Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All rights to respective owners.

A/N: Hey look! An update! It's been awhile but struggles of a student I guess.

Wanna give a HUGE thanks to FloraOne with all her endless help and support of this fic, you honestly keep me going girl lol And would also like to give MAJOR credit to UglyGreenJacket who kindly betaed this chapter and I'm sooooo grateful for it! (She is SO awesome and SO nice!)

And also shoutouts to all you guys reading and reviewing! And the ones who send asks on Tumblr and talk about it! Like I love you guys!

And to my last note: this original chapter was split in half cuz it's too damn long so I'm afraid you guys still have to wait on the reveal after party lol but enjoy some high school pining and LOTS of Mamoru POV.

If it brings anyone some relief the next chapter/the second half of this chapter won't be too far away. I do have exams like legit, right now (no seriously I have my first exam today XD) so for a few days I'll be on a break but next week I'm back and will update relatively fast-ish.

Okay author's note done and go on with business as usual readers and enjoy!

Chapter Ten

Seven Years Ago

"You need to do something."

He paused briefly, considering his options, but proceeded to work through his Calculus homework. "I don't need to do anything. Can you hand me my calculator?"

Motoki stood still, but caved with a huff while digging through the backpack laid on the floor. "I'm telling you that you can't hide this forever."

"287 to the fifth power," he whispered to himself, grabbing the grey device from his friend's hand and punching in the equation on the screen. "And no, by the way."

Motoki threw his head back. "Oh, come on!"

"There's no reason for me to do anything," the black-haired teen responded, posing the eraser tip of his pencil at the corner of his mouth, concentrated for a few seconds, then went back to finishing off the problem.

Motoki stomped back to the bed, flopping down on it with an exasperated sigh. "Mamoru, you're never going to get the girl, if you don't grow some you know, balls."

"I'm perfectly fine where I am, Motoki," he sang, hunched over the lighted desk, but unfortunately he had lost his train of thought on math, rather, he had reboarded the blonde, blue-eyed, funny, kind, amazing…

He shook his head, abandoning those thoughts, and returned to the word problems that were on hand to him right now.

"We both know that Masao is the last person she should be dating," Motoki commented from his laid position.

Mamoru sighed through his nose, agreeing silently. "Well, it's her choice, her life," he nearly whispered, his pencil shaking with his hand. "They're almost to a year so...he's doing something right."

"I don't know," his friend scowled. "I just know she deserves better."

'She does,' Mamoru's mind uttered. "As long as she's happy…."

He lazily shut his eyes as he heard the sheets ruffle and the bed squeak behind him, preparing for the lecture.

"What about your happiness, Mamoru?" Motoki chided, rough, angry. "I know that you value her happiness, I do too! But you've been in love with this girl since like the sixth grade!"

"It was the eighth grade," the hunched form corrected, his handwriting turning shaky across the worksheet.

"Oh, okay sure," the green-eyed teen spat sarcastically. "She deserves better. She deserves you."

Mamoru finally gave up on completing his school work in silence - knowing it was due next week anyway - and spun around in his desk chair to face a standing Motoki. "No, she doesn't. And as long as she's happy, I'm fine too."

Motoki rolled his eyes, landing on the black comforter again with a 'plop'. "Denial's really doing a number on you, huh?"

Mamoru couldn't believe the audacity of his best friend. Of course, if handsome, golden-boy Motoki had feelings for a girl, he would have had no problem having the said girl falling over her own feet to accept his confession. But, himself, confessing to her wouldn't work out in the same outcome. That he knew with absolute certainty.

Afterall, he had perfectly orchestrated a cause and effect probability algorithm for every situation, a pros and cons list, hell, he considered going to a fortune teller just to see if the fates and mighty powers above were even in his court of favor.

"Motoki, there's no way I'm ever going to confess my-," he paused, his mind searching for an innocent word to use in place of the more obvious word you would use with these types of feelings, "-crush to Usagi Tsukino. It's a lost cause and more importantly one-sided."

"You don't know that," Motoki sang annoyingly.

"She has no idea I exist."

"Yes, she does!"

"Yea, because of you!"

"You have a nickname for her," he pointed out.

"Yea because of you," Mamoru repeated slowly, "It was your idea to call her Odango Atama. Plus, she hates the name!"

"Still a nickname."

"A nickname does not mean anything," he nearly screamed in frustration. "Yes I love her but she'll never look or even think of me as more than a friend of Motoki's. The day that Usagi Tsukino likes me will never come to pass."

He had made his point clear and the eighteen-year-old sprawled on his mattress didn't as much as flinch, so he took his victory and swiveled around in his wheeled desk chair, finding the peace and quiet for his homework at long last.

Mamoru was barely finished with his fourth math problem when he heard that gasp. That 'I-just-got-the-perfect-idea-Mamoru-and-it's-totally-brilliant-and-you're-part-of-it' gasp he dreaded with every fiber of his being.

"Mamoru!"

"I don't even wanna know what you thought of."

He yelped, jumping a good inch in his chair when two hands came down roughly on his shoulders, and a voice muttered into his ear. "What if you could confess to her but she wouldn't know?"

Spinning around suddenly, Mamoru met the gleam in Motoki's green eyes and nearly let go of his bladder. "Moto-"

"I have a plan."

"...you and your lab partner will be graded equally on this, so don't think one of you can slack off while the other does all the work."

A few groaned, some were glad for all the workload lifted off their shoulders, but he was trembling and hiding it under the table.

"Now, for this partner project," Mr. Fukyi informed to the room, "You will need to work on it outside of class with your partner. At least, if you want a decent grade that is."

'No. No. No. NO.'

"So I'll give you all some time to talk out your schedules and decide what will work best while I pass around the information packets," he held up a huge batch of papers.

Outside of class? It was bad enough dealing with his feelings for her during their shared class, but now he had to spend time with her, outside, open space, just the two of them.

He knew it without even looking that she had already turned, an idea of where to work on the tip of her tongue.

'Suggest the library! The arcade? After school in a classroom! Somewhere safe and public and-'

"-at my house!"

He froze.

"My mom makes these awesome lemon pies and well my brother Shingo will be an absolute pain unfortunately," she wrinkled her nose but then a bright smile appeared, "But we can always go to your place if you want!"

His eyes widened. "NO-I mean I don't think that'll work out," he corrected as he lowered his voice and shrunk down.

"Oh, okay," she hesitated, but nevertheless, she grinned again. "So my house?"

His heart pounded and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He could say 'no', he could suggest one of his ideas, but all that came out- "...s-sure."

Triple checking that the address was correct, Mamoru walked up to the front door of Usagi Tsukino's house. He was a few minutes early from the time they intended, so, like a creep, he stood pacing in front if her house.

He could do this, he could talk academically to her. He just had to imagine that they were in the classroom, under Mr. Fukyi's watchful eye, surrounded by their classmates, boring table encasing them together. This would be easier, especially since her parents would be, no doubt, in the living room or the kitchen, a few feet away from them.

It was strange, seeing her house for the first time ever, appearing like any other house, yes, but so different because it was hers. Which window was hers? Did she trip on these steps everytime she was late to school? Maybe she visited that little convenience store he passed, a few streets over and down.

He stopped the pacing, and took deep breaths to calm his hammering heart, wipe his sweaty hands on his jeans. It was just a project. They were working on a project, that's why he was here in the first place. He had to keep that in mind, and the night would go on without a complication in sight.

Just barely past five o'clock.

He nodded. It was safe to knock and announce his presence.

Rapid footsteps and a muffled 'I'll get it!' came to the door being whipped open but instead of blonde odangos or even a parental gaze he was prepared for, Mamoru's eyes fell lower to a young boy with a recognizable mop of gold hair.

A satisfied smirk graced his small face. "Ohhh, so you must be my sister's dat-"

"Move it, baka!" A narrow hip jutted out and sent the kid flying behind the door, and that hip gradually revealed itself as his brightly grinning lab partner.

"Hey, Chiba-san, you made it!," she exclaimed after latching onto his wrist and dragging him into the house. "Did you find the place okay? I left some of the lights on so you could find it easier. And I even had my annoying little brother keep lookout just in case you walked past the house or something!"

"Smooth," the boy from before muttered as he shuffled back to his video game that was set up on the flat screen in the next room.

He slipped off his shoes with shaky hands and took the chance to take in the surroundings of the warm, cheerful home. Family photos lined of the walls or the flat surfaces in the living room, while a bookcase filled with literary works and possible photo albums sat in the corner, and from where they were standing, he could see the sea of shoes placed next to the door.

Once he straightened, he adjusted the glasses perched on his nose and his backpack strap, only for both to be jostled again when his arm was yanked through the hallway and towards the set of stairs and he could hear more than feel the vein pop out from his forehead.

'Whyarewegoingupthestairs. Whyarewegoingupthestairs. Whyarewegoingupthestai-'

"We'll be working in my room, Mom!"

'WHAT?!'

"Alright, sweetie," a feminine voice answered from another part of the house.

He nearly tripped on every stair, he almost tripped on the pink rug once they had entered the bunny-decorated door, and he fell all together, when she began a small tour of her room, proudly presenting a crowded but charming corkbroad of photos, mementos, tickets, decent test grades, drawings, anything that could be tackable was pinned on the 'wall of fame'. He got the chance to really look at a few of the pictures, majority were with her gaggle of friends, some with her family, he even saw Motoki in some of them, but it was the intimate photos in one corner that made his gaze fall, and look to Usagi who was happily explaining how it took a whole week to properly make the board.

