Author's Note: The muse is a fickle thing, isn't it? You find inspiration in the strangest places. Sometimes, she will leave you along for days, weeks, months, and sometimes years. Other times, she is inspires you within hours. Anyhow, thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I promise this one will be happier…Never mind, I can't promise that.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Sailor Moon, Haruka/Michiru, nothing involving them. I wish I did…-cries- High and Mighty Color…another thank you for letting me borrow your lyrics!

The violinist sobbed for days, not leaving her room for anything other than the occasional trip to the bathroom. Hiroshi, worried about his charge brought her three meals a day, which she wouldn't touch. He saw that she laid in the fetal position almost twenty-four hours a day, clutching that teal body pillow, with a pair of headphones in her ears. She had some weight, her skin turning ghostly pale from the lack of nutrients. On the fifth day of her slow form of suicide, Hiroshi brought in a dozen roses with her lunch. She looked over at him, her face blotchy from the tears she had shed. He smiled sadly and bowed, walking from the room. She stood, wrapping herself in a small quilt and picking up the roses, seeing a card. She walked back over to her bed, and set the roses on the bedside table. With shaking fingers, she picked up the card. More tears began to fall as she read the blondes tiny scribble:

"I certainly won't sleep tonight, I'll remember what happened that day
My world disappears, leaving my heart aching"

All my love - Haruka

Michiru stepped into her teal slippers, pulling her hair into a pony tale at the base of her neck, holding it back with a navy blue ribbon. She peered into the vanity that sat before her. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes blood shot. She had never cried so hard in her life, not even when her father had died. But, seeing the roses, seeing Haruka's handwriting, she knew that her love still cared, and she knew that she would see her again.

Michiru toyed with the ring that sat on her ring finger, her tears ceasing to fall.

A week earlier…

Haruka's mother called her the eve of her final exam, screaming at her for transferring. It appeared that Hiroshima Tech had called the house and spoke to Azumi Tenoh, which wasn't a good thing.

"Get home as soon as your exams are done! You get home, and you explain yourself!" The yelling had continued for an hour, the blonde just taking it all in stride.

"Mother, I have an explanation. I have to leave this school…not for me…but someone else…Can I please explain then?" Her mother yelled at her for several more minutes before hanging up. Haruka sighed, and snapped her phone shut. She walked over to her desk, pulling out her Zune, and turning on her computer. She hooked up the piece of equipment, turning on the program to operate it, and set to work. "I love you so much Michiru…Hopefully in time you can come to forgive me," she began dragging and dropping songs into the play list, putting them in the order she wanted, each song with its own hidden meaning to her, most of them reminded her of the violinist. She furrowed her brow as she continued into the night, writing the lyrics to the songs in different languages, just to be sure that Michiru would understand their meaning. She knew the girl was clever, and fluent in several languages, but she was unsure if she would be able to understand songs that were sung in Icelandic.

After preparing the Zune and the letter, she tucked it into the bulky brown envelope she had obtained from the bookstore. She sealed it with a kiss, scribbling Michiru's name on it in permanent marker. She went to the closet and began shoving her things into a duffel bag. After packing her clothes, she walked around the room, picking up her things and piling them on her desk to pack. She carefully peeled off all of her pictures she had taped to the wall, folding them neatly and then sticking them in one of her textbooks.

Michiru came back to the room from her rehearsal after a few hours of a frantically packing blonde.

"Hello, love," she walked over, wrapping her arms around the taller girl, who stiffened at the touch. Michiru recoiled from the change the blonde was exhibiting. "Baby, what's wrong?" Haruka only shrugged, continuing to pack up her belongings. Finally, she turned, kissing the artist roughly.

"I love you…so much…you know that right?" her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away quickly. However, the question caught the violinist off guard.

"Of course I know that, Haruka-san…Why wouldn't I?" Michiru questioned gently, hugging the racer tightly. The blonde encircled the small girl with her arms, squeezing her tightly.

"Just a question…" she stooped, picking up the handle of one of the duffel bags. "My mom called, and she wants me home as soon as possible…" she smiled sadly, obviously upset about something.

"Yeah? Why not go tomorrow morning…" there was a tinge of sadness in her voice. She wanted to spend the last few days with her 'Ruka. Not alone…

"No…she seemed pretty pissed at me for something, I best not try my luck…" she walked out of the room with her first load. The violinist sat at her desk, noticing the large brown envelope. She scooped it up, seeing that it had her name on it, she went to open it.

"Don't open that until you are on your way home, Michiru-san!" the blonde had come back, and stood in the door way, the fluorescent lighting causing her shadow to stretch the length of the room.

"Why not, gorgeous?" Michiru smiled, and began to open it once again. Haruka's hands caught her own.

