A/N: Forgive me for the quality of this story; I am kinda down today, so yes.
Dedication: For buttercupbella, for rekindling that flame - that hadn't really died - that is RukaRu. :)
Disclaimer: Um no.
Your eyes remained transfixed at the door. It had been ajar for the past twenty minutes or so, but you hadn't had the heart to stand up and close it. Truth be told, you hadn't had the heart to do anything at all. There were always those moments wherein you could not seem to find the energy to do anything. It used to be a rare occurrence, but lately, it had been happening more and more frequently.
You'd always blame the fights. You'd blame yourself, for being too weak. Her, for being too self-righteous. Them, for expecting you to never waver—to put up with her no matter what.
They had always considered you a martyr, and you had always denied it.
There came a point, however, that you thought that maybe they were right—that maybe you were too smitten, that you felt too deeply in love that you could do nothing but submit to her wants.
But you thought wrong. They thought wrong. She thought wrong.
After all, the heart could only take so much.
And this was the realization that made you move. Years and years had passed and you stayed with what was familiar. You never really thought about yourself, did you?
And so this time, you'd act. You'd do what was right for you. You wouldn't listen to them anymore. You had deluded yourself that they were right, and that you found happiness with her.
But you didn't, did you?
You loved her.
But did she?
Do you, now?
And for once, you admitted to yourself that no, not anymore.
And with this thought you stood up, packed your things, took one last look of the place that had been your home.
Your home with Hotaru.
You took a pen, wrote on the back of the receipt you found in your wallet—the receipt on the necklace you bought her for your first anniversary.
Back when everything was fine.
Back when everything was true.
It seemed so right. Infinite, even.
But it wasn't.
In hurried strokes you wrote, "The heart can only take so much. –R.N."
You stood in front of the door—still ajar—and wondered how she would react. The room was a mess from all the plate-smashing you'd done when she was away, and now, you weren't one to clean it. You'd be far, far away by the time she finds out, and she wouldn't stop you.
Who were you kidding? Even if she were here, she wouldn't stop you.
So you took fast strides towards the open door, went past it, went outside.
And then you closed it.
END