Next was seeing the brimming bookcase, every conceivable manga series mismatched with others. Her fluffy, moon and rabbit designed comforter was custom made by her grandmother, then the lace curtains were a gift from her aunt, and sometimes, in the summer, she would read mangas by her open window and eat mochi ice cream.

It was finally after her long spiel about her favorite stuffed animal, that he broke from his trance and got them to sit on the floor at her table, packets and papers and pencils sprawled every which way.

They were assigned their own packets to do separately and he breezed through it, looking up to see she was still on the first page, fisting hair and nibbling on her pencil. He coughed to stifle his laugh at her bewildered expression towards the questions and took the opportunity to take a second look around her room. His fingers crawled through the soft rug he was resting upon and he mused the darkening sunset out her window. He didn't quite know what to expect from Usagi Tsukino's room but this certainly would have fit.

And like a magnet, Mamoru's eyes found the corkboard, that one, small corner with the adorable smiles and photo booth hijinks and the dates those two had been on and…

She looked so happy.

"C-Chiba-san?"

He peered through his dark fringe to meet her eyes that looked so scared but so sweet, and she motioned to her half-blank piece of paper. "C-Could you by any chance, help me?"

He frantically nodded at first but caught himself and calmed. "Sure."

"Great!"

What he did not expect was her to wriggle closer to him, for her knee to bump into his, for her bare arm to brush against his, when she moved to push a stream of hair behind her ear, and he had to bite his lip at the silky strands that skimmed his elbow or at the skin of her neck and shoulder that the thin spaghetti straps of her top exposed right in front of his eyes.

He was trying so hard to concentrate, to answer her questions to the best of his ability but the fruity smell of her shampoo was toxic to him in the best and worst way. 'You're creep, you are a creep. Just…..breathe through your mouth.'

Her lips were moving and he realized he wasn't even listening.

"...is the point of stupid chemistry anyway?!"

A frustrated pout formed and he softly breathed in and out before finding his voice relatively solid. "Well it is science, and it demonstrates problem-solving skills as well as how to be objective and reasonable-"

"But how am I really going to use this in life," she asked, face in a propped up hand. The table vibrated and she scoffed at her phone, throwing it back down.

He cleared his voice, grunting and searching for the right words. "Um well, what are you planning to do after you graduate?"

Shoulders tensed and the pencil spinning paused. "I-I don't know yet."

"Well, I'm sure whatever you do," he cracked the smallest of smiles, more of a relaxed straight face than a smile, "You'll do great, Odango Atama."

Her nose scrunched up at the annoying nickname, but he flinched at her sudden, little giggle. "Thanks," she said. "Masao, my boyfriend, thinks I shouldn't even consider university. Says I should go for modeling or being an idol because I'm so beautiful and I wouldn't cut it in school but…."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"Well, what's your dream?"

Her head tilted up to his curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Your dream," he explained, nerves coming back, "What you wish for your future, what you picture."

"Oh," she sighed, turning back around to his delight, "I don't know what I picture."

He almost didn't hear it and tried to think, but it was as if she had shifted closer during the conversation and was that her foot tapping against his?- "Well, body chemistry is something you can use to your advantage for any career I think." 'Think only academics. Academics.'

"Body chemistry-," her body snapped up and she whipped around to give him a huge smile. "You mean like chemistry-chemistry? The romantic chemistry?!"

"No, not like romantic chemistry, Odango," he replied but tried to correct it when her face fell, "It-it's more like brain chemistry, how certain chemicals are released in your mind to make you feel different emotions."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and that's when he noticed how truly close she was to him. In her mind, the proximity between them was probably normal, and just friends sitting next to each, discussing schoolwork like nothing. But to him, he could vividly see her swimming pools of azure eyes, and he could count each eyelash around it, the small studs in her ears and-

And her now wrinkled nose, making it obvious she was trying to comprehend his words but it was still difficult.

He swallowed the lump and pushed his glasses up his nose, reaching for a spare notebook thrown across the table and opening it to a fresh page. "Here."

Copying from his own memory, and testing his lacking artistic skills, he made a rough sketch of the human brain. "So, here's the brain, just think of the different chemicals in your mind are like filled up balloons. And the right action, or thing, has to happen for a specific balloon to pop and release that chemical it holds into your brain."

Of course his explaining probably wasn't all that sound but her eyes seemed to clear and adjust to the information. "Oh, and so the chemical that it releases changes your mood or emotions?"

"Yes," he confirmed, keeping down his smile and resisting the urge to fist pump.

"So, what kind of chemicals are there," she asked, enthusiasm shining in her eyes. "What chemicals do what when they're released?"

Almost, almost, did he get caught up in her gaze and he made this weird noise in the back of his throat from the surprise but he swiveled to his sketch, focusing on writing down the chemicals as quickly as possible, just to at least avoid looking at her. "Ah, well there's chemicals like norepinephrine, serotonin, dopamine-"

And he lost her again. "Woah, woah, too many 'ine's, Mamoru!"

She realized her slip and grew an adorable shade of red. "Sorry, I mean Chiba-"

"You can call me Mamoru," he rushed out, hand flying behind his neck, "I-I mean it's fine."

"Okay," she gushed, "Then you can, and should, call me Usagi! Stop with the Odango Atama business." She giggled, and he hid his ridiculous shudder when her hand swatted his t-shirt clad shoulder but a finger or two just gazed the skin below his sleeve.

"O-okay," he nodded and returned to the notebook, because he had to stay focused on schoolwork, only schoolwork and not her face.

She sighed, big and frustrated, her phone buzzing again with a message but she ignored it this time. "Can you just got through each chemical and explain what they affect when they're released?" she asked, craning her head to observe what he had written. "You really have to break it down for my big dumb brain."

He rolled his eyes at her ridiculous statement, snorting. "You are not dumb. I know you know this."

The deep frown continued to live on her face, cheeks puffed out, one hand threaded through her bangs the other twirling the pencil's sharpened tip on the paper.

He finished his sketches and seated the notebook between them on the table. "Here, we'll start with norepinephrine, it's basically like the 'fight or flight chemical', it deals with your body's stress response." Her hand moved across the paper. "Then dopamine is the chemical that deals with your pleasure and reward, the happy chemical, people call it. And then serotonin regulates your mood and social behavior, like your appetite, sleep, memory, and-"

He grew beet red and snapped his mouth closed.

"And?" she questioned, her pencil ready on the paper to finish his sentence.

Academic discussion was supposed to be safe! "A-and..," he wasn't thirteen, he could say it, "...and sexual desire."

He saw it, he saw her pause and her arm turn a redder shade. "Oh, okay."

The tension changed, it was heavier, silent, as Usagi scribed down answers on her packet. It was just a word- two words - harmless words, but you could cut the silence with a butterknife and they continued in this stillness.

Once in awhile, he would look over her shoulder to see what she was writing, and once a while he would point to an answer and mumble about changing something which she did, erasing and rewriting.

Her phone began buzzing up again, but each time she would flip it over, scoff, and dismiss it. Mamoru caught the caller i.d. one time - by accident! - and scolded the one part of him that rejoiced. It was obvious that her bright glow was dimming as time went on in buzzing silence, he shouldn't be happy about her relationship woes.

This was supposed to be easy, carefree, and so simple to get through.

Usagi broke the silence, while still writing. "So, what do you do for fun Mamoru?"

Caught off guard, he flushed trying to think of something he did for fun, that didn't sound completely boring. "Uh well, I-I read books, tutor people-"

"For fun," she mused with a laugh, turning around to face him, her knee retracting to brush against his. "Like, are you in any clubs or sports? Motoki didn't mention you did."

What did he do? "Well, I am in the Science Club and-" You're so screwed "-Chess Club."

He was expecting an awkward 'oh', or 'that's fun?' or anything other than-

"No way! You're in Chess Club?"

His brow deepened in confusion at her immense happiness. "Uh yes."

"I love Chess," she confessed with the widest of smiles, "Especially the part when you say 'Checkmate'! That's my favorite part!"

"It is fun to say," he laughed, breaking into a full smile, filled with joy and a bit of relief.

And her smile grew tenfold. "So, Mamoru Chiba does smile?"

He cocked his head a little to her question but nervously chuckled. "I really don't smile much…"

"No, you don't," she agreed, her face turning softer, "But you should. It looks nice on you."

It was a struggle not to flush at her words. "Thank you." His answer made him want to facepalm.

"And do you always have to wear these glasses," she asked, pointing to where they sat on his nose. "Like I know my dad is blind without his, but my friend Ami only uses hers to read."

Suddenly self-conscious of the spectacles, he adjusted them, clearing his throat and avoiding her beaming gaze. "I use them to read mostly but I just forget to take them off and what's the point of taking them off if I have to put them back on at some point."

"Well, it's just I've never seen you with them off," she added with a shrug.

He saw her start to turn back and his heart twisted and his fingers were shaky but he delicately slipped his black-framed glasses off his face, and blinked a few times to adjust, vision clearing to see her own eyes light up.

"Uh, here," he held them out for her take, and she carefully did so, turning them over and tracing the black lines but avoiding any smudges on the lenses themselves. After inspecting the basic glasses, with the basic prescription, she looked back up to him, and he fought down the blush at her powerful stare boring into his face.

"So what's the verdict?" he joked nervously, "Better with or without the glasses?"

