Confessions

You really don't know why you feel the way you feel. You just know that you do. You don't know if it's her laugh or her smile or the way she looks like when she's thinking or how utterly beautiful she is. You don't understand how it's possible for your heart to seemingly stop and then jump as much as it does when your eyes meet hers and for you to still be alive. It's not logical. But well, love is not logical either.

Love… so many people long for it despite the heartbreak that it can cause. Ignorant, naïve fools that hope for more than they already have. Sometimes, late nights after she's gone and sleep evades you, you lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering if given the chance you would forget about her. Despite it all you wouldn't because if you didn't know her your life would be empty.

You love her. Plain and simple. You realize you have since the first time you laid eyes on her when you were fifteen, careless and free. You weren't used to the way your stomach tightened and your pulse quickened and the ceasing of your brain functions when she neared you and talked, trying to open your eyes and bring you your destiny. So you ran; you ran and avoided her and mistreated her, trying to shake her off so your seemingly perfect life wasn't ruined. But, when you held her bleeding form in your arms after she risked her life to save yours, head dizzy and eyes glued to her lips as she told you about herself and her mission, when you saw how much she needed you, that's when you knew. There was no turning back from her and her blue eyes. And your fate was sealed.

You owe her so much – if she hadn't insisted, if she had given up on you, you wouldn't have met the others, you wouldn't have a family, you wouldn't be happy. You wouldn't have a reason to live.

She doesn't know about your feelings, of course. How could she if you never told her? You prided in being able to keep it a secret from everyone, prided in being able to hide your emotions as well as you did. Or so you thought until the day that Usagi came to you and confronted you, bringing you face-to-face with your fear. Yes, fear. You are a coward, too scared of knowing what telling her may bring. Too scared of facing heartbreak and losing her. So you snap at the younger girl who only wanted to help and push her away. Her tearful blue eyes haunt you for days but you don't apologize – she needs to stop living in fairytales.

You've many times wondered and fantasized about telling her the truth. About kissing her and whispering in her ear that you love her and would do anything to see her happy. About her kissing back and telling you the same. But, as she calls you after she's gone on a date with yet another 'dreamy' guy or current boyfriend, you know she won't. So you keep quiet and do nothing but listen, occasionally humming or agreeing so she knows that you're still in line, fighting the desire to end the call and scream. You lock yourself in your room, lashing out against your punching bag and later, much later when you can't see through your tears, you crawl to bed, knuckles bleeding and heart hurting. How she doesn't notice that your eyes are redder and your hands are bruised the next day, you don't know.

The first time that you tell her you love her, you stop breathing. She's crying in your arms at 3 in the morning after a nasty break-up and you're trying to make her laugh, promising to beat him up – she doesn't need to know that you are not joking. And those three cursed words slip from your lips effortlessly, traveling directly to her ear. You expect her to pull away from you and leave but she doesn't, instead clinging even more to your body, sobs racking her small frame with more strength than before. She eventually falls asleep from exhaustion, laying on you, tear marks fresh in her face. As you look at her you let a tear to fall from your eye, finally allowing the pain you're feeling to show through, before sleep takes you over as well.

The next day, you say it once more. It's as if finally speaking it out loud takes a burden from your shoulders and gives you courage to do it again. She looks at you for a few intense moments, hair wild and eyes puffy – still the most beautiful woman in the world for you – body hidden underneath some clothes of yours, before she smiles. Her mouth opens and your heart is pounding madly as she tells you that she loves you too. Could it be that she feels the same? Could it be that there was no reason for you to be afraid? Joy fills you, covering you like a warm blanket as you bask in her words. Until she continues.

"You're my best friend."

Your world stops. She looks at you in a curious yet mildly concerned way and you use all your strength to plaster a smile in your face, mumbling back her words. There is no hint of pain in her eyes and as such you swallow back yours that comes back stronger than ever, almost as if mocking you for your failure and crushed dreams. Her happiness is your happiness. Or so you try to convince yourself.

From then on, those three words become a constant in your relationship, always accompanied by her reminding you of your part in her life, even if unconsciously – you stop responding to it after a while. You are a masochist – you seek her presence despite the way your heart breaks again and again with each passing moment as you are reminded that you can't hold her in your arms or kiss her the way you want – that you are her friend, not her lover. The knowledge burns you like fire and you feel as you slowly start to change, losing interest in things and sinking into your pain. But you still love her and you still tell her and she still answers, even though she doesn't realize the true meaning behind your words.

