Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hey guys. Umm...this is a reposting of the story that was formerly known as "No Regrets". I'm revising it a because the first chapter draft (and the really crappy sappy title) were made up/written in about half an hour, had a scary number of typos, and needed...iunno, something more. I do like this version better, and I hope you guys will too. A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed my first draft. (huggles) Please review this one too!

The second chapter will be posted in about...well, a couple of days. After some revising, and possibly some addition of much need...cough plot. Anyway. Here we go.

A pause. A glance. A word.

Yes, I still love him. Is that such a crime? It's not like I expect him to reciprocate the feeling or have a wanton affair with me behind her back...I don't expect him to do anything at all. I know where he stands: beside her. I've accepted that fact...I think (fine, I'm really (very) slowly coming into terms with it). And all I truly want from him is some indication that he still recalls the passionate nights and the soft touches. Right. I know we are not "us" anymore...But is it so wrong to want him to show that perhaps, just maybe...he still remembers (or, more accurately, hasn't forgotten) a time when we were "us". Some indication that what we shared wasn't just a waste of his time. Something to show that I'm not simply...that I was more than just the woman before THE ONE.

Us. Why was I so afraid?

At this moment, I'm surprised at how my crazy, passionate, forbidden love, and my idoit of a brain, has landed me where I am: standing on the cold sidewalk, stupidly looking through the large window into the resturant where all my friends (not to mention the happy couple) are. Why, one would ask, am I not inside? Where it's warm, where there's food, where I can bask in the company of people I love? I'm not quite sure myself. But what I do know is that when I see him through the glass, hosting the party I was too selfish to attend, my heart jerks painfully. And I know that being inside would not be very healthy for my mental state.

I feel my heart start to race at an alarming rate when I see him smile. He's smiling — actually smiling, not a smirk or whatnot — sitting there with his arm around the back of her chair, totally relaxed, in his element. He proceeds to laugh at something Joey says (and judging by the blond's shocked expression, also said something insulting), while the woman beside him punches playfully, and then he breaks out into another belly bursting laugh. I can almost hear it in my head: full, deep, him. He is…exquisite. There was a time when it would have taken an arm and a leg to make him even crack a smile. He's so different now. A strange sense of regret suffocates me.

Damnit. That could have been me next to him. That should be me. Me beside him, me making him smile, me with dreams of a golden future (which once included lots of brown hair and blue eye children...), me with the 10 carat diamond ring on the third finger of my left hand, and my gigantic wedding in three months. But...it isn't. It's her. All because I was too afraid, too hurt, too anxious, too goddamn…lazy. It's her. It's my fault that it's her.

It just doesn't seem fair, the way that life has decides to work itself out. Her role was (is, I guess...) so much easier than mine (...was). She doesn't have to slowly thaw his heart out while worrying about burning it; she doesn't have to hammer down the walls he constructed around him while worrying about how he would stand without them; she doesn't have to help make him less of a dueling machine while worrying…I'm ranting...I should stop. She didn't have to do a lot of things. A lot of things that I did for her. Damn.

But—and this is what makes me angry—I cannot hate her. It simply isn't her fault. She cannot help the way she is. She cannot make herself ugly (even if she tried really, really hard), not with her long luscious auburn hair, enchanting green eyes, perfect porcelain skin, and the smile of an angel. To add insult to injury, I know he isn't that shallow: being gorgeous was the bonus. What truly made him fall in love was her caring personality, her gentle kindness. She cannot help that either, I guess. Isn't it strange that I often wish that one of my best friends was a cruel little bitch? Maybe not that strange. I cannot help but note that she looks gorgeous tonight, wearing the bombshell crimson red Armani dress that I helped her pick out. I'm happy for her, somewhere deep down, past all my pettiness. I'm happy that she's happy.

I cannot hate him for placing me in this absurd, painful situation either. I love him. So simple, so illogical...so very, very sad.

He's handsome tonight (and she is gorgeous...gee, aren't they the perfect couple). In his jet suit, with a red silk shirt underneath to compliment his fiancé's (ahhh…the "f" word) dress. My stomach feel nauseous, my heart, pained, as I stand here on the cold pavement watching him, knowing that he will never be mine. His brown hair is perfectly messy, his deep blue eyes shining happily, his posture relaxed, content and in total control— all of it makes me disgustingly sick.

