Doubt

14.

Hashirama:

Upon the second day I arrived in court, my nerves were tingling of anticipation of seeing him again. God, he was hot in his short hair. I had kept mine the same waist-length as always, but Madara... I wonder when that had happened.

I had stayed up half the night, reading up on my case like mad, not wanting Madara to eat me up again, but it was useless. He was so good. He made his case clearly and confidently, not a trace of his usual awkwardness there. This day, he wore a dark red velvet tweed jacket with black trousers and a dark grey shirt, but his hair and glasses were the same. From my angle, I noted a love bite on his neck that had definitely not been there yesterday and that caused me so much jealousy I thought I might die.

After the day was over, I didn't have time to catch him, but there was a day tomorrow as well, I though. That would be my last day and then... I might never see him again. I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give it a shot.

The day came, and this day Madara wore another black suit, more leisurely than the first one, with an olive green shirt that he hadn't tucked in. I was in an olive checked suit of tweed, with black trousers and a white shirt and I couldn't help but think how good we'd look together. Stop it, I scolded myself. Focus on your job.

In the end, the penalty became exactly what Madara advocated for. It didn't surprise me; I had never seen anyone do what Madara did. God, was I horny for him. But it was not only the sex; I missed him. I missed him terribly. But this Madara... He certainly wasn't the same as the one who had been my boyfriend. Would we still have the same jargon as we had had? Would speaking to him feel the same?

Would sexing him be the same?

Which was a ludicrous thought because he was a married man now.

And before I knew it, he was gone.

Caught in my own daydreams, he had left the court room, unnoticed by me.

I felt all blood drip from my heart to my feet and out to the centre of the earth. No... No! I couldn't lose him. Not until I had tried.

I stumbled out of the courtroom, vaguely hearing my assistant shouting my name after me, but I didn't care. I just kept going. He wasn't in the corridor, and there was no way I could go out without stumbling upon a mountain of journalist. What the fuck do I do now? The panic I felt left me nauseous, and I rushed into the luxurious men's room to splash water on my face.

I stood with my hands on the sink, bent forwards, and felt my shoulders shake.

And then the door opened.

And there he stood.

If he was surprised to see me, he hid it well. His face didn't change one bit, and he stood very relaxed looking at me. I must have looked like a fool, face still wet, eyes red form the buildup of tears, like a doe caught in the headlight.

"One", he said darkly. "One coffee with me."

I swallowed.

Madara:

We walked silently beside each other, him towering over me but radiating so much nerves it lay over us like a heavy cover of snow. We both had our hands in our coat pockets, and we walked a polite distance from each other. I twirled my wedding band around my finger with my thumb inside my pocket.

"You should have coffee with him."

"Why would you say that, Christopher?"

"Because if you don't, you will live with the question for the rest of your life. And I couldn't live with that."