Dearest Kurogane,

Your eyes are the deepest red imaginable, like a swirling pool of blood I fall head-first into every time I glance so innocently at your face. Some people would find them creepy, down-right disturbing even. But for me, I'm drawn to those eyes. At first, I would fall into them like a trap, without ever meaning to and never quite managing to escape. Now I know they are there, and I know what will befall me if I stare too long into their depths. It's not so much that I fall, anymore. It's more that I leap. I let myself drop willingly into your eyes, longing for the loving, warm embrace I know from experience is supposed to come with true love.

The problem is, it never does.

You see, you hate me. That much is the clearest thing in my life right now, the only thing that seems to make a shard of sense. I pester you at every opportunity, I force you to work while I watch lazily from the sidelines, and I lead the kind of life you despise more than anything in the world. To outsiders, it would appear that you hate me and I hate you, simple as that, and we put up with each other because we're united by a common desire to help out a boy as we travel through worlds. But inside, it's anything but that. I'm sorry I'm so mean to you and I'm sorry I call you names. It's the only way I know to cover up my true feelings. Because if I told you how I feel for you, I know you'd draw a sword to my throat before the moment was through. You'd do it without a second thought. I know you're not as heartless as you seem. You say killing is your passion and you never feel a thing, but I know deep down that there are people you genuinely love and if you killed them you'd feel the deepest remorse for the rest of your days. Unfortunately, I also can see with my uncanny wisdom that I am not one of those people. You would be able to kill me without thinking, just as you say you would to others, since to you, I am nothing. I am a pest, an annoyance, completely expendable. I am not a friend. I am not a lover.

All I can say, Kuro-rin, is that I'm sorry.

I love you with all my heart, and I have ever since I first set sight on a tall, buff man in black, who held a sword like I've seen new mothers hold their infants. I didn't know it then. All I could see was the kindness hiding behind your dark and deranged eyes, the love that glistened right beneath your surface but you were too afraid to show. And all I could do was scheme maliciously as to how I could bring it out from inside you. I guess I went about it all the wrong way, viewing you as a kind of game to keep me entertained instead of another human with feelings. I guess I wanted you to be able to love, but I never intended to fall for you in the process. I never wanted to be the one you cared for most, but now I do, more than anything in the world. I wish I could be that person, but I can't and never will be. So I beg of you to find your number one and love them with all your heart, and then maybe mine won't feel so awful when it breaks, because I'll know that at least one us can feel that warm lovers' embrace.

Oh, how I long for that embrace. I could have it, any time I wanted to, with any girl in the world. But it's not the same. Once you fall in love, for real and true, it's so overpowering that you'll never settle for anyone else again. You'll never understand how you mistook petty lust for love, and another person's arms will never satisfy your need. In a way, love is a burden, something you know quite well, and always have known, as I noticed when I first met you that you hide from compassion at all costs to avoid loss. But I can tell you, love brings far more good than evil, and even though I will never have you for my own, it gives me a certain kind of wild pleasure to know I even met you at all.

Thank you, Kuro-rin. I set out to teach an untamed killer how to love, but instead I ended up teaching myself what love really is. I thought I was wise; I thought I knew all about life's ways when I set out to show you, but I now realize I knew nothing, perhaps even less than you did. You hid from your fate, purposefully shunning love and all the pain it brought. I never knew such pain, such love, could exist at all, and in a way, that makes you my teacher and me your unworthy pupil.

I love you. I think I just wanted you to know that, even though you'll never love me in return. I set out to write this letter in hopes of telling you simply. But my feelings go far beyond those overused three words. "I love you." What does it even mean? Three syllables, three symbols printed down on paper. Without Mokona here to translate, this note would be worthless to either of us. Without Mokona, for all you know the words "I love you" coming out of my mouth could simply mean something far less powerful, something perhaps like "I like your eyes." Which of course is true in its own. I do like your eyes: beautiful, dark, deep, entrancing. Of course, those words could also be describing my view of you: your body is beautiful, your personality dark and full of depth, and your every move entrancing me like no other knows how to.

You know how Syaoran-kun will go to the ends of the earth for Sakura-chan, no matter how much pain it brings him in the end? That's what I would do for you. No, I kid myself, what I wish I could do. I wish I was that brave. I wish there was anyone in any world I would risk my life for. But the trouble is that I'm a coward. The word must not even register to someone as brave as you, Kuro-tan. When you served your princess, you put everything you had on the line to make sure she was safe. And now, though you deny it, I know that you would do anything for our companions. They're like little siblings to you, the friends you never had. Me, though, I'm just sort of there. I can never be a part of our family photograph because I've never done a thing for anyone except myself. That's why they're like siblings and I just cause frustration. To get someone to care about you, you have to give them some love in advance. Sakura-chan and Syaoran-kun have thrown plenty of love your way. But what have I given you? Nothing.

When I set out to write this love letter, I had pictured a one-sentence description of your eyes that I would hand to you cheerfully a few moments later. Little did I suppose that it would turn into a few-page declaration of my true thoughts and feelings. This is probably hard to read, confusing to the core by this point in time, but I don't care anymore because once you start to pour your soul into something you can't reverse the chain.

I now know, though it grieves me to think so, that I can never deliver this letter to you. Even the sentence about your eyes I would have given with trembling hands, avoiding your gaze, for eye contact merits a courage I've never had. Then I would have thrown it all away with a laugh and smile so you would snarl and know that it didn't mean a thing. However, there is no disclaimer powerful enough to make you believe that the contents of this letter aren't one hundred and four percent the truth. But I can't tell you how I feel, I never can, because then I have to face a reply. It comes down to two words, two words that would change the course of my life forever.

No, after which I'd never be able to face you again, because I love you and you don't return my feelings, but at least I'd know for sure.

Or perhaps the even more dangerous, even more terrible: yes.

I can't face either of those words, can't open up my heart to you nor lock it altogether. I can give you little tastes of affection before pulling away, but I can't flat-out love or flat-out hate, because that's just not the kind of person I am. I wish this was uncomplicated. I wish I didn't fear love even as much as I fear rejection. But wishes don't get you anywhere, unless you find yourself standing in front of the Time-Space Witch with something you're willing to give her. I'm not brave. I've said that so many times now, bored you with that description over and over again, but only because it's true. I wish I could be more like you. If you loved me, you would protect me. I love you, and what am I? What do I contribute? What services do I have to offer? Nothing. I am selfish. I have nothing to give that I don't want for myself or am too fearful to give.

This is getting painful to write, too long to concentrate on, and too blurry to see as my eyes tear up once more. Did you know that I cry for hours nearly every night once you and the others are asleep? Did you know I close my eyes with your face dancing through my dreams? Who ever said you were the one with an over-protected heart? You have who you are laid out for everyone to see, and if they don't like it, you don't care. Me, I hide who I really am for fear of what people will say.

Is it Tomoyo-hime you love? Take good care of her. Give her a smile. And one day, when you're ready, use your courage to tell her how you feel. I wish I could do the same for you. But I'm afraid of my own heart, not yours as you might think. I'm not afraid you won't accept me. I just know I can't accept myself, and that's one battle I have to fight on my own.

Basically, Kuro-puu, it comes down to three plain things, which I will list here for your convince in case the contents of my heart confuses you in its true form as it confuses me:

I'm sorry for being in your way.

Thank you for everything.

I love you.

And:

Goodbye.

Yours,

Fay D. Flourite

P.S. Even if I somehow manage to forget you, whenever I see a certain color I will always think of your wonderful eyes, and how I always used to get lost inside them.