So, my giant usual thanks to my lovely Uglygreenjacket for all her help! !

Are you guys still here with me? It's gotten so quiet and I'm worried if I'm doing something terribly wrong here xD… Let me know?

Anyways, on we go:

L

He snapped his anatomy textbook shut, packed it away and straightened up from his position against the side of the looming building Haruka Tenoh lived in, when he felt Usagi approaching the entrance.

The closer she got, the more her feelings intensified – he'd only felt them vaguely on her before, from where he'd been, but now they started bombarding him… She was in turmoil, and angry.

He'd been worried for a few minutes, tempted to rush in and demand an answer to what they were doing with her that made her get so riled up. It was only when she stepped through the door, caught his eye, and then averted her gaze just as quickly, lips set into a thin line, that he realized that her anger was directed at him. That he'd been the reason she was currently so riled up.

He frowned. What had he done?

She came towards him – crawling almost, she was so slow. As if she were reluctant to greet him.

His frown only became deeper. Usually she would rush towards him – even when she was irritated with him.

She was still in her active wear – a hugely oversized tank top that was thrown over her nude colored sports bra, carelessly tied into a knot around her midriff, and those extremely tight yoga pants that still made Mamoru blush from time to time, even after he'd long gotten used to the sports bra – she usually didn't shower there but at home, thus this was a common occurrence. He slowly walked up to her and took her school bag and duffel, which currently contained her school uniform, from her.

Usually she'd put her soft little fingers against his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss in greeting. Today, she stood unmoving, eyes directed at her feet, shoulders tense and raised, as if she were afraid he'd come too close.

He swallowed, nervous. He was suddenly very, very concerned. And frankly, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to ask her about it. This wasn't… He felt it in his gut she was disappointed in him. He was terrified he'd done something to break the spell… that she was beginning to see he wasn't all she believed him to be, that Minako might just be right about him after all.

He swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat, and carefully tried to reign the insecure and irrational panic back in. She loved him. He knew that, he could feel that, even right now when she was so angry at him. She was disappointed, guarded, but the feelings below were as unchanging as they would always be.

Still…

"So…," he began, trying to catch her eye but she purposefully looked away, even as they started heading down the street and towards the nearest metro station. "How…. Um, how was training?" he asked, and cringed. Way to beat around the bush.

She shrugged uncomfortably. "It was ok."

"What did they make you do today?"

"Yoga, mostly," she said, tonelessly.

"Oh."

"They said I need more balance…" she trailed off, and they fell silent.

He bit his lip. This was weird. This was where he should start chuckling, start joking. It was the perfect entré-point to rile his very unbalanced girlfriend up. He'd start joking with her, tucked underneath his arm, she'd huff and puff and roll her eyes before he'd dip her into a kiss… Instead the conversation trickled to a jerky stop, both feeling the same thing. Walking next to each other yet far apart, as if the air was charged between them.

Usagi glanced up at him. Just a moment – the first she'd directly looked at him, yet, and she whipped her head back around immediately, her breath hitching. Her throat was constricting, she was fighting back tears, he felt it as if it was happening to him, and it might just have, because he felt utterly helpless about it for once.

She swallowed audibly, her gaze stubbornly directed towards her feet. "Michiru said to bring a swimming suit next time. So she can teach me to make my movements flow more easily." She was forcing to make conversation, her words pressed, her head somewhere else. He knew, she knew that he knew, and still he was nodding along as if he didn't notice. "I don't even know when I've last worn mine. I don't know if it still fits."

"If it doesn't we'll go buy you a new one," he said, his voice coated and breaking.

She nodded, mutely. "They still think I'm that messiah-person…" she said in a small voice, towards the ground.

"Well, I think so too."

She sighed heavily. "… It's a dream. And you said yourself you only ever see a silhouette on that pillar…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He cleared his throat before he talked, yet still his voice was hitching. "I've dreamed about your silhouette all my life… I'd think I'd recognize it as you, don't you?"

She didn't answer, only exhaled long and audibly.

What remained between them was the most uncomfortable silence he had ever had with anyone, let alone her. The short walk towards the metro station seemed endless, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

She wasn't faring any better. He could feel her anxiety mingled in there with his additionally, riling him up even more. He'd never thought there could ever be a downside to their bond…

It got a bit better once they stepped into the crowded metro, and she was pushed slightly into his side. At least she didn't actively shy away from his proximity…

Still…Her hand, that was usually grasping his whenever they walked anywhere, was clenched and curled tightly against her leg, as if she were worried he'd take it.

