Okay, so I took my other fic off , and I'm writing this one now, which will be much more dramatic and much better, I promise. Anyway, I have no idea how I got inspired for this, but I will update soon. Just remember to review! I live off reviews. No, really, I do. Oh, and sorry for the shortness of the chapter. Just an introduction, so keep your pants on, the other ones will be a lot longer. Enjoy!

Chapter One— The End?

This won't work.

Why can't it? I know if we try, it will…

It just… won't. I'm sorry.

None of those days meant anything to you? When we'd go rowing out on the lake, or take a walk through the park? Don't you remember any of it?

Of course I do.

Then what's the problem?

There are too many complications. I can't explain them.

You can't even tell me why?

No… I don't know how to say it.

Try. Please, for me… I'm asking you as a friend, please.

I don't think things are the same between us.

What do you mean? Nothing's changed.

I have.

I haven't.

I'm sorry.

I know.

I hope you can understand.

I don't understand at all. One day, we were a happy couple, eating ice cream and walking along the sidewalk… And the next, we've suddenly grown apart? It makes no sense.

It will someday.

But it doesn't today.

When you grow up more, you'll understand.

Is that it? My age? Age is just a number.

To you, maybe, but in my eyes, it's five whole years worth of living. You're only sixteen once; enjoy it.

I want to enjoy it with you…

I'm afraid that isn't going to happen. You and I… We're in two completely different worlds.

We're not that different.

You have your dancing, your school, and your friends, while I have an empty apartment and a low-paying job. It's definitely more different than you think.

We can work it out…

No, not this time. We can't keep going through all this over and over again. I can't take it anymore.

I know I might not be the prettiest or the smartest person out there—

You're beautiful.

I am?

Yes.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

Please stop saying that.

I can't.

Why?

Because I really am sorry.

So… This is it, then?

I… guess so.

I'm sorry.

Now why are you saying it?

For loving you so much. I didn't know it was such a horrible thing.

It wasn't.

It was if this is how it's ending.

It's not an ending. It's a beginning of something wonderful for both of us, I promise.

More promises, huh?

This one I'm sure of.

I can't believe this is it.

Me neither.

I'll miss you.

I know.

Will you miss me?

… I can't say that.

Why?

It would hurt too much.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Mamo-chan…

Usako…

That was the day my heart died. I don't mean to sound dramatic, but that's exactly how it felt. Almost as if it went numb inside my chest and stopped working, no matter how much I tried, and wouldn't come back alive. I never thought it would again. There were many things that day I never thought would happen.

I never fully understood the meaning of why we broke up. I guess half of it was my age, but I had a throbbing feeling in my gut, telling me there was something else. I couldn't exactly place what it was, but it was definitely present, digging into my thoughts and remaining there.

I remember that month well, to this day. Day after day, I would sit in my room, buried up in the warmth of my comforters, letting the tears soak into my pillow. I would lie there watching the sun set into the fading horizon, then dissolve at night, replaced by a litter of twinkling stars. My head felt heavy those days, sometimes blocking my ability to think clearly, and other times I would think just fine. More often than I'd like, I would wonder what Mamoru was doing at that exact moment.

Was he sprawled out onto his bed, with library books scattered along the sheets, quietly holding one in his hand as he read it? Or maybe he was in the living room, drowning his thoughts away in a box of dark chocolates, watching some mindless television show? Maybe he even was standing out on the balcony, his shirt half open to reveal the skin I rarely got to touch, while he watched the stars burning in the sky, just like I did. In any and every way, I still missed him, as much as my instincts protested.

My school was worried after three straight weeks of my absence. My mother kept calling and saying that I had some terrible disease, but we both knew better. My dad said nothing about it. Even my brother was nice to me. Once and awhile he would bring a bowl of creamy vanilla ice cream up to my room as a peace offering. Usually I'd turn him down and he'd be on his way, but one time I asked for him to say, which he did, and we spent the rest of the night talking about anything that came to our minds. It opened my eyes a little more, and made me really appreciate him, even though most of the time he was an ungrateful brat; in the end, I was thankful he was there for me, despite the fighting. Finally, my mother decided it was time for me to go out into the world. I had missed way too much schoolwork, anyway, so I had to go, no matter what.