Mamoru felt a dread build in his gut at the thought of her saying neither. Or not saying anything at all and just giving him the glasses back and returning to the silent time they were just in.

But looking up, the sweetest, warmest grin curled on her lips, and he held his breath as she moved closer to him, leaning forward, unfolding his glasses, and gracefully sliding them between the tops of his ears and onto the bridge of his nose, her fingertips just barely grazing his temples, while one index finger pushed them further up his nose. "Both," she breathed, eyes shining and face beaming.

And without even realizing it, his eyes had dropped down her face and landed just briefly on her parted lips, and he looked away quickly, back toward the papers and notebooks spilled on her table, heart beating so loud she had to hear it, because she was so close to him and hopefully she was going to move back to sit on her feet, because she was much too close right now…..

But she didn't.

She moved. Just not backwards, like he had hoped.

He really didn't know when he closed his eyes or when she did, or if he had leaned forward with her - he didn't know anything, just when her soft, warm lips settled on his shocked, stiff ones.

Barely a second and he attempted to move his inexperienced mouth against hers, knowing that this was a dream he was having on his couch, no doubt would wake up pressing a throw pillow against his body. And so he boldly raised a hand and curled it against her hip, discovering smooth, hot skin that became exposed from where her tank top had escaped the waistband of her shorts. Her lips moved skilled against his, parted and slowly assaulting his bottom lip and there was a small squeak that vibrated through her mouth when his thumb tenderly traced a circle into her hip.

All the built up emotions flowed through him, and he was about to let them come out, to finally let himself be honest and respond to the kiss with his heart. To let her know everything that he had been keeping locked away for her because he knew it wasn't his place to talk about such heavy topics.

But he missed his chance, the deafening, slick slap of their lips separating, his hand immediately snapping away as if burned by her skin, and her stumbling backwards with a hand over her mouth and wide blue eyes.

It was real. He had kissed her. And he wished he hadn't by the look on her face.

"I-I didn-" His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, opened and closed, so many times, words having abandoned him, and by the twisting of his stomach, his lunch was about to, too.

She shook her head, sitting upright again but far, far away from him now. "No, no, no I'm sorry!"

'You're the biggest idiot in the world! You ruined everything!'

"I-I..." He'd won how many writing competitions? How many spelling contests did he walk through? And now all his vocabulary had left him?

"God, I'm so sorry," she almost screamed, closing her eyes and running a hand down the side of her flushed face. "I'm so sorry! It was my fault, I was the one who got so close, and who leaned, and who kissed you and just-"

She groaned, covering her eyes. "I'm just so sorry!"

Why was she apologizing? Was it that bad? Sure it was his first kiss so it probably wasn't fireworks and sparks and electricity on her side, but it was on his side. Her lips were so supple and hot, and he was sure his own were slightly swollen since from what he could see, hers were a bit puffy.

"Usagi…"

"I'm so sorry, Mamoru!" His hand became encased in hers and he caught her big pleading eyes. "It was just a slip, a mistake. I mean, I'm sorry I got you messed up in this, me and Masao have been-"

He scolded himself when his eyes unintentionally danced over the blush that sprayed across her face, shoulders, arms, and chest.

She raked a hand through her bangs, eyes fluttering closed then open, grabbing his for attention. "Do you….do you just want to forget what happened?"

"I swear this isn't like a thing I do," she half-joked, "I'm not some girl who just kisses her lab partners and-and cheats on her boyfriend….."

He felt his heart drop at the breaks in her voice, then she was bowing her head low. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Mamoru. I really am sorry for this. It's my fault."

It all clicked right then. She was apologizing for her actions, thinking that she had forced a kiss on him, making him feel uneasy. But she hadn't. What she was doing right now was what was making him uneasy.

This bright, cheerful blonde didn't know that he had come so close to spilling everything he had ever felt for her, was about to respond to the kiss full heartedly, to cup her cheek and mumble against her lips that he had feelings for her, so many different feelings for her.

Though if he had, what would have been the outcome? That she was going to pick up her phone, call Masao, break up with him, and be together with him in a heartbeat?

No. That's not how it worked. He knew that's not how it worked.

She sat on her heels again, eyes kind of glossy and fully sincere. "Can we go back to being lab partners and...friends?"

And then he felt dejected, but shouldn't. No matter the fights or problems she was going through with Masao, Usagi was happy, he could see that, no matter how much it hurt him inside. Why would he break up her relationship, her happiness for his own feelings? She….didn't need that.

"Of course," he relented, his throat suddenly too dry. It was his feelings, his problem. It was not her burden to bare to try and figure out his screwed up emotions. He had to deal with it, and him only.

He could barely recall the rest of time, because all at once he was packing up his materials and slipping on his shoes to leave. "Would you like to meet at the...library next time?"

She nodded, smiling nervously. "Sure."

When they heard footsteps and the sing-song voice of her mother calling to meet her study partner, Mamoru swiftly made it out with a quick goodbye.

It wasn't a rejection, by no means, but that fact didn't help him feel any better. It was quite obvious his previous deductions were correct; she didn't have any romantic feelings for him. It wasn't surprising….

It wasn't a rejection, he reminded himself, but it felt like it so, so much and he willed for the pain to dull in his heart. It was obviously unrequited, he already knew that, however, hearing it from her lips….that was a whole new set of crushing emotions.

Lost in his churning thoughts while walking, Mamoru mindlessly licked his lips, and nearly groaned in frustration when his tastebuds were coated in a cherry sweetness.

He ran all the way back to his apartment building, shutting himself in his bathroom, scrubbing his mouth, tongue, teeth of Usagi's flavored lip balm with his toothbrush and a generous amount of toothpaste. It still stuck there to his tongue though.

Shoving down some leftovers from his fridge was next, gulping down that extra case of cola that Motoki had 'accidently' forgotten one time…..

It still tasted like cherry.

Even when he was laid in his bed, desperate to sleep, it was still smeared on his tongue and lips. Then he realized that maybe the taste had already gone, but it wasn't from his mind.

With heavy limbs, he grabbed his phone and typed up a text to the dirty blonde meddler of his life.

"What was your plan again?"

"Baka, baka, baka, baka, baka…"

"You got that right," Shingo said from the living room.

Usagi scoffed and jumped away from the closed front door. "Shut up!"

'Baka, baka, baka, baka, baka,' this time mentally and while she sprinted up to her bedroom, shutting the door, and then banging her head against it. 'Baka, baka, baka, baka, BAKA.'

How could she be so stupid? So-so impulsive?!

Her legs gave out, making Usagi's back slide down the door.

She buried her face in her hands, attempting to hide the growing blush on her face from no one. The embarrassment traveled through her whole body like a rushing waterfall and her stomach was coiling.

She should have known that she got too close to him, how uncomfortable he appeared at her closeness. Right now, he was probably thinking how his lab partner was completely nuts, wanted nothing to do with her, for all she knew he could be putting in his request to be transferred to a new class- an entirely new school!

'Okay don't be dramatic,' her mind claimed, Usagi's rapid heart rate dropping - hopefully.

But her mind played that image of how red his face was, how shocked but unreadable it was and she knew, she absolutely knew that he was creeped out by her and wanted to run far, far away from her and any possibility of friendship. Who just flats out kisses their lab partner?!

Apparently her!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid," she repeated like a mantra. In situations like this, shouldn't you feel like crap, be consumed with overwhelming guilt, vomit, or beg for forgiveness. She felt some of those but….

It had never felt like….that, before, she pondered, fingertips skimming her shaking lips. She recalled all the kisses and makeout sessions she had engaged in with Masao, and all had passion and drive and intensity and near aggression in some cases, but…

This one, this one, had been different. Good different, she had to admit.

It was gentle, soft although passionate as well for those few seconds of contact. Was she just imagining that tingly feeling, almost like electricity cackling in her limbs, that warm settling feeling that grew in her gut ever since it happened?

Usagi shook her head, dismissing all absurd emotions. She was just an idiot who always crossed lines and ignored people's personal space, because that's how she was with everyone, all close, cuddly, and friendly. And some people weren't really receptive to that.

Mamoru had been stiff next to her at first, but never said anything directly and his body did loosen over the course. She knew he was closed off, shy, not talking much besides academics, and attempt after attempt she did to talk, socialize with him, get to know him better but it was hopeless at times. And it didn't stop her.

One lunch period, she had observed him sitting at a table, alone, because Motoki had teacher assigned tutoring sessions.

It wasn't really that no one ever sat with him per se. Sometimes he sat with other kids from the science club, sometimes he forgot there were people at all when he had his nose in a book. And he only ever seemed to look uncomfortable when her eyes were on him.

After watching him for a week, she had gladly switched to his table, much to Minako's protests. And for a week she sat at his table, chatting endlessly while he sheepishly nodded or sighed or grunted. And after that week, he stopped showing up at the table all together, her finding out, later, that he found a classroom to sit in, instead.

Her heart had dropped several stories when she spied him through the door window that one day, sitting at a desk, fork poking into his bento. What were the chances that he didn't change lunch places because of her?

And that annoying nickname Motoki had planted in his mind after a careless comparison joke to her hair buns and some store selling odangos on the street. Wasn't a nickname a good sign, that as shy as he was, he still had the energy, the drive to give her a nickname? Though it wasn't a particularly flattering nickname.

She just wanted to be friends with him, open him up to others! That's what she wanted. At first.

