Hi guys! Hina here. I'm right in the thick of a chapter for my Spoof, but I was watching the Chapter Black part of Yuyu last night and had to write this. It's kind of a character study on a certain freckle faced physic. The POV from this fic is from this girl who's in love with Kaitou; it's not ME, if you're wondering. Oh and to all those who care: I FINALLY updated my bio. Check it out, if ya got the time. I did it different then most people, so I hope ya'll like it. Anyway. REVIEW! PLEASE! And to all flamers: I've got Touya and Yukina with me, so they'll freeze anything ya throw at me. Oh and to those reading my Spoof fic: Hang in there! The new chap is days away from being out there for all to see. ENJOY!

The Probability of Love

Always. He's always there, in my mind, standing before.

But always, always he is somewhere else, even when standing in the room. My heart soars with love for him and yet I cannot be enough, obsessions and intrigues have what should have been mine since the moment his eyes locked onto my own.

His heart.

I remember every word he's every said, but they so often are filled with words too big to carry love. Adroit, intelligence, and words of the like are what I often hear. And then, Shuichi-kun's name…often I hear this; he speaks his name with more passion then he does my own.

My love obsesses tirelessly over Shuichi Minamino. He believes Shuichi is smarter then him…and that kills him.

I understand the eternal drive to better oneself with knowledge and learning…but what is knowledge without love? Can my darling love not love me in return?

I remember the last time, as he buried his freckle sprinkled face in a book, I spoke of love and passion. I remember his answer. He raised his head long enough to adjust his glasses and coolly spoke, "The probability of one falling in love is…" I don't even remember the numbers he listed. It was relatively low, that I do remember that.

Maybe that is our problem. We are two different species. He is a genius and I am dreamer. His dialogues consist of words like "inventions, conclusions, probabilities, theories" while mine is sprinkled with words like "poetry, romance, love, passion, desire."

I dream of my beloved finally loving me. He dreams of beating Shuichi on a math test.

I watch him sometimes, you know, when I know he doesn't know I'm looking. His dark, curly hair is so attracted and it highlights his thoughtful and introspective ebony eyes. His face is sprinkled with freckles but they are not unattractive; I have dreamt of kissing each and every one of them. He wears his glasses like a symbol of his intelligence; it is his favorite and absent habit, when thinking, to push them up his noise, as they always slip.

He is handsome, no? Very. And his mind is just as beautiful as his features, but that has never been the question.

I first fell in love with my darling because of his beauty, then learned of his brilliance, then of the outstanding magnificence of his soul. Oh, what a shinning soul! I can see it, sometimes, when he touches my hand, when his eyes are burning for me and not some data or book. He does touch me, you know, but rarely. And only as a friend but I've oftentimes suspected he might care for me as more then just a mere friend. That is what his eyes say, anyway.

I wonder what I could do to make him see me, realize I am there?

I've done everything I could possible think of. My beloved responds well when I have studied something of immense difficulty and quotes it. We've had heated conversations and that's when I almost accomplish my lifetime ambition of being loved by him.

After our conversation of things like physics, math, and geometry,…he will stare at me and his eyes burn and he speaks. "You know, my dear, I really do love…our conversations."

Oh, how hastily he covers up his mistake! He almost lets some emotion slip, but the cold façade is up in full force within seconds of the near slip. And I am left in the cold once more.

I do not know what this dark man waits for, but I know he waits. He is waiting for something before he express the passion I sometimes see in his eyes that is mirrored in his deepest soul.

So I wait, my whole being submissive before the man I love, keeping silent, sacrificing my very will to the being that controls my mind and passion. No matter what happens, no matter what my cold, beautiful love chooses…I pledge myself and my soul, mind, and love to Yuu Kaitou.

Whether or not he accepts this pledge…I do not know. I can only pray. Love and pray.