He ran every morning, to try to get rid of the loneliness for a short hour of the day, whether it was raining or not.

When it wasn't raining, he took a bottle of water, jogging with the sweat running down his face. He pushed himself to go on, each breath stinging a bit more, hurting a bit more, until he knew he could go no further.

When it was raining, he took the bottle, but it was empty. It was easier to run in the rain, because on really bad days, you could cry a little bit and no one would notice. Not that he wanted to cry. He hated to cry. He felt weak when he cried, helpless, and he hated that. But sometimes he had to, and the rain helped. And he hated rain, too. But when he was exhausted and had to stop, he sat on a bench, and watched as the empty bottle filled up with rainwater, one drop at a time.

He ran every day, and nobody knew. Nobody knew, because he was back and pretending to be asleep before even Tohru-kun got up. And then he would be back to his usual self, awkward, arrogant and outcast, ruining the breakfast. But he knew he couldn't live without the running. The running made him forget.

For a while.