Summary: In the dismal recesses of Arima's mind there is a past that is to remain untouched. But what will he do when Miyazawa challenges the sinister side of himself that even he cannot control?

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to claim a jealous and psychotic person such as Arima, he belongs to Masami Tsuda - and, of course the equally obsessive Yukino Miyazawa. Toodles!
 A/N: This started out as a one shot because I have always wanted to write about that dangerous voice that lurks inside of Arima's head. (The pretty head that it is). HAHA!

-THANK YOU Cheshire Grin for being the best editor on the whole entire planet! No solar system! No Galaxy! Well - you get the point right?

Tempest Desire

Part I

Yukino listened to the gentle flapping of curtains against the panel of her windowsill. The breeze whistled at her as it occupied her room, stirring her auburn hair onto the crown of her forehead. She sat at her desk; the very one she had assembled at every evening since her childhood. The place she had declared as her haven. Today it was not the refuge she had grown accustomed to since receiving her first "A" in kindergarten. It seemed that on this day—nothing could give her comfort.

In her hand, Yukino clutched a small sheet of notebook paper that had been folded carefully by the person whose handwriting it contained. Since the moment it had been given to her, Yukino had read it a total of thirty-two times in a short span of two hours. Continual folding and unfolding had worn it down to a shadow of the efficient piece of composition that it had once been. Thirty-three, she thought to herself as she opened it again to scan the contents within.

-

Souichiro gazed at his ceiling while he lay in bed, finding comfort in the darkness that emerged at the approach of late evening. His eyes burned with the strain of staring at one object for too long, and it took him a moment to realize that he had not blinked for several minutes. He relaxed them and as he did a gust of air collapsed from his frowning mouth.

There came a tap on his door and a muffled voice entered his thoughts. "Souichiro, is everything alright? I'm putting a tray of dinner outside your door in case you decide later that you are hungry."

"I'm fine." He told his aunt.

"Yes, of course." She replied after a pause. "But, if for some reason you would like to talk about anything, we will be up for a while."

Arima did not respond.

"Souichiro?"

"Yes?"

"We—we love you."

I hate myself, he thought.

-

Miyazawa,

It is clear to me now that there are, perhaps, only a few things in my life that I will have the ability to decipher as either fact or fiction. Please know that my love for you has always been and will always remain fact.

When I set out to unmask that emblem of perfection you had fashioned through your accomplishments from childhood until now, it was without the purpose of exposing my own secreted self. But little by little, you began to unravel those carefully arranged layers that I had protected until only recently. And for a while, it was what I wanted. I wanted you to see the real me as you had the moment you first fell in love.

But even now, the lover you have come to trust is not who I truly am. I am not that person who you discovered as a mirror of yourself. I am a different person, a person I fear you would find it impossible to dote on if you became acquainted with him. I never wanted you to have to know that side of me, Miyazawa. I wanted to shield you from ever seeing me as I do myself. I have been unfair to you while you have opened your heart to me willingly. I am still hidden, and I have intentionally allowed your vision of me to remain obscured. But, I cannot do it anymore. The gravity of my lie has fused itself with my guilt until it took up residence in my conscience. It is for this reason that I cannot continue deceptively as a contributor to this relationship, nor can I allow you to trouble yourself with someone so worthless.

With this said, I believe it is best that we not be together. It is the decision I have made, although it has taken this long to admit it to you and to myself. I can no longer look at you without feeling the full weight of my mistakes and shortcomings. I love you Miyazawa, and yet the very potency of that love is exactly why I cannot allow you to encounter the other self that is present within me. I'm so sorry. I aimed to never have to say these words to you. I hope that you can forgive me…someday.

Love,

Arima

The sound of paper being vigorously crumpled disrupted the silence in Yukino's room.

The letter was so cold. So unlike the boy she had grown to appreciate these past two years. Even the admission of his love for her left an empty cavity in her chest where her heart had once been. "Arima! You jerk." Although there remained a present scowl on her features, the tone was only mildly angry. In fact, Yukino was more disappointed than anything else. Is it true—that I wasn't able to reach him? If so, then this is my fault.

She moved to toss the letter into the pink wastebasket flanking her desk, but she couldn't somehow. Slowly, she disentangled the ball, plucking a red sharpie from her pencil holder. With a contemplative sigh, she touched the ink to the surface of wrinkled paper.

-

She will have read the letter by now, Arima guessed as his dark gaze found the telephone, half expecting it to ring. His hands folded into themselves and he brought his chin to them. He could no longer speculate upon the decisions he had made, what consequences might befall him. It was in his past. Just like the choices of his parents, there was nothing to be done.

The phone rang and he jumped. Had he not expected her to call? Well, maybe not so soon. Miyazawa was seldom the most sensible person when it came to her emotions. Would she yell at him? Would she cry until it became even more unbearable for him to accept his actions?

"Miyazawa," he whispered as he approached the black object. His hand fell around the receiver.

"Hello?"

-

Yukino refolded the creases exactly as Souichiro had done, and stuffed the article into her pocket. She whirled around with the intention of freshening up before she left, but screamed in surprise. Kano stood in the doorway, and at the unexpected outburst of her sister, she yelped as well, taking a few hurried steps backwards.

"Sis?" Kano asked. "Are you OK? What's got you so jumpy all of the sudden?" The younger sister, who so often took the role of eldest due to her impeccable understanding of human emotion, peered uncertainly at Yukino. "You've been crying," she realized out loud.

Yukino's proud face fell. She would not let Kano see her shed a single tear. "It's nothing." Never before had she been so relieved that all of her years of practice at phoniness had not gone to waste. "I'm going out for a bit," she announced as she moved toward the door.