Until the day she does. Until she comes barging into your bathroom while you are showering and demands to know the truth.

"Are you in love with me, Haruka?"

Her question is precise, spoken in an unemotional voice. Your heart stops beating and you feel lightheaded, coldness starting to seep into your body despite the warmth of the water cascading on you. You rinse off in an attempt to delay the inevitable, trying to think up of a convincing enough lie. You don't want to though. In a bout of sudden courage you decide that you've had enough. She needs to know the truth; you need her to know the truth. You open the shower curtain and step out, shameless of your nakedness – you don't miss the way that her eyes travel over your body before you cover yourself with a towel. You breathe in deeply, burning the moment in your memory, before you speak the words that will forever change your relationship.

"Yes. I am in love with you, Michiru."

Her eyes widen and cloud over, mouth falling open in shock, seemingly not waiting for your answer. You stiffen, trying to keep your body from trembling and fighting of the knot that suddenly appears in your throat. Your breathing is faster and it's the only sound in the small room – you try to control yourself but you can't. You don't know how long you stand there before her back straightens and she blinks. Her gaze falls on you and this time you can't repress a shiver – her eyes are cold, almost dead. And then she nods and walks out, leaving you alone. As soon as you hear your front door close you turn to your mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, pain and anguish clearly visible in your features, before a tear escapes you. And another, and another, and another until you're ears hurt and your chest burns from the strength of your cries. What have you done? She must hate you now. You punch the glass, barely flinching as small shards embed in your skin, before you go to bed.

The next day she comes to visit you. Her eyes take in your bloody hand and she says nothing, quietly walking to the bathroom and avoiding the broken glass, bringing out a first-aid kit and taking care of the injury. When she's done, she kisses you gently in the forehead and smiles, telling you to get dressed, and you go out for coffee, as if nothing happened. Your confession isn't mentioned but is never forgotten, hanging above you like a dark cloud. She knows how you feel. But she says nothing.

There's a strange tension between you for the next few weeks, tension that was not there before. The way she behaves around you starts changing, losing the familiarity and comfort characteristic off your normal interactions. She starts avoiding your touch and seems to always find a way for you to never be alone together. You stop talking and seeing each other as often as you did. You are internally blaming yourself for it – you just couldn't keep your stupid mouth shut. The words 'I love you.' aren't exchanged between you again.

And then you fight.

You are early for a meeting with the others and you are sitting in a bench, gazing at your surroundings. You hear hushed voices from your left and as you turn you watch her arrive with a man, hand-in-hand, and a smile in both their faces as they stare at each other. Jealousy curls deep inside you, almost as if it's a growling beast that is begging for release. You had never seen her with any of her boyfriends for a reason – you didn't trust yourself not to react violently. You clench your hands and sink further into your seat, still watching them, shaking slightly. Her eyes meet yours just as he bends down and kisses her and you stop.

You stop moving and you stop breathing and you stop thinking. Her gaze never leaves yours as she remains static, not even when he pulls back and goes away. She seems to hesitate before coming to sit beside you, keeping a good distance between your bodies. Silence falls over you, smothering in its rigidity. Your leg bounces rapidly as you concentrate on breathing. But then she speaks and you don't hold back. All your pain and anger and regret and frustration come out and you yell at her, unleashing the hurricane that are your emotions in her. She stays frozen for a few moments before she answers back at you, apparently expelling the same feelings as yourself.

After a good while of yelling, the stinging pain created by her palm connecting with your cheek shuts you up and you know that in your anger you've gone too far, both of you. Her eyes are wide and darker as they fix on the surely reddening skin of your face. Her name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper as a tear runs down her cheek. You feel helpless and you don't stop her as she turns and runs away, no matter how much you want to.

You don't hear from her for two whole weeks.

You try to call and text and e-mail her, but it's all ignored. You finally gain the courage to go to her apartment, but you spend a whole hour knocking and pleading for her to open and she says nothing. You despair. Your fists pound against the wood and you scream until a janitor comes and takes hold of you, kicking you out of the building. You don't give up and go in again, quickly explaining the situation to the man. His eyes soften and he apologizes and asks if he can help. You ask for a piece of paper and a pen. You think long and hard about what to write.