I want to do something, I need to do something…bring him back here, back where he belongs, back to me…I cannot simply watch them together, be happy together, get married...together (ironic that I agreed to be the maid of honour)...it would kill me (or drive me insane; whichever one's worse (or perhaps, comes first)).

The only person that I could hate then, for placing me in my situation, is myself. And I do hate myself so much sometimes. Like when I do the same thing I've done every time this feeling of regret overwhelms me: nothing; when I do the same thing I've done for the past three years every time I see them together: walk away.

I felt like walking home today; my apartment wasn't that far off (an half hour...or so). Perhaps the cold November night air, and the lonely streets will do me some good. Of course, they aren't actually very lonely. I guess I'll also really enjoy the disturbingly large number of couples holding hands and snuggling together; doing everything possible to be as close as possible. Why is it that when you're single, cold, and lonely, the number of happy and warm couples seem to increase exponentially? It's at this moment, that I actually realize I'm cold...freezing, actually. Perhaps a taxi ride would be the better choice. But then I'll get back to my dark, empty, pointlessly large apartment all the sooner. Are happy strangers who make you depressed better than no one at all? Possibly...

I take a final look through the window. The image of everything...everyone inside looking very...warm...content...goddamn happy (without me), decides to sear itself into my brain. I cannot wait to get home.

There was a time when he would have laughed when I suggested colour matching garments…laughed cruelly. There would have also been a time when he would have relucantly agreed, after much arm twisting. However, when I suggested the corny tactic while standing in his walk-in earlier today, he nodded immediately and smiled secretively. "That's a interesting idea", he had mumbled—eyes and mind a million miles away. He stood like that for almost ten minutes, perfectly still, forgetting even the presence of another human being (me) in the room; it was a moment, where privacy was needed. And had he been anyone else, privacy would have been given. But I could not look away; even as waves upon waves of anguish and regret washed over me (what kind of a fool wouldn't know what he was thinking about?), I could not look away. He...entrances me. I'm addicted to everything about him; the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he commands, the way he cares, the way he's aftershave smells, the way that his presence cannot go unnoticed, the way his fingers used to feel entertwined with mine. He is my obession.

This morning was also when I realized that going to the engagement party...going to anything related to Seto Kaiba and Serenity Wheeler's wedding, would severely damaged my already fragile emotional state.

He agreed. They do look really cute slightly colour-matched. And at least now I know for a fact that he loves her way more than he ever loved me.

The sick, sadistic little thought that creeps into my mind after that bitter realization is that...perhaps it's time for things to change. Perhaps it's time for me to do something. Perhaps.

I saw her. Standing outside the restaurant,seemingly doing nothing except simply watching . If that act alone wasn't strange enough, she also had this incredibly odd expression on her face, an expression that I could not place. There are very few expressions I cannot place (one does not become a multibillionaire without being able to master the art of reading others), especially on people whom I care about. The fact that I could not place her expression bothered me, perhaps even a little more than the all the other ever increasingly large amount of things I could not understand about her anymore. I wondered for a brief moment how much I would give to be able to understand that expression, to understand her again. The answer disturbed me slightly.

Turning to Serenity, I asked whether or not Téa was going to be coming to the dinner, or the party afterwards.

" I think she said that she had some things to take care of…"

"Oh. Did she say what?"

"Ummmm…?"

She wasn't really paying attention. Too preoccupied, I think, with the horrendous joke that the do…I mean, Wheeler (I've got to stop doing that, he is going to be my brother-in-law), was telling. It was something completely idiotic, so, of course I had to say something tremendously insulting. To my surprise, everybody laughed; and perhaps to my even bigger surprise: I laughed with them.

I still cannot get over how easy it is for me to laugh now…and it's all thanks to her, who gives me a cute little punch as reprimand for torturing her brother. Looking beside me, I realize, for the twentith time, that she looks positively radiant tonight. And smoking hot.

"Mmmm…I'm liking the red on you. Although...not nearly as much as I like you naked" I whisper in her ear, leaning in close. It was amusing, watching her blush prettily, all the way to the roots of her hair.