Whatever it is that he did, it was enormous…

When they got off the train, two stops afterwards, and out of their exit, the familiar red cobblestones of Juuban greeting them, he ran his free hand through his hair, pulling at the strands slightly, the other tightening around the handles of their bags.

He gulped around the panic in his throat, his adam's apple bopping erratically. "Usako…What's wrong? Talk to me."

She snorted softly, sadly. "I could say the same thing…"

He looked at her bewildered, jerking his head to the side, confused. He could feel the hurt in her. What the hell had he done?

She pursed her lips, and looked straight on with scrunched eyes. "When were you going to tell me you're going to Harvard?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking rapidly.

Oh.

… Shit.

He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing would come out, so instead he just blinked at her, shocked, in the spotlight.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned on the spot, storming off in anger.

He cursed loudly and shook out of it, hurrying on behind her. "Usako, wait!"

"Don't call me that right now," she hissed, a few paces ahead of him.

They made an odd sight, he was sure of it. He in his vest and dress pants, she in her sports gear, fighting too loudly in the middle of their home district, him hurrying after her, begging her to stop and listen while he explained his faults away… He had to take a deep breath to calm himself, to find the right words.

Her stride was fast and determined, her arms crossed in front of her. He could feel her boiling anger towards him, the disappointment, but at least she wasn't running – if she were, he wouldn't be able to catch her.

This thought at least, made him a little calmer. If she really wanted to get away she would. But she wasn't.

So he harried his steps, so he was once again next to her, catching up to her long, fast strides. "Please… stop. Let me explain."

"What's to explain?" Usagi said crossly. "You're leaving, and you didn't even bother to talk to me about it first."

He sighed, his breath a bit labored, and then he frowned, hard. "Who told you that?"

Her steps slowed at that, until she stopped fully, sighing, defeated, and his heart missed a beat when her lips started quivering, and he could feel the lump in his throat only grow bigger in answer. "Does it matter?" she whispered, hoarsely.

"Yes," he said, loudly, sternly, determined. "Because it's wrong."

He could feel her heart stutter, the way she held her breath for a moment, her eyes flying towards his, finally. "What?" she breathed.

"I'm not going," he said, voice strong and sure, and took a step towards her, holding her gaze. Her eyes were brimming with conflicting emotions.

He could feel the relief flooding through her, and yet she said, "What? Mamo-chan… but… it's such a great opportunity… I mean they chose you… you'd—"

The next step he took practically closed the gap between them. Only a sliver of space remained between them, as it usually was. "As I said," he interrupted, leaning slightly towards her, "I'm not going. I promise."

They were standing in the middle of the footpath, blocking passer-bys that shopped and strolled along Juuban-Dori and shot them irritated looks, but Usagi didn't even notice them, he saw, and he blocked them out. She was still confused, kept her hands to herself. In her he felt relief, guilt, worry…

"But Mamo-chan… it's Harvard. You need—"

He swallowed, and broke eye-contact for just a moment to sigh and look exasperatedly into the distance, before he looked back at her and brought a hesitant hand to her chin. She didn't flinch, he noted, relieved. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you."

"Wha—"

"—I knew you'd think I should go. I knew you'd blame yourself if I didn't," he said, his eyes intense, his whole frame bent over her.

"But… ," she said, her voice still trembling, her eyes shining, before the look in them hardened slightly again, accusingly, "isn't it because of me?"

He bit his lip again, eyes trying to bore into her, to read her reaction before he'd even spoken. "Yes… and no."

She frowned, perplexed.

He sighed before he spoke. "Well, for one," his voice dropped to a whisper, suddenly more conscious about their surroundings, "do you really think Tuxedo Mask would leave Sailor Moon to face any potential danger on her own? I know I'm not as strong as you, but… I've got your back. Always..."

She blinked, then frowned. She wanted to protest, he could see that, feel it… that whatever Tomoe was doing, and no matter these silly dreams they all yapped on about, nothing had really happened – aside from that silly microwave – and whatever came, she could deal with it. But he stopped her, talked over her.

