A/N: WOW HERE'S A RIN/LEN FOR YOU GUYS.
KIND OF based on Theory of Loving Each Other. DECO*27 is amazing js

FOR Rinrin.

Only a Theory

chapter one ; about his eyes.

I'm so terribly awkward.

So terribly socially awkward, that it's hard to process in the brain of a normal human—I think people would look at me and say, "What is going on with that girl? She knows nothing."

Because I know nothing.

What is popular music, what is slang. What is perverse humor, what are those jokes they always crack at me and don't expect me to get. What are inside jokes, and cliques, and—what is love supposed to be.

People do not understand me. How I don't—ugh—understand anything else. I have been sealed off from the "popular" world for most of my life, sitting in my room disconnected from the Internet and phone and whatever else, with no real "friends" to call mine but my books. And as far as I know I don't need them. I would never need them until I got a good degree, got out of this hell people call "high school" (but it really should be called low school since most of the people here are so low in terms of aptitude) and made my way off into the real world where those low people would actually be working for me. Because they never realized that the work they didn't want to do in school would pay off for them.

I am here. Sitting here. My books piled in front of me. AP English. Honors Latin. AP Calculus, everything else, I've been working my hardest and no one else besides the few people in my classes have actually tried to work as hard as I have.

It's a stereotype. But I work. It's all I have. I cannot give up now, because I'd really be left with nothing—I'm so socially awkward and so hard to get to know, as people have told me before, and with no friends but my books… so I have to keep trudging on.

Those jokes the boys crack in the hallways, the drawings on the bathroom walls—what do they mean?

I'm so naïve, they say. I don't know anything, but really, I know everything except what "needs" to be known in this day and age.

Is that what it is?

But the biggest question for me was the question of love.

The books I have read, all the classics, I had avoided books about love, but in AP English you were bound to read them. And I eventually thought about it.

What is it?

What does it mean to be in love with someone? Really, I can't think about depending on someone for everything, about wanting to be next to them every hour of the day. And I can't think about awkward touches. Such as holding hands. Or kissing—oh, what is kissing, for God's sake. (I'm an atheist?) But in those books, it always made love seem so… beautiful. Like it was something everyone wanted. Everyone needs love in their life, the books seemed to convey to me.

I must not be a part of this human race, then. I have never even loved a boy. I have never even thought about it. Until the day when I picked up Romeo and Juliet in the ninth grade and read it cover to cover and realized that maybe that was love.

For example, my theory on love is:

When it begins, you're always wondering if it will end, because it's so wonderful in the beginning

When it ends, you're wondering, where was the beginning?

So something is very wrong with it.

Something's always wrong with love, something I can't place.

But if Romeo died because he thought Juliet had died, and Juliet died because Romeo died, that must be the power of love, or just an extremely childish attraction that risks everything.

Or was it both?

Is this on my mind for a reason?

I don't understand love, and I never will, and I hope I never will. But if that person comes someday that will change that, my opinion on love, maybe it will open my eyes a little bit more behind these glasses.

He asked me for help on homework one day.

The teacher thought we worked well together.

She paired us up for our project.

He's somewhat bright.

I mean, to my standards.

But—she paired us up.

A boy. And I. I would rather work alone, I would rather work totally and utterly alone without the distraction of this boy.

A boy. And—the scariest part is that he's quite nice and I never know what to say to him. Seeing as I'm extremely awkward. Extremely, intensely and chronically awkward, if my choice of words even makes sense, I don't think it does, but I can't get rid of it.

And he's very, very attractive. I mean, not that I would know what attractive really means, but I think so.

No, before you—you say anything—I'm not in love. I'm not in love.

I can't be in love with someone I just met, someone I barely know.

I can't even be in love.

I'm Kagamine Rin, I'm not that girl.

"Rin."

I want to reply. My words. Use my words.

But I just nodded my head, un.

"Here, look at this page. What's this?"

We peer over at the textbook and my hand moves it into the middle. The structure we are building, a trebuchet, is halfway completed in the first few days and sitting on the back table. It looks like the best one in our class, maybe because I'm his partner, or maybe because the teacher was right and we make a good team. The rest are flimsy, really. Structures of popsicle sticks, or balsa wood. Ours is true floorboard wood, that his father apparently cut with an electric saw. The setup looks great from a distance. The way the strings wrap, and the way each bit jigsaws together (if that choice of words works.) I think we've done well.

I think so.

I look at him for half a second and then look back at the textbook. His eyes are blue. Not like the sea—I've heard people say that before. But more like what a hot spring looks like in the middle of Yellowstone; you know, that's all the way in America. I went there once. Those springs are fascinating. The bluest natural things I've seen in my life.

Except for his eyes.

His eyes, what am I thinking, get back to your work Kagamine Rin.

Staring at the ceiling, it's around 2 AM. I've finally finished with my homework, and looking up at the cream ceiling, I'm sure my neighbors are disturbed by the fact that my lights are still on. But they should be used to that fact by now, really; they are on until this time every night, really.

I exhale. And I reach over and turn out the lights. The cream color darkens.

I keep staring. And my mind drifts back, it's still thinking of love, what it really is. Do I really need anything else but school, books, my family, and the only friend I have—Luka? Do I need love?

But, in every book that I have read that involves love, it talks of the importance and power of love. I must not be sentient.

It's just my theory. When it ends, you're left wondering, when was the beginning? Did it ever feel that amazing?

And if it ever begins again, it's the same thing. The same thing, again, maybe the same person, or a different person, of what I've seen.

I'm scared that if I fall in love I'll become someone totally different. Maybe if I fall in love I'll become more sentient, but I will lose track of everything else—become totally dependent on him. Don't you think it's a little scary, to depend on someone, to give your heart and trust to someone and say, keep this and don't break it?

And if they do, you can't do anything about it. You just have to trust them enough.

That is scary. What I just said, that's an understatement. It really terrifies me, somewhere inside, that if I, Kagamine Rin, fall in love, I will give everything away just to either:

1. have it kept and nurtured

-or-

2. have it broken forever

It's a fifty-fifty chance of losing everything.

My mind is starting to drift.

I think I should get to sleep, really.

But before I do—my mind wanders to one more thing. I'm starting to think.

What was that I thought…?

About his eyes…?

A/N: I have a feeling I'm really going to like this.