Notes: *bows* Hello again, minna ^_^ *laughs* Yet another attempt at fic writing… Not gonna explain what genre this fits under 'cause that would be giving it away ^_~ *laughs* Mmmm… Ruhana forever!! ^.^ I just love Ruhana… and so here's another Ruhana fic *sweatdrops at moans of boredom in the background* Maa maa… if it's too bad… you don't have to read it ne... ^_^"

I wrote this fic between bus trips…so if some parts don't make sense, or are incredibly lame/OOC/unbearable… forgive me ne… *bows* tee hee… ^.^

That's it… I'll leave you to the fic then ~

I

I never thought about it.

To me, I hated him, he hated me.  It was part of my life, insignificant yet always present.  I never gave it much thought.

I never doubted my feelings for him.  To me, they were always hatred – nothing more, nothing less.  To me, there was no need to wonder whether it was really hatred, whether it was hatred for a reason, and if so, what that reason was.  I never thought about it.

Or maybe I simply didn't want to think about it.

I hated him.  I hated him for his disregarding silence, I hated him for his skills, his popularity, his mysteriousness.  I hated everything about him.

But most of all, I hated him for the way he made me feel.

The way visions of him would always haunt me, day after day, night after night.  I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Of course I never thought much about that either, or the implications of that.  I didn't want to admit it.

I hated him because I knew that I didn't hate him at all.

And there was something about his piercing blue eyes that never ceased to cast a spell on me during rare, mystical moments.

But of course I never thought about that.  I refused to think about that.

Hating him was part of my life.  Getting into petty fights with him and bringing home a few bruises afterwards, screeching names at him and bearing his customary monotonous insults in return – it all was part of my life.

But I never realized that it was my life.  I didn't realize that he played a role so important in my life that life lost all importance and meaning without him.

Until those words.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, do'aho."

It was dark outside, the only sounds accompanying us then being the sharp falling of the ball from my hands and his light footsteps echoing through the empty gym.

He stared at me, eyes unflinching, bag slung over his shoulder and ready to leave school.

And for the first time ever in his presence I didn't know what to say.

I remained speechless.

The words hit me with the full impact of an unprecedented swing to my gut.  I suddenly felt torn, as if all energy had been sucked out of my body in those mere five seconds that it took him to mutter those words in that deep, flowing voice of his.  And I didn't know why.  I couldn't understand it.

I didn't reply.  All of a sudden, I couldn't bring myself to speak.  No insults, no sarcastic remarks – just silence.  Just shocked, still silence.

He didn't move.  Something crinkled in the air, something that till this day, I still can't decipher.

I would have thought he would add in a last minute mockery to chide at my awkward speechlessness.

But he only stared at me with some sort of vague, unreadable look on his face, an expression that I had never seen before.

And then he turned around and walked out of the gym in silence.

I didn't sleep that night.  I kept hearing those words ringing through my ears, and for reasons unknown to me, my heart felt heavy, painfully heavy, as if it was actually breaking, crumbling bit by bit like an old terracotta statue, fading away powerlessly with change.

That was the night where I faced up to my fears and truly admitted to myself that I didn't hate him. 

I didn't hate him at all.

It wasn't hatred.  It was something different, something more than that.  Something that I could never understand, no matter how hard I tried.

And that was when I first realized and admitted that I loved him.

That I had fallen in love with him.

That I had fallen under his spell.

Memories and emotions kept me awake that night.  Memories of his chiselled face gleaming in the moonlight, memories of the inexplicable look in his eyes – but most of all, memories of the countless times he had breathed that familiar insult to me: 'do'aho', until all I became and ever was in not only his eyes, but mine too, was nothing but a fool, a do'aho … his do'aho.

Emotions.  Hatred.  Contradictions.  Hurt.

I hated him because I loved him.  And I hated myself because I loved him.

I couldn't understand it.

He was a guy.

How could I possibly be feeling this way for a guy?  How could I possibly be … gay?

I felt disgusted.  I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror and felt like vomiting in repulsion at the vision of what I had become looking straight back at me: a pathetic, weak, gay wimp.

And it was all his fault.