"But… in truth, it's because… Usako… you can't even imagine how lonely I was before I found you," he said, and she snapped her mouth shut, blinking up at him, "and I don't mean since we got together in this life… I mean since I found you in this life… Even when we were only running into each other on purpose and riling each other up… even then I wouldn't have left anymore. I need you… Usa… it's…"

She swallowed thickly, and he ran his hand back through his hair and smiled at her sheepishly, before continuing. "You brought all the color into my life…you know? Harvard is… it would be… ", he sighed, shaking his head, and she, finally, grasped his hands, tenderly. "All the prestige in the world that university brings with it, I'd just be spending my days missing my other half, it would all be colorless."

She stopped. He felt her heart beating fast, she was flushed, torn, somehow, between joy and exasperation, conflicted.

"But… Mamo-chan… I can't be the reason you don't fulfill your dreams. I can't. You need to go." Her voice was almost angry again.

He exhaled, and pulled her reluctant form towards him, touching his forehead against hers, never breaking eye-contact. He tried to look at her as sincerely as he could, opening all his feelings up to her so she'd understand. "Usa… it's not my dream."

She frowned, the movement on her forehead pulling at his slightly. "But…You want to be a doctor."

"Yes," he said, "and I can do that here. Keio is a wonderful university." She looked at him skeptically. "But even being a doctor is not my dream. It's a means to an end. It's so I can save people, keep them from harm, be allowed to heal anyone."

She inhaled deeply, through her nose. He could feel the lift of her chest against his frame, the hope fluttering from her through their bond, and he smiled at her warmly.

"My dream is to protect this world with you. So we can all live happily in it," he said, and it broke a dam.

She sobbed.

She couldn't hold it in anymore and fell against his frame, her arms flying around him, crushing him, clawing at his dark blue button-down shirt.

She was so, so, so relieved, it oozed out of her every pore, and he cursed whoever had told her.

He wrapped his arms around her in return, curling his body around hers, trying to mold her against him.

She hiccupped into his chest, her tears dampening the fabric, her fingers clawing into his back even through his shirt, and he only held her tighter in response. "I'm still mad you …didn't even …talk to me about it …though," she ground out between relieved sobs, and he couldn't help but chuckle in his flinch, which made her grunt in irritation, but slowed down her sobs and tears.

"You said I'd have a say in big decisions…," she mumbled and he gulped. She was right, he knew that.

They stood like that for a while, clawing at each other, relieved.

Her sobs subsided completely, her breathing turned calmer, and his heart slowed down, as well. Suddenly he could hear the street noises again, the people tutting about the two of them blocking the way like that, making a display like that, the rustle and hustle of a busy Tokyo street in the afternoon, of sliding doors and jingling chimes when people entered or exited the conbinis, of exaggerated voices greeting customers.

His breathing calmer now, the urgency and fright of the situation gone, Usagi felt softer in his arms, the tension in her gone, and he was suddenly aware of her warm naked skin under one of his hands around her bare midriff, about the slow rise and fall of her chest that was crushed to his body, about the smell of her hair and dried sweat.

"Mamo-chan…," she murmured after a while, breaking him out of his thoughts, "… it's Harvard…" Her voice was completely muffled by his shirt.

He sighed. "Well, you know…," Mamoru started, putting his cheek against the crown of her head, clutching at her tightly, "I thought… maybe, when you've graduated, maybe I could go when I'm in grad school, and you could come with me?… I would go if you could imagine going with me…"

Her hands twitched at his back, he could feel her shoulders roll, trying to look up at him, but he didn't give her time to voice the questions he could feel. "We could travel a bit before… See this world we're protecting."

Her hands curled back into the fabric. "…Makes sense as the prince of earth," she murmured.

"We could try all the different foods in all the places we go…," he said, his voice turning hopeful, suggestive and she chuckled. "Just an idea, but… would you think about it?"

She nodded into his chest, and he let his shoulders slump.

"Well, wouldn't it be hard for me to come along? I mean… you'd get a student visa… but I?" she said. She was barely understandable, talking directly into his chest, but he was used to it, and thus could understand her perfectly.

Still, he let go of her slightly so he could look her in the eyes. He needed to see her reacting for what he was about to say.

He gulped at her blinking, open face. "Well,… It wouldn't be so hard if we were married before that…"

Her eyes turned impossibly soft, and she cocked her head up at him, her lips forming into an impossibly warm smile.

L

Hotaru was on her way to her classroom. School had long ended, but this was Infinity, so lots of students still lingered around for club activity or other extracurricullars.

