clown when I said that to him. “I love milkshakes too; especially strawberry, but I’m allergic to natural strawberries so I can only consume artificial forms of it.”

    It was rushed speech, and the entire time he was looking at the ground, barely whispering to me. That damned shy smile was still on his face and caused me to blabber, and his nervous, “please-don’t-kill-me” chuckles were more than this woman could take. I mean honestly, if you’re reading this, and you’re a girl, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t eat this man with a spoon, I know I want to. Of course, there was something almost bothering me about the whole milkshake thing...

    “What’s a gay guy like you into milkshakes for anyway?” I couldn’t stop my mouth from moving. “Aren’t you supposed to be really worried about keeping your shape or some shit like that?”

    My eyes widened at my own rude remark.

    “Oh wow,” I sputtered on my coffee and spoke over the grinding of the coffee maker, trying to laugh at the stranger’s... was that an offended look? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make that statement sound so horridly derogatory.”

    Eyes glued to the floor, the man teetered from one foot to the other, shifting his weight like he was in a ballroom and I was a potential reluctant dance partner.

    “Um,” His green eyes stole a glance at me before he turned around and reached for his caffeinated drink. “What are you talking about?”

    Really? Did this guy think I was stupid or something?

    “Well,” I stated, taking another somehow now scolding sip of coffee. It was cold five minutes ago, wasn’t it? How now brown fucking cow, I have no clue what’s going on. I think it’s the end of the world. Whoa, I think I just saw Kurt Kobain fly across the outside window. Holy shit, I need to get a pic of that on my cell, maybe a video for YouTube. But alas, I needed to get to the bottom of this whole lamely complicated coffee house drama. “Aren’t you a fag?”
    
    The man looked at me strange and I saw his hand slip. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything, but I tried to step forward to help somehow. The help I offered never came, as his pretty gray sweater was darkened by the stain of a tan steaming hot liquid.

    “Oh,” I stumbled over my words and my voice was shaky in itself. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to offend you!”

    “Higurashi Kagome!” Sango exclaimed from somewhere behind the Sesshoumaru character. “Stop being such an asshole to my customer! I’d like to think he’s going to return for another coffee sometime soon, you know.”

    I cringed at her words and was about to apologize for the awkwardness I probably caused when the quiet one spoke up again.

    “No, it’s okay,” He blindly reached for the napkins that my perfect best friend offered to him and dabbed at the designer crap he wore. “And I’m not gay, by the way.”

    He looked back up to me, flashing me an innocent glance with those sunny golden gems of his. Like hell he wasn’t gay.

    “I think I find that hard to believe.” I stated. He smiled and looked around for the trash can.

    “And why is that?” He asked. Seeing one of the massive black bins in the store for placing rubbish, Sesshoumaru walked on light feet and deposited his waste in it. I rolled my eyes with how dainty he was with just throwing trash away. Instead of crumpling the used napkins like any actual human being would, he neatly folded them before reaching into the bin and placing it on top of the pile; making sure his waste took up as little space as possible in the big, black can of doom.

    “Well,” I placed my coffee down on the counter to ready myself. Looking back to the two pairs of eyes waiting for my explanation, I see another customer walk into the coffee house and point her out to Sango, who in turn rolls her eyes and makes another coffee after Mr. Coffee orders. “Maybe because your whole outfit screams “flaming-homo-that-wants-to-be-fucked-by-a-Mr. Butch.” I feel like you should be walking around with a permanently limp wrist commenting on interior decorating and lame mainstream fashion that only stick thin girls and bulimic men can wear.”

    “Er..” He frowned and looked to Sango, who was busy making the poor soul that just walked in his coffee. I think that guy wanted to deck me, because his shirt said, “Yaoi equals Slash, and that is quite a bash!” on it or something less lame than what I just said. Gay Pride, yay! Kagome’s asshole homophobic comments, nay. I’m not this bad, usually, I really don’t know what came over me. I love gay people, for heaven’s sake; my friend Naraku is a totally flaming queer! “I’m... not like that at all?”

    I rolled my eyes at his weak-ass statement and crossed my arms. This man had to be gay, but he was so damn adamant about being... not gay... In the closet, perhaps?

    “I don’t believe you.” I stated. I heard an exasperated groan from Sango who in turn gave Sesshoumaru boy a new coffee and smiled apologetically at him. Where she got the time to make him another one as well as one for Mr. Gay Shirt Man, I don’t know.

    “Sorry, Sesshoumaru-san,” She said. “My friend Kagome-chan doesn’t like to be told she’s wrong when she thinks she’s right; she can’t even try to be nice on her birthday.”

    Damn you, Sango! I glared daggers in her direction. Damn you to Hell! Why did she have to ruin such a good moment? My aspiring comedic act was interrupted by her utterly annoying stupidity. I didn’t care if she was my best friend, I don’t want perfect strangers to know what my date of birth is! Next thing you know, I’ll be called up by the IRS or some bullshit and be told that I’m under suspicion of mischief for... I don’t know, having sex with Micheal Jackson for all I know!

    Wait.... Having sex with a corpse is so not my idea of fun. Talk about gross. Blech. What did any of that have anything to do with my birthday? Never mind! See? That guy was driving me crazy, and I didn’t know him or anything about him.

    “I don’t have to be shit on my birthday,” I countered. Angrily, I picked up my knives and slung the reinforced canvas bag over my right shoulder. “I’m going to work, Sa-chan. See ya.”

    Without a word to spare, I left the small coffee house. I was ready to walk the three blocks to work and start the day off right; with no sexy gay man bothering me.

    Did I give that wonderfully sexy specimen a second glance before I left the building with my morning coffee in hand? Did I let him see in my eyes that a “next time” for us was guaranteed? Fuck no. Bitch can find me on his own time if he really wants to talk to me. I was wearing my chef’s jacket, already, and Sango is a total blabbermouth, so one of two things can happen.

He can look in the phone book and call around to see if a person of my description works there since I don’t recall giving him my name... which is kinda fucked up, I mean, when you meet someone, you should offer your name in an introduction just to get theirs... it’s, you know.... manners or something like that. I should work on my people skills.

or

2) Sango can be her blabbermouth self and just tell him my name and where I work. Which would not be cool, because there will be hell to pay for that Sesshoumaru boy if he stalks me, in that case.

    Whichever it is, I really don’t care. I need to go to work.

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Aki’s Note: I wasn’t TRYING to be so mean, rude, and obnoxious with what I wrote, but I felt like writing Kagome’s character different, and making Sesshoumaru shy in a non-nerdy way (Cybernetic Mishap, anyone? XD) this time.

I hope you don’t hate me too much for all the CRAP I put in this fic. D:

See you next chapter! :)