Disclaimer: I don't own Sekaiichi Hatsukoi because it would be so scary if I did.

3.

Everything used to be so innocent.

"Saga-senpai, I love you…"

"…I just thought it would make you happy…"

"…I love you, Ritsu."

Cherry blossoms seemed to fall whenever we were together. Every interaction was sugary-sweet, every meeting-up, every encounter seemed to be filled with a sweetness that filled our hearts and let us be happy. You lived for him, for your senpai. You would do anything for him. Somehow, the roles twisted, and now…

Now you have no idea how it came to this.

You don't know when it must have started; perhaps the day you left him, broken on the mussed sheets of the bed you two shared ten years ago? That must have been when he snapped and became who he was now: someone twisted and ugly that you didn't want to spend time alone with anymore. Before you only protested little, but to this day, you still can't fully look him in the eye without seeing the monster he had become.

You smile at your co-workers as you enter, making sure to meet each of their eyes so they won't suspect anything is wrong. Because everything is, really. You just can't show it. Kisa-san smiles tightly at you, his face pale; he must have some kind of personal problem outside of work as well. Mino-san just wears that enigmatic smile like always. You don't know what goes through his mind. Hatori-san looks beatific—or as much as he can, anyways. That small quirk of his lips is the only indication that he's in any good mood today.

And then you…you force yourself to meet his eyes.

Those eyes that always star prominently in your nightmares; those eyes that make you shake with fear when they stare at you so intensely. That intense stare isn't what bothers you, not even close. It's the look in those eyes that terrify you, make you think he'll finally snap and actually hurt you. Those eyes that, currently, narrow just slightly at you, perched atop a thin smile. You understand what that look means, though.

Not one word.

Yes, Masamune, You direct back to him wordlessly, so that nobody else can hear. You wouldn't want them to worry and investigate deeper into this situation, would you? You shudder inwardly as the angle of his lips changes just a bit, turning somewhat dangerous, but you hide it well. You hide most of your emotions well these days.

The moment passes in an instant, and you sit down at your desk and look over some storyboards, pretending not to notice him staring at you the whole time, his gaze burning.

You pretend your heart isn't pounding frantically as you exit the subway station that night, the feeling of somebody following you overwhelming your whole body. It shouldn't be so strange, really. Anybody could head this way, not only you. Except it's midnight, and nobody else is around. And why would he choose to follow a few paces behind you instead of walking beside you? It's frightening. So frightening. You don't know if he'll do something to you, in the dark where nobody can see you, where there would be no witnesses.

You walk a bit faster.

Once you reach your apartment, you lock the door behind you and close all the blinds. Those have never stopped him from breaking and entering, anyways. You skip late dinner; you don't think you can eat today. That twisting feeling in your stomach is back. You rush to your bedroom and curl up on your bed, hiding underneath the blankets. That doesn't stop that feeling of somebody watching you, staring at you. You open your eyes to slits, peeking out from beneath the blankets, and your heart jumps so suddenly you feel as if it might fail. He's standing right there, beside your bed.

You can't help but tremble when he sits down in front of you and strokes your cheek gently. The movement is meant to be comforting, but you only feel as if you might be sick.

"Ritsu…" His voice breathes, that deep voice that used to arouse you like no other. Now it causes fear to rise up within you. "Are you okay? You seemed paler than usual today."

Don't…act like you care. Don't act like nothing is wrong. You always do this.

But you can't voice these thoughts without him getting angry, so you only shiver and poke your head out, your green eyes shining in the darkness. "I…I'm fine. Just a bit stressed." You laugh, making sure that it doesn't sound nervous, or terrified. You've long since mastered the art of managing a poker face around him, around everybody.

He sighs, and you tense up. "I told you that you wouldn't work yourself so hard. I worry about you, you know?"

You used to worry about me; now you hover around me all the time like I'll suddenly keel over if you let me out of your sight. If only it was just that.

"Ah…sorry, Masamune. I didn't mean to worry you." You just want him to leave now. It's easier to sleep a few hours when there's a wall between you and him. Not that it'll make much of a difference; he invites himself to your apartment now with no difficulty or resistance.

