I had far too much fun writing this for it to have been any good for my health.
Enjoy, lovelies.

Disclaimer TO THE EXTREME: I own a plastic sword, a flapper costume, three maracas, a greaser wig, Groucho Marx glasses, and MC Hammer pants of the bright blue variety. I do not, however, own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!. Though, if anyone wants to trade, I would be completely open to the idea...

It was far too easy to fool others into thinking what you wanted them to think.

When both of you could put on fake smiles and still stand to link arms in public and were used to a life of deception and secrecy, slipping into that fake, practiced, doesn't-quite-reach-the-eyes happiness was simpler than one might think. And they had established a routine, one which they stuck to without fail, especially in the presence of friends or family. Simple as pretending was, they had taken a necessary survival skill and turned it into an art form.

But they'd had so much potential, back then, back before, back when they were young and in love (which they had been at some point, surely).

The worst part was that neither of them was solely to blame when, at the very same time, both of them were fully responsible. They had simply…drifted.

She had known it was a commitment to get involved with someone of his particular…profession. She had been fully aware that he'd be travelling more than normal, seldom home, always training, always aware of his surroundings to the point of mild paranoia. She'd known that many of the times he left, there was an incredibly high possibility that he wouldn't return. She had steeled herself to be detached and very nearly emotionless whenever he stepped over that threshold and out into the streets and through the headquarters and onto a plane bound for Italy or China or Russia. It just hadn't been practical to remain the same naïve little girl she'd been for a very long time, because that naïve little girl would weep and worry and have her heart broken over and over again, and really, what human being could take that day after day (month after month, year after year) and still remain whole?

And he had known the very same. He'd known how busy her work life was, how career-oriented her upbringing had made her, how independent she needed to be. He had been fully aware of his own career choices (to put it lightly) and the impact they would have on her when she, unlike his sister, made the choice to only be a part of his home life because he was only a part of hers. He'd known that she'd known that many of the times he left, there was an incredibly high possibility that he wouldn't return. He had steeled himself to be detached and very nearly emotionless whenever he stepped over that threshold and out into the streets and through the headquarters and onto a plane bound for Italy or China or Russia, because he had seen her heart break over and over and wanted (needed) to take care that he never let her see his do the same.

But when he stopped being able to read her emotions through her eyes, something he'd managed to master long ago, he'd known they could never have been the happy couple they promised each other they could be.

And now.

Now, they had stopped pretending in front of each other because it was simply too emotionally draining, preferring to only keep up the charade in front of others, the people that they cared about and that cared about them. They barely even met each others' eyes anymore. The picture on the bookshelf of the newlyweds they had once been was far too vibrant and cheerful and bright, and they no longer saw themselves in it.

His Family would tease him about how he seemed to be the only Guardian to be able to keep a stable relationship. Her stepmother would warble on about what a fine catch she'd made and how inspirational it was that a couple so young would stay so in love for so long.

They smiled and nodded through the conversations, empty laughs and empty eyes, reflexively cleansing themselves of all emotions when this subject was breached, and no one would notice that they were happiest when they were apart.

No, not happiest, necessarily. Just…most whole.

But either way, no one would notice, because even if they did they would brush off the empty eyes as exhaustion and wavering smile as a trick of the mind, the sincerity returning to their actions and expressions as soon as the subject was changed.

And even though they both knew they could go back to feeling completely whole (and calm and really truly free) again when they finally faced their crumbling relationship head-on and broke it completely off, neither could quite find it in themselves to do so, simply because they cared for their family too much, cared for his sister and her best friend far too much, and neither wanted to hurt or disappoint her or the rest of the Family (not again, not ever, never again).

And so they didn't. Really, they didn't have to.

After all, it was far too easy to fool others into thinking what you wanted them to think.

I'll tell you a secret, my friends.
I am a vicious bitch.
No, no, it's true. See, I love Ryohei more than any reasonable person should. He is MINE, and mine alone. As such, I hate reading any fanfiction where he's specifically paired up with anyone, especially that slut-muffin Hana Kurokawa. So, I took matters into my own hands.
I sharpened my claws, bared my fangs, and jealously RIPPED THEM APART. *snarl*

(But Jesus, a whole fic dedicated entirely to Ryohei and not an 'extreme' in sight...ah, well, c'est la vie.)

I hope you enjoyed! :D

Please review? Please? PLEASE. I'M BEGGING YOU. I NEED THEM BECAUSE I'M ON A VERY STRICT DIET AND THEY ARE ALL I AM ALLOWED. PLEASE, PEOPLE, FEED ME WITH YOUR WORDS.