14: The Necessity of a Bad Situation

Mamoru woke with a killer hangover, his head pounding, eyesight all blurry, and as a result he could only see that the girl lying next to him was a blonde. He moaned, his stomach rebelling as he sat up, immediately regretting that decision.

"What the hell did I do last night?" Mamoru murmured to himself, pulling the sheet off and stumbling as he attempted to stand up. He managed a few steps before he tripped over his own feet, sending him tumbling to the end of his bed. Lying there for a moment, Mamoru composed himself, pushing his heavy body off the mattress and back up onto his feet; or at least, that's what he thought he had done. It appeared he had only managed a few centimetres, and was now sitting on the floor, having slid off the edge of the bed.

"Ow," he muttered, leaning back against the frame of his bed, hands to his head, wishing that the monster inside his skull would go away. Mamoru pushed the dark hair off his face, steeling himself for another attempt at standing. This time he used the bed as a support, hands out reaching for the wall as he tried to make his over the few steps between the bed and the bathroom.

Mamoru reached the door frame, and looked back over at the sleeping blonde, thinking for the first time that maybe she wasn't the girl he believed he had brought home last night. He remembered seeing a girl who looked familiar, and propositioning her, he'd thought that they had been together a few nights previously. Now that he thought about it though, she wasn't that blonde.

"Oh, shit."

It was Usagi, lying there in his bed, a grim reminder of what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. His head spun, and he found himself propped up against the door frame, Mamoru's mind was filled with so many conflicting thoughts. One part of him knew that last night had been good, nigh amazing, but another knew that it had been wrong, so wrong, for that to have been done with her.

This wasn't the Usagi he had wanted before, though she wasn't unwanted, she just wasn't the same. He had loved the innocent Usagi, in his own way, though he had never showed it, much. She had filled his mind in the year he had been gone, recollections of his life in Tokyo, just little hints of her, that happy smile, her cute little, ahem, school uniform.

A sudden urge to vomit pulled him out of his contemplation, leaving him with only one thought – how on earth was he going to get to the toilet in time, with his balance like it was? Mamoru found himself weaving across the bathroom, almost missing the toilet completely, before falling to his knees before it, emptying his stomach of that awful feeling.

When his retching had subsided, Mamoru flushed the toilet, put the seat down, turned and rested against it, the cool of the porcelain against his back. He put one hand to his head, rubbing his forehead a bit, before pushing back a stubborn piece of black hair. Mamoru raised his eyes to look up at the doorway and found Usagi standing there.

"How do we keep managing to get ourselves into this situation?" she asked, leaning against the frame, staring at him, her blue eyes dulled.

Mamoru spluttered a little bit, not expecting this to come so soon, Usagi soon realised he wasn't going to say anything and walked a few steps closer, reaching out a hand.

"Get up, I need to use the bathroom."

Mamoru groaned, using her hand and the toilet to leaver himself off the ground, he stumbled, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste before walking into his bedroom. Usagi closed the door behind him, locking it, assuming that he had a bit of time, Mamoru went to his closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a blue shirt, pulling them on. He walked to the kitchen, and proceeded to scrub the taste of bile from his mouth, removing the fuzzy feeling the alcohol had left.

By the time Usagi had left the bathroom, Mamoru had made two cups of coffee, and had locked the front door, just as a precaution of course. She walked in, dressed in the clothes she had been wearing last night, and Mamoru was struck by a sense of déjà vu, or rather a sense of dreaming. This was the scene he had expected from the very beginning of this twisted relationship, in truth only a few weeks ago. Something had changed though, he had expected her to yell and scream, like she had when she'd discovered who he really was, but she wasn't and hadn't – all she did was stare, her blue eyes gazing calmly at him.

Mamoru was confused, he really had thought she would try to get away as fast as she could, but she had shown no sign of that. Neither of them moved, their blue eyes locked together, daring the other to make the first move.

"You hurt me." Usagi said flatly, looking straight into his eyes, "You hurt me, so much. Do you even know what you did? Did you know, did you even care? I know you remember saying those things, so very seriously, but did you know their effect? Did you know, God, did you know anything? Why didn't you think, Mamoru? Why couldn't you see the effect you were having on a 14 year old?" Usagi paused, and took a deep breath:

"You should have known."

Mamoru was stunned, he really was, but all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms, tell her that he hadn't meant it, that he hadn't known. But that would be admitting fault, and he couldn't do that, he wasn't that sort of person. He watched, emotionless, as she fell to the floor, crying, sobbing out all her grief for her lost person.

"How is it you bring this part of me back?" she said through her tears, wanting so bad to be angry at him, and failing so miserably. Mamoru watched helplessly, knowing that if he didn't go to her now, he would lose her, probably forever; he closed his eyes, thinking deeply, but finally making the right decision. He walked over, and picked her up off the ground, a mirror image of that fateful night with Rei, carrying her to his couch and sitting down, cradling her in his arms.

Usagi couldn't respond to this gesture of kindness, for she couldn't stop crying into his shoulder, trying to release the awful feelings which had plagued her for so long. Mamoru leant back into the couch, and just held her, soothing her as much as possible, waiting for her to calm down. She wept, mourning for her lost childhood, feeling as though her heart had been destroyed these past months, and now, putting it back together, hurt so much.

Soon, her tears faded to hiccoughs and childish sniffles, and she drew comfort from the fact that for once in her life, someone was there to hold her while she fell to pieces, and attempted to glue it back into place.

Mamoru felt guilty, awful heart wrenchingly guilty, like his whole being was created by guilt; he regretted his past decisions, his callous actions, his stupid words. And all he could do to fix it was hold her, whisper quiet words, and hope that with time his beautiful Usako would come back.

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I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry! Please believe me!