This fic is inspired by current situations happening to me, and it's also written on Shuichi's POV.

It's been three months since I last talked to you… Three long months of waking up to a cold right side of the bed, an empty coffee mug set besides the coffee maker, unshared strawberry cheesecakes with whipped cream, not so useless ashtrays and countless cans of beers in the fridge.

I haven't moved anything, let alone thrown away anything that reminds me of you out of this house. For some reason I just can't seem to have enough courage to get rid of anything.

I think of you often, even though I haven't written letters to you. I wanted to write, but I'm tired of chasing after you, and now I wonder if since I haven't written to you, you would look for me when you get back to town in two more weeks.

The anxiety is killing me. I don't know if I should see you, or look for you, and there's this voice in the back of my head that tells me you won't look for me, either way. I guess you'd either be scared to see how I'm doing ever since you left just because, or your ego might not let you look for me, as always. I bet you have one of those attitudes of 'I won't look for you but I won't avoid you, either.'

Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could see you, some other times I have found myself just praying and wishing you're alright… and then on other times I just talk to God, and I tell him to let it be whatever he wants. That if he places you in my way or even if he doesn't he must have his reasons… But that's just my wishful thinking. God doesn't put you in my way or takes you out of it, those are things I have to do by myself, but I'm so torn I don't even know what I want for myself.

I go to bed with the thought of you, and sometimes I also wake up with the thought of you, I even picked up on the nasty smoking habit, it's the only thing that reminds me of your bitter kisses.

For the past weeks, before I realized that you were coming back, I didn't think of you as often, it was just on nights in which my friends would describe me as being hormonal. Back then I would only pray for you to be happy and to do good… but now I pray so that I may see you, even though reality is it might not happen.

Things aren't what I would expect them to be… or maybe what I wanted them to be. They didn't really work out, I can't really do what I had planned, but you don't have to know that.

A few days ago I went to visit your 'brother' and best friend… he told me you had asked for me in one of your letters and I got so upset that I told him to tell you nothing, to not let you know how I was doing… Or better yet, to lie; to say I was gone, and I never let him know, that I ran away, or that I went back home, or something, just something. Some stupid lie. Anything.

I cried… I cried in front of him, admitting to my flaws, wondering why didn't you love me the way you should have and why you still love that first love of yours, which only made you hurt in the worst of ways. Why did you discard me with no closure whatsoever, and just let me hanging by a thread.

I cried thinking of the little good times we spent together.

I cried everytime he gave me a reason to hate you but I always ended up telling him that I just loved you.

I cried, because even though things weren't what most people would consider a 'love story' or a 'fairytale', because even though things weren't what most people would consider being in love, to me it was more than being in love.

I cried because in 22 years of existence, I had never loved anyone (besides my family members) because of their flaws and liked them because of their virtues.

I cried because, overall, I feel stupid.

I cried because I miss you, but you don't know that.

I cried because I still hope for you, but you don't care.

I cried because I still love you, and you have no idea of how much.

But then I smiled…

I smiled because I am still in love with you, and I know you and I, both, still wonder why.

And that's what matters… not the tears I've shed for you, or the pain I've put myself through, or any of that shit.

What matters is that I still love you and I miss you… And that's something that hasn't changed in 3 years. Not even after all the shit we've been through.

And if I could use a wish right now… I would wish for you to crawl back into my bed and hold me. Yes, I'm still being that corny and hopeless romantic you so hated to love but loved to hate.

You were my tragedy of epic proportions.

I might update it later on, I might not. Reviews are appreciated.