Okay, no idea what possessed me to make a second chapter, because I had no ideas whatsoever until just now, but for some reason here it is. (Omigosh, it's haunted!)

-sigh- Yeah, I'm pathetic.

Here's Part II. And there may be one or two more chapters, depending on whether I'm divinely inspired or something…-is doubtful-

Still AU. Still Sora/Kairi. And I (still) hope you'll enjoy. XD

Disclaimer: Nope.

The willow tree became his favorite tree.

After all, if he touched the bark, and if he closed his eyes, she was there, smiling, laughing, telling him to "cheer up and just smile."

Not dig his fingers into the bark and persuade the tears to stay at bay, not suffer because she hadn't come back to him in over a month. She'd want him to be happy, instead of what he was doing now, falling to his knees as his knuckles scraped against the abrasive tree, staring hollowly at the grass as people stared at him and walked by.

But how could he feel this goddamned, so-called "happiness" when his heart was in tatters and his body was in pain.

He closed his eyes shut and clutched his chest, shuddering. His heart hurt again.

Why?

Days like that came and went, that not his first experience, that not his last. A dead figure in the halls of a prison dubbed high school, if he so much as caught sight of red hair or thought he heard her giggle he found himself stumbling into some locker, attracting stares as he nearly broke down, his knees weak, his mind racing. And that wasn't supposed to happen, because those feelings were unrealistic, and never happened.

Nothing moved him to the point where he was practically dying from agony, practically screaming as he wanted to collapse into tears on the floor. There had to be another reason, had to be another reason!

But Riku said…there wasn't. That this was love, and that all his running had just carried him in a circle until he found her.

Sora didn't want to believe, but the truth that Riku was always right kept slapping him in the face.

And it hurt. So…much…

The wisp of the willow. It called him, after days of suffering and studies and failures and disappointments, and carried him back to where the grass was near dead and the earth was soft. The shade softened the blare of the sun that mocked him – as it had mocked her – and he was almost moved to tears, almost let himself cry, every…time…, it was so comforting. But he couldn't. And he didn't.

Because he was a coward, and would forever be one.

March passed, so fleeting after it had taken her away, out of his life. But he didn't welcome the prospect of April, of the flurry of seniors trying to up their grades, of the pressure of colleges and of strained relationships that might not survive the real world. The drama only glanced off him, himself hollow and cold to what kids his age were going through, because it didn't matter.

All his feelings had been swept away on the rain-showered wind, cut off from him entirely when the beams of the sun had touched upon his form. His ties to senior life were severed, and he only glanced at the world through misted eyes, trying to suppress the tremor in his shoulders and anger in his chest.

It was all nothing to him now.

April came to a shuddering stop around the middle of the month, the days pressing on unimaginably slow, for some reason extending. He didn't understand it, but time for some unaccountable reason refused to move at the right pace, and his life became an increased hell, as he had to suffer from more stares and more questions.

What killed him most was when the blonde or the brunette came up to him, asking – or sometimes demanding – where Kairi (oh, her name) had gone to.

Her name, her name, her name, her name…it hurt him so much. He didn't say it, didn't think it, if he could help it.

He'd couldn't even think about finding her, because the very thought of her drove him out of her mind. He couldn't even feel betrayal at her, either.

What had he ever been to her?

If only, though, he didn't still taste the kiss on his lips when the branches of the willow tree caressed his cheek.

"You love her," Riku kept repeating.

"And what does that bring me?"

Riku had fallen silent.

Dash happiness. Dash dreams. Dash a life full of small kisses and joyous giggles, dash holding hands and long embraces! Dash all the things he never wanted, that he now wanted, and that he couldn't HAVE!

Goddamn her, for giving him a chance and not having a chance of her own. Her stupid selfless heart and compassion for others. It made him feel, and made him feel for her.

He loved her.

So…what…

He couldn't have her, could he?

His house was still frigid, and for that alone he was grateful, actually, for his life hadn't been completely flipped upside down. He was at least able, too, to leave at midnight and walk the streets, head tilted back and eyes on the stars, heart yearning for that hope that the sun was supposed to bring and yet never brought, only scorching him instead. And the cold glow of the moon would be no better, only increased the hollowness and emptiness in him, stretched the heart-ache until his chest seared and his face grew hot.

Grew so hot he had to stop and rub at it, until he realized it was not hot but cold and the searing was tears and he was crying…

He was crying.

And he fell to his knees and he screamed and he screamed and he screamed and he didn't know why, because she was nothing but a girl, nothing but a girl that made his heart ache and only reached out to him like any other person tried to reach out to him.

It was his fault. He'd allowed her to get through, to touch his heart, to soothe his pain. And he touch was gone and so the pain was greater, so great he couldn't bare it, and he was suffering so, so much.

Because he loved her.

And he kept saying that, because every time he didn't believe himself, and then it hit him, reminded him of the reason why he hurt so much.

He loved the girl who cried under the willow trees, who didn't feel the sun, who loved without being loved.

And he wanted to hold her and let her know that he did care, he really did care.

But she'd been whisked away by angry headlights and blaring horns, to be condemned in a hell she didn't deserve…

And that he couldn't save her from.

He was such a coward.

Leaning back on his heels, he ran his sleeve across his face and hiccupped, feeling childish, feeling small. And he stood and he turned and he ran, back to his house, back to his room, where the door would lock and he would cease to feel, because he would be caught up in the prison he created for himself to protect himself.

And in that darkness, he would fall asleep…

And wake up to another day without her.

