Summary: (Somewhere after the For the Moment sequence or anywhere. Don't have to read that but it is encouraged. It can be a stand-alone as well.) Syusuke thinks back upon his irrationality, in his responsibility for getting himself hurt. He tries to heal his broken heart, but what is shattered remains so, never being able to put it back together. This feeling . . called depression. Most of all, he contemplates upon his former friend and what this friend really means to him.

Author's Notes:

Not really inspired by anything. It's a rather depressing tale, so be warned. It's almost pointless, and can be seen to go between For the Moment and its sequel which will come out when FM is finished - long time from now. Also can seen as a stand-alone. No spoilers either way. No, not really. Just kind-of mushy, affectionate, but pining. Sad. Really sad. Sorry for taking so long with FM, for those of you who are waiting. I've been really depressed lately, and when I was really happy and perky this morning, . . . it went down again because my dad sold our puppy and . . . . . . (don't really want to talk about it . . )

Dedications:

To my lovely puppy, so warm and cuddly. To my former-puppy, who now belongs to a Mexican family - nothing against Mexicans. To my puppy, who I dearly loved and still am wanting right now, but who is out of my reach . . . .

Pining

I didn't always believe in love, you know. I had always thought that love was just something between friends and family - but I didn't think that 'love' and 'lust' could really destroy me to this point. I had always trusted my closest friends and family, but having been hurt before, I started closing up a bit, being careful as to whom I gave my love and care. I didn't want to be hurt. No, I had no great fears or secrets. While I liked seeing other people in pain, it was just to put at bay my sadistic humor. I truly wasn't serious about it. I wouldn't want to seriously inflict pain upon other people. I would never become that mean or cruel or cold.

I always thought that I could control my own fate, my own mind. I didn't like being controlled, but being responsible as a child, my parents always trusted me with deeds, and they never truly chided me. I was always grateful to family, because I knew that no matter what they'd always be there. But now . . .

Now my world is shattered. It feels like I'm falling into this deep pit - yes, I still am. I haven't gotten over him, no I can't. I never settled it truly, and I can't tell anybody about it because now nobody is here to support me, to comfort me. Nobody.

I had thought at that point before this that I had fallen all I could, but I was so wrong. I had tried to avoid this whole thing, but brushing him off, and then moving away, but I'm falling down into a deeper and darker hole.

To simply state what had happened, to recap the previous events . . . I had come to Seishun Jr. High, only to amuse myself as the tennis prodigy. I had found that I was extremely caught by my captain's serious gaze, his sharpness. I felt compelled to say that I was simply amusing myself with him, with him as a toy in this game. I thought that I had been completely dominating them all with my vagueness, but through that vagueness, my heart found weakness and then . . . In my flirting and teasing, I had fallen and had loved. I would never admit it aloud, because I'm a stubborn person like that, but it is true, only in my deepest and darkest confessions.

I would never state these words to Kunimitsu Tezuka: I love you. Never! Because my original purpose, my original intent in teasing with him was to . . amuse myself with his ever quiet spirit. And it backfired.

I miss it, though, being hugged, being touched, being warmed . . .

It's mostly my fault though, for getting myself hurt. I had started it, and ended it so abruptly. Kunimitsu must hate my by now - he must, because if he still says that he 'likes' me . . . I hope he hates me, but I also hope that he'll like me just the same, and not for lustful reasons. I can't help but hoping that he will.

What I remember the best about him . . was taking me to his home, wrapping me in his warm blanket . . . hot chocolate . . . .

No, it's better to not remember. I try not to think about any of them, because I know that they'd all hate me for being such a coward. I am no longer a child, therefore no longer do I have the right to be foolish like this.

My family worries for me, but I can't tell them about it, this unrequited love - and lust perhaps. They wouldn't understand, and while they would try, they would fail in their attempts.