If he hadn't come into my world with his hypnotic looks and alluring mysteriousness, if he hadn't come into my world with all his insults, punches and counterattacks, if he hadn't come into my world and become such an irreplaceable part of my existence – then I wouldn't be here now, sleepless and sickened, burdened by memories and … regrets.

Regrets?  I asked myself.  What exactly are you regretting?

And then I realized how much I yearned to tell him the truth behind this foolish act that was my personality, how much I yearned to be held by him, to stay by his side just like that, how I yearned to be next to him, to be with him – to truly be with him – for as long as forever lasted.

I scoffed at the irony of this all.  It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic.

The tensai would need the kitsune? Ha!

And I didn't know why tears started flowing from my eyes.

And at that moment in time, I knew with all certainty in the world, that I couldn't let him leave.

That I couldn't live without him with me.

Without his voice, without his eyes, without the brief touch of our bodies whenever we kicked each other, without secretly watching the way his hair fell over his eyes when he was asleep … without all this, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.  I knew I wouldn't be able to go on.

It took me almost the whole night to force my disgusted shame aside and give in to the raw desperation of it all.

To the fact that I couldn't let him leave.

Not now, not like this.

Not without telling him the truth, the horrible truth behind everything that was my existence.

And all of a sudden, I felt utterly drained.  Quenched of all energy, tired, weak and vulnerable.  And I realized that everything about my life revolved around this weakness, this weariness.  The self-proclamation of being a genius – it was all nothing but a laughable lie.  A lie to convince myself I had what it took to get through the heaviness of life, even though it was perfectly evident that I didn't.

This flame of weariness never once died out.  It was inextinguishable.  And I knew it.

But for the first time, I realized that the only times where being tired didn't frighten me, where feeling drenched was something I didn't mind at all – were when I was with Rukawa.

And it was strange.  Because no matter what kind of fights we were in, no matter what ways we were at each other's throats, he always made me feel that way – like I could ignore the weariness lurking inside me and feel safe with him, like everything would be all right with him here.

Times with him were different.  They were always a comfort somehow.  Being with friends like Youhei was comfortable, but not comforting.  The weariness never went away, as good a friend Youhei was to me.  But with Rukawa, it didn't matter if we were swinging at each other, it was always comforting.  Always … reassuring, for reasons completely beyond my realm of knowledge.

He was that much to me.

I watched the clock ticking in slow motion, as if mocking me in ironic cruelness.

And once the small hand touched on 7, I lunged towards the phone and punched in Kogure's number.

At the spur of the moment I forgot completely about taking into account how I would appear, how people would think of me.

Now when I come to think of it, I can't really bring myself to believe it.

To believe that the thought of him overwhelmed me, me who lived for praise from others, so much that nothing else mattered then.

I was surprised when Kogure didn't question my motives.  I could hear the evident sleepiness in his voice, but despite my rude lack of apology, he didn't complain, nor did he ask why I was questioning about Rukawa.  He merely told me what time his flight was, where it would be.  No questions asked.

And something told me that he knew.  That Kogure actually understood how I was feeling, what I was feeling.  That he could see through me somehow.

But I didn't have the time to fret.  I hastily thanked Kogure, hung up, washed and jumped into a taxi as quickly as my muscles would allow.

Amongst the crowds, I didn't see him.  I searched frantically for his face, for that pale white glow shining from the dark sea of people brushing past me nonchalantly.  But I couldn't see him anywhere.

An unshakable type of desperation swept over me and latched onto my heart so tightly that I found huge difficulty breathing.

And I felt my body trembling as tears started running down my cheeks; hot, sharp tears like never before.

Kami-sama, I begged deep down inside my soul.  Please.  Please don't let him leave, not like this.  Please let me see him again.  Please.

But still I saw no sign of him.

The pain attacked me almost instantaneously, and as I bowed my head, ready to give up all hope …

A light, airy touch played on the tip of my shoulder.

"Oi."

It was only one syllable.  But I recognized that voice straight away.

I spun around, muscles stiffening in panic.

And there he was – him with his crystal blue eyes, his with him raven halo of hair, his with his moonlight-chiselled features and his contemplating stillness … there he was, right before me, staring straight into me in silence.