And the vicious cycle would go on and on and on, the days slow, painfully slow, outrageously slow, without her. And he would run to that willow tree every day after school, hoping the ghost of her he saw from a distance wasn't a ghost, wasn't a memory, and was actually her, come back, come back to him.

But that was never so.

And he leaned heavily against the trunk every time, eyes cast upward into the endless expanse of branches, yearning for her, and yearning to smile.

She had taught him how to smile again, and he felt so horribly incomplete without her to smile back at him.

"You like this place."

Starting, Sora swung his gaze to his friend, his aqua eyes hard as they focused away from him, silver hair concealing the thoughts there. And Sora gave a slight inclination of his head, following his gaze, looking out at the parking lot. Seniors stood there, laughing, joking, and he wasn't jealous.

Not at all.

"I guess."

"It's not what you want, though."

"No."

Riku nodded, swinging his gaze back to him as Sora turned his head as well. And he tried to crack a grin for Riku, his oldest friend, but it turned into a grimace and he hung his head ruefully, ashamed.

"I hope she comes back."

Sora nodded, hands clenching into fists, shaking. No matter how thoughtless his words could have been, they weren't, because his tone was pained, his voice softened. He wanted her back, too, because he'd seen the effect she'd caused in him, and of course he wanted his oldest friend back.

Of course he wanted all three of them to be happy.

But life was life, and Sora knew that if he ever let go of that willow tree he would start seeing clearly that life, which screamed and screamed that she was never coming back. And he wanted, he wanted, he wanted her to come back.

And the tears were burning his cheeks again as Riku rested his hand on his shoulder and allowed for him to cry.

The fourth week was just as slow, the third having barely passed. And he was tormented in every class seat, especially in the class he'd shared with her. And he bowed his head, avoided the teacher's gaze every time it switched from her seat to his, eyes overshadowed by his slightly longer brown bangs as he scrawled nothing of importance onto a white-lined piece of paper.

He'd lost the will to work, to pass, to try. And the only reason he bothered to show up, was because of the willow tree, which called his name on the wind and kept him tied to her.

A shudder ran through him, and he was gone at the ring of the bell, feeling ill. He stumbled down the stairs and out the door, raced to the willow tree, and then collapsed to his knees, sick on the grass and the tears started immediately.

Ever since that night, he couldn't stop them.

He didn't move for a while, and then he pushed himself to his feet, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and raced off to his house, away from there, away from memories.

And when night fell, he was walking under the stars again, the romanticism escaping him as the emptiness filled him. And his feet kept carrying him, beyond street signs, beyond houses, block after block after block until he was there, on campus, wondering why he even bothered to try to find comfort.

Eyes down, he trudged across the flattened grass, the feel – which he'd never thought was there – so familiar as he allowed the invisible path to carry him to the willow, the assurance that the sun wouldn't burn him now forever in his mind.

Wearily, he lifted his head, ready to just collapse against the trunk and fall asleep, a long Friday giving into Saturday as midnight fell, until he realized the spot wasn't empty. And he stopped, unable to move any farther, no thoughts running through his mind as he tried to see through the dark, trying not to let himself believe it was her but believing anyway, his heart soaring and his hands trembling.

And then he was walking at an eerily calm speed closer and closer to the tree, and his footsteps had her jerking her head up in fear, that fear so familiar to him. And that she gave a little cry, lurching forward, trying – and failing – to get to her feet. He was running as she fell forward, shuddering on the ground, and then he was lifting her up, to him, careful of her bruises and broken arm as she apologized over and over and over again, crying into his neck as he told her to "Shut up, it's not your fault. It's never your fault."

And she tightened her hold on him, saying she was scared, that she didn't know what to do, asked him if this was a dream.

And he hoped to God – if there was a God, and maybe there was, if she was there – that it wasn't.

"He's dead," she said finally, after crying so long and apologizing so hard. And he wondered how she knew he knew, exactly, but told her he was glad all the same, and told her he wouldn't hurt her anymore.

She didn't believe him.

But he held her tighter, all the while assuring himself she was there as he assured her that he would take care of her, that he wouldn't let anything hurt her.

And he didn't know if she believed him then. But she relaxed slightly, and looked up at him with the smallest of smiles.

And he felt himself smile at her gaze.

He then lifted her up in his arms, knowing she needed a hospital, because her father had beaten her again – though for the last time, it seemed.

He wouldn't ask, though. In truth he didn't care, so long as he was dead and couldn't hurt her anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, whimpering slightly and causing Sora to suspect one of her ribs might have been broken, too.

He looked at her weakly, and then finally allowed for a real smile in the longest time to shine on his face. And she laughed softly, until her sides protested and she was crying against him, cringing in pain.

"I love you," he said softly, drawing her gaze back to him, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I…"

"Don't," he said softly, leaning against the willow tree as he held her, holding her closer. "You have all the time in the world."

She bit her lip and tried so hard to raise her arm, to touch his face, to show she cared, but her side protested and she whimpered again, drawing closer to him. And he pushed off from the willow tree, pain easing with every step he took, his being not so empty any longer.

The willow had brought them together again.

And maybe, one day, they'd feel the sun together, would see the hope both had been denied for so, so long.

And they would learn, maybe, what it was…to love.

Yes, it was a stupid ending. -stabs- I can never end stuff.

Anyway, maybe you like it? I can always delete it and leave it as it was, if this ruins the whole fic. -nods- So, tell me your opinion, please! And thanks for reading.