Let me start off by saying that this is going to be a two-shot and the characters and plot will become a lot more clear in the second chapter. The second chapter is going to be more like the actual story with this being the back story. With that, enjoy!

"I feel like I don't even know you."

He couldn't get those words out of his head. That one piercing sentence, released with such deadly accuracy, had hit it's mark-and stuck fast. That comment, so artfully released, had buried itself deep in his mind; what was worse, he hadn't realized what she had done until hours later, when his own volley of insults no longer had a target to set in its crosshairs. She had strung up the remark between sentences, had camouflaged it perfectly, and then released it with such casual hate that he'd mistaken it for something else. Regret maybe, or else he had figured that she had given up, that the war was over. He hadn't known that the enemy had stealthily infiltrated his encampment already, he hadn't realized it until he was surrounded by the echo of her remark playing on an endless loop in his head. It was done, she had aimed, set, and fired; and hit her mark dead center.

Bullseye.

Of course, she had been right. She didn't know him, not really. How could she possibly when they had had two, or maybe three, private conversations. No she really only knew him through his sister, hell that was how everyone knew him. Always his sister's brother, the dancer. Though of course most people didn't even know that much about him, nor did they care to know more. Which of course was the problem between the two of them, how to make a young relationship work when she didn't know the details and he wasn't sharing them. So conversation was the missing key, they only needed to talk.

Bullseye.

Of course an argument was technically talking, and it followed that the comment wedged into his mind was a result of the argument. The argument that was talking-technically. After all there was only so much he could tell her in three conversations, only so much it would be appropriate to reveal. Best not to say too much, it could scare he off, best to leave an air of mystery about himself, right? Perhaps talking alone was not their downfall, perhaps there was more.

Bullseye.

Of course, they could have been doomed from the start. It could have been a matter of physical attraction, couldn't it? If she didn't find him physically attractive then no amount of emotional connectivity was really going to support a relationship. Perhaps it was the awkwardness that the two encountered as a result of having similar personality types. Namely that of being withdrawn.

Bullseye.

Of course that was it, really; he was withdrawn. She couldn't feel as if she knew him, not when he was not inclined to ever share his feelings and she was, of course, not inclined to ever inquire what they were. But how to change one's innate personality, he wondered, in enough time to still get the girl? Opening up had never been his thing after all. Long speeches and bursts of passion had always been his sisters forte, not his. She was quite angry with him, he realized now, and it wouldn't take much time for her newfound opinions of him to set, for her feelings to resemble the icy hardness of diamonds. So of course he had to change tonight. Their relationship had reached a metaphorical point of no return.

Bullseye.

"I feel like I don't even know you."

She couldn't get those words out of her head. That one small embellishment of the truth, uttered quietly between emotionally bitter statements stuck fast in her mind. She hadn't meant to cut so deep, hadn't meant for what had been a battle to turn into a massacre. She could see it in his face, in the slight cringe of his eyes and the way his lip curled just that much, she could she just what she had hit.

Bullseye.

Of course, she had been wrong. Yes he was rather close mouthed about himself but she had learned important things about him in their fleeting private moments. He always laughed about getting into Julliard but she could how much he wanted it, he loved his sister but hated the drama she thrived in, and above all loved her. Perhaps it would be nice to talk more but they were both busy, she understood that. Sometimes she wished that she had made her feelings more clear to him. But talking was easy, conversation was harder; how much cold she tell him anyway?

Bullseye.

Of course, when she had tried to tell him something it developed into an argument. She would be the one person who could ruin a relationship while trying to build it. What if it wasn't meant to work out? What was that saying, about opposites attracting? They weren't opposites, not at all really. Perhaps they too similar to be in a relationship. They were both quiet but driven and more than just a little awkward in social situations. That was, of course, why he stayed with his sister and she stayed alone - most of the time. Until they'd come together, and subsequently fallen apart.

Bullseye

Of course, that was it; they were meant to be alone. After tonight he couldn't still want to with her anyway, not after she'd said those things to him. Shot him again and again, hitting a Bullseye each time. Better to let him go then, keep the pleasant memories of what was and bury the facts of what is and move on, alone. Because after all that was what she wanted right? To be with the one person she truly knew. Herself.

Bullseye.

I haven't written anything in a while so I'm a bit rusty, but please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms and the second chapter will be out by the end of the month.