I can't remember how it all started. It had started from a strange relationship - a friendship, where my captain was obviously dominant in one aspect but I in another. We shared our places next to each other, and then I became accustomed to the place beside my captain - my heart grew fond of it, it could be said. And then . . . after that, everything became a blur, a blur of raging emotions dragging my more aware conscious. I had no control over it - over my heart, even though my mind was yelling and shouting at myself. But in the end, after those raging emotions, I became rational, and left. Disappeared. When I came to my new school, I didn't go to the tennis courts - I tried to avoid it. I became inconspicuous - average and normal. I tried as I could not to become popular among the people, and I tried to not be unusually smart or anything. I became normal, or I tried to. But no matter what, I couldn't tear that smiling face away. My smile was unrelenting, and gathered attention.

I'm trying to live a quiet life, but my sister and my brother notice these changes the most. I haven't really made any close friends here, haven't tried to. I'm tired, too tired of having liked that person, too tired of my pining heart. I want to live a life without that person, but my heart has its own motives. Sometimes I think I would like to cry, but I can never do it. And always in the morning I must question myself, Who is that smiling one in the mirror? Surely he is not the same as me . . . but that mirror-person is me.

I feel as if I've died, because everyday I wake up with this dreading feeling in the pit of my stomach, always hating every single day. I know that someday I'll have to come around and completely face it. It's not that . . it isn't as if I'm avoiding it and running away - I'm not that kind of person. I've wished that I could be, just to run away from this sad ending, to a new life but I can't do that. I'm a proud person. I didn't run away, it was nothing like that. All I did was lie, which I can abide, although my captain's one great value is truth. It's okay to be hated by him, by that one person - because that's what I wanted, that's what I bargained for. It's okay . . .

It's okay . . Right?

It'll be all right, right?

But I know, even though I don't like admitting it, that there is a small glimmer of hope in my heart, that I can go back to him, by his side, pretending like nothing has happened, as if everything is like it's supposed to be. I just don't think I'm ready to go back to him, because I don't know if I would be able to control my tamer thoughts, and keep them there. No, it's not only that. I'm afraid that . . I've begun loving him. That's the worst part of it all. That's the worst deed, that makes me want to hate him. But I can't control it - my heart is of its own.

I think I've done my worst. Right? There's nothing more I can do.

I remember distinctly going to church - a catholic one. It is a sin to commit such lustful crimes, such full of homosexual thoughts and . . . but . . . I don't really know what's right for me anymore. I had quit church a long time ago. I believed in a God that was perfect - because that is what this God is supposed to be, right? I believed in something better, where everybody could conduct as they wished, and become happy. I don't believe in any laws or restraints - the only thing that holds me back is myself. That's what I had thought.

But I can't bear it, this pain, this ache.

I see him in my dreams, always. In these dreams I have seen, I always weep afterwards, in my heart. I always wake up in the middle, and then there's the longing again. I want to reach him. And then I can only imagine, He might be looking at this sky too and that is all. I always stay up late now to watch the moon in the sky, and to watch dawn with her rosy fingers through the mist (1). I don't have circles around my eyes or anything - I'm just that kind of person. I'm fine. Right? I can live without this person, without telling him, without anything of him.

But I still cling to this last memory of him, so closely, so dear to my heart. Why?

Why? Because. Because . . . I think . . .

I . . . him.

Afterthoughts: I am utterly depressed. Please do try reviewing, it might help cheer me. If you flame me - normally I don't care - I will spew at you and make you feel my WRATH! Tis better not to get on my bad side when I get depressed - I get extremely short-tempered and angry. Anyways, any flames . . I'm pretty sure I deserve it by now. Looking back again, reading it again, . . this is a TERRIBLE story, but I'm posting it anyways. -.-;; I hate all of it - how it started, how it ended, the point of view, the perspective, the way it's written - EVERYTHING! I stretched it out too long and it's even worse than I thought of it as. Anyways, review. Just do that simple thing. Quick by the way, when you review, please do criticize me - tell me what you like, what you don't like, and don't flame me for something really stupid. Or else I'll call you a d.a. and you don't want to know what that is. I think I need a permanent beta-reader, for everything . . . (Completely digressed from the topic I tried to address . . . oh well.)

Notes:

(1) - Took that from Homer's The Odyssey - as far as I know, in the prose version translated by W.H.D. Rouse. We've been reading it for English. It's a "stock epithet", a phrase that comes up many times in it.