He leans down and kisses your temple, kisses your forehead down your cheeks. You understand what he wants now, and it's been such a recurring cycle that you just let him into your bed with little more than a breath, wondering if tomorrow everyone will see the possessive dark bruises over your arms and neck. You'll wear a sweater to hide them.

The next night, you invite Haitani out for drinks. He who calls himself your lover is working late today; he'll be out until very late. Thank the heavens; you have a short respite. Haitani only sounds all-too obliging, even going so far as suggesting the bar that you two should go to. You agree quickly, hoping that he isn't listening in on your whispered conversation three blocks from work.

Haitani knocks back another drink and calls the bartender over for another. "So what brought this on?" He smiles at you, but you can't bring yourself to smile back as you take a shaky sip of your drink. Haitani thankfully does not notice.

"Nothing. Why can't I invite you out to drinks?" Your voice sounds normal. Good. You don't want Haitani worrying about you.

He scratches the back of his hair, shrugging. "You normally don't invite me out to do anything. That boyfriend of yours—" Please don't mention him right now "—doesn't like you hanging around me, right?"

You force a grin. "He can't tell me who I can and can't hang out with, can he?" Yes he can. And he usually does—when you come home.

Haitani just looks confused as he takes a swallow of his drink. "I guess not."

The rest of the night passes without trouble. You and Haitani talk about work, about puppies and television and everything under the sun. You like Haitani's company. He doesn't expect anything from you, he doesn't judge. He only wants to hang out and have fun. It's a shame you can't really enjoy it as much anymore.

He is waiting for you outside your apartment, and you understand what is going to happen next. It's happened quite a few times over the past year with your other friends, after all. You barely manage to shuffle past him when he shoves you into the wall, eyes flaring coldly.

"You were with that Haitani bastard, weren't you?" You don't answer, and he shoves you harder, making you wince slightly. "Weren't you?! Answer me!"

You nod shakily, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. No matter how many times this happens, you're still terrified of it, of seeing him look so coldly at you. Doesn't he love you?

No, not for a long time. You know this. It hasn't been love for a long time already.

He storms into his apartment, dragging you with him and slamming the door closed. You wince at the bruising grip he has on your wrist as he pulls you to the bedroom and pushes you onto the bed. You've never been able to walk properly for a few days after this happens.

A few days later, you enter work with barely a smile, and the cycle begins again.

You don't know how much more of this you can take.

You see Kisa-san glance over at you, face and expression blank, but with that small amount of concern woven into his eyes. You wonder what he must be thinking about.

2.

Moaning, you push back as he thrusts into you and you come with a loud keening noise. He comes soon after you with barely a grunt. You immediately make him slide out of you and start to clean yourself up with soap and water in the bathroom. You wouldn't want him to smell the sex on you, would you? Your client lies back in his bed, already falling asleep. You pull on your pants and leave with not even a word.

It's been a few days since you've last seen him, but that doesn't make you worry any less. You always wonder if he's cheating on you, if he's grown tired of men and will go back to being straight, go back to only dating women. It's what started this whole affair, anyways. If he's already started the process, then why don't you? It would make the heartbreak at the end much less painful.

Your heart leaps as you see your apartment light on. He's in there, probably cleaning or cooking something for you—or inviting someone else into your bed. Isn't that just perverted? You can't help but laugh bitterly to yourself as you head up the stairs.

You slip off your shoes in the genkan and a wave of homely cooking hits you. This only serves to make you guiltier for what you've done. "Yukina?" You call out, and his head pops out of the kitchen, a bright smile on his face.

Your heart sinks lower.

"Kisa-san!" He looks so happy to see you. No, don't. You shouldn't look at me like that. It'll only make me love you more. He wipes his wet hands off onto his old shirt as you head closer and embraces you tightly. He buries his face into your neck. He smells good… "Kisa-san! I missed you! How have you been?"

"Fine," You mumble, because you honestly don't think you can say anymore without giving your misery away. Why is he always so kind to you? Why does he make his home in your heart? He shouldn't be here with you. He should be living his life and getting married and having kids. With a woman. He shouldn't be here with you. You don't know how many times you repeat that mantra to yourself whenever you're being fucked by someone else.

You slip out of his embrace and go to take a shower; you still believe the smell of sex lingers on your skin, on your clothes. He follows you up until the bathroom, smiling all the while. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Kisa-san."

