Well, it looks like it's 'that time of the year' again, ne? And, since I can't actually give you guys anything I've bought…you'll have to settle with this. It might not be that good, and it's definitely not Christmas related…but I've made it just for you.

I started this in mid to late August, while I was on a trip in France, but I never got a chance to finish it. But now, now I finally had the time. So, I hope you enjoy. I like it, anyhow. ;)

This fic is dedicated to everyone who reads it. So please, review and tell me what you think.

And, for everyone who's been waiting for an update on Angels and Demons it's coming. Just be patient. That fic is my baby, after all. :P

Happy Holidays, everyone!

-Cherry

I know Better

Just as she knew that the sun would rise every morning and set every evening, just as she knew that a girl shouldn't walk the streets alone at night, just as she knew that Kare Kano was the best manga out there, and just as she knew that the moon had been inhabited and filled with ice-cream once – something she hadn't quite managed to convince her family of – Tsukino Usagi also knew that she wouldn't go to the Arcade. She simply wouldn't! And even if she did, however unlikely it was, it would be because of Motoki's wonderful milkshakes and not because of a certain baka who usually went there. And should the baka even be there – not that she cared – she absolutely, most definitely, would not let him start an argument, just so she could have a reason to talk to him. That she was certain of.

Because she knew better than that.

Usagi nodded to herself, a determined smile gracing her lips, when the sky opened up above her and rain began pour down, drenching her to the skin on mere seconds.

She squeaked, reflexively cowering together as lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the street for the briefest of moments.

She dashed off, entering the Arcade some few moments later, every thought about not going there completely forgotten.

She shivered as she slowly made her way towards the counter, her every step being followed by a soft whimper. She was cold, wet and scared. Every fiber of her being were screaming for some hot cocoa and some comforting words. A warm hug from her mother would have been divine, but a comforting pat on the shoulder from Motoki wouldn't be too bad either.

Chiba Mamoru was, by all means, not a stupid person. In fact, stupid would probably be the last thing anyone would claim him to be. Not only did his grades speak for themselves, but even his demeanor shined with keen intellect. He was cool, collected and rational. Doing something irrational just wasn't in his being. So therefore he couldn't possibly be there, in the Arcade, simply to see a certain odango-haired girl. It just wouldn't be rational.

And he knew better than that.

He was simply there to enjoy a cup of coffee. That he happened to be there around the same time as she usually was meant nothing.

The bell above the entrance jingled behind him and somehow, even before he turned to look, he knew it was her. It had to be her.

The sound of a soft whimper caused him to turn around. And there she was. Her hair was wet, her bangs nearly slicked against her forehead. Her school-uniform was drenched, clinging to her body like a second skin. She slowly made her way forward, water dripping from her small form. All in all, she looked like something the cat dragged in. And frankly, he'd never seen anything as beautiful before.

He could basically feel his mind go blank and his tongue go dry.

He gripped his cup of coffee tightly.

He wouldn't say anything to her. He was smarter than that. He knew better than that.

"Yo, Odango. What happened to you? You look like death warmed up."

For a brief moment both of them froze, staring at each other with wide eyes.

An angry grunt managed to escape Mamoru's lips as he suppressed the sudden urge to clasp a hand over his own mouth.

Usagi's eyes narrowed angrily, flashing dangerously. "You-you baka! I hope you choke on your coffee!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I probably won't. I don't eat like you do." He leaned back in his chair, an arrogant smile gracing his lips.

She gave off an aggravated noise, stalking over angrily. She hunched down, bringing her face to his level. The faint, bittersweet scent of his cologne filled her nostrils and she nearly lost herself in the sensation. She shook her head to clear it, her nose nearly rubbing against his. "You. Are. Such. A. Pig."

He snorted. "Look who's talking," he replied calmly, his stormy blue eyes burning into hers.

She knew she should be moving away from him, but somehow she simply couldn't muster either the will or the energy to do so. She enjoyed the sensation of being close to him too much. "What's that supposed to mean?!" she shirked instead, her lips pursing angrily.

His eyes locked at her lips immediately and he had to swallow, unconsciously tugging at his collar. He forced his eyes away, licking his dry lips with an equally dry tongue. "Lower the decibels, Odango," he muttered softy, not trusting his voice to sound as uncommitted as he wanted it to.

"I will not lower my voice just because you want me to, you jerk," she replied, the tone of her voice growing even higher and higher as she spoke.

"Well, like it or not, Odango, people will go deaf should you not lower your voice."

"Jerk!"

"Signal horn."

"Baka!"

"Odango Atama."

She inched closer, their noses touching. "I hate you," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I hate you so much." She nearly whimpered at the falseness of her own words, because she knew – no matter what he did or said – she'd never hate him. Ever.

He flinched, his heart nearly breaking in two. She hated him. But what did he expect? He treated her like dirt – of course she hated him. "Oh, you break my heart, Odango," he answered, not quite managing to keep the slight tremor out from his voice.

"Your black heart, you mean? I doubt it. Your heart is made out of stone! I very much doubt you being capable of loving."

He flinched again. "Well, at least I don't walk around with my feelings on my sleeve."

"Because you don't have any feelings! If you had been any colder, you'd been made out of ice!"

"Are you calling me emotionally inept, Odango?" He let a perfectly black eyebrow rise high on his forehead.

She frowned for a briefest of moments. "No, I'm saying that you are incapable of feeling emotions!"

He snorted. "You're such a blonde, Odango Atama. No wonder you always fail your classes."

She gave off an indignant yell, opening her mouth to reply when Motoki interrupted her.

"Be nice, Mamoru. Can't you see? She's had a really bad day. C'mon, Usagi-chan. I'll make you a nice cup of cocoa."

"Well," Mamoru grunted, "it's not my fault she's a blonde odango atama."

"Just like it isn't my fault you're an emotionless baka with no better life than to—"

"Oh, ignore him, Usagi-chan. Your usual seat's unoccupied. Why don't you take a seat and I'll be right back with that cocoa and then you can tell me all about your day, okay?"

She nodded, forcing a bright smile onto her face. "Uh-huh!"

"Good. Now, you take your seat and you, Mamoru, you be nice."

Mamoru grunted, returning his attention to his cup of coffee.

Usagi sighed as she slumped into her regular seat. Her whole body was shivering and now she wasn't entirely certain it wasn't because of the chill.

She sneaked a glance at the dark-haired man she had been fighting with yet again.

I hate you. I hate you so much.

A soft sob left her lips. It had been a lie, a complete and utter lie.

I hate you.

Another sob fought its way through her throat. How could he ever love a girl like her? A girl who lied, insulting him in the process…

I hate you so much.

A lone tear slipped its way down her cheek.

He'd never love her.

Mamoru sighed, letting his head slump against his shoulders. What on earth was wrong with him? Why was he so utterly incompetent when it came to talking to her?

He clenched his eyes shut, desperately trying to forget how her blue eyes had filled with tears of both anger and humiliation.

I hate you.

The words echoed in his head, haunting him with their intensity.

I hate you so much.

He groaned, gripping his head with his hands. "Why?" he whimpered. "Why can't I talk to you?" He shot her a glance, his hands tightening their grip on his head.

Another groan left his lips, his eyes traveling over her face longingly, before he straightened, letting a weary hand ruffle through his hair.

He gripped his – now cold – cup of coffee and downed it hastily, the bitter taste fitting his mood perfectly.

She'd never love him.

Another fight and another lie. All for the sake of being noticed.

The both of them sighed, their eyes meeting briefly.

I know better.

They snorted, shaking their heads in disbelief. Yeah, right.

I know better… Next time.