Title: Remembrance

Author: Lisa

Chapter: 4

Rating: PG

Author's Notes:

Thanks so much to my reviewers for the last chapter – you're the best! Please enjoy Chapter 4 and keep the feedback coming! :)

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and the others don't belong to me, but this story does.

I lied to her again. I was always lying to her, entangling both of us deeper and deeper into my web of deceit until I could hardly see the surface.

We had just stepped outside the sweets shop with a formidable box of assorted chocolates in hand, which Usagi had assured me would be a big hit at Minako's party; I was more than happy to take her word for it. Having successfully completed my only pressing task for the day, I now focused all my attention on the uncharacteristically silent blond walking beside me.

"Arigato," I said gently, so as not to startle her from her thoughts, "for keeping me company today. And for listening. I know I'm not the…well, the easiest person to be around, I guess you could say." That was a gross understatement, but I was more interested in her response.

"That's funny, because…" She paused and shot a hesitant glance my way, and my heart did a somersault in my chest. "Because whenever I'm around you, it feels…I don't know…right. Comforting. Like…like I've known you for a very long time." She sighed and shook her head as if to clear it. "You must think I'm crazy."

If some stranger had come by and punched me in the stomach in that instant, I doubt that would've felt worse than the sudden nausea that gripped me. She was imploring me with those blue eyes, searching for the truth that I wasn't sure existed anymore.

"I don't think you're crazy," was my pathetic response. Enchanting, mesmerizing, blinding in her radiance and warmth, but not crazy. That was reserved for me and the dangerous game that I couldn't stop playing.

"Then tell me please." I found myself floating in that endless expanse of sky-blue, drifting as close to heaven as I could ever dare hope to reach. "Have we met before?"

It was a simple question with no simple answer. I was at a crossroads with two dead ends, left to pick my poison all the while those eyes continued burning into me, relentless in their sincerity. If I said "yes," I would have admitted to willful deception. I would have had to explain that not only had we previously met, but also that I had been dreaming of our fairytale reunion since the moment she had promised me "always." How could she trust me again knowing that I had recognized her the second I had opened my door to her startled face, then had proceeded to carry on for days acting like we were strangers? If I said "no," then I would keep dragging her along in this unspeakably selfish charade.

And worse even—what if despite my denial, by some cruel act of fate, our current encounters would unlock those elusive memories from the innermost corners of her brain—would she hate me then? A string of bad decisions culminating in an impossible choice, and I hadn't anyone but myself to blame.

"I would've remembered if we had," I replied finally, unable to meet her gaze. Technically I had spoken no falsehood. I did, in fact, remember every word, every look, every touch, every smile. I was like a starving man salivating over the memories of his last glorious feast, even while they left him ever more ravenous. Yet even I couldn't delude myself into thinking I had spoken the truth. A lie by omission and evasion was as powerful as one spoken outright.

"Hai, you'd think I would too." She bit her lip thoughtfully. We were at the door of my apartment building at that point. I watched, unwilling to make even the slightest movement, as she cupped one hand to my right cheek and held it there. "You'd think I'd remember those eyes."

I was in freefall, desperately grasping onto those few sweet, sweet seconds before the inevitable crash that would break me.

"Usako, I—" Her hand slipped back to her side just as my own hand came up to silence my traitorous lips. It had just come out, had escaped from my mouth at the first lowering of the barriers that I had so carefully constructed—those walls that she had obliterated with the softness of her fingers caressing my cheek with maddening tenderness. I surprised myself with my own audacity, and judging from her bewildered expression, had given her a great shock as well.

"Mamo—"

"Gomen, this was a mistake," I mumbled and all but ran through the automatic doors before she had a chance to get another word in.

Some knight in shining armor I made.

I groaned and slid further into my sofa, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole like a scene in some cheap horror movie. I stared blankly at the gift basket and box of chocolates on my coffee table—fresh reminders of my shame—and tried to pinpoint where it had gone horribly wrong. Not only had I deceived the poor girl again. No, I had to go and ruin it all by showing all my cards. I might as well have ripped out my heart and presented it to her on a platter judging by the look of astonishment on her face. At least I hadn't given it enough time for her face to contort into disgust; that I wasn't sure I could bear. Usako…who was I kidding?

I swore I could hear fate laughing at me just now.

Apparently my body couldn't handle three nights of total sleep deprivation. I must've fallen asleep somewhere in the midst of my marathon anger and self-loathing session. I now awoke to streams of sunlight on my face and a dull ache in my neck from sleeping at an unnatural angle on my couch. I'd accidentally gone and slept away half the morning and had nothing but a pounding headache to show for it. Half-stumbling into the kitchen, I made a beeline for the coffeemaker and clenched my mug with fumbling desperation while the coffee brewed. It took several sips of the steaming liquid before I began to feel like a semblance of my normal self. After a full cup of the stuff in my system, I had almost convinced myself that things weren't as dire as I'd made them out to be last night. I mean, it wasn't like I had to show my face at the party tonight, right…?

The loud rings of the telephone nearly caused me to drop my favorite mug. After securing it on the kitchen counter, I made my way toward the offending sound, having already guessed at the caller's identity before even answering the phone. I could count on one hand the number of people who had my number, and out of those select few, only one called me regularly.

"Moshi moshi." I made sure to use my most annoyed voice.

"Well, good morning to you too. Sounds like someone hasn't had his coffee yet." I smiled despite myself.

"About to have my second cup, actually," I countered smoothly.

"Jeez Mamoru, how many times have I told you to dial it back a bit on the caffeine?" That was Motoki in a nutshell: concerned friend, scolding parent, sounding board, and brooding buddy all rolled into one (though I must admit that he never brooded—that was all me while he would go on about "seeing the bright side").

"Then you need to stop giving me those free refills."

"That's…erm…beside the point. Anyway—" Motoki paused, and I could tell he was finally coming around to the real reason he was calling. "You're still coming tonight, right?"

"I'll be there at seven," I affirmed, "with obligatory gift basket in tow."

"Great." He stopped again, and I could picture him squirming a bit in his seat. "And afterward…?"

I tensed immediately, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks at the thought of my embarrassing slip of the tongue and cowardly escape shortly thereafter. "Can we talk about it at dinner?" I rubbed my temples tiredly. The headache was returning with a vengeance thanks to Motoki's meddling.

"Uh-oh. What happened?" I imagined him sitting up, suddenly alert as he pressed the phone just a bit closer to his ear to get his fill of the latest episode in the depressing saga that was my life. To his credit, I knew that his eagerness stemmed from a genuine concern for my general sanity and well-being. Motoki hadn't a mean bone in his body as far as I could tell.

"Pretty sure she hates me now," I mumbled almost incoherently. Perhaps 'hate' was too strong of a word, but certainly she didn't seem thrilled at what was basically a verbal manifestation of all my hopes and desires.

"And…why do you think she hates you? We're talking about Usagi, right? Did she actually say the words 'I hate you?'" Motoki was getting on my nerves now with his weird way of questioning. He wasn't there; he didn't see the way her face distorted at hearing the forbidden endearment.

"Not exactly…"

"I'm…not really following here then, