It's raining.

Pouring, actually.

For once, the weatherman was right.

I pull my hood forward to cover my bangs and glance down at my watch.

I've been here for a while now.

I'm already late for school.

But I don't really care all that much.

Because I needed this.

I needed to visit him today.

So he knows that I still love him.

That I still think about him everyday.

That I'm still picking up the pieces of my heart that he shattered only a month ago.

I gaze up at the dark sky and breathe in deeply.

Then, I look back at the gravestone in front of me.

"I have to go now, Grandpa," I say aloud. "But I'll be back real soon."

I can hear my voice shaking with the words I speak.

And, as I turn around to leave the cemetery, I notice how wet my cheeks are.

It's rain, I tell myself.

It's just rain.

~O~

"You're not eating."

I stare up into the brown eyes peering expectantly into mine. "Huh?"

"You're not eating," he repeats, pointing to my plate with his fork.

I look down at my plate; still full of carrots, peas, and green beans.

"Oh…yeah, I guess I'm not."

I hear my friend sigh at this.

Then, I hear the sound of his silverware being set down on the lunch table.

I move the vegetables around my plate, waiting for him to speak.

"Yuugi…"

Here we go again.

And he wonders why I avoided him the last month of summer.

"I'm really concerned about you," he says. "I mean, I know you're still grieving and all, but you look awful."

"Oh?" I snap. "And how should I look, Ryou?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he blurts out, realizing his poor choice of words. "I just want you to be okay, that's all."

"Well, I am," I assure him. "I'm just having a really hard time adjusting…like you said yesterday – it's to be expected."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "I did say that. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place."

At the apology, I offer him a small upturn of my lips. "It's fine."

It's not fine.

Nothing is fine.

But I don't care.

After that, we both fall silent.

Because while Ryou's trying to think of ways to fix me, I'm counting the calories on my plate.

~O~

Atem Sennen is in my Art class.

I can't help but be slightly surprised by this.

I hadn't pegged him for the type.

After all, this was the same guy who had won Jr. Prom King last year.

The same one who got an early acceptance into Oxford.

Who had everything he could ever need – friends, family, and the opportunity to be with any girl he wished.

I feel a little sting in my chest at that sentiment.

Probably because I have been infatuated with him for the past two years.

I had even talked to my Grandpa about Atem.

About how it felt to love someone I knew I would never have a chance of being with.

If not for the sole fact that he was straight, for the realization that I could never measure up to someone so incredible.

I take in a shaky breath at the memory of my Grandpa and I talking about it over this summer – it was actually one of the last conversations we had.

I bite my lip at the thought and feel my stomach begin to fold in on itself.

Suddenly, I'm not in the mood to eat dinner tonight.

I'm brought out of my musings by the sound of the teacher's voice, telling us to start.

So I clear my head, close my hand around my brush, and begin.

It doesn't take too long for me to feel the weight of Atem's stare and, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him watching my paint strokes.

Then, after a minute, he picks up his own brush and dips it in red paint.

I smile sadly at that.

Red's my favorite color.