Really, she just wanted a place of refuge for a little while. Somewhere quiet where she could read and hide until she had her scheduled appointment with her father.

She sighed for a moment, because yes, this was the kind of relationship they had, she and her only living relative: scheduled appointments.

It used to be different, of course. It used to be so loving, before…

She shook her head, and entered her classroom. It was bright, the sun shone through the tall windows, and with the room being so high up in this giant building that was her school, there was no building nearby that would block the sunlight on its way in.

She walked up to the windows and opened one, to let a breeze in. It rustled the leaves and flower petals of a bunch of potted blue impatients that stood on the small window pane. They were a bit withered from the sun, hanging limp, and she couldn't keep the feeling away that they were somehow her kindred spirits.

They were, after all, frequently called 'touch me nots', and she also felt blue and withered. Broken.

They were tended over by one of her classmates – Ryoko. Botany Club. She'd heard her complain a lot that these flowers here just weren't growing as she would like them to. She didn't like the girl very much. In fact, she didn't like the girl at all.

But she figured that wasn't the plant's fault.

Hotaru slowly peeled off one of her black leather gloves, and, holding her breath, she touched one brown-tinted petal leaf.

It shimmered, immediately, and with just this touch of Hotaru's magic, the blossoms once again stood – tall, strong, radiantly blue. Alive. Healed.

Hotaru smiled at the little plant. It was a sad smile, but it was all she could manage, and she wished, so dearly, that she could do for herself what she could do for those flowers. Mending.

But, alas, she wasn't something one could mend. Her mechanic limbs and the darkness she could feel within herself reminded her of that every day.

Replacing her glove, she sighed, sat, and flipped open her book. A heavy, 900+ page tome, 'Vanished Kingdoms - History of the Half Forgotten Europe'. It spoke to her in ways she was uncomfortable to talk about – this draw she felt… to ruin and destruction, to places that no longer were.

It was eerie. It frightened her, this darkness.

She felt two entities within herself; one destroyed for passion, for a purpose, for a goal and found joy in it; the other destroyed for order, rationally, almost coldly and without empathy, and found beauty in it.

Hotaru did not know which of the two she was more afraid of, which of the two she could control and which would eat her alive until nothing of herself was left.

And she didn't know, either, which of the two she had these strange abilities from, though she did know which of them urged her to use them more, craved for that feeling of power it gave her.

The door creaked open, making Hotaru jump nervously, not too slightly. She must have come across like a scared little deer, and it bothered her.

The girls – Ryoko, of all people, and one of her friends, jumped slightly, both at seeing Hotaru sitting here and her obvious frightful reaction.

Ryoko snickered, and rolled her eyes dramatically, for her friend's benefit. "Aww, did I frighten you, little porcelain doll?" she sneered, and her friend giggled behind a held up hand.

Hotaru's eyes narrowed, glaring fiercely. Damn, did she hate that girl.

Ryoko held a big, bright red, plastic watering can in her hand, filled to the brim, and walked toward the impatients Hotaru had just revived. She just watered away, not even acknowledging its current state or that it didn't need any watering at all.

They made their way back out, but not without throwing Hotaru peculiar looks. And with a sniff and an eye roll, Ryoko called, in that sneering voice of hers, "Try not to break, little porcelain doll!" behind her back as they exited the room with a cruel giggle.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Hotaru to exhale harshly.

She'd been gripping the sides of her desk with both hands, gloves clawing at the wood. Everything in her screamed to rebel, to throttle… to destroy. To take her gloves off and run after Ryoko. To show that repugnant person why she didn't touch.

Hotaru had to close her eyes, willing the darkness back inside her, clenching her teeth.

They ground so loudly in her jaw she felt she'd crack them. She could barely contain the agitated forces pushing up from her core.

Angry, frustrated tears sprang from her eyes, and with a feral grunt she tore her gloves back off her twitching hands, as she strode back to the impatients.

Touch me nots.

She touched them, and immediately, they withered, shrunk, and died, until only dried out blackened sticks remained of them, the blossoms crumbled to ash.

L

AN: So… I love Hotaru. She might even be my most favorite to write. But she's DEFINITELY also the hardest – to hit this very narrow border between kind, fragile and creepy.

So, I would totally love, cherish, and whoop at everything you have to say about that! Talk to me, please!

And also, no Harvard. We're not doing that shit here xD