So before anyone bites my head off for copying or reusing a story, I'd like to make it VERY clear that this chapter was previously published as an AMIZOI story under the name, Chaser. Upon rereading it, I realized that it didn't sound like Ami, and the lover didn't sound like Zoicite. Rather, MAKONEPH seemed to fit better... so THIS happened.

Chapter 1

Love between two people is something indescribable. It's something that will be remembered as a sweet memory or lived out as a happily ever after. But love alone will never keep two people together. A couple needs to also have a lot of luck, perseverance, strength, and most importantly – after love, of course – trust.

Looking back, I think… I feel… I know we had enough love to last us for a while, we were lucky enough to be together easily, we were both strong enough to push through and stubborn as mules, but we didn't have enough trust between us. I would never be able to lay myself out there and believe in him completely, and he would never let me.

And it eats at my heart. Unlike most intelligent people, I turned a blind eye. It was later that I realized that even if I pretended that he was here in my arms instead of being out there in someone else's, didn't make it unreal. In fact, I felt like a bona fide coward – like an ostrich who thought sticking its head in a hole would make the danger disappear.

I knew I was being a coward. I knew I was being stupid. I knew I'd have to end this before I started to really hate him. Before I started blaming him for everything, knowing fully that I should've walked away a long time ago. I know that one day he would find someone to commit to, seeing as he isn't that stupid a fool to believe that he can continue playing Casa Nova. But I can't wait any longer.

It really hurts. It's not a stabbing pain that's fast and unexpected. It's more like a little caterpillar, chewing away at me. An expected feeling of fear and pain - one that seems like it won't end. This is my pain. This is my burden. And I want to shed it.

I slowly scrawled over a loose sheet of paper, not really reading what I wrote, not really seeing what I wrote. A sudden droplet of water plummeted onto the page, marring the tidy letters.

Crumple it up.

Starting anew, I paused, unsure if it was too late to stop and unpack my bags and crawl back to him again. The small dot I paused on became bigger as more ink flowed out of the felt pen. The dot glared accusingly at me, as if threatening me.

Crumple it up.

I took out another spotless white paper and began to write again. Halfway through I felt my nose burn slightly as fresh tears began to pool into my eyes. I couldn't help it as my fingers began to quaver. I snarled furiously (and uncharacteristically) as an almost invisible quiver in the 'l' appeared.

Crumple it up.

I stared at the clock; he was supposed to come back from work in 3 hours. Ha, if he wasn't running around with his secretary. Okay, so I was sort of really bitter. Tears began to fall onto the paper before my pen did. I scowled and scrunched up my paper.

This is Useless.

I looked over to his computer and began to type.

Dear Nick,

These past 4 year with you have been unforgettable. Being with you has been interesting. You've always made me feel like I was the only woman in your life. With you, I've always felt special, confident, free, and above all, like an actual woman. And thanks to you, I've learned to spread my proverbial wings and become a confident and independent individual, which is why it's time for me to leave you.

The biggest problem we face is trust. Or at least my biggest problem with you is trust. I guess you already know that when we used to bejust friends, before this mess, I was the strong and tough girl, stronger than most boys that no one could truly see as a girl and you were the school's Casanova and resident Prince Charming. I used to think you were a rotten jerk who went through girls like you would go through tissue paper when you're sick. We became best friends through a series of mishaps and catastrophes. I was always silently jealous of every girl that walked through your bedroom and came back a couple of hours later. And somehow, we miraculously ended up together.

What happened after that – well, I'm pretty sure you know what you were doing. Perhaps you didn't know I knew what you were doing secretly. All right, so I do know you don't know I know about what you've been up to. But I knew, so that's the point. I know quite a lot about it. About the clubs, the booze, the smoking, and the women. You weren't really good at hiding it either, what with the grumpiness, headaches, putrid breath, heavy bags, bloodshot eyes, and always blowing up at me in the morning. Not to mention how we would only spend time together from the late afternoon to early evening.

Not to mention the random panties lying under the bed and the CONDOM wrappers in the trash can.

I guess we're at different levels in terms of relationships. I want a steady, safe relationship whereas you aren't really looking for anything serious yet.

But I honestly can't wait until you're ready. So I've already packed my belongings and by the time you get back, I'll probably be at a new apartment, closer to the bakery. I'm really sorry to end it this way. Maybe after some time we can go back and start over as friends again, after this muddle of a relationship becomes a very, very, VERY distant memory. I'll always remember our good times together, and the rare moments where we almost forgot who we were, where we were, what we were, and were just two people in love.

Sincerely,

Makoto

I guess it seems a bit impersonal to break up through a letter – a typed letter at that. But I COULDN'T handle it any more.

With my letter printed and set on the shoe cabinet, and my belongings already packed neatly into my car, I readied to leave before staring at the house. What could I do to leave us on good terms?

I sighed; it would have to be fast. As much as I wanted to stay long enough for him to come back and beg me, tell me, mention to me to not leave, so I wouldn't have to let go of him, I still wanted to leave. Leave this place where we made so many memories, where we spent so much time together. But also where I found proof of his betrayals. Where he would wake up groggy and tired and hung over.

I quickly grabbed some post-it notes and began to stick them onto different objects, my face dry of tears.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still upset and uncomfortable in this apartment, it's just that I don't have any more tears to cry. My hands trembled and I felt – I felt worn out, tired, drained, fatigued, drowsy.

I don't really remember what happened clearly after that, I guess I called the girls over to help me. I remember hoping that perhaps a scene similar the movies and dramas would take place. That when those shiny metal elevator doors slowly roll open to reveal him, with his long brown curls waving around his head like a glorious halo and his not quite brown, not quite blue eyes glazed over in regret . He would grab me and hold me tightly and swear that I was the queen of his heart, or something cheesy like that, and that he would never dare even glimpse at another woman, man, dog, anything.

Of course, that didn't happen. Instead of my handsome Casanova boyfriend, a shriveled old lady with a small bag of tomatoes hobbled out. She hoisted her bags up precariously. I guess I probably helped her get them to her door. She probably noticed the mess I was in, and offered me a tomato.

I think after that, all I really remembered was sitting in my own forest green all-wheel drive with Minako, the road devil, in the driver's seat and trying, but failing to smile at my friends who were fussing over me and cursing Nick's existence.

I knew then that it would take a while for me to ever be able to smile properly. I had just cut part of myself away.

And then I shook myself. He was cancer to me. I would've died if I didn't cut him out by the time I did. I might be sick now, but sometime in the future, I would be able to smile again like I used to.

END... FOR NOW

SO… I'm BACK~! (Not that anyone would remember me) But uh… yeah. I don't even remember writing this to be honest. ^^;; I just wrote a one-shot for Ami and Zoicite called 'Love the One You're With' and decided to look at the projects that I started (but never bothered with after the first chapter…) and stumbled across Chaser. It just so happens that Chaser fits in really well with a project that I've really wanted to do for a while. It's just that the plot will be taking a major turn and the pairing has completely changed to Makoto and Nephrite, because I feel like they fit this kind of story more… Nephrite's better known as the flirt compared to Zoicite, and I'd imagine that Makoto's voice fits better with the writing style of this piece.

But holy crap, first person point of view is a sinkhole for verb tense disagreement. And it probably won't work with the direction I'm taking with this story. I'll probably avoid first person for the most part.

You may notice that Chaser is no longer Chaser. It may not even stay as Good Things Come, depending on whether or not I can think of some catchy names to match it. :\

Um... also, if you're one of the 13 (or less) reviewers of Chaser, uh... HOLLA! :D