Okay, finally, an update. -enter heart here-

I'm trying to get all my stories updated ... And you know why I'm suddenly updating? Well, let's just say one of my all time favorite stories was updated and I feel INSPIRED.

Anyway, I will be writing more stories for SC!. I know I told some people I won't be, but, never mind! I am! : D

A short story with be coming up soon, so wait for it. ;D (And, so, is like, I dunno, four months, due to my stupid procrastinating self =_=;;)


[ ` o n e s m i l e ]

"I need you.
I need you so much.
So smile for me,
because I need you."



Disclaimer: I do not own Shugo Chara!, and never will.

The depressed woman sat by the cold window, her fuchsia hair in a mess and her fingers so hot that they were numb from the now warm cup of coffee in her hands. The coldness radiated from the glass window, cooling the the woman's forehead that was placed on the window. Her over sized sweater stopped about four inches above her porcelain knees. Each day the woman sat—sat and never complained. Whether the weather outside was snowing, raining, or boiling hot, she lamented beside the window—always. Today, the weather was raining, small droplets falling onto her front lawn and the window.

In the distance, inside the woman's house, her phone rang. She let it answer to her voice mail.

"Hi, you've reached Hinamori Amu, so sorry I couldn't pick up your call. Leave your name and number and I'll call you back soon ..."

BEEP.

"Amu ... it's Nagihiko. Call me back soon. I need to talk to you."

Ever since he had left, her gregarious attitude had left her. She could still remember: it was today, two years ago, November 17, when he had left. His two year anniversary of disappearance.

Ever since he had left, her gregarious attitude had left her. Amu was always someone who'd people come to her for help—whether it was about boys, school, or overall job problems, everyone came to her. They valued Hinamori Amu, found her to be exciting and outgoing. She had everything thing she wanted, too—kind friends, a good job, a great life, even a beautiful love life.

Ikuto.

He had left. Just out all of a sudden, he left. Left her and his family, out somewhere. The only thing she knew was he took his violin with him, and nothing else. He told no one where he was going—and so, no one ever knew. She remembered, suddenly, the night before his disappearance:

The door bell had rung when she had just finished dressing up in her pajamas. Her feet thudded against her wood floor as she opened the door. There he was, dripping wet from the thunderous rain outside. Amu's eyes had widened, and she quickly shooed him inside. There, he sat on her couch, his violin case lying on the small coffee table. She had quickly gotten him a towel, and he wrapped it around himself, shivering.

"You idiot," she told him, her voice concerned. "what were you doing out there in the cold? You weren't even wearing a jacket!"

"I'm sorry."

She had frozen, for he never said sorry. Never. Even when he had once accidentally hurt her feelings, he didn't say sorry—he only smiled and said things that made her forget about what he said.

"Ikuto," she said, sitting cross-legged beside him. "what's wrong?"

He didn't say anything, nothing at all, but instead, he looked at her, his eyes hallow and sad. "Amu," he whispered, his voice cracked. "Amu ... Amu ... Amu ..." That was all he said—her name.

And the next morning, when she woke, and found the now dry towel folded neatly beside her and his violin gone and him gone and only a note in his place with her name on it, she knew.

He had left.

She didn't read the note. She hadn't, she couldn't. Because inside that note was words she didn't want to hear, didn't want to know because they were too painful, too excruciating.

Amu didn't do anything to the note—just left it there. It stayed there and stayed there for about a month, on the coffee table, until finally, she picked it up and placed it in her room. And even then, she didn't read it.

Now, as she was sitting beside the window, two years after his disappearance, she went into her room. Amu picked up the note laying on her nightstand and quickly unfolded it.

Amu.

I'm sorry about last night. I bet I scared you, even though I didn't mean to. I needed someone, Amu, and my feet led me to your place. Even though I didn't want to, even though I knew it'd be hard for you, I went to your house. Only your house. In my mind, I was thinking, "I should go home, tell me my parents I'm leaving." But, I went to your house instead. I wonder what that means, Amu? I still do. I don't think I'll ever forget—I went to my friend's house instead of my family's.

I bet you knew I was leaving. Maybe not before, when you were treating me, because in your eyes, there was concern for me. But, deep in your heart, you knew. And the next morning, when I was gone, did you have a feeling? Did you have a feeling, deep in your heart, that you knew I left you? You always were able to read through me. Always. Why should last night be any different? I wanted to spend my last night in Japan with you, Amu. Only with you. That's why, I think, I went to your house. By the time you're reading this, I'm not in Japan. Or maybe I am, if you hadn't read it the morning after that night.

