Ah, I've finally been inspired again with this fic. This part isn't exactly what I had in mind when I started, I thought I was going to do a part from both of their point's of view, but my writing time is sorely lacking at the moment, so I thought it was better to just stick with this, and write the part with Machi at a later point. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. It's not a particularly original idea, but I like writing in this kind of style XD Thanks to everyone reading, and those lovelies reviewing!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fruits Basket. If I did, no-one would read it :P

Pinpoint

It was a build up to a pinnacle. Looking back, he could have possibly predicted that it would happen, even if he had never experienced such a thing before. He had seen enough TV shows. Enough romantic comedies to have a rough sketch of how it worked. And even though they weren't the most conventional of pairs, the framework was still the same.

He had noticed her. How could he not? She was the girl who saw through… everything. Saw through, when nobody else was even willing to look. Nobody but her dared to find anything wrong with him. They wanted to believe he was as perfect as they had painted him up to be. That way, they still could believe. It was a source of hope for them to believe that someone existed who truly was perfect. They weren't being selfish in that, he could never condemn it. And after all, he had no proof that there wasn't someone like that. There could so easily be someone out there who was indeed flawless. Someone who had no insecurities, or inadequacies… but that could never be him, no matter how hard he tried. And she saw that.

Once she had his attention, she refused to let go. Of course, she was never demanding. She didn't ask for him to look up every time she unobtrusively walked into the room. She never told his heart to race when she accidentally brushed her hand against his shoulder when reaching for the stapler. No, that was all his own initiative. His own heart, that had decided without consultation with his mind to single her out, and desire her to always be around, no matter what.

His moments with her could flash through his mind like a slideshow, but he didn't want that. He preferred to stop awhile, to hold them, examine them, play the same one again and again on repeat. That way, he could ensure they happened. They could ensure that she really existed, that beautifully imperfect girl, the one that just couldn't fit into the world, however hard she tried. They shared the affliction.

These moments, though, were merely the build-up, though he didn't notice it while it was happening. They built him up to the point where he crashed over the edge, to the point where he couldn't deny it anymore. Not to himself, and it wouldn't be long that he could keep it from her. She'd have to know. She didn't realise how lovable she truly was. She was the most observant person he knew, yet if she had seen how deep he was in now, how much he adored everything about her now, she hadn't let on. But then again, he couldn't read her as much as he'd like. He had to guess sometimes. He wasn't observant like her. She kept a hidden heart, and a poker face.

So what was the exact moment? His life was a blur of half-remembered faces, and mutely whispered words. Yet in some places, there was a dazzling sharpness. Ones that made him himself blink back at how vivid, how exact his mind could be when it was necessary.

That moment was like that. He could remember how her eyes had glinted, how the colour had spread across her cheeks, how he had felt the graze of her fingernails on his hand as she swiped the maple leaf bookmark away from him, with false denials in a meaningless stream from her mouth. They didn't matter. They both knew the truth. And that was the moment he fell in love.