Inadequacy

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket, and the song "Love Will Keep Us Alive" belongs to the Eagles

I was standing

All alone against the world outside

You were searching

For a place to hide

Lost and lonely, now you've given me

The will to survive

When we're hungry… love will keep us alive

-the Eagles, Love Will Keep Us Alive

...is this love? What I feel for you, is it truly love?

I could love you. I should love you. After all, you saved me, took me in and offered me patience and understanding. Did you know that you're the only person who's ever told me that they weren't afraid of me or disgusted by me, and I could almost believe it? Because sometimes the way you look at me, the softness in your eyes and the tiniest hint of a smile that quirks at your lips, makes me feel like I can trust you, that you're telling me the truth when you say you love me- even though I know you can't possibly mean what you say.

And so… I should love you unconditionally, be willing to face hell for you and change my entire life and all my ways for you. And dammit, I hate myself a thousand times worse when I can't seem to do that. Not even be the slightest bit better for you, who deserves anything and everything good that the world has to offer. I should be a better person, someone that you could be proud of. I shouldn't be me.

But I can't. I'm not even brave or truthful enough to tell you how beautiful you are and how much you mean to me, and how I can't possibly deserve anyone so strong and perfect and amazing like you. It seems like a sin, almost, for you to even pretend that I'm worth your time. That's why you're the one that always says "I love you" and I'm not even able to tell you that back. All I can manage is to murmur quietly in assent (hoping that you'll be able to understand that what I mean, and praying that you won't) and hold you closer and tighter and try to forget- even if only for a minute- how repulsive and ugly I am, and to be able to know that you're really here, next to me; willingly, like you actually don't mind me holding you.

And then, sometimes, I look at you in the soft moonlight, your head leaning delicately against my shoulder and your silver hair shining softly; your eyes closed, making you look like some kind of ethereal angel trapped in time. And I want to kiss you, hold you close to me, your delicate frame fitting perfectly into mine. But I don't, because it would feel like I was committing something atrocious for even daring to touchyou. Unconsciously, I shrink away, and your eyes flutter open as you look at me, questioning me.

…Do you know how beautiful your eyes are? They shimmer with exquisiteness, but softly; not harshly demanding like some kind of large diamond. They're beautiful beyond compare, silvery-lavender pools, and then I want to tell you how wonderful they are. But I would just botch up the words that should be poetic and eloquent, and so I just keep quiet.

But this time… tiny drops of water seem to be caught in your long lashes, and I realize with horror that you were crying.

What's wrong…?

I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…

Whatever it was, I'm sorry…

I wish I could make it better…

I'm sorry…

Is it… because of me?

When I know I should be letting you go, away from me, away from the thing that's sure to be making you upset, I hold you tighter and try to whisper comforting words in your ears. …am I just making it worse? But I can't let you go, I'm selfish beyond anything, and I want to be able to deceive myself into thinking that maybe I'm helping you, instead of hurting you. Because I promise, I swear, that I don't want to hurt you anymore and that I want to be able to love you well.

And so we stay with each other, because you must be faultless and too wonderful, and you can stand staying here with me. And I want to be like you so much at that moment, I want to be like you so much that this perfect fantasy that's playing out comes crashing down on me.

…because I'm jealous. No matter how much anyone else hates me, they couldn't possibly be more disgusted with me than I am at myself. You offer me warmth, asking me gently if I'm all right, and all I can do is look at you enviously and wish that, more than anything else in this world, that I could be like you.

Elegant, calm, regal, so perfect… and easy to love. I want to be able to temper my words and say things that comfort people, rather than be the one who causes unchecked damage in their lives like some monstrous beast (I almost laugh at the simile I chose). All I seem to do is take up happiness and peace, and not give anything back but anxiety and irritation and bad feelings, in semblance to a demonic parasite.

I would love to be able to face my fears, rather than try and forget them and avoid my own monstrosity until it undoubtedly catches up with me. I can't even seem to be noble or self-sacrificing enough to lock myself up, and in the end, it has to be Akito that does it.