I miss you. I really do, and I didn't want to leave you, believe me, I didn't. I left because I wanted you safe, Amu, that was the reason. Though, the question that echoes in my mind everyday before I was planning and will for future days is do you believe me? Do you trust me? I left for your safety, Amu, I really did.
I will end this note now.
But, all I wanted to tell you is that I love you.
Yes, quite a tragic way to confess, isn't it?
I love you, Hinamori Amu, and I always will.

Love,
Ikuto

She cried. She hadn't cried when he left, because there was a hollow feeling in her chest that prevented her from shedding any emotion. Now, she cried. He loved her. He left because he loved her. But, could she believe it? She didn't know if she could. He was too coy, always too playful at times, but he was serious when he wrote his letter. She didn't know what to believe, anymore. She did, but not anymore.

Amu didn't bother to wipe the drenched tears that leaked from her eyes as her front door rang. She didn't want to answer it, but something in her heart felt like she should.

Her small, fragile, bare feet thudded softly against the wood floor as she walked to over the door. The person who was standing there, in all his glory, took her breath away.

Ikuto.

She didn't believe it. Amu stared at him, at his azure colored eyes, his lean built, his violin case strapped casually over his shoulder. She felt her tears leak slowly again from her eyes as she stared at him. His expression was ... unreadable, for a first. There was something he was hiding in his eyes, something that she couldn't tell what it was.

"I-Ikuto?" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

His voice had gotten deeper, more huskier, when he said, "May I come in?" And it made her shiver all the more. She stepped aside as he walked in.

Amu closed the door behind him and watched him as he surveyed the room.

"I-I'll go get some refreshments," she turned to run into the kitchen, but a warm hand on her arm stopped her. She turned to look at the hand, and compared. A slightly tan hand against an absolute pale one. Ikuto's hand traveled down her arm, and he gripped her small hand, twining his slender fingers through hers.

"You haven't been eating," he observed.

Amu turned herself around, into his arms, and gripped his shirt.

And cried.

The Ikuto that was stoic a minute ago suddenly picked her up and placed her on the couch. They both sat there, and he whispered choked words through, "I'm sorry, Amu, I'm so sorry."

"Why?" she cried at him. "Why did you leave me?"

He didn't say anything until she quieted down. Once she did, he said, "There were people after me, Amu. I couldn't afford for you to get hurt. I would've died."

She sniffled. Barely audible, she whispered, "You could've taken me with you."

"I couldn't have."

"Ikuto!" She wrenched herself out of his arms. "DID YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU?" she screamed, her tiny frame trembling. "You were always there for me—always. T-that night, you freaked me out so bad, Ikuto. I was worried. Extremely worried. A-and when you left me that morning, I didn't read the note. I didn't read the note until today, dammit! Ikuto ... I-I just ... WHY DID YOU HURT ME? There was no contact, nothing at all from you. How was I supposed to know whether you were alive or DEAD?" Her throat hurt from yelling; she hadn't talked so loud for years.

"Amu," he whispered. "I don't know how you can forgive me ... but, I thought about you ever day. I wanted to send something to you, to tell you I was all right, but I couldn't, Amu. They were tracking everything I said, everything I did. I had to lay low for a long time."

Amu stood there, trembling, until finally, Ikuto stood up and wrapped his long arms around her. She cried into his shirt, sobbing horrid sounds that soaked his shirt.

Ikuto used his index finger to tilt her head up and he kissed her lips softly, tenderly. His lips traced kisses over her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones, and her forehead.

He picked her up again, and this time, laid her on her bed in her bedroom. He kissed her forehead one more time, parting her pink bangs, and whispered, "Go to sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

She gripped his hand. "I can't sleep ... I'm afraid you'll ..."

His finger caressed her face, softly and so tenderly Amu couldn't help but close her eyes at the touch. "I promise, Amu. I'll never leave again—I swear on my life."

"Swear?"

"I swear," he smiled, as her eyes close and she sighed. "Go to sleep now, my love."

And before she fell asleep, Amu smiled—a sweet, short smile that accelerated his heartbeat.

"Thank you, Ikuto."

That was all she wanted—to smile.


Review! (: If it feels kinda rushed, I'm sorry. I had to take a shower and I wanted to finish it before my shower started. :P My mom'll kill me if she finds me on this thing T_T Darn, I finally updated something! Review, pwease!