Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

I ran on, the sound of my feet on the floor echoing through the corridor.. The air was dank and musty. On and on I ran, through the dark, empty corridor, paint peeling off in places, water dripping from the ceiling. Past walls and floors that reeked of hopelessness and misery. But I couldn't give in. I couldn't give up now, not now. Not when I was so close. He was in here somewhere, I could feel it. I kept running, sheer desperation clinging to me like a vice.

I slightly stumbled over a loose tile on the floor before I straightened myself and kept running. I groaned mentally. With every step, my knees screamed in protest. My back ached and my whole body felt numb. A sticky film of sweat coated my torso. I stumbled again, and for a moment, black spots danced before my eyes. I shook them away, forcing myself to keep running, deriving energy from a sole urgent thought.

Koko.

I couldn't give up now. I realised what I had thought and sighed mentally. This was why I didn't want to get attached. I warned myself of this. Told myself, I was better off being the president of the fanclub. Better off with a one-sided love that would never be recognised. That I didn't need actual love. But that was before him. Before I learned what it actually meant to love someone so much, your heart seems to burst. A dry sob tore from my chest. I never thought about what he really meant to me. I took him for granted, never thinking twice about anything he said. The familiar constricted feeling returned. I placed a hand on my chest, not sure if it was from the exertion or the pain of maybe losing him. Both, probably.

I wondered how long the corridor was, and where it ended- if at all it ended. My patience had long run out. Frustrated, I began to call out for him. I didn't expect a reply.

"Koko, where are you?"

My voice echoed through the corridor, coming back to me in a cacophony of whispers. After the echoes had died down, silence resumed, save for the sound of my panting and running.

It was hard to believe that it was just yesterday he had pulled that duster prank on me. Just yesterday I had screamed at him and called him a moron. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And now he was taken hostage.

Maybe I should have felt guilty deceiving the others to come after Koko like this. They said it was too late for him now, and I had begrudgingly lied and pretended to be okay with that. I didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Maybe because it was for him. For him, I'd do anything.

Because that's what love did to you.

The corridor split into two. I turned to the right instinctively. I creeped along the wall, taking care not to alert any one that might be waiting for me behind these doors with a knife. A low moan escaped from one of the doors. My heart rate went up considerably and I held my breath. Blood was pounding in my ears. Common sense and intuition told me to turn around and head back. Love told me to keep going.

I steeled myself and opened the door. What I saw shocked me.

Koko was lying on the floor, bruised and battered in a very scary pool of blood. His hands were tied behind him, his hair was dripping with sweat and blood. His face was pale and ashen. Rips and cuts marred his hands and legs.

I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from screaming out loud. Koko raised his head and grinned weakly at me.

"Hey."

"Hey?" I finally manage to choke out, recovering from the initial shock. "Hey?" I continue incredulously, kneeling down next to him, "I run all the way from Alice Academy to find you bleeding and injured and all you can say is 'hey' ?"

He tried to shrug but the effort seemed to be too much for him, and he ended up coughing out large amounts of blood.

"God, Yome...What the hell happened to you?"

He smiled feebly in reply, his usually cheerful face sunken and gaunt. It was only then I noticed it, and my breath hitched. How could I not have noticed it before ? It was so...big. Suddenly, the world seemed to spin out of control, and I felt dizzy. Because right there, right in the middle of his chest, staining his blue shirt crimson, was a gaping ugly, horrible, horrible wound. Right then and there my world tore apart, and it felt as if each fragment was piercing my heart.

He must have noticed a change in my expression, because he shifted slightly, "Oh..."

I barely noticed the tears that had started to flow, as I panicked and did my best to staunch the flow of the crimson liquid. The blood kept flowing and the only thing that happened was the blood staining my own clothes and hands.

"No, no, no," I muttered desperately. Because I knew what that gaping hole in his chest meant. You didn't need to be a brain surgeon to figure it out. It meant that Koko was probably going to die and there was nothing I could do. I shuddered, a sob wreaking through my body.

"Hey, " I felt a hand at my cheek, and I glanced up. Koko.

"Is Shouda actually crying?"

"You moron!" I felt so infuriated, "You just had to be a hero, didn't you? And get yourself kidnapped ? Now look at what's happened."

There was a brief silence, then, "Well, at least I got to see you crying for me. Which is an indirect way of admitting you like me. "

I couldn't resist a snort at that. This was the Koko I liked and had come to love. The one that could joke around in the direst situations. The one that was bleeding in front of me.

My chest was starting to hurt. I felt suffocated, like I couldn't breathe.

I'll take you back," I said determined, starting to stand up, but Koko grabbed my wrist. I was shocked by how weak and feeble his grip was.

"No, stay with me here."

I started to exclaim in protest.

I felt a strong desire. A strong desire to make sure that Koko lived. There was only the slightest possibility that Koko would live to see the end of the day, but as long as there was a chance, no matter how slim, I was prepared to act on it. Even if I had to carry him all the way back. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

"It's too late for me...Sumire. I've lost too much blood."

I shook my head, tears welling up again, refusing to accept the facts. But deep in me I knew he was right. You could keep running away from the truth for only so long. I denied the fact I was in love. When he confessed, I rejected him, still infatuated with Natsume and Ruka. But from then, I started looking at him differently. He kept pursuing me, always trying, still persistent. But I refused to yield. And after a while, he just seemed to give up. And then I realized I missed seeing him everyday. I realized I had fallen for him. What other explanation would explain why I thought of him every spare second? But I didn't admit it. The truth is, I was too proud. Too high and mighty to admit that I had fallen in love with Kokoro Yome.