The tears wouldn't stop spilling from my eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he spoke.

It was as if everything around us immediately faded away into nothingness.

I didn't know what was happening anymore.

I couldn't answer.  It was as if my voice had been muted, stretched and distorted, frozen until I couldn't even bring myself to open my mouth in fear of the helpless silence of raw desperation that it would result in.

His voice was clear.  None of the usual edge, the familiar monotony and blunt sarcasm.  His voice was untainted, for the first time, clear as glass, layered with something that once again I couldn't recognize.  

He stood motionless, his eyes locking with mine.

I could hear the echoing of the strained rhythm of my breathing as I blinked more tears away to clear my vision.

But the pain didn't stop gushing up from deep within me, no matter how hard I tried to suppress the fervent desperation and helplessness that I was drowning in.

His eyes never once left me.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

I wheezed, tears choking my breathing and my voice.

It didn't matter how I looked then.  I didn't care.

"I don't know." I breathed.

And it was true, to an extent.  I didn't know what was happening to me, I didn't know what I was saying. 

All I knew was that I simply couldn't let him leave.

All I knew was that I couldn't live without him.

And I broke into a frail fit of tears then and there.

I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, cursing myself in shame.

How pathetic.  Just look at yourself.  How pathetic.  How … disgusting.

Suddenly I felt a gentle stroke on my cheek, a light brushing away of the tears so hot they were burning me.

Instantly I opened my eyes and looked up.

I lost myself in his gaze then and there.

I lost myself in the scent of him, in the aura of him so close to me, in the tingling of my cheeks where he had touched, in everything about him that I had originally grown to hate and subconsciously grown to love.

"Don't cry." he said.

I don't know if it was the tears distorting my vision, but my heart beat faster as he moved closer to me.

"Don't leave." my voice trembled like an earthquake of conflicting emotions.  "Please…"

He looked at me, ocean-blue depths darkening with the same unrecognizable emotion that was so uncharacteristic of the Rukawa I knew.

And I watched as an air of unmistakable sadness gathered around him.

Then he turned and stepped away from me.

He avoided my gaze, his thick locks of drooping raven hair hiding his eyes once again.

The fear and desperation that pulsed through every fibre of my being in those moments remains too much to express in words.

I didn't know what I was saying anymore.  It didn't matter to me then.  The only thing that was on my mind was that I couldn't let him leave.

"You can't…" I choked in between sobs.  "you can't leave … you can't just go like this … you can't just leave me like this…

"I'll do anything you ask me, kitsune … anything you say … if you would just stay … if you stay here … here with me … just this once…

"I'll never hit you again … I'll never annoy you again … hell, I'll never even talk to you again if you don't want me to … I promise … just … please stay here … please don't leave me…

"I don't know what you've done to me, kitsune … I don't know why I'm crying, why I'm saying these things … I don't even know why I'm here…

"But…"

His eyes were still averted.

"But all I know is that…

"That I need you, kitsune … that I can't live without you…

"That I was lying to myself all those times I said I hated you … because the truth is … the truth is that I … I don't hate you at all … I've never hated you…

"And I'm nothing more than a do'aho … your do'aho … yours and yours only…

"So … I'm begging you, kitsune …

"I'm begging you, Rukawa…

"Don't go … please?

"Can you please stay here with me … please?"

I looked up at him, silent, motionless, eyes fixed on a distant spot in the other direction.

And I broke down into tears.

Because I knew that happiness in life was nothing more than a fairytale.

"Say something," I whispered through my pained sobbing.  "anything…"

He turned to face me then.

And I thought I saw something very much like a tear-streak glisten on the side of his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm sorry, do'aho."

And I watched as he turned around and began taking his footsteps away from me.

I don't know if it was the spur of the moment, but I leapt forward and grasped his hand.

I didn't have the time or the heart to savour the first non-violent contact of our skin.

He stopped in his tracks, as if totally taken aback by this action of mine.  He didn't tear his hand away, neither did he turn to face me.

I wished so badly that I could know what he was thinking in those moments.