It was rare but, when those tight lips flinched into a smile or he finally looked her in the eye, through a clean, shiny lense, with a happy spark flickering in those deep, deep magical blue, her heart jumped and her throat catched and feelings - not meant for just a friend - slowly bubbled.

She hit the back of her head against the door.

She loved Masao, she loved Masao, she d-did!

Her hand reached up to massage her throbbing forehead.

She cared about Masao, so much, she loved him! She knew, she did. He doesn't always show it, but he cared for her too…..

"So, what's the verdict?"

She loved Masao.

"Better with or without the glasses?"

It was just a little, bitty heart fling.

"Both."

He was her lab partner. Motoki's shy, sweet best friend who probably saw her as the annoying, blonde underclassmen girl, who he wished would leave him alone. The weird girl who forced a kiss on him.

His lips were soft, and his fingers were trembling against her hip, thumb pushing down into the skin.

At the memory, she brought her head down again on the wood behind her.

She just wanted to know him a little better, but got too close, leaned too forward, and instead, found out how soft but cold his lips were.

'This is insane.'

It was. It was insane.

He stared down the occupied shoe cubby in front of him. It was easy, just slip the envelope inside and walk away. Well, Motoki had made it sound easy last night over the phone.

'Just write about your feelings,' he had said, all confidently, 'What do you feel about her…'

For some reason, it had come easy to spill out everything he had been keeping inside of him, the words flowed out of him and hit the page over and over again like paint on a canvas. His heart was tucked into his envelope, and it had been so easy to do it, too easy.

But being here, standing in front of the school getabako, in front of her cubby where her black shoes were housed, it was hard to function, let alone move his arm.

"I'll see you guys later!"

But somehow hearing the familiar sweet, high-pitched from around the corner prompted his arm to hurl the letter into the cubbyhole and his legs to carry him far, far, far away from the scene of the crime.

"Hey," a joyful voice addressed him. He need not turn to know it was his blonde beauty of a lab partner that had just sat next to him.

"Hi, U-Usagi," he stuttered, desperate to stay cool, composed.

She audibly huffed while setting down her brightly decorated school bag on the blacktop table they shared. "Wow, Mr. Fukyi is really putting us to work now, huh?"

Darting his stormy blues to their teacher, who was scribbling endless instructions on the chalkboard, he shrugged and muttered, "Yea, I guess."

"But we can do it." The teen finally tore his eyes away from the peeling pages of his notebook to see her in high spirits while whipping out her own science notebook and pencils from the open schoolbag. He nearly gave himself away when his eyes caught the white box wedged in with her other books.

Like a creep, his blue eyes peered over his textbook and watched as she delicately placed the small gift on the table and flicked it open to reveal the tiny chocolate bunny. It took him three bags of chocolate, an hour of detailing, four attempts, and three screaming/hair racking episodes to create that one little, woodland creature confection.

He questioned if the treat would be worth the pain and time, ignore Motoki's comments of 'stepping up his game' because even if the love letters were certainly getting to Usagi's heart, he needed more 'flare', apparently.

But it was worth it, all worth it, to see how delicately she treated it, how her eyes and face lit up with such joy at her gift. He watched out of the corner of his eye during notes how she carefully she broke off a piece and ate each chunk. He had never seen her eat so slow.

It was Mr. Fukyi's booming voice that got him to realize it was end of class and everyone was packing up. He had to do it.

"Hey!"

Mamoru nearly groaned out loud at the voice, then Usagi's excited squeal, and then the slip of a kiss. It was horrible but his mind connected to his muscles and taking the slim opportunity he had, he slid the letter into one of the sparkly notebooks laid near him.

"You ready to go, Usa?"

"Yea, just one minute, let me pack up my stuff." A brief second later and the notebook was gone and so were the 'happy couple' soon after.

"Bye, Mamoru!" Did he say 'bye' back? Or was he so out of it that he couldn't move until Mr. Fukyi himself, had to jostle him out of it.

"No, no," Mamoru shook his head to the worried teacher, "I'm-"

His stuff was already packed up and he slung the bag over his shoulder. "I'm fine."

He wrote and gifted-showered Usagi with everything his heart and hands could produce. She flushed a beautiful shade of red at every letter and grinned at the gifts of sweet treats that he slowly became skilled at. Their project continued, within school bounds and Usagi confidently finished her portion of work, little by little not needing his help.

He told her that she was smart, witty and fully capable of attending university if she wanted to. She had giggled, told him he was crazy, but a blush and a sparkle in her eye even after returning to work, gave him flutters in his stomach.

Much to his disdain, Masao had sat in on one of their work sessions in the library, bored to death and wondering when Usagi 'was done already'. Always, always did he remind himself that it was her life, her choice that she chose to be with Masao but it didn't stop Mamoru from wondering what she saw in him.

Mamoru thought he'd never seen such a more relieved facial expression once Usagi had declared the end of their study session. The football player nearly dragged his blonde lab partner by the arm out of the room, so excited to be free from the confines of the school library. They were complete opposites, bad opposites. Masao was cruel, self-centered, vain, but Usagi, she was caring, kind, friendly….would sit with a classmate, who was alone at lunch, talk to him, make him feel like he was important to her.

He had amused the idea of her never noticing how he had switched to eating in one of the homerooms since the constant torture of having her close had been too much for him.

Why….why was she like this? So amazing and dazzling to everyone who had eyes and ears, to anything with a heartbeat. His brain tortured him with the memories of when he first met her, middle school young, in the arcade and so, so, so, so nervous to speak to the beautiful, hungry, laughing, blonde sitting in a corner booth, someone Motoki claimed was the most friendly, kind person you could ever speak to. It had taken him three tries to say 'hi' to her, with Motoki gripping his forearm and grinning widely.

And back then, he didn't even admit it to himself, didn't acknowledge how much he was attracted to her, denied the longing, the desire to just be near her and talk to her.

It took years, countless arcade visits, Motoki's meddling ways of always finding group activities, and a damned science class to do it over for him.

It was the biggest relief to him to finish their Chemistry project, a thick packet of paper from each of them was turned in and he remembered when Mr. Fuyki was passing them back after grading them. Mamoru was barely phased by his big red '100%' at the top of his paper. Usagi, however, nearly decked him for not even batting an eye at the perfect score but what stopped her was her own packet sliding onto the table, her score big, red, and impeccable.

Mamoru couldn't remember his own thoughts when her warm, soft body smashed into his rigid one. The way her arms wound themselves around him, so tight and snug.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…..," she chanted over and over again. "Thank you so much, Mamoru!"

He didn't know what to say, because he had nothing to do with the '95%' on her half of the project. She did it all herself, his direct assistance on it was limited. But she continued to say 'thank you' over and over again, and his hands slid up her back to return the hug.

His heart was beating against his chest, and his breathing was short and cut.

The thought entered dangerously, when his wandering eyes paused on her open school bag, the letters and small gift boxes visible.

She stayed in his arms a little longer before pulling back with a beaming face and the idea plunged sharply into his mind.

What if…

"Thank you so much, Mamoru!"

What if it was time to start signing his letters?

"No, Mamoru you're doing fine." The dirty blonde shut the locker with a clank. "She's loving everything, to the letters to the sweets, she's having such fun with it."

Motoki slung the gym bag around his head. "Man, you should see the smile she gets when she talks about it at the arcade. And you know what, you made that smile happen."

"What are you talking about?" he questioned into the phone. "You're the one who's sending the letters and treats, Mamoru. You, Mamoru Chiba, are creating the biggest smile on Usagi Tsukino's face!"

He scoffed. "Whatever pity party. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Ending the call, he pushed off the row of lockers and rounded the corner, stopping dead in his tracks at the frightening sight displayed in front of him.

"Furuhata!" The joyful call sounded more sinister than happy from the teen casually leaning against the lockers. "Who were you just talking to now?" The smile wasn't any different.

'How much did he hear?' "No one," Motoki mumbled, resuming his walking past his teammate.

"Oh, alright," Masao replied to his back. "Say 'hi' to Mamoru for me, will you?"

The last sentence had a dark undertone in it and Motoki felt his blood boil, but his heart skipped several beats in fear. It was clear, now, how much Masao had heard.

"See you next week Mamoru-san!"

Mamoru bid farewell to Riku and started his walk to the school's exit, shuffling through his backpack, searching for the permission slip that Kaito had given him for the upcoming chess tournament happening in Osaka next weekend.

Fumbling through his papers, his fingers lingered a little on the notebook filled with rough drafts of his letters. Feeling nostalgic, he slipped the book out and began flipping through the pages, amused at his heartfelt writings.

"Chiba!"

Like some ghost, Masao materialized out of nowhere in the hallway, presenting the smuggest smirk he'd ever seen.

Mamoru's eyebrows knitted together. "Uh, hi-"

"How about we talk?"

With a strong shove, Mamoru fell into a small hallway, notebooks and sheets fluttering to the floor after him.

"Isn't it so sweet?" she gushed brightly.

"It's so simple…"

"My boyfriend sending me love letters?!"

"You write…."

"Like how romantic is that?!"

"And I'll talk."

"Oh, god sorry for exploding," Usagi apologized, sheepishly grinning. "It's just no one has ever done this for me."

"No, no," Mamoru reassured, his face displaying no emotional turmoil that was encased inside of him, "You're fine. I'm happy for you."

"He seemed so clueless when I first brought it up but obviously it was just all part of the act to surprise me! I mean I was really sure he was doing it because you know, boyfriend would be the number one suspect but he was such a good actor, acting all dumb."

