A/N: I'n reposting this story because when I put it up on for the first time, I didn't know much about uploading documents, and the format this story was in was less than pleasing. So, with the wisdom and knowledge I have gained from my, uh, three months' worth of experience on I am resposting the stoy in a more aesthetically pleasing way.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. But neither do you! BWAHAHAHA!

Why We Can't

Chapter One: This Is Why

"Why?"

He was drowning in the limpid blue of her eyes, gasping for air; he was drowning in her, but it was her eyes that were drowning in tears.

"We can't."

He closed his eyes shut tight and pushed her away; he felt as though he were pushing her off a cliff. He could hear her scream slicing through his head, but he had to – he had to! Why couldn't she see that!

"But I need you! Darien!"

Her whispers were a scream. Her tears were acid, scalding his skin; her words were a salve; but he had to keep on cutting. This bone had to be severed and the wound burnt, completely, for it to heal. He would not let her hurt longer than she had to.

"Leave."

"Darien…!"

"Leave now, Serena."

"But…Endymion…"

It was Serenity entreating him now – oh, God. He screwed his eyes shut tighter, stamping down the fresh flood of emotion that name had undammed. He couldn't afford to drown…

"I don't love you anymore, Serenity." Her sharp inhalation. "Just leave."

Crack.

A star fell from the heavens. It clattered down to the floor beside Darien's feet, a tear splashing down beside it. Then she was gone, as quickly as in the nightmare…the only thing left as proof of her presence were the tears…the tears and the broken locket.

He gulped back a sob and fell to his knees beside the shattered symbol. He did not rise.

"You can't mean it…Endymion…Darien…why? Why?"

Her slumbering screams shredded his soul as he clutched the tree trunk. Why had he come here? This was hell; he was committing suicide over and over again by coming here every night and watching her through her window.

The stars glared down at him. He could feel their baleful stares burning down into his back, condemning him for what he had done to her. They didn't know that he was hurting from this, too. They didn't know his real reason – they didn't know why he was doing this. No one did. Not even him, really. Why was he putting the both of them through so much pain? Because of some damned dreams!

He ripped off the white mask and swore, trying to expel these feelings from his body. But they just poured out and pooled around him, like blood, and he was slowly drowning in their salty taste. His gloved hands rose up to cover his damp, flushed face. Even here, alone in the middle of the night, he was trying to hide what he felt from the world.

This was for her. It was for Serena. He just had to keep telling himself that. He couldn't let her star be extinguished just because he couldn't bear the black hole he himself was becoming. He would go through death for her….even if it meant a living death.

The tinted visor hid his eyes from her as she trudged to school, an hour earlier than usual. He was grateful for this shield, because he didn't think he could stand what she would do if she saw him.

She sensed his gaze anyways, as he had known she would. She half-turned, her hair streaming over her shoulder and shrouding her face like a golden veil, and bloodshot blue eyes raked listlessly across the street. A split-second before she could meet his eyes, he turned his head, and revved the motorcycle, speeding away.

She was transforming. He stood abruptly, his chair toppling with a crash to the floor behind him. The dozens of eyes that swung up to watch in shock as he dashed out of the room were ignored.

His cape trailed out behind him as he pounded across the rooftops. The afternoon wind dug its fingers into his cape and yanked, trying to wrench him back, keep him away from her. You made a vow, Son of Earth.

But this was different. This was danger.

Lights exploded somewhere. Superimposed over his own senses, he could feel the sudden tenseness in her muscles, the fear scrabbling for purchase in her throat, the breath of superheated air as the youma's attack burned towards her.

He dove.

Her hair caressed his face as he swept her up out of the attack's path. The ball of fire meant for her collided with the tree she had been standing in front of, and the explosion it caused sent a billow of thick black smog mushrooming past them. His heart skipped. Oh, God. That could have been her.

Her arms trembled around him, with fear, with relief, with love. He shrugged them off, taking a step away from her as they landed on a rooftop, and averted his eyes to keep himself from seeing hers and her from seeing his. To look through that kaleidoscope would only break both of their illusions.

Her hair – so long – still tangled around his neck from when he had held her. It was silk, a silken noose, drawing him in. Her eyes like blue black holes… He knew it meant death, but he couldn't maintain this act any longer…NO!

He tore away from her, shooting off into the sky like a shooting star in reverse. Did that mean someone's wish would be un-granted?

His already had.

A warm evening breeze brushed past him, tugging at his mask. He sat still as a statue on the branch, watching her pale face, traversing the tear trails with his eyes. She was curled up like a shriveled autumn leaf about to fall from the tree, shivering. He wanted to warm her, but he could offer her no comfort, no respite from her dreams. He couldn't even fight his own.

This is why…we can't, Serena.

A storm. The raindrops clung to the umbrella, like perfect little pearls. He could remember what this water had looked like on her eyelashes, when they had been out in spring showers, and she had clung to him like those raindrops, clutching him tighter with every clap of thunder. The happiness had been electrifying. Oh, God, he had loved those thunderstorms.
Gold. Gold rivers. Being dyed red…red with blood…

Sweat coursed down his cheeks, his back, in runnels on his shoulders, dampening his pillows, his hair. Tortured gasps escaped his heaving chest and mouth as he staggered like a drunken man to the balcony, wrenching open the glass doors to let in the cool air.

It was still night.

He stared at nothing, seeing nothing, only the white-hot of pain as the wind gradually wiped the tears from his flesh. Eventually, there was only one moistness left on his skin…

He opened his clenched fists. Droplets of blood spattered on the smooth spotless cement; something hard and golden and jagged clattered to the floor.

It was still silent.

A/N: There it is, another depressing little one-shot that I did because I was bored – and too lazy to write something longer and more complex. (Depressing pieces are horribly easy to write.) sigh I'm too lazy. Anyway, once I get some reviews on this fic, I might add a bit of plot to it…tell me if you want me to keep it short and sad, or actually give it a storyline.

P.S. Sorry if my writing doesn't sound entirely coherent. I've got a touch of fever, and it's really late.