"Promise me. Promise me that you won't touch it until you are in the limo with Hiroshi heading home…" her eyes glistened with tears once again. The violinist nodded as Haruka knelt, slipping a gorgeous aquamarine ring onto her left ring finger. The aquamarine was a cushion cut set into a simple white gold band. "I want you to hold on to this…for me. I'll ask you the question that accompanies it when we see each other again," she smiled sadly, a solitary tear inching down her face. She kissed Michiru's forehead, her lips lingering there for a few seconds, and she quickly stood up, grabbing the last duffel bag. "Don't read it until you leave…"

"I…" the violinist stopped, because in an instant, Haruka was gone. The blonde practically ran to her car, the tears threatening to fall. She got into her car, throwing the duffel bag into the back seat and tore out of the parking lot, heading home to explain to her mother why she had just left the best thing in her life behind.

Three Days later

A yellow sports car pulled onto the campus of Nippon University, driving the familiar road to her old dorm. She saw a black limo parked in the front, a elderly man sitting in the drivers seat. She parked her car quickly, and jogged over to him.

"Hiroshi?" she questioned, the old man nodded.

"My name is Tenoh Haruka…I am, I mean…was Michiru's room mate," she said it all very fast, he held up a hand to stop her.

"I know who you are. What do you need, Tenoh-san?" he glanced at the door, waiting for the violinist to appear. The blonde bit her lower lip.

"I want to give you my phone number. In case, she needs me…I am getting a new number so that Michiru won't be able to find me…It'll make this whole situation worse if she speaks to me…I need her to forget me…" she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing on. "I'm giving you the number, in case something happens that only I can fix," she took out a tiny scrap of paper, handing it to him. She smiled sadly, and turned on her heel.

"Why are you doing this to her?! Is this just a sick game to you?" He screamed it, so upset that someone would hurt the aqua-haired girl so often. She walked back to him, grabbing the front of his shirt in anger.

"She needs that inheritance! She needs to forget me, because I am not going to be the reason she doesn't have a family!" she spat it, releasing his shirt with a gentle push, and jogged back to her car.

"She needs you, Tenoh-san…not her family…" he tucked the number into his breast pocket, watching the yellow car roar up the hill just as Michiru walked out of the dorm, a large brown envelope in her fragile hands.

As he pulled into the driveway at the Kaioh Estate, he opened the door to find Michiru sitting on the seat, clutching her knees to her chest, silent tears streaming down her face. He picked her up, and carried her into the house of her parents, her mother coming to meet them at the door.

"Michiru, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice sickly sweet with false love. Hiroshi glared at her. The violinist sniffled.

"Tenoh-san…broke up with me, mother. You don't have to worry about her and me a-anymore…" she began to sob in Hiroshi's shoulder. Megumi Kaioh stood there as the chauffeur carried her daughter up the stairs to her room. He returned several moments later, anger in his eyes.

"You should really reconsider this threat, Kaioh-san!" He bowed to her quickly before standing in front of her, his hands on his hips. She returned the gesture, looking up at the taller man.

"I won't tolerate that kind of behavior in my home! She is a Kaioh!" the sweetness in her voice was gone, replaced by battery acid. Her eyes narrowed, and the elder man knew he had picked a fight he could not win.

"That girl is the best thing to ever happen to Michiru-san. The best ever! Tenoh-san only left Michiru because she didn't want to be the reason her family disowned her. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted nothing more than to take your daughter and run far away with her. From you and from the rest of this judgmental world!" he bowed once more and exited the room, going to park the limo in the garage.

Several days later, Michiru was still in the state that she had been after first reading the letter. The dedicated chauffeur took her food from each meal, returning two hours later each time to see the food untouched, just the water, juice, or tea he had brought emptied.

After five days, he took the scrap of paper from his inside breast pocket, and dialed the numbers on the house phone. After three rings, he got an answer.

"Hello?" said a tired sounding Tenoh-san.

"Tenoh-san? It's Hiroshi…Michiru's chauffeur," he added the last part in there in hopes she would be more eager to help him. To his surprise, he hadn't needed the mention of her lover.

"What's wrong?" the blonde questioned without pause, the concern in her voice quite evident.

"Michiru-san…since we got home five days ago…she has done nothing but lay in her room. She only gets up to use the bathroom, and sometimes drink what I have to offer her. She has not eaten for four days," his voice cracked with worry.

"Her mother wouldn't like it if I showed up, would she?"

"I'm afraid not, Tenoh-san…"

"Tomorrow, there will be a parcel for Michi-san. Be sure that she gets it?" her own voice cracked, with worry, tears, and sorrow.

"Of course, Tenoh-san…"

"I wish it didn't have to be like this…" and she hung up.

Hiroshi sat the phone back down.

"Me as well, Tenoh-san…Me as well…"

The following day, as promised, a bouquet of gorgeous red roses sat on the front porch of the mansion addressed to Michiru.