Disclaimer and etc: Yes, yes, I own nothing, you'll be happy to hear.

Ignore the OOC-ness, if you will. I'm not used to writing present tense. Why I wrote it for the first chapter, I don't know. This is present tense as well.

Happy reading!

Thanks to any readers and reviewers!

BakaDen: You make a girl feel special. XD You've actually inspired me to write a second part. Hopefully, it will be to your liking.

Polka Dot: If you read it closely, I've said it's from Kyou's POV and a Haru/Kyou fanfic. Not to mention, the protagonist has orange hair.

A Night To Realize part2

by Zeto

Haru POV

He's not the one. The one I want is with her. Tohru. I'm not mad at her though. How can I be?

She makes him happy. Something I've never been able to do.

Kyou POV

I perch on the apartment rooftop; it seems as though any rooftop is something I adhere to.

At least it isn't raining.

The last time I'd trampled through the rain, the weather had infected me with a cold.

It's always the same though.

Every night I'm up here, looking at the stars above me, the city below me.

Every night he comes to get the me. Yet, every night, I am the one who leads him back inside.

Sometimes I tire of this dance we weave.

Sometimes I just want to leave him, forget everything. But I can't.

Black and white. Black and white haunts me in the form of these beads.

He haunts me too. Him with his black and white hair, his eyes.

I can see the pity in them. And I hate it.

But . . .there is understanding too. . .he knows how I feel.

He longs for another, like how I long to be accepted into the Zodiac. And how I long for him.

It's why we fight. Most of the time, I'd rather not anymore.

But there are times I just want to-to hurt him because . . .it's not me he wants.

I know why though. I'm not him. I can't be him.

I'm not beautiful and smart and liked by everyone. I can't even beat him at martial arts.

Yet to leave Haru though would . . .would be impossible.

I'm just that selfish. I'll take anything I can get; it's better than nothing after all.

Kazuma would gladly have me back and I know he cares for me but it's not what I want.

The wind tears at my clothes.

Sneezing, I shiver, but make no move to return to the warmth of my apartment.

I know he cares for me but that's not enough. I don't want him to just . . . care.

I want more but . . . but that's the one thing I can't have.

Warm liquid pools in my eyes and starts to trickle down my face.

It's only the rain, right? I'm not crying. Really, I'm not.

I wonder what he's doing; I wonder what he's thinking of. Is he thinking of . . . Yuki?

But he's here now with me. Shouldn't that be all that matters?

All of a sudden, I hear footsteps behind me. It's him. He looks worried, concerned.

Dropping his jacket over my shoulders, he pulls me close.

I revel in the warmth he exudes. Shutting my eyes, I can pretend for a while.

Pretend he cares and thinks only of me. I can imagine we're the only ones in the world.

I lead him inside and he tucks me into my bed again.

Tomorrow, he'd promised before.

Tomorrow, we'd have the whole day to ourselves and we'd be able to go out.

Leaning in, he gazes into my eyes, as if searching for something.

And suddenly I can't bear his gaze anymore. I turn away from him, hiding my tears, my pain.

I feel his lips graze my hair. He quietly rises to his feet and retreats to his own room again.

He doesn't deserve this; he needs better. I

know I'm not what he wants or needs, but he won't say otherwise.

He's never felt for me the way I feel for him, I know it. Maybe-maybe it's time to let him go.

Waking, I glance at my clock, surprised to find myself awake early for once, earlier than usual.

I slip out of bed and rifle through my drawers for something decent.

After deciding on black cargo pants and a comfortable, white top, I head for my closet.

Slowly, I pull the doors aside and survey the few items enclosed within.

Shouldn't take too long to pack; I don't have much. I take out my bag, dropping it on my bed.

Folding my clothes, I set them within my duffle bag. Collecting my other personal items, I place them in the bag as well.

A silver flash catches my eye. The sun is dimly shining upon a picture upon the dresser.

Trudging over, my trembling fingers reach out and rub the frame. My hand latches on and picks it up.

It's the two of us. We were younger then; I was more naïve.

We'd gone to feed the birds at a neighbouring park.

He'd gotten someone to take a picture as we posed in front of a magnificent water fountain.

I was smiling into the camera but he was looking at me.

There was a twinkle in his eyes, as he'd smiled tenderly at me.

He had an arm slung around me and I was resting my head on his shoulder; we looked a young couple, so completely in love.

How untrue that is, how untrue it turns out to be.

It was a perfect shot; this is the one thing I want to take with me. One last cherished memory.

I tuck it under all the clothes and pick up a small brown teddy bear next to my pillow.

'Forever love' was emblazoned on the heart pillow the bear clutched. I return it to its former position.

Storing the bag under my bed, I realize he'll be getting up soon.

I wash up and head for the kitchen. Eggs, bacon and toast; a simple morning fare even I can't mess up.

A smile tugs at my lips. I remember the first time I tried to make him breakfast.

By the time I was done, I had to throw out the kettle and the toaster.

I was so upset -on the verge of crying, really-he actually ate everything I'd made.

Thankfully, the eggs were all right and the coffee was drinkable.

I've learned a lot since then. Of course, he did tell me to stick to onigiri.

He shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing adorably at his eyes.

I hand him his mug of coffee and he takes a grateful sip.

Sitting him down, I whisk around the kitchen, quickly assembling his breakfast.

He polishes the meal off, humour evident in his eyes; he must be recalling the first time I attempted to cook, as well.

After cleaning up, he goes to dress and wash up.

I sit quietly in the living room, watching the sun bathe the city in warm light.

The horizon is flushed with soft gold; it's a beautiful day.

We start making our way to the parking lot as the sun dips onto the horizon.

It was a good day, one I wish to last forever with him.

I gasp as we near his car, halting in my tracks. He follows my gaze.

It's him.

Even after a year, he hasn't forgotten about Yuki.

He freezes, his sugar cookie falling to the ground unnoticed.

Stomach twisting, I can only watch as he stumbles toward him, calling out his name.

Yuki turns, surprised. A smile breaks out over his face and he embraces the silver-haired youth.

I've lost him. Maybe . . . maybe I never had a chance at all. Was I foolish to even try?

His back is turned and for that I'm thankful.

He doesn't see the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Yuki glances straight ahead, into my eyes.

He's made his choice. Who am I to interfere?

I want to hate him. I honestly do but I can't. Not anymore. It's not Yuki's fault Haru loves him.

It's not his either. With a shaky smile, I turn and walk away.

Normally, I'd fight for something I want.

Normally, I'd grit my teeth and stubbornly dig my heels into the ground but . . . but not this time.

Flagging down a taxi, I give our address and before long, I'm standing before our apartment.

The driver thanks me profusely for the nice tip before driving away, taillights flashing red.

Retrieving my bag, I take a lingering look around our apartment, memorizing everything.

I grab his leather jacket. It's one thing I'm sure he won't mind me taking; he knows I like it. It's all I've have.

I know I'll miss him. Every night I'll wonder where he is. Who he's with.

But, will he ever think of me?

...

...Maybe. Maybe not.

Owari

A/N: Gah!! That was a whole load of OOC sap!!! T.T Not good . Well, I hope you enjoyed that BakaDen, it's written for you. Now, just don't say you want another part! Lol!