'He's alway dumb.' "Mhm," he grunted.

"All the words he writes," Usagi sighed wistfully, "You can just tell how much love and passion goes into the writing."

His fingers gripped the table, trying to stop the trembling. His voice was ready to burst, reveal that it wasn't her wonderful boyfriend spilling his love to her, and slaving away at cooking, wanting to create the perfect treats. He was so close, even going as far as opening his mouth but his lips snapped back together when he saw how shiny her crystal blue eyes were and the tender smile that rose on her lips.

No.

He couldn't break this for her. He couldn't break her perfect fantasy, watch those eyes run down along with the smile at the truth of him being the true admirer. 'Don't be so selfish,' his mind echoed. 'Don't be selfish. You're not what she wants.'

He ignored all the horrible alarms in his head, any instinct that told him to say. The. Truth.

He had to go along with it, he had to. If not for the sake of saving himself from Masao's fist - which he didn't care all that much about - he could do it for the sake of not breaking Usagi's heart, her dream, her vision. Why stain her perfect image with the idea of him?

She clutched the red roses close to her chest, a blissful smile playing on her lips. "Masao! You shouldn't!"

"Only the best for you."

Mamoru nearly rolled his eyes at the line but sat still with his back towards them.

"But how did you know roses were my favorite?!"

'Oh, this should be good..'

There was a pause. "I-I just knew," he stuttered. Mamoru's eyes widened and he bit down on his hand in rage. 'You idiot! I'M the one who knows her favorite flower and YOU'VE been going out with her for a year and didn't know?!'

"You talk about them and plus, you just look like a rose girl." How truly awkward would it be if he were to sucker punch the dude out of nowhere?

"Masa-chan!" He could tell they hugged without even looking based on Usagi's voice alone, but he heard that pop of a kiss soon after and mentally groaned.

"You need to do something more dramatic okay." Masao snapped his fingers. "Get her some jewelry or something."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Well, roses-"

"Yea sure," Masao interjected. "Just think of something that makes me look good Romeo.."

Judging by the glint that Mamoru saw in Masao's almost black pupil once he turned around, it was obvious that his floral gift was an approved choice by both parties.

"I'm so going to tell her!"

His head shot up from his studies. "No Motoki-"

"This dude is threatening you and taking credit for what you're doing," the dirty blonde threw his hands up in the air, "I would be beating him to a pulp right now if you weren't so adamant about 'no violence'. How do you expect me to know this and not tell?"

He didn't really think that far into it honestly. "I figured you would listen to me and not tell?"

He scoffed. "Top-test-scores-smart my ass," Motoki muttered under his breath as he snatched up his school bag from the couch.

Mamoru shut his eyes, thinking why and how he became friends with such a self-righteous person who could never let things go. "Motoki it's better this way. I'm obviously not who she wants. Why break her dream?"

"Because they're your words! You're her dream!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

'Why can't he just leave me in my misery like a good friend,' Mamoru raked his hand through the black locks of hair askew on his head. "Motoki…..you should see her face when I leave something for her, how bright her eyes and smile get. And then when I think of telling her - when that thought even enters my mind - I imagine her entire face falling."

His friend shook his head, fists clenched.

"And honestly," he continued, shaky, "I get sick after imagining it. That I'm the reason her face falls like that. What if I make her cry..."

"You have no idea how much I want to slap you."

"Motoki," he grumbled, spinning back around to his desk.

"You honestly think that you admitting your feelings will make her cry?"

His grip on the pencil tightened, the wood splintering a tad. "I know she won't be jumping for joy."

"Mamoru, you don't understand-"

"Just please," he pinched the top of his nose, "Please, don't tell her."

He could tell that Motoki was about to open his mouth, a slur of reasons and arguments ready to fly, but instead, he heard a light sigh and a shuffle of steps.

Just before his front door shut though, a soft and reluncent "okay" made it to his ears.

"You better not back out on me, Chiba," he whispered menacingly, "The deal is you keep doing the love letters and the little gifts and I don't tell Usagi that her lab partner is much more interested in her legs than Chemistry."

"I'm not," Mamoru replied, gazing to the linoleum floor. "I'm not backing out."

"Then how come its stopped?"

He squeezed his hands into fists under the table. Should he tell him that everytime he wrote a letter now, the desire and love and passion, was gone along with his will. That his stomach twisted into ill knots and tangles.

Feelings were a complicated subject for him, but somehow, it came out so easy for him while writing, finding the right words and phrases was effortless when it came to her. But now, he was practically ghostwriting his love, pretending to be someone while writing, an accomplice to deceiving an innocent person who was falling for the wrong person. But the question that resonated in his thoughts…...was he even the right person?

"I just need more time to write the letters," he lied, full well knowing there was at least two finished letters burning a hole in his backpack. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," Masao breathed, seemingly satisfied with the answer, "As long as you stay in line and Usagi falls into my arms by June 30th, your little crush can just stay between us two buds." A heavy, loud clap landed on his back then, followed with a yelp as the tall muscular teen strode out of the deserted library.

It had been nearly five weeks, and these weekly meetings Masao so insisted on, never got easier for him. Nothing ever got easier in those weeks.

"Well, um, I'm having this," Usagi rubbed the back of her neck nervously, gentle blue eyes roaming around their classroom, "this-this thing- my birthday party on the 30th! You can totally come if you want! It'll be super fun and stuff, I swear!"

It must have been quite a sight, he imagined, how his face was at that moment, probably frozen and a blush dusting on his cheeks and nose.

"...nd Motoki said he was coming so I don't know if he told you yet, or maybe he did and you just weren't going to come-which is totally fine too!"

She was inviting him…...to her birthday party.

"-een saving up money from that superhero gig I do at the kid's place so I mean the party is going to be like professional with a D.J. and catering and stuff-"

Her birthday party. An event where you would bring all the people you care about, individuals you name as friends and family, in one place to celebrate a milestone that you would wish to share with them. Maybe that was a more in-depth way of looking at such a simple request but that's who he was, always seeing the underlying tones, analyzing meanings, and calculating outcomes.

"So, you can totally come-if you want! Of course…"

His jaw started to catch up with his flipping heart and he was going to accept, ready to flash one of those rare smiles she lights up at but…..

"As long as you stay in line and Usagi falls into my arms by June 30th, your little crush can just stay between us two buds."

The 30th….Masao would be there. With her….

"No."

He might as well had stabbed her in the heart at the way her face broke into pieces. Eyes hurt but she quickly recovered, looking away and laughing in a way that made him flinch and realize how much of a jerk he had sounded like. "I'm sorry-"

"No, no," she stopped him, "I totally understand! I'm not going to force you to come or anything I just wanted to tell you just in-" She shook her head. "I just wanted to invite you, just in case!" And she smiled. She smiled, but she didn't truly smile. It was more like one of those smiles you give to people to show you're okay, that 'no I'm not hurt, I'm fine.'

It was Usagi, she probably wanted all her dear school friends there, and he was ecstatic at the fact he was considered such to her. And it would be wonderful to attend the party, but would he truly belong there with everyone, especially Masao, who would just glare at him the whole night probably. She was being nice, inviting Motoki's poor old lonely friend and her helpful lab partner. It was a nice gesture, that was it.

"Thank you for the invitation," he added in, "I just have s-stuff going on on that day…"

"Like I said," she patted his arm suddenly, warm and small, "It's totally okay. Don't worry about it."

Class began, and they focused on their studies and Mr. Fuyki's teaching, but it didn't deter him from catching her out the corner of his eye, face seldom and dejected as she blankly stared ahead, bottom lip being nibbled. Maybe he was the first person to have said no to her party.

It stayed with him, even after school, working on his papers, that deep sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach that gave him doubt on his choice, made the possibility of hope grow.

But no matter how he felt now, would ever compare to how he would feel at the party, alone, a waste of space, while Usagi enjoys the company of her friends, celebrates her birthday in laughter and smiles, something he would find comfort in but there was part of him who wished he could be part of the smiles and laughter, a very selfish part he kept buried.

The school year was almost over, his new future at Tokyo-U was coming up, and he could close this broken chapter, pack it away quietly in his mind, like other sections of his life he never liked cracking open.

It was the last one.

After this, he was off the hook, free from any deals or threats.

Ironically, it was the hardest one to write.

It was almost like those T.V. shows or films where the character tries time after time to figure out to write something, lone light lit with crumpled balls of papers strewn around their work area. The pencil slipped from his grip, causing Mamoru to fist the paper and rip it slowly from the spiral-bound notebook, throwing it to join its predecessors in the bin or the floor. All that occupied the empty apartment was the continuous pencil tapping against wood, or an occasional deep sigh.

This was the last chance he had to convey any last feelings, to unload the last of it.

But it was so hard, writing a goodbye letter of some sorts. Each of his notes had been deep, emotional poems that didn't always have to connect to positivity. Sometimes they were written from the depths of his sadness, sometimes he would run on about all the regret he had of never telling her how he felt in person, how jealousy fills him over the fact that he couldn't be more like her, a little more confident, a tad more open, just an inch more lively.

Sometimes, he hoped he would be able to give himself away in one letter.

He had seen the way her eyes flickered at those notes and he prayed - and feared - for a second if she recognized his handwriting or the tone, the words, realize they were familiar to her eyes, but usually the flicker was blown out quickly, along with his wish.

Wish.

The tapping stopped, and pencil scratching began instead.

