Disclaimer: Do not own.

oOo

She wasn't yelling.

She wasn't screaming.

She wasn't hollering.

She wasn't bellowing.

But, at the same time, she wasn't smiling.

She wasn't grinning.

And, most of all, she wasn't talking.

So he didn't know what to do. He had prepared himself for every single scenario but this one: what to do if she hit him, what to do if she cried, what to do if she ran out the door and pushed him aside.

He just sat there, pondering the severity of the situation. For once, Kaitou Kid was completely out of ideas, and Poker Face refused to function. Fate must be laughing at me somewhere, Kaito thought to himself solemnly.

So distracted was he, that he barely noticed that the shadow of a girl who was sitting in front of him had all but disappeared, and that he was chuckling to himself.

When he did notice, she was already out the door and gone, and there was nothing that he could do to call her back again.

oOo

She needed to hide. She needed to get away. She needed to break free from that maniacal grin, that all-knowing laugh which had captivated her heart and enraptured her with its beauty.

Aoko cried.

She never noticed that he had snuck up behind her, watching her as her slim figure convulsed with muffled sobs. She never saw the pained look on his face, and she never understood what it felt like to have a burden lifted off your chest to have another one, even heavier, placed back on again.

She never understood what it felt like to be Kuroba Kaito.

And so years passed after he told her his largest secret. Months crawled by, and hours seemed to fly as Aoko kept replacing her calendar, telling herself that yet another year had gone by.

She heard about him on the news. She would silently read the headlines that screamed, "Kaitou Kid wins again!" without ever bothering to go to the scene of the next heist.

She would go shopping, pick out a white shirt, and feel tears snake down her face as memories of the painful color washed over her, wrapping its thin arms around her and suffocating her in emotions that longed for what had passed and would never be again.

She would walk out on Valentine's Day and feel tears well up in her eyes as a street peddler offered her a single red rose, because it was so much like what he used to do.

She would go to the clock tower, sit there, and just cry her heart out as she looked back on their friendship and all that they could've been.

Needless to say, Kaito was desperate. So he sent letters to her house, letters that detailed exactly where he lived, where the next heist would be and what time it was going to occur, and ways to contact him. At the end of the letter there would always be a penciled drawing of a plastic rose.

And at the very bottom of the letter, in diminutive print so minuscule that it could barely be read, were the words, "P.S. Will you forgive me?"

Aoko saw it, from the very first time he put it, but each time, she would crumple the letter up and throw it into the wastebasket, only to pry it out again, smooth the thin paper, and read it for a twelfth time, scanning the contents for a hidden meaning.

And on one night, he finally found it. With a bitter sense of satisfaction, he smashed the gem into a thousand pieces with the sole of his white shoes.

But in his heart he knew that he had lost way more than he had gained. He had lost too much.

They might have been.

They could've been.

They would've been.

They should've been.

But they weren't, and neither Kaito nor Aoko thought that they would see each other again.

Maybe Fate and Lady Luck once again showed their favorable faces to the couple, maybe it was just a sudden change of events; whatever the reason, suddenly, after six long years, they were standing face-to-face in front of the clock tower, so close that they could not deny the fact that they knew each other, and that nothing could keep them apart.

The best thing to do would be to start over.

And that was exactly what Kaito did. He pulled out a lone scarlet rose and handed it to her. "My name is Kuroba Kaito. Nice to meet you."

She took it. "Nakamori Aoko. Nice to meet you, too."

There was only one difference from the first time they met: the rose was plastic.

Kaito kept giving her more roses, more real roses, and there would be a fresh bouquet handed to her on every anniversary of their wedding.

Years later, when they were married for quite a substantial period of time, Aoko asked him why the first flower had been fake.

And this is how he responded: "I'll love you until the last one dies."

oOo

AN: Like it?

This is based on a short quote my friend sent to me one time: "He gave her twelve roses, eleven real and one fake. He said, "I'll love you until the last one dies."

I just had to write something about this. It really was so fun to write!

One last request: Please review! :)