Happy Wednesday, guys! This is an older one again that the tumblr crowd might still remember, but ya know, one of my most favorite settings to write in ;) So here, have some angst for your coffee break!

A Kiss To Pretend

Breaking up with her was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

And he had a few things to compare it to. Like raising his sword to his most trusted men with no thought spared for them, knowing he would fall at their will, just for the sliver of a chance that Serenity might survive the genocide of her people by the hands of those he trusted. Like jumping in front of a girl he teased every day and who had just flopped his world upside down by transforming into the most powerful person he knew in front of his eyes, and letting himself get impaled in her stead. Like stepping in front of that same girl with no memories to call back on whatsoever and let a duo of violent aliens try to rip him apart so they might not do so with her.

These had all been easy decisions. The easiest in his life. Almost automatic. His most basic truths.

Because in the end, it was who he was. It didn't even make sense, and it was the only thing in his world that made sense at the same time. In any world, in any time, he would find her and he would be drawn to her and he would love her, even when he didn't know to name these feelings yet. Always, everywhere, he would love her in this overwhelming, crushing, nonsensical way that boiled in him and that he couldn't put into words. He would be pulled like a magnet, like a moth, like a drowning, falling, lovesick fool to her smile and her exasperating nonsense and her naïve and wise good heart, and the way she could share that smile so easily and make it so contagious. In a way, he thought he was made to love her. He was made to protect her. It thrummed through his veins and gave him his powers, he was sure of it. He would die loving her. And when he did, and when he has, she would know he loved her in this all-consuming way.

Sacrificing himself was easy as long as she got the message.

Sacrificing himself, his happiness, the happy ending this second (third!) chance and rebirth was supposed to represent? He'd take a thousand deaths for her if it meant he could keep her safe again while she just knew this eternal truth. That he loved her. Would always love her.

"I don't love you anymore," he'd said through gritted teeth, for what felt like the hundredth painful time, a rose crumbling in his clenched fist, staining his white gloves.

"But…" Her hands had been trembling, tightly clasped in front of her chest.

But you came to save me, but you're here, but you kissed me awake to break the youma's spell, but you're taking care of this kid that should be my responsibility, but you always come when I'm in trouble…

Whatever the excuse, her eyes shone with hope… But not always, and the times they didn't broke him. Yet mostly, she was stubborn.

It made him feel rotten, despicable, that the hardest thing about this sacrifice was not the sacrifice itself, but the fact she would maybe never know it was a sacrifice in the first place. That he loved her. That it was a lie to protect her.

It was ironic then, that it was even harder when she knew. When she'd had the same dream and she knew, and she pounded her fists on his door to get him to take her back because she didn't care if she died as long as she could be with him.

It shredded him at the same time as it grounded him. She knew. She knew.

The kiss that night under the moonlight was supposed to be an exception. A moment of weakness they allowed themselves. Nothing had changed. She was still in danger; the prophetic dreams were still there.

But now it was the fifth night in a row after that "exception" that he sat in the dark of his apartment and waited.

He left his balcony door open.

It was past 11pm - the time the Tsukino household grew quiet enough to let her escape easily - when he heard the thud of her feet on his balcony, saw the pink flash of light in his peripheral vision, and even when he lay on his side facing away from her, he lifted the covers, felt her arms snake around his middle, felt her slip underneath the blanket and curve herself around his form, pink flannel pajamas pressed against his back, his legs, her cheek against the hollow between his shoulder blades.

He exhaled shakily, the lump in his throat so thick and painful, but wrapped his hand around her smaller one clutching at the muscles of his stomach, unfurled her fingers from their desperate grip, and brought them up to his face.

He kissed her knuckles first, between every gap, pressing his warm lips to her cold skin in an insistent, but carefully soft way, then uncurled each finger, one by one, to press his lips against the pads, soft and slow and reverent, his stomach dropping and his chest full and hurting.

Her felt her shaking behind him.

When he turned, he found her eyes, sad but calm. Sharing the same pillow, her cheek rested softly on the fluffed fabric just a breath away from his own, and he didn't let go of her hand, instead he clasped it between both of his and held it against his chest.

They didn't speak. They mostly didn't, these nights. There was nothing left to say that wouldn't break their hearts or make this harder than it already was.

They couldn't be together. And yet here they were.

It was wrong, it was dangerous, but she knew.

When he leaned in, sliding forward on the pillow with the crinkling sound of the fabric against his ear, brushing his nose against hers and then capturing her soft lips between his in a slow, caressing kiss, over and over, her lips slipping against his in this warm, shallow and soft and grounding way, he could pretend. He could pretend it would all be ok, that he wasn't killing her.

Because he could never let her go. He'd never had been able to, not once, not really, not in the end. This was one sacrifice too hard.

Obvious Setting Tag: R (break up arc)