I wish you knew.

But no.

It would be too embarrassing if you were to know that on the bleakest of nights, I wish you were there. I long for you to be there holding my hand, there to wipe away any tears, and whisper how you were there, really there and you weren't leaving me alone.

I repeat your name over and over and over and over again because I heard a word loses its meaning after being repeated so many times.

But your name never did.

I want you to know that your smile is one of the only things that gets me through the day.

I wish you knew how hard this was. I'm sorry I can't give you the same laughter and smiles you give others. That warmth you just beam to everyone around you, a bright light to people's dark tunnels. I can't do that, I'm sorry.

But I wonder which is more tragic.

That I keep looking for you wherever I go.

Or that you're never there.

When it came to the end of the page, where he would normally sign with a name that was not his, Mamoru instead paused, and wrote a more fitting ending to the last letter.

- Someone who could never forget you

"Ha," he spat, "You think I'm going to let you rot and mope in your puddle of sadness for the rest of your life?"

"I was kind of hoping you would," Mamoru replied, flipping to another channel. Maybe the nature program had something exciting on this time of night…..

"If you don't start getting ready soon we're going to be late."

"Great because I'm not going."

"Mamoru," Motoki whined.

"Motoki," the ebony head repeated in the same tone.

A sharp glare was thrown but thankfully the arcade worker disappeared from view into the hallway. "What do you expect to accomplish by sitting around in sweats and watching T.V.?"

"I don't know," Mamoru called back out, shrugging even if he wasn't in the room, "It seems like a typical way people mope in all those films and series so I figured…."

When his friend reemerged, his black eyebrows shot to the ceiling at what he carried in his hands and what was soon whipped at his face. "What-"

"Put the hoodie on and let's get going." He glared down at him. "The party started at 8 but we'll just call your arrival fashionable late and your outfit choice a fashion statement."

Yes, it was not the most ideal outfit to attend a party in but Motoki had practically dragged him out of the apartment kicking and screaming within minutes, so black sweats and a hoodie would have to do for him confessing his feelings.

In all his life, Mamoru had never felt so underdressed in his life, pulling up to an upscale downtown Tokyo hotel where party-goers or guests were clothed in finer threads that didn't consist of a pouch pocket on their stomach and low-riding sweats. Motoki up-showed him in a simple white-button down and black blazer. He could only imagine how the rest of the party would look beyond those banquet doors.

He recognized numerous of people in the lobby as classmates, clothed in dresses, skirts, suits, blouses, dress shirts, slacks, anything that can be considered formal wear but still be moveable for the dance floor. It seemed there were more people here than at the school dances which nor shocked or surprised him given Usagi's popularity.

Motoki finished checking them in and Mamoru shugglishly followed him through the double doors, almost blinded by the sudden darkness and strobe lights flitting around the fuschia illuminated ballroom. He nearly stumbled due to the mass of confetti filled balloons on the floor, not to mention his vision was spotting with all the flashing lights, and shiny, giant crescent moon balloons hung from the ceiling.

Everytime his head turned for a second, he would lose track of Motoki's back and would quickly weave the crowds to locate his speedy friend again, who at times would pause to shout a "hey!" over the pounding music to some classmate or teammate while Mamoru would hang back far away, tugging this hood further down his face.

They continued forward through the crowds - leaving him to wonder incredulously just how large this ballroom was - until they reached what appeared to be the eye of the party storm, the front.

And his breath caught, fighting back the urge to cough.

Seeing her, standing there in a black, floral mini dress, head thrown back to the ceiling mid-laugh, he was falling in love with her all over again.

She gestured wildly to her group of friends with the red cup in her hand, smile wide and bright. And he content, just seeing her from far away, creep as it sounded, but it gave him a warm comfort to know and see her enjoying happiness.

But then his vision was blocked by what seemed a familiar back and a finger being pointed tow-

His eyes widened under the hood.

"OH MY GOD," she wailed, cheeks tinged pink, "IS THAT MAMORU CHIBA?! AT MY PARTY?!"

It was panic mode to try and find a hiding spot or dive back into the bustling crowd-

He could barely just turn before he was engulfed by blonde strands and warmth.

He stiffened at her sudden, soft touch. Hesitant to the kind gesture, he let his hands carefully wrap around her waist, reciprocating the hug, hoping his shaking would go away from his limbs, prayed that his heart would stop pumping so much at having her so close to him.

"I can't believe you made it," she cried after she retracted, but she was still very close.

He nervously laughed, hoping to hide his flush with the limited lighting hitting them. "Yea I decided to cancel my plans and c-come to your party…"

Her blue eyes widened in disbelief, with a little anger laced in that almost made him laugh because Usagi Tsukino becoming angered was like seeing a kitten roll out. "Oh my god you did not have to cancel your plans to come to my silly little party!"

"Oh trust me," Motoki slithered his arm around his shoulders, grip tight and capturing, "His plans were very cancelable, and won't be missed."

He scoffed to the side. "I guess," he murmured, but winced as Motoki's hand squeezed his shoulder. He weakly smiled at the giggling blonde.

And then, there was that gasp again. That damn gasp that got him into all kind of different situations. "You know Usagi," Motoki asked, face lit but deeply sinister, "I have the perfect idea!"

It was exactly one minute and ten seconds later when Usagi was dragging Mamoru by his arm through the ballroom to do a 'party tour', thanks to his green-eyed matchmaking friend.

She tore at his sleeve and briskly flew through the crowds, bumping into people carelessly, him in tow, fumbling after her. But it was a few groups later when she lost her hand from the loose, dark fabric of his sweatshirt for just a second, but tiny fingers instantly found his own, and he let them intertwine together. His heart jumped to his throat.

They passed her friends - Minako and Rei arguing over what the D.J. should play next, Makoto and Ami indulging at the buffet table a bit while watching the other two tear at the poor guy at the soundboard - her each greeting them quickly as they continued forward.

He was oblivious though, didn't pay much attention to his flashing, loud surroundings. All he saw was her hand clasped in his.

"...and this is the best seat in the house!" Usagi's rose her arms dramatically to the breathtaking view the balcony offered them. The upbeat music was muffled as the doors softly shut and the everyday noises of the street filled the summer air instead.

"Wow." It was the best, the Tokyo skyline and towering buildings in all their beauty, and the gleaming lights blinded Mamoru in beautiful ways.

He started when his hood was suddenly tugged off and he almost fell back to the sound of her giggles. "Usag-"

"Come on, you gotta have your hood off to feel the wind on your face!"

An audible gasp and shudder rocked his body when her little fingers combed through his ebony locks for just a second and he felt crazy because it seemed her hand had quivered after its exploration.

She bounced on her tiptoes, bracing hands against the stone railing, eye shut to the sky.

He shifted next to her, plunging his hands in his pockets, head tipped back, eyes closing with hers. The crisp, cooler night air was refreshing to his senses, it surely helped with his burning hand that was still branded from where hers had been moments ago.

"Nice place, right?" Her question startled him from the short silence.

"Yea, it is," he agreed. 'Think of conversation, conversation, conversation…' "You know this hotel was probably built in the 1980s due to the style and architecture it exhibits-"

And her laugh filled the air then, much to his surprise and horror.

"God, you are such a nerd sometimes," her eyes sparkled with amusement, and he somehow held her intense gaze even as her voice softened, "Never change, okay?"

The redness spread to his whole face. "O-okay…"

'Say something, say something, say something, say something, SAY SOMETHING!"

"You l-look uh-"

"Totally sweaty and gross right," she joked, rubbing her neck with a half smile. "It's warm in the ballroom."

If only she knew how much of sweat he was working under this hoodie by just standing next to her. "No you look-" Beautiful, breathtaking, gorgeous, unbelievable- "pretty." 'ohhh smooth, Chiba…'

Through the dim light, he saw that her skin at been dusted a captivating pink. "T-thank you," she gushed, looking away. "You're really sweet, Mamoru."

His heart flipped in his chest at her giggle, and his hands crushed the white stone, knuckles twisting. It was so hard to let go, to understand the fact that he won't be seeing her practically everyday anymore. Will he ever see her again?

"God, the night is so pretty." Observing her side profile, he gazed at the warm, dancing light in her eyes as she stared up at the sky. Now, he was melting in his clothes, fidgeting and worrying.

This….this was wrong. She deserved to know the truth, to be given all the facts, then decide what she wanted. Not have lies thrown at her. Maybe this, this was the time to do it. To just tell her the truth, consequences be damned, at least she would know. Even if she was disgusted or never wanted to see him again, he'd take it as long as she knew the truth about everything.

He opened his mouth a few times, and he was slow in twisting around to face her but finally his voice vibrated. "U-usagi, I-"

"Usa!"

It was a painful sight to experience, the bubbly blonde running away from his side to embrace the taller, the more handsome Masao, who easily caught her in his arms. It had been so easy to forget why he couldn't tell her his feelings, so effortless to pretend she cared and that he had a chance. "You're here!"

He softly let her slide down to her feet, faces mere inches apart. "Of course I'm here. I could never miss your birthday!"

Mamoru resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes but settled for spinning on his heel to face the city view again but a hand wrapped around his arm mid-spin and instead of the city lights, his vision was filled with the stone face of Masao.

"Masao! You know Mamoru," Usagi exclaimed, tugging on his sleeve, "He's a friend of mine!"

"Yea, nice to see you," Masao quipped fast, eyes breezing past back to Usagi, "Why are you out here? The party is inside!"

