A/N-sorta a continuation of His Eyes, from Suze's boyfriends POV.

She's always been distant. Not just in the way the word is normally used either. With her....it's just like she's somewhere else. I thought that was just the way she was, that she just wanted to take things slow with us. But after dating her a year I started to notice little things, like the way she avoided her old house like the plague, the way she could never look at me when we kissed, how furious she got when I insulted that old cat she insisted on keeping, Spike. How she could never say she loved me.

One memory stands out.

We had a date that night. It was supposed to be perfect, I was going to propose. It was a big risk, considering she'd never said she loved me back, but some people were like that. We were visiting her parents in California, staying in a hotel. The whole night went down the drain because of one thing. One thing that I still don't understand. As we were leaving, she knocked over one of the boxes her mom had given her to take back to New York. All that fell out was this one handkerchief, this one white square of cloth, with the MDS embroidered in one corner. She stared at it, then slowly bent down to pick it up.

"Jesse." she said. That was it. But with that name my whole world fell apart. It was the way she said it. Like saying his name was like catching her breath. Like she needed it to breath. It was the look on her face as she stared at that handkerchief. She looked like she was about to pass out.

"Suze..." I said. She looked up at me. It was all too obvious she'd forgotten I was in the room. She stared at me as if she didn't recognize me.

"I have to go." she said. She didn't give me a chance to talk to her before running out of the hotel room.

I tried to catch her, but that girl is fast. As I was running it started to rain. Not pouring rain, just beyond drizzling.



"I hate this kind of rain." she'd told me once.

"Why?" I asked, not really paying attention.

"It's just this half-assed drizzle. I mean, if it's gonna rain it should pour." she had said, as if the rain done this to offend her personally. I had laughed.

"Well what's so bad about half-assed drizzle?" I said. She was looking out the window. She was quiet for awhile, I didn't think she was going to answer.

"It breaks your heart." she said softly.



I finally caught up with her. I found her in the cemetery behind an old catholic school, on her knees in front of a grave marked "Jesse de Silva", sobbing like the world had broken.

Looking back, I guess it had.