'Michiru,

I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you with my feelings and I've never meant to unload them in you. You weren't supposed to find out about them but when you asked I just had to say it. I've been keeping them from you for years but I just couldn't hold it in anymore.

I need you in my life, Michiru, even if just as a friend.

Please don't shut me out.

I love you.

Haruka'

You read it over and sigh in frustration – it sounds too generic but you've never been good at expressing your feelings so it's the best you can do at the moment. You give the small letter to him and he promises to deliver it, giving you a sympathetic smile before disappearing. You walk outside and look up to the sky and you pray like you've never prayed before. You pray that she'll read it and find it in herself to forgive you.

Another two weeks go by without contact.

You're slowly going crazy, barely able to get any sleep as her eyes keep haunting you every time your own close. Your manager calls to yell at you – you missed a race – but you hang up on him, not having the patience or will to deal with such trivial subjects. You've hardly eaten also and you haven't showered in days. The pain has dimmed and all you feel is numbness. It's over. You've lost the most important person to you in the whole world.

The doorbell rings. You look at the door but you don't get up, thinking that it's another 'intervention' by your younger companions who had time and again tried to get you out and tell them what happened. You don't, instead preferring to dwell in your pain alone.

But then your name is called out. Your breath hitches and your heart speeds. It can't be. Your name is called out again, the last syllable coming out as a scream, before she pounds on your door. You slowly, painfully slowly, get up from your couch, silently walking to the entryway to your apartment. The door rattles slightly with her urgency. You don't open it, watching helplessly as she knocks and screams, frozen in your place. Ten minutes later she stops. You're panting slightly, shaking all over, not knowing why you haven't done anything. A rustling sound comes from beneath you and you look down as a piece of paper slides beneath the wood.

It's your letter.

The paper is crumbled as if it's been folded and unfolded multiple times and the ink is somewhat stained – dried tears you realize. Did she really come all the way here at – you glance back at the clock – 2 in the morning to say that she didn't want your apology and your friendship anymore? A pang of pain hits you suddenly, so strong that your hand rises and presses against your chest. Your vision clouds over with tears and you suck in a lungful of air. You turn the paper around and there's something written in her handwriting. You blink and try to clear your vision, arm rising to wipe away the stray tears and you read it.

'Haruka,

I love you too. So much.

I'm the one who is sorry.

Please forgive me.

Let's talk.

Michiru'

You're out of the door before you know it, not minding your clothes as you race down the corridor, seeing the elevator doors closing. You manage to get there before they are fully closed and for the first time in one month you can truly breathe as your eyes fall on her. Tears are streaming down her face and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. You have never seen her this disheveled before. You can see as her breathing hitches and she jumps, startled. Her eyes meet yours and it's as if the world comes to a stop. You missed her. You missed her so much and the way she looks at you tells you that she feels the same way. The elevator dings as your body keeps the door from closing and it snaps you into action. You extend your arm, palm up and she takes it without hesitation.

You lead her back to your apartment and close the door behind you. Your heart is still pounding with excitement and all you want to do is kiss her – you don't know if you should though. The decision is made for you though. She walks until her whole body is pressed against yours and rises slightly, capturing your lips with hers as her hands take hold of your cheeks. You kiss back immediately, keeping it slow, not wanting to rush anything, and you feel peaceful, like nothing bad could happen or ruin the moment.

You pull away after a long while, forehead resting softly against hers. And she smiles, a big infectious grin that has you smiling along with her.

Things aren't fixed but it's a start and you've never felt better.

Because you love her and she loves you back.

And who cares if love isn't logical?

AN

Hey guys!

So, I've never written something like that before... nothing that angsty - yes I think that's the word - and I have no idea where it came from. I started writting it at 6 PM and it's now 22.40 in the evening... so hm yeah. Wow... never written so fast.

Thoughts anyone? Should I venture more often to the dramatic things or should I stay away from them?

Thanks for everything,

LostWyrda

Ps: Let's just say that Michiru was confused about her feelings... like really deeply confused, and she was going through something very similar to what Haruka went through. And she just needed time. And I'll go now -.-'' bye!