"Don't say things like that in public!" She whispers back.

"Why? No one heard. When we get home, I think you should try on naked for me, hmmm?" I suggestively place a hand on her bare knee, caressing the underside, and moving slowly up…

"Achm…" I look up at Yugi, who made that oh-so-subtle sound, saw him wince—and realized that all conversations at the table had stopped. Wheeler was growling, Valentine winked, and everyone else was decidedly uncomfortable. Serenity became even redder, if that was at all possible.

I sigh (it's a shame, I was looking forward to a little action under the tablecloth), and say, "Anyone want to go home without eating and come another time…? Anyone…anyone at all? Cause I want to go home now."

The table erupts in laughter again, and I laugh with them (again).

Rebecca sighs, "I envy you, Serenity. Your sex life must be thriving. Unlike mine" she says, decidedly looking at Yugi (everyone knows about his "no-sex-before-marriage policy"…poor, poor Rebecca. She must really love him. They're getting engaged soon, though, I'm pretty sure. I guess she doesn't have that long to wait). Who blushes redder than Serenity (again, if possible).

Mokuba snickers, "You know—I'm thinking that you might need a guy on the side, Becky. I could be just the guy for you, if Mutou can't cut it…" And winks (How very different my brother is from me. I wouldn't be caught dead winking when I was 18).

Little Yugi snaps to attention, glares daggers (very, very sharp ones) at Mokuba, and hiss' "Wanna take this outside, Kaiba?", deadly vemon dripping off every word. The table goes eerily quiet.

My brother gulps (another thing I wouldn't be caught dead doing)…and laughs nervously "I was only teasing, Yug!"

"I know." Yugi turns around and flashes the most angelic smile in the world and puts his arm around Rebecca. "I know."

The table erupts in laughter. Yugi seem to possess this strange quality of duality to him. Perhaps that was why I could never win against him: I never really accounted for a complete change of tactics right in the middle of the duel. Perhaps I should, and duel ag... I shake my head violently. Thoughts like that have no place here and now...maybe after the wedding...maybe.

The rest of the night passed in a haze. The food was excellent (of course it was, I did pick this restaurant after all), and the company—mostly pleasant. The party we went to afterwards was interesting...not my style, but everyone else seemed to enjoy it. Dancing with Serenity in her skimpy red dress was definately a highlight. How can one not enjoy dancing with the woman every other man in the room was drooling over?

It wasn't until I got into the limo with a tipsy Serenity at about one in the morning that I realized no one had brought up the absence of Téa. It was as if they all accepted/knew she wasn't going to be there. That made no sense at all, considering that she's at everything. What makes this all the stranger is that it was only this morning that she had been at the mansion, helping me pick out an outfit, and assuring me that she wouldn't miss my engagement party for the world. And why was she just standing there, outside the resturant? Why didn't she come in? It also then that I realized that she must have been freezing out there when I saw her, since she was wearing nothing but the short black cocktail dress (which I helped her pick out for this party last weekend) and a light cardigan. Why on earth didn't seem come in? Leaning back into the leather car seat with Serenity asleep on my lap, I realize that I am frustrated with her. The first time in a while that I've been frustrated at anybody. It was evident that she didn't have "something" to take care of. But, she's never simply ditched me (her friends in general) without a good reason before. So...why?

She is one of my best friends. But it feels like I understand her less and less each day. The thought of what I would give up to simply just understand her again...disturbs me even more than it did before

I haven't got an editor yet, so, bear with me for a bit. Annnnnyways...what did you think?? This is going to turn out strange (as I'm not sure who is going to be the bad or nice guy (girl)), but will be slightly reminiscent of Korean dramas. Which disturbs me. Possibly more than how much Seto is disturbed by what he would give up to understand Téa. It was really strange. I spent an entire 10 minutes deciding whether or not the thing that Seto was willing to give up fit in with the story narrative or not. At the end, I thought a simple "I am disturbed" was better. More Kaiba-ish. I don't know why I'm tripping over something so trivial (seeing as I probably have a ton of typos that I should be editing in this chapter), but hey, I would appreciate it if you guys gave me input on this particular quasi-dilemma...

Anyways, dont forget to review!