I don't know if it was just an impulse, or just a phrase that carried no real meaning, but the words escaped me without hesitation.

"I'll wait for you."

He trembled slightly, barely detectably. 

And when his eyes met mine, they quivered, his features etched with emotion like never before.

Time stood still as I tried to read the indecipherable blue of his eyes.

And then he shook his head and looked away once again.

"Don't wait for me." he whispered, his voice firm but quiet.

He tore his hand away from mine and broke free in the other direction.

"I'll wait!" I yelled after him, my voice cracking with endless streams of tears.

Those were the last words I said to him before his black halo of hair disappeared in the moving crowd, leaving me torn, lost, and without a clue of what to do next.

Life went on.

Time dragged by.  Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into months.

And life went on, just as it did when my heart wasn't breaking.

But to me, it was as if everything was moving and I was standing still.  All matters lost their significance.

It was a horrible feeling.

I tried to laugh, to act as I always had; loud-mouthed, carefree, the egoistic tensai that I was.

I think I managed to pull it off.  I think I actually had people fooled.

But I could never fool myself.

And I knew that soon he would break down all my walls.

That soon, in this meaningless world without him, there would be nowhere to run – and nowhere to hide.

I don't remember how long it'd been.  But I was sitting by the window as usual, listening to the wind outside, listening to the reluctant rhythm of my heartbeat and feeling nothing but empty and half-dead inside.

The doorbell rang.

I trudged towards the door dutifully, preparing to step into my act as happy Hanamichi once again.

I sighed before forcing on a weak smile and pulling the door open.

"Youhei!" I greeted in feigned enthusiasm.  "Megane-kun!"

"Ohayo, Sakuragi." Kogure nodded.

"Yoh, Hanamichi." was Youhei's response.

There was an air of unusual seriousness hanging in the air, but I mentally shrugged it away and invited them in.

I sat opposite them and watched.

Kogure wasn't smiling with his usual understanding and Youhei was avoiding my eyes.

There was something wrong.  I knew it.

"Have you been alright, Sakuragi?" Kogure's question broke the heavy silence.

Have I been all right?

I frowned and forced a sarcastic scoff.

Keep the act up, I pushed myself on, even though I knew perfectly well that both Kogure and Youhei had seen through this mask of mine long ago.

"What are you talking about? Of course the tensai is alright!"

What a joke.  I struggled to laugh.

Kogure didn't smile at my comment as he usually would.  He merely looked down, his gaze distant and lost in thought.

This worried me immensely.

I looked over at Youhei, his eyes still averted from me.

"You don't have to pretend in front of us, Hanamichi." Youhei said, a tinge of something like pity escaping his voice.

I hated being pitied.  I hated it so much.  And to be pitied by my best friend – this was more than I could take.

I sprung up from my seat instantly.

"What the hell are you talking about??" I yelled.

I expected Youhei's usual gesture of surrender, his usual raised-eyebrows expression and nervous laughing, with his familiar 'Calm down, Hanamichi.'

But he didn't move, didn't respond, didn't speak.

And it was then that the most fearful sense of foreboding charged right through me as forcefully as lightning.

I looked from Youhei to Kogure and back in lost desperation.

What was going on?

I didn't understand.

I didn't understand all this seriousness, all this sadness penetrating the atmosphere around us.

"Rukawa's back, Hanamichi."

Youhei's words echoed through my ears.

Rukawa's … back?

I had an urge to break the ice and laugh until I cried, to jump up and down and squeal about how much this meant to me.

But I froze when I saw that Youhei's eyes never once left the ground – as if he couldn't bring himself to look at me.

I struggled to suck in air.

What was wrong?

I think Kogure immediately read the confusion and helplessness though my face, just as he always had the ability to.

And I watched as he closed his eyes, despair and weariness gathering around him like never before.

"Sakuragi …" he began.

My heart slammed against my chest and my muscles locked stiff as I imagined the worst.

But this … it never once crossed my mind.

"Rukawa's dead."

Everything around me vanished into a boundless blanket of darkness.

I fell to the floor and blacked out.

Notes: Mmmm… hope that was convincing… ^_^" Do read on…*eager*