Fourteen days passed.

Some called and wished me well, but I didn't pay too much attention to the gestures. It was as if nearly every student, male and female, knew I had a broken, unmendable heart, and that made me feel uneasy to be that open, that vulnerable. I, for once in my life, simply wanted to be left alone. Even my friends didn't hold a place in my heart, as much as I love them; something broke, more or less. Time doesn't really heal; it only creates tolerability, to the point where the mention of their name won't trigger a bursting seam in your heart. My friends, thankfully, understood and kept their distance, saying they had a shoulder to cry on, if needed. I just laughed hollowly and told them, 'I'd need a lot more than one shoulder sleeve to dry up the tears'.

After that slow, painful month was over, I finally came to a realization: There was no possible way I was going to get over this, staying here, so close to the source of my heartbreak. So, I made my own decision, for myself, not him.

I decided to leave Tokyo. I didn't care where I went; I just needed to go somewhere, anywhere that the memories didn't stain every inch of concrete; somewhere entirely separate from him. Living here didn't seem to be an option anymore. When I told my parents about this, it took some time to register in their minds, then after a few fights and apologies between them, they figured it was a good idea for me to get away, to learn on my own. I loved them so much for that. In any other situation they might've snubbed the idea.

I'll never, ever forget the day I left. The very memory of it is imprinted onto my mind. It was a slightly cool spring day, full of birds chirping and life shining from corner to corner. You could almost reach out and touch, feel the energy that was coming from the joy of young children playing, couples strolling along, holding hands, and families gathering for their once-in-lifetime togetherness.

I was at our favorite park. Ichi-No-Hashi. Leaning against a wooden railing, the strong current below whirred in steadiness, and I glanced up at the clear blue sky, soaking in the bright rays the sun was shining down. This was the last time I'd be standing here for awhile, enjoying the laughter around me, and nearly everything about this town I loved. Nearly. That's when my expression darkened over. There was still a large chunk of this I had to leave behind: Mamoru. He held my heart in his hand, knowing the kind of power he had, and broke it. Shattered. I silently wondered if he felt the same, or if I was nothing more than a nuisance, a passing ghost in his life unable to reach any stretch of his being. I hadn't seen him ever since I ran into my room later after we spoke, sobbing wildly, soon after my mother coming in to gather me in her arms, to whisper comforting words. That was a time that seemed hard to grasp, as it all blended into one horribly disfigured chunk. No one section could be extracted and analyzed, because time froze. Ice looks the same no matter how you chop it up.

I suddenly felt as if someone was standing near me, near enough to hear breathing. My heart pounded against my ribcage; the towering form, the strong presence, and the light, almost unnoticeable scent of roses. I knew it was Mamoru. He knew I knew. Worst of all, we both knew and still said nothing, for the longest time. It was torturous.

"How are you doing?" his words flowed so smoothly, as if nothing was wrong. Not a care in the world. His hands were shoved into the depths of his jean pockets. He had on his motorcycle jacket. I missed the unmistakable scent embedded into that jacket. He'd only wear it whenever he went out for a quick grocery store run, but he enjoyed his bike more than he admitted. It was a dangerous side few had the pleasure of seeing, rather than the composed beautiful shell he shows the world. It made me happy, knowing that small detail about him. It's one of those things that can't be forgotten.

I shrugged, surprisingly nonchalant. "Fine."

I could tell he was surprised by my shortened response. He ignored that and changed the subject. "I heard you were leaving."

"Yeah," I said plainly, as if it was common knowledge. As much as I fought, I noticed that the deep vibration in his voice, how it felt so familiar. Soothing. I'd been wanting that velvety smoothness to grace my ears, and here it was. I could feel the tears sting against the corner of my eyes, but I forced them back with effort. "From who?"

"Rei. I stop over at the temple sometimes to pray and she's always there."

"Oh."

"Where are you going?" he continued as if ours was a normal, everyday conversation, like between two lonely strangers who happened upon each other in their daily strolls. Does this even, in the slightest bit, kill him as much as it does me?