"We just came out to get a breather," Usagi sang, blowing at her curling bangs, "It's so hot in there and I probably look like a mess."

"Hey relax," he pushed a gold strand of hair behind her ear, smirk forming, "You look angelic right now."

Again, the resistance of eye rolling was intense for him.

"Let's just come back inside."

"Well-" Usagi had no say as Masao had already laced her hand through his and began pulling her to the doors. "Mamoru just meet me at the chocolate fountain later, alright?"

"Su-" the door shut on the couple before Mamoru could finish his sentence, leaving him alone and suddenly cold on the balcony.

Everyone was grinning, laughing, enjoying themselves in the peak of the party, and so many had already ventured over to wish a happy birthday to her and it was all kind and perfect - her absolute vision of what her birthday bash would look like….

Somehow it was getting difficult to keep her smile plastered to her face.

Everytime one of her friends would be talking to her over the bass of the music, her eyes would always stray over towards the direction of the balcony. Mamoru had to have heard her about the chocolate fountain, right?

But she was confused as to why she was thinking about him so much. He was sweet and funny, even if the humor was more adorable awkwardness than anything, but there was something about him. It was so stupid and cliche sounding, but Mamoru really was different from other people, he wasn't as receptive to conversation, he wasn't opening up to her like others normally do. Did he even like her?

She shook her head as the music pounded.

Like, like as a friend of course because there was no way he liked liked her in that way. It was stupid to think of that because he most definitely did not think of her in that way. He could barely talk to her, he never looked at her, he kept her at least a five arm's length - she questioned if he even wanted to be friends with her!

Her lips began to almost burn then, the memory she tried to keep buried, popped up with vengeance. Why had she leaned in so close, why move over so close? But why did she keep thinking about that one moment would be the better question. It was just a silly, on-accident kiss, right?

And god, why did his hair have to be so soft?!

"You have to try this Usa." Masao's smile swam into her vision and so did a spoon full of strawberry ice cream. A half-smile broke out on her face and she compiled, the fruity taste enveloping her mouth, but she couldn't enjoy it. Not all the way.

She just had to focus on Masao. That was the problem, she wasn't thinking about the single most important person in the room, the person who loved her.

The person she loved.

Her parents had entrusted a hotel room in her hands, the key card of that hotel room was sitting in her purse, patiently waiting to be used. And Usagi had thought about it - numerous nights for long periods of time - and wondered if this was it. She'd been planning this a few months in advance, the night of her seventeenth birthday was what she had planned, but there had been doubts plaguing her thoughts as of late. But the letters, the little tokens….

It was obvious, whoever gave her these, they more than just liked her.

It was the things they wrote, the way it was written, and the effort and time it took…..

"You okay?"

"Yea," Usagi nodded, relieved to see his smile form at her confirmation, "I'm just so happy."

His fingers traced her hand that cupped his cheek, and he smiled, melting her heart and placing her mind at ease again. "Happy Birthday."

Hesitantly, Mamoru dipped the white fluff into the dark, thick liquid. He popped it into his mouth and felt the chocolate coat his tongue immediately, and his marshmallow melted in his mouth. It was sweet, very sweet and soft and not necessarily unpleasant but certainly new to his taste buds.

He speared another marshmallow with his wooden stick, repeating the chocolate covering process. He saw the bowl next to the marshmallows held strawberries, and without another thought, he speared a strawberry and let the chocolate spill over the red fruit.

By now the entire ballroom was filled with moving bodies and the food tables were being attacked by teenagers with sweet tooths and he figured that he should save something for Usagi, lest her not being able to even taste the food at her own party. Plus, she adored strawberries and chocolate, so a combination of the two would surely be welcomed.

And so, he patiently waited, gnawing on his chocolate coated marshmallow while protecting the skewer with the lone chocolate-ified strawberry, meant for one special person.

It was when he finished his fourth marshmallow that someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Mamoru couldn't stop the smile ready to form. He had his doubts, maybe she caught up with friends or forgot-

His smile fell to the floor.

"Oh you shouldn't have, Chiba-san." The biggest, nastiest smirk curled on Masao's face as he plucked the speared strawberry from Mamoru's numb fingers and enveloped the sweet fruit into his mouth. "I love strawberries. And so does Usagi. Weird, right?"

"Yea," he muttered, taking a step away but stopped immediately by a large hand.

"Why the hell are you here, Chiba?" the football player hissed in his ear. "Shouldn't you be at home reading up on organisms or something?"

"I was invited," Mamoru deadpanned, wincing at his fingers tightening around his arm.

"Good for you," Masao lowered his voice further, "But why the hell did you come?"

He swallowed thickly, the honest answer ready on the tip of his tongue but caught in between his teeth. Masao of all people can't know what he was doing. Instead of talking, he pulled on his arm to be let go, but the death grip just continued.

"Did you come to give me up?"

He pulled at his arm again, harder this time.

"Are you going to expose my ass in front of the whole school? Usagi?"

He knew for sure there would be bruises on his upper arm tomorrow morning.

"What is it, Chiba? Why did you come, huh?"

"It's nothing," Mamoru muttered, tugging at his arm even harder, trying so hard to get past him.

"Are you going to confess or something?" Even though Masao chuckled a bit at the thought, Mamoru froze all together, his jaw locked and pausing his attempt at escape.

He could feel the sneer on Masao's face before he even turned.

"No way," he muttered, amusement dancing in his brown eyes. "You don't have the guts for that. If you did, then you would have signed your name at the end of that first letter."

He was right. As much as the jerk was a complete moron and bully, what he said was a completely accurate statement, a fact. A stupid mistake was never signing his name on the first letter, to rid himself of all his pent up emotions, give himself closure, give Usagi her own closure at knowing that her affections for whoever was sending her these gifts wasn't correct, that it wasn't her dream guy she had always imagined….

"She needs to know."

"Awe," he cooed, malice stitched in his darkened facial features, "You think your little crush was a secret to her?"

His eyes widened in fear and any words created in his mind, died on his lips. 'What?'

"Come on, Chiba. Usagi has always known that you've had a little thing for her, not like your subtle about it."

'No, no, no, this is Masao. He's lying…' "You're wron-"

"Am I?"

'No he's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong. Th-the kiss, maybe it did mean something-'

"Usagi's told me how sweet you are and how kind and how helpful but," his eyes glowed through the darkness, "She feels so sorry for you."

There was a new song now, it was louder, pounding and shaking the floor, and there was too many people around them now that it felt like he was being cornered or trapped, and he couldn't breathe. "No, no I-"

"She'll never like you, for you Mamoru."

Yes, it was his words, he wrote them, his feelings that he shared with her, but it means nothing if he couldn't have told her, himself.

"You're Mamoru Chiba," he sneered, and Masao had the decency to slap him on his back a few times like they were old friends, "She's Usagi Tsukino. No offense, but your names - t-they don't even fit together."

The music drifted so far away in his head, becoming less of a background than anything to his screaming, fleeting thoughts that were seeking a way to contradict these statements but it was easier to let go and give way to accepting than fighting. So his shoulders slumped, and his fists loosened, going limp.

"Maybe," his voice was so loud yet so quiet, "You should leave Mamoru?"

And it wasn't half a second later when he was clawing through dancing classmates, kicking past pastel pink balloons out of his path, running to one of the exits, to get out of the roaring ballroom.

His arm got caught by someone and Mamoru just barely stumbled out some aimless excuse to Motoki and eventually continued on, slipping out of the ballroom to harsh lobby lighting and more peace.

Had she really known? All this time….

He flopped onto one of those velvet arm chairs and ran his hands through his black strands. The jerk had to be lying, but that didn't mean he was wrong about the other things. They could never go together, he was just a fantasy to her mind's eye and Masao was her reality in real time.

God. How could he ever think of confessing to her? She wouldn't even believe him!

Through the open spaces between his fingers, he witnessed several other groups of partygoers arriving, whispering to each other excitedly as they headed to the ballroom. The way they all smiled and exhibited their emotions so freely made his heart tug.

They looked like they could be apart of Usagi's group of friends, part of her world.

He looked down at himself.

He could never be apart of her world, even if she was the whole world to him.

"H-he just left?"

"Yea," Masao nodded, sliding another chocolate-filled strawberry into his mouth. "Muttered about having something better to do?"

The tears jumped at the ready too quickly. Had Mamoru seemed that uncomfortable and she hadn't noticed? Why did he leave without telling her?

"I can't believe he….," she trailed off, heart surprisingly shaken.

"Well, he looked like he didn't belong here Usa," her boyfriend admitted, a half shrug to the thought.

It hurt. She wasn't going to ignore that searing, stomach-knotted building in her gut. It hurt like hell that he had left without even saying goodbye.

All she had wanted for Mamoru was to have fun and talk to her friends, open up and talk to her, but was he sealed so tight that he would suddenly leave her birthday party before she could talk to him, convince him that, yes, he did belong here because he was someone she cared for, more deeply than she dared to confess.

On cue, her hand burned because of those silky ebony strands she innocently ruffled, and her lips throbbed with memory. Her body quivered with the sensations and Masao took notice of the movement.

His hand curled around her shoulder, and with the affectionate gesture, Usagi jumped to life.

'Masao. Masao.' "I really loved your last letter," she blushed, taking the large hand on her shoulder into her own, threading her thin fingers through his long ones. "That poem was so heartbreaking…."