Now as I stared at him, blood seeping out of his wound, burdened with the knowledge that he had only minutes to live, I wish I had. If I had then maybe, we could have been together. This might not have happened.

There was a tight, wrenching feeling in my chest. It hurt.

"Sumire," his voice was barely a whisper.

I cried silently, grasping his hand tightly, and leaning closer.

"I love you. I have since we were ten."

"I know, " I said, choking on my words, "I know." The pain increased. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, "I love you too."

His face brightened up at this, "I know. I can read your mind."

He knew, all this time he knew. I relinquished what little control I had over my emotions and threw my arms around him.

"You know, I dreamed about you hugging me almost every night. Who thought dying would be the only way to achieve that?" I noticed it was becoming difficult for him to speak. Each word, each lungful of air was a struggle for him.

"Shut up, you moron," I said, "Save your breath."

"What for?" he replied feebly. I had no reply to this. I continued holding him gingerly, my hands wound up in his hair. What I would give to spend a little more - just a little more - time with him. I felt his heart beating, faint and irregular. His warm breath, shaky and insecure, tickled my ear.

"Don't stop loving me, Sumire, " he said in a voice that was so low, I barely heard it. Then he became very still.

I cried out in anguish over my loss, keeled over his lifeless body.

The funeral was held, and classes were cancelled for two days. In class, where he used to sit, was an empty chair. Everyone had become very grim after Koko's death. The way the classes moved on smoothly, without any interruptions or jokes made his absence even more prominent. I hated sitting in class, without my partner, where the pain was too hard to deal with.

I skipped classes most of the time, retreating to my room, coming out only for meals. None of the teachers or students seemed to complain, though. Most of the school avoided me in the corridors and class rooms. Even the ones who didn't know me seemed to be aware of the fact that I was related in some way to him. The kid that died.

It was better this way, actually. Being alone meant that there was never anyone to witness what happened whenever the pain arrived. It would hit me out of nowhere, forcing me to keel over and curl up on the ground, whimpering and crying as the events of that day washed over me. The best way to deal with this was in my room, and since I had no way of telling when and where it would strike, being cooped up in my room seemed to be the safest option.

Mikan went out of her way to cheer me up. After me, she was the one that had cried the most. The others shed tears as well, of course. Natsume, Ruka, Imai-san... But even crybaby Mikan couldn't compete with how much I cried. She would come to my room often, trying to cheer me up, going on about how wonderful and amazing and funny Yome-kun was and all that.

She thought she was helping me, but she wasn't. When she came around to my room for the fourth time the same day, knocking continuously at the door, I finally lost it. I threw open the door and screamed and shouted at her till she gave up and left. She didn't return after that.

Night-time was always the worst. The same dream replayed itself over and over again. No matter how much I tried I couldn't wake myself up. The nightmare would finally end when I woke up screaming, tears staining my cheeks.

The first time that had happened, several people immediately rushed to my room to see what was wrong. After a while they got used to it and by the second week, no one turned up at all in the mornings.

But what hurt me the most wasn't Koko's death. It was the thought that maybe he could have been saved. Maybe. If I hadn't been so weak. If only I was better, had realised the facts earlier - had run faster, even - then this might not have happened.

These thoughts tormented me the better part of my waking hours, till I felt I'd go mad with grief and guilt. It gnawed at the inside of my chest, at a heart that was already so weak and fragile.

The months passed, and I began to pretend to get better with time, to keep everyone off my back. They assigned me a few doctors after the first week. I got antidepressant tablets, got a psychologist, and had weekly check ups. I'f force down a tablet at times. I'd go to the psychologist, and pretend to a actually listen to him, saying I was completely fine. I forced myself to attend classes more often.

I even managed a smile now and then, which shocked everyone.

The pain never truly went away, though. It lingered in my chest, like the ash that remained of a burnt piece of paper. But for my sake, and everyone else's, I pretended.

At night the nightmares would come out again. I was scared to sleep, because every time I did, I was forced to relive those last few moments. I'd struggle to stay awake for a few nights, before finally passing out in the halls. They were deep, purple bags under my eyes, constantly.

In the mornings, I'd take a short walk, often ending up at the place where they buried him. Being an abandoned child, no one came to collect his body, so they buried him on the school grounds.

On one of those visits, rain had started falling. It fell lightly but with a certain sense of urgency, like it was waiting for something to get done as quickly as possible. It felt cold on my skin. I had on no raincoat, the only thing I wore was a loose dress. When I reached his grave, I knelt down by the side, placing a few flowers on it, brushing aside the old ones. I don't know how long I stayed there. The rain continued to engulf me in its cold embrace. It started to fall more heavily, as if the sense of urgency had risen to a new level.

And then I realised, what the rain wanted me to understand. A hazy picture presented itself to my mind, getting clearer and sharper till it was a vivid image, and the memory of a familiar voice spoke. And slowly, understanding started to seep into me.

A sense of calm started to settle over me. The pain that had till now clung to my heart, slowly started to lessen and was replaced by a whole together new feeling.

I got up, trembling slightly, outstretched my arms and twirled around. I felt the rain on my face, the drops dripping down my body. The cool, invigorating feel of the water.

I didn't need to be like this, I realised. He was dead, but that didn't mean I had to be dead too. He would have wanted me to move on, be happy, To enjoy life. If there was one thing Koko had taught me, it was that life was too short. I was only hurting myself with the pretence. I had to move on, learn to let go.

Because he left with a request. A request that I would fulfill - already had fulfilled.

I'd never stop loving him.

Never.

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