"America."

"But… You don't know how to speak English. You'll be completely lost."

"I can take care of myself, Mamoru-san," I spat coldly, leaving him to noticeably flinch at the lack of the personal nickname for him. But he knew there was nothing he could say to refute.

"How will you survive?"

"My mother's giving me money, and she'll wire any more I'd need in the future, and so will my dad. I'm taking English classes there and I'll be a transfer student, living with an average American family. It'll be … a good experience."

"Sounds like you have this all planned out," he said, shoulders hung, defeated. Faintly I noticed as he tilted his head toward the sky, he had that same pleasant thinking expression on his face. He looked adorably confused, but questioning and carefully thoughtful, all at once; his dark brows furrowed slightly, and his lips pursed, just enough so they almost formed a pout. Whenever he got that look, I had a feeling he had something profound, locked in the confines, behind his lips. He always had something to say, but refused to let it faze him. What really bothered me was how my stomach twisted when I recognized that look, and as always, how wonderfully his clothes clung to his body. I had to tear my eyes away before I lost my will. He can't win.

I finally responded: "Yeah, I've had plenty of time to think about it."

He nodded his head, as I could see from the corner of my eye, his head then hanging down a bit, but barely noticeable enough.

His tone shifted. "It's been hard, you know, for me."

"What's been hard?" I questioned nonchalantly, noting his puzzling expression.

He spoke harshly, as if I meant to push something unwillingly, "You know what, Usako."

"Mamoru-san…" I began firmly, gripping my thin fingers on the railing. "'Usako' is a name for lovers. I'm not that anymore. Please call me Usagi."

He nodded once again, letting out a light sigh, and agreed, "Right, Usagi, sorry."

"It's all right." A moment of silence passed. I wanted to walk away from him right now before I broke out of my emotionless façade and expressed how much torment I was feeling inside at that very moment, just from him standing there, flooding back so many unwanted memories.

"When are you leaving?" he finally questioned.

"Today," I stated, staring out into the distance. I was afraid that if I looked him in the eye that I might break down crying and show him I hadn't grown up at all. No, I had to stay strong, for my own sake.

"Oh," he swallowed, growing a softer tone. "That's … really soon."

"I have to go as soon as possible."

"Why?" he asked, even though he knew very well why.

"To get away."

"From me?" he sounded dejected, hopeless, almost.

"I guess you could say that. My life doesn't revolve around you, you know. I'm doing this to make myself a better person, not just because you and I broke up, okay?"

"All right, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

He inched a bit closer to me, making my heart pound faster, though I kept it from reading all over my face, which tended to happen. An open book, my mother would say. I'd be no good at gambling, or apparently, hiding my emotions.

"Are you really all right?" he prodded, genuine concern in his voice.

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head at the question. "Actually, I feel like complete crap, but I guess that's what happens when you're dumped after over two years of commitment with someone you really cared for. Unless I was supposed to feel happy, then I guess I don't know anything anymore, huh? They really need a handbook for this sort of thing."

A weak silence weaved over us for a few minutes after I ended my speech, only the ripple of the water splashing up against the small boulders, tucked in the river below, filling the air. He refused to look in my direction now.

Finally, he spoke, his voice much weaker than I have ever heard it before, "I'll miss you."

Those words nearly made me want to throw myself in his arms, pretend everything was okay, pretend I could forget all the heartbreak he put me through and give up my pride for two moments of feeling loved. Two glorious moments. But I couldn't this time. I tried my best to keep an expressionless face as I turned fully to face him, past the point of pleasantries. The blueness in our eyes clashed like an enormous ocean, and my mouth became dry; I lost my voice completely.

Then my words came out sternly.

"I won't."

That's all I said before turning away. I couldn't bear to look.. I kept on reminding myself that he had to feel this sort of hurt in order to learn how much I loved him. I know he had never seen me so cold, like he was toward me. Now, I guess, he knew how it felt.

As I was walking away, I could've sworn I heard some sort of protest slipping from his mouth and travelling through the wind, waiting for me to hear, but falling short. Hot tears continued to burn harshly against my eyelids as I walked, back upright, not daring to look back.