Akito… I don't know why you tense at the sound of his name, and I don't dare ask. What would be the use? I couldn't offer you my empathy- you survived and managed to still be strong; where Akito wouldn't have even had a challenge with me. I can't seem to acknowledge my own numerous atrocities, and I'm sure I would crumble the second someone who knows everything repulsive about me, harshly fired them upon me.

But I swear, whatever he told you, it's not true. You're beautiful and amazing and courageous, and your soul is pure and- my god, how could anyone possibly despise you and think you're worthless and want to break you? You are beyond comparison, and even if everything Akito says about me is true, whatever he tells you is a lie, and what would he know? Because equally like me, he doesn't- and couldn't ever- deserve to be graced by your presence.

…for all it's worth, if nothing else matters, then yes...

I love you.

Do you realize that? No matter how weak and cowardly I am, if anything tried to harm you, I swear that I would try and save you. If I could, you would lead a perfectly blessed life, and anything horrible that the world threw at you, I would take it instead. I promise you, even if I couldn't do anything else, I would die for you a thousand times over.

You doubt me when I tell you this, when I'm mumbling it under the cover of darkness and we're pressed against each other. But I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't waste time on anything like me.

…but I'm not like you, and it's repulsive how I can admit that I crave your touch and for the way you act like you care about me. I'm thankful, I really am, for the way you must swallow your repulsion and gather me in your arms, like the way you do when you can seem to tell that I hate myself so much that I want to kill myself, but I'm too much of a coward to even do that. And so I pretend, when you hold me and tell me loving things, and when you seem to actually want to comfort something like me; that maybe you really do love me and I'm not so worthless, and locking me up would actually be a loss to the world.

But when you leave, I know there isn't anything special or worthwhile about me; that your kind words must be a lie. Besides, how could you want me? I'm too scared to even tell you that I love you, and the kind of person you deserve is someone who can care for you and trust you.

But even if it is all a lie, an illusion… please, please let me believe in it for one more year. One more year until graduation, when you can dump me and get rid of me, but until then, just let me live out my fantasy. A world where someone cares about me, where they love me and when they tell me so, I can believe them. Anything that you offer, I swear, I'll take it willingly and gratefully. I won't ask for anything more than what you're already generous enough to give me. And when it comes to a time when I'll hurt and I'll bleed… I won't blame it on you at all. My trampled heart will be all my fault.

But until then, for a year… I don't care. I'll try not to think about what's going to happen to me, even if I deserve it, and let myself pretend that you love me, and this feeling isn't one-sided and unrequited. This illusion is better than nothing at all, because when it comes to love, that's all I'm going to get.

…and, god, I'm so disgusting. Even now, when I should be happy with this illusion, I can't help wanting more. I want you to love me, really love me, despite how pathetic and revolting I am.

…no. …just forget that. Ignore that. Really, I am thankful for everything you give me. It's more than I could possibly deserve.

Just please, let me live like this for one more year. Then do what you want with me, but just for one more year let me pretend that you love me. Stay with me, even if it's too much to ask, and know that no matter how much you might not want it…

I love you.

A/N: That was… interesting. I wrote it in about an hour, which is the fastest I've ever written (it's a good thing!). I didn't have this piece beta-ed, because for one thing, my beta's not even associated with this fandom. That means I probably have some mistakes, but I hope it's not too bad- I tried to write it in the style as if Kyo's thinking, and so thoughts run together and I use lots of "and"s and commas, instead of making them separate sentences. Hopefully I accomplished making it sound like Kyo was being introspective at a rather breathless pace, changing his mind and realizing things, instead of making it sound like some grammar-deficient, run-on sentence writer wrote it. I realize that it's kind of random and switches from thought to thought quickly, but that's the way I imagine Kyo's mind working. Not to mention, I've never written at this pace before, and I'm completely new to it.

Please review, it's my first fic in this fandom, and maybe if enough people like it, then I'll add on a second part, which will probably be in Yuki's POV. Thanks for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it!