Kano let her get halfway down the hallway before she called out. "You don't have to pretend, Sis. If you're hurting—well there isn't all that much I can do for you to take that away…but I can listen."

How right she is, thought Yukino. She gave into a smile. "Thank you, Kano."

The younger girl allowed her to leave, wondering if her grief had anything to do with the solemn look Arima had given at dinner a few nights before when he thought no one was watching.

-

"Want some company?" A seductive voice leaked from the receiver of the phone.

Souichiro blushed despite his temperament. "Asaba, you are absolutely incorrigible. Do you know that?"

The playboy gave a short laugh. "I just thought we could cure that sulky pouting you managed to keep up all day at school by a little late night rendezvous."

"Hideaki, I am really not in the mood right now," Arima ran frustrated hands through his black bangs as his slim body folded into a chair.

"Hmmm—that sounds promising. Do you think I could get you in the mood?"

Arima moaned. "If you are so horny, why don't you take it out on one of those 'Merryland' girls you used to have following you around all the time?"

"They can't satisfy me like you—"

"I'm hanging up." The threat delivered itself crisply into the air. Arima gazed into the darkness. Outside, he noticed the moon had not fallen completely to the night. The sky emitted a red glow. It reminded him of…that night. The bloody hue of the sky he recalled on the day his parents had abandoned him still haunted him even now. A shiver worked its way along his spine as he recalled the sound and scorch of that hand across his face.

"Aw—come on! You're no fun. Are you having a Miyazawa crisis or somethin'?" When Arima did not answer as quickly as expected, Asaba sighed heavily. "You guys are fighting?"

"Well actually, I think this is the calm before the storm—but something like that."

"Did you—?" Asaba paused with caution. He had to figure out how to word his question before he proceeded. "Did you—I mean—you didn't—uh—hurt her…or anything?"

"No." Arima replied blandly, knowing full well that Asaba's question had a double meaning. In the past few months, the kendoist had become entirely aware that his best friend knew of the aggressions that only seemed to process where Yukino was concerned. Hurting her feelings was one thing, but physically harming her—it was a fear that Arima often had himself. Yes, the letter had been written with the intent to set her free, but the truth was that even the thought of losing Yukino far surpassed any of the pain his parents might have caused. She had been the source of his happiness for such a long time now, if she decided to never speak to him again, Arima was unsure of how he would react. He could not live without her. This much he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Asaba cleared his throat. "Well, will Miyazawa talk to me about it—because, honestly, I cannot stand it when my friends are fighting."

"You don't have any friends."

Hideaki snickered. What a smart ass. "Why don't you let me play matchmaker and get this all fixed up for you two? I can be very persuasive," he purred.

"I don't think this is the kind of thing that can be mended, Hideaki. It's—it's just—too complicated."

"Too complicated for your best friend?" His tone had fallen to tenderness. It was seldom that he showed his compassionate side, but for some reason, when it came to those two, it was easily ripped right out of him.

"I—I don't deserve her!" Souichiro's hand clenched so firmly at the affirmation that his nails bit into the skin of his palms. "The way I feel about her, Asaba—it's not healthy. The things I desire—the thoughts I allow to creep into my daydreams. It's just—I cannot permit myself to defile someone so pure of heart."

Asaba wanted to comment that the girl his friend now spoke of was not exactly the purest of heart. Instead, he spoke with a bored air. "Are you finished yet? Why don't you let Miyazawa decide for herself who deserves her? I mean—geez, you said it yourself—you have been pining away for her almost as soon as you met her freshman year. And she loves you, Arima. Wake up. We're all fucked up inside. And you had a terrible injustice occur at an impressionable age. Get over it, man. Just let it go. Choose happiness." He paused. "If you don't get your act together, then you really will lose that girl."

"I broke up with her."

Asaba let the idea sink in for a bit before he chanced another two cents. "That doesn't matter. Do you think she will let you go?"

"I told her about the real me, Hideaki. She knows. I—I told her." Arima hated crying, but there was a stubborn lump forming in his throat that he was having difficulty containing.

"Arima—this is Miyazawa we are talking about. She won't let that stand in the way of her devotion for you. You really are crazy, ya numb-skull." Hideaki's laugh was a little more hesitant than before, but he was confident that this matter would result precisely as he had concluded.

At that moment, Arima heard an incessant hum surrounding him. It seemed, at first, that it had permeated the dense walls of his room. He moved to the window to peer outside.

"It's raining," Asaba noted.

"Yeah."

-

"Shit!" Yukino sputtered as she ran beneath the scarlet moon. It was raining. She felt the coldness seeping into her thin jacket, where it began to attach itself to her clothes. Minutes later, she found herself in front of a house. It was completely dark. Not a single light shone from the many windows belonging to its massive structure. Its presence was so cold. Like me, she thought. Her lips quivered as the heat steadily escaped her wiry limbs.

For a moment, she felt grounded. She had worked up the nerve to come this far, but there was something that bound her Mary Janes to the damp pavement. A thought entered her mind, and while it settled somewhere in her amber-rimmed eyes, Yukino's solid gaze fastened on the house. With determination, she strode up to the door, her finger ready to press the button that would trigger the doorbell.

A/N: More to come soon! Let's take a poll, shall we? What should Yukino do?

A.) Storm up and punch Arima, screaming, "You jerk! How could you dump me first?" (A personal favorite of my editor, CG)

B.) Skip over and plant a passionate kiss on his lips, crying, "Oh Arima! Say it isn't so?"

C.) Claim the number one spot on finals as she runs off with Hideaki Asaba into the sunset! (Maniacal laugh! I know I would)

PLEASE R/R!