"Uh yea! I really worked hard on that one," he stumbled, "Like I used a thesaurus and dictionary!"

She laughed, falling into herself again. "You really surprised me…"

He smiled, looking away with a small blush forming on his cheeks, the lightest shade of pink. And her body reacted before her mind could, hands landing on the sides of his face and pulling him down so that his lips could crash down upon hers.

She ravished his soft lips, sliding her tongue along his, as she slipped her fingers through his styled brown tufts of hair, answering his moan with a sigh. It was most definitely a passionate, kiss, one meant between deep lovers.

Breaking them apart when it seemed oxygen was essential, Usagi let her teeth nip at his bottom lip, and she grinned at the growl he made in the back of his throat that she so loved. Her nails slithered to the back of his neck, toying with the rough, spiky hairs there.

"Well I think I'm going to turn in for the night," she sighed, licking her lips, contemplating her next risky move.

"Alright," he breathed, frowning at her turning in so early. "I'll walk you to the elevator."

When he went to move, she pulled to keep him still. "Actually," she pressed their foreheads together, lips just barely brushing and the blush was most likely developing even as she thought about it.

"What Usa?"

"Do y-you," she stuttered, biting her lip, "Do you want to come up to my room with me?"

The arms wrapped around his neck sensed the sudden tension in his body but it disappeared swiftly and his lips planted a small kiss on her mouth, and his voice was lush and warm. "Sure."

After turning down Minako's presisiant requests of returning to the dance floor because she hasn't 'danced nearly enough' - and Rei assuring she'll keep the party and Minako in check - Usagi took Masao in hand and scrambled out through the crowds to the elevators in the lobby.

She punched in her floor on the shiny gold panel, swiveling around to jump the tall handsome teen again, pulling his face down for another kiss but this time, he was more hesitant.

"Usagi, are yo-"

"Yes," she whispered against his lips, "I want this. I love you." Those echoed words startled even her but she knew it was true, paying no attention to a tiny, irritable nagging in the back of her brain, focused on the sensation his parting lips were creating on her.

"I-I love you too," he rushed out, lips pressed to hers.

His strong arms wrapped around her middle, and she heard the melodious ding of the elevator, then the wooden doors closed in.

And then she was gone, the elevator doors sliding together. Gone from his eyesight, gone with his heart.

He slipped away from his seat, unnoticed, unbothered, and broken.

The hot wind hit his face and he vaguely noticed another group of classmates entering the hotel, giggling and grinning and brushing past him.

Had she noticed he left? Did she go to the chocolate fountain to check? Or had Masao gotten to her first? It didn't matter, he thought while walking home, he wasn't even supposed to have come to the party. He should have just wished her 'Happy Birthday' and left with some excuse, but instead he got pulled in, literally, and he felt worse than when he had come.

But halfway in his walk, he was hit with the sad realization that didn't even say 'Happy Birthday' to her, and he wanted to pull every strand of black hair out of his head.

It was all over the school. That Monday, after, it was everywhere.

At first, he didn't believe it, there had been scores of rumor mills that ran on false information so it was easy to dismiss such things coming from the mouths of people who once proclaimed that the 90-year-old science teacher was a mad serial killer that chopped people up with an axe.

He firmly held this belief and refused to believe anything, until it was time for his Chemistry final on that very same Monday.

Being so consumed about memorizing his notes, his lab partner's loud entrance nearly threw him off his seat, but her appearance made a shiver pass through his spine. Blonde hair was spilled everywhere, less bright and less cheery, her hands were filled with her face, but he could see the skin of her hands were pale and chalky, and it looked so wrong.

"H-hey, are you okay?"

The pad of his finger barely brushed against the fabric of her shoulder when she flinched away as if she was slapped. He just barely heard a "I'm fine" and shot his hand away from her.

He knew then that the whispers in the hallways held some substance.

He packed up his notebooks, all while wondering if he should say something to her, half a thought to confess right here right now just at the possibility of cheering her up but it would just make things worst. First your boyfriend spills the details of "fucking you until morning" - words apparently from the horse's mouth - to the school, and then the geeky kid you sit next to is confessing his love for you.

As time ticked on for the exam, he searched for the right words to say, ones that could ever possibly convey what he wanted. This could be his last chance to say something.

His pencil stopped and he went to look next to him, but she was gone, her exam shoved to the edge of the table. It had been barely 15 minutes into the time.

But it had been too long for her apparently.

And this was why he was currently making a b-line to a celebrating Masao after the graduation ceremony was conducted, and it was all smiles and dazzling eyes until Mamoru flew in, taking a hold of the already furious looking Masao, muttering a fast "excuse me" to his confused friends, and stomping off to an empty hallway with a jerk along for the ride.

"Chiba, what the he-"

"What is wrong with you?" Mamoru ground out, gripping his diploma hard, to resist the urge to thwack him repeatedly on his perfect head.

"What are you talking about?"

His grip got tighter on his certificate container. "You know what I'm talking about. The whole school knows what I'm talking about!"

Rage fueled more in him as the thin wires in Masao's mind visibly connected and his eyes grew with recognition but Mamoru grew revolted at the sight of annoyance. "Come on Chiba! You dragged me out for this?"

His knuckles turned white, and never had violence seemed so pleasant in his mind right up until now. "You humiliated her! She trusts you like that, and you tell the whole freaking school?! What is wrong with you?!"

He opened his mouth to response, but Mamoru kept going, rambling on over him.

"Do you have any idea how much of an ass you are?! Usagi, the most kindest, funniest, amazing, beautiful person who always sees the good in people, who always tries to make them feel as wonderful as they can be. You hurt her-"

"Chiba-"

"You made her cry."

"You have no righ-"

"You had no right to do that to her."

And that's where he paused, where he realized his breathing was ragged and heavy, and his voice hoarse. "You had no right to tell the whole school. To embarrass her."

The accused teen stood stoic towards him, then the guilt finally bled through his dark eyes and his face went more slack. "I….I didn't mean for this. I just told a few people, on the team, they really wanted to know, and so I gave them a few details just to call them off-"

"And you think they wouldn't have told?!"

"Okay, I screwed up, I get it! It was blown out of proportion!"

Mamoru shook his head, the strain on his fists becoming harder and harder to hold it together with every word that came out of Masao's mouth. How can someone be so idiotic, so careless, have no empathy- "Did you ever care about Usagi?"

Finally, his amber eyes moved and widened, hurt slapped across his perfect face. "How can you ask that?! Of course I care about her!"

Mamoru scoffed. "You have a funny way of showing it, don't you think?"

From hurt, his face all at once contorted to one of rage, intimidation when he was right in front of his eyes. "Don't act like you're some saint, Chiba," tone rigid and threatening, Mamoru could see the fury rolling off of him in steamed waves, "You were involved too, helping me, lying to her, all so I wouldn't tell her you liked her. If I'm such a villain, what does that make you in this story?"

"No." He stood his ground, looking at him dead in the eye unafraid, "We both were deceiving her, but at least I knew it was wrong."

"Exactly," Masao agreed, an intimidating glare in his eye forming, "And what did you do?"

His face fell, along with very drop of his confidence.

"You're not the hero in this, Chiba," he hissed, "She may be your princess, but you'll never be her prince."

His most viable option was to take his clenched fist straight to Masao's jutted, clean chin, a fair, honorable punch to the face of a bastard. He would fall back from the force of the hit and Mamoru would feel the victory surge through his veins, overcoming his bully and standing up for himself, first time in his life.

But his arm remained situated at his side, still clamped shut but unmoveable.

There was much truth in what he said. All the doubts that had ever entered his thoughts, lingered there in the back of his mind like an unwanted guest, roaming a house. The sparks once left sizzling in his midnight eyes, evaporated, and he took a step back from it all.

His heart pulsed rapidly in his chest and the canister practically fell from his hands but he caught it. "Well, you'll always be an asshole, Masao," Mamoru trailed off lamely.

And he left, turned around and nearly stumbled while walking away.

"I might be an asshole, but at least I'm not a coward." The words stabbed him in the back, sharp, aching, rigid, and right.

He is a coward, in so many ways. He was scared of being turned away, or hurting her, or forever losing her, which was already happening with the year over.

There was still the chance of running into her with the help of Motoki but, there was no more seeing her eyelids flutter trying to stay awake during a lecture, no infectious giggles in the air, the smell of vanilla and flowers would vanish, and the warmth that would sweep his being will be missed.

Outside, where families were celebrating with their graduates, Mamoru looked away and observed the steep buildings of Tokyo that bordered the clear blue sky.

It wasn't as if Tokyo was a small town, it was one of the most populated cities in the world. He could surely avoid one single person. A bright future at Tokyo-U awaited him, and he could make new memories, forget all that occured in his past, start fresh.

He breathed in.

Though forgetting Usagi Tsukino was like forgetting how to breathe.

Impossible.

Present

His fingers curled around his now silent phone. Her eyes, he could feel them burning little holes into his back.

'Just...turn around.'

And Mamoru compiled with his thoughts, snatching his hat off his head in a slow turn, and greeted her iron gaze through his messy, ebony bangs.

He waited, a few seconds at most, when there was that click behind her large and impossibly deep blue eyes. A click, then a spark, and finally a fire burned with a look of recognition that had his heart beating.

"Mamoru Chiba."

His name rolled off her tongue so easily, and finally, he could breath.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You guys still got some reveal moment at least. Until next time with the full aftermath of the reveal moment (sorry about the chapter spilt)