You think you can't feel any worse. Then: "I love you, Kisa-san."

Does he love you? Then why does your mind torture you with images of him cheating on you, of him leaving you, of him hurting you? He loves you. Too bad you can't even believe it. You love him, though. So much. You don't think you've ever been this in love with anybody in your entire life.

"Love you, too," You say under your breath, but he hears anyways. His face lights up even brighter, and he goes back into the kitchen.

You throw up in the shower when you smell your client's cologne on your skin.

Dinner is a quiet affair. It always is. He doesn't seem to mind; he always eats cheerfully and occasionally looks over at you with a meaningful glance. You pick at your food.

"Kisa-san?" He asks, sounding worried.

"Hm?" You force a bite of rice into your mouth and force yourself to keep it down.

"Are you okay?"

Oh, that question. You could answer it in so many different ways. You could crack and tell him your insecurity. You could, actually. But you can't. He would only feel guilty and try to comfort you. You can't have that. You can't have your storybook prince feeling bad for you, when it was your fault all along.

So you lie. "I'm fine, Yukina. Don't worry." You take another bite of your food to emphasize this point.

"Are you sure? Is it about work again?"

You wish it could be about work; you wish so fervently. But it really isn't anymore. It hasn't been about work for a long time already. It's always been about you you you and how you can't get over your fucking doubts and insecurities about his love for you. Why can't you just accept it? He should have to know eventually, shouldn't he? Even before, when he forced himself into your apartment before you could sleep with some random guy who didn't mean a damn…even before, he was so ready to defend his love for you. So why can't you just tell him?

So you take a deep breath. "No, it isn't. Actually, it has nothing to do with work at all."

He looks confused, like a puppy. He tilts his head, and your heart aches. "What's it about then, Kisa-san?"

Your heart races. You can't do this. You have to. You have to, for him. For Yukina. For your prince. "I've been cheating on you."

He doesn't understand for a moment. "W-what do you mean?"

You feel very irritated suddenly. "I mean, I've been fucking other guys for two months."

His expression just crumbles. Oh. He looks so sad all of a sudden. "Oh."

No. You brought this on yourself. You deserve it.

"Is it something I did, Kisa-san?"

No, it's not. It never is. Stop thinking like that. You've done nothing wrong at all…

"Yes."

No, what are you saying, dumbass?

"Oh."

He doesn't say anything for a few minutes. The silence is deafening. You feel as if you might suffocate on the silence.

Then he does something so surprising. He stands up, flips the table over. Glares at you. What? You wonder what's happening. He has every right to be angry at you, though. Why does he look so frightening like this? You brought it on yourself. It's all your fault.

"I don't deserve this, Kisa-san! Why did you do this to me?!" His yelling seems to be scarier than anything you've ever experienced. He grabs onto the front of your shirt, and from this close up, you can see the pain hidden deep within his eyes. His normally loving eyes, now stony. "What did I do to deserve this?! Tell me!" He shakes you back and forth.

You let out an unsteady breath and tremble; he could hurt you, right now, and you would do nothing about it because you brought it on yourself. "I…Yukina, please—"

"I love you, and you love me…don't you?" His face twists in desperation, and from here, you can see that he's trying hard not to cry. You can't help but falter, just a bit. Yukina doesn't cry. You've done it, haven't you? You've really hurt him this time. "Tell me why I shouldn't just—"

"What? Hurt me? Break up with me?" You should shut up, shut up. Don't say anything. You'll only make him more upset. The words spill out like water, anyways. "Go ahead. I don't care anymore. Do it."

He slaps you; the sound echoes throughout the suddenly-silent apartment. Both of you stare at each other, panting. There are no words for the burning you feel inside right now. The pain in your cheek is nothing compared to the pain in your heart right now.

He shoves you to the ground, and leaves the apartment, but not before you can see a tear leave his eye.

Only now do you realize what you've done.

The next day at work, Ricchan smiles at you, and you smile tightly back at him. You turn back to your work. Across from you, Hatori stares. You wonder what he must be thinking about.

A/N: Was going to do the Domestica couple, but I changed my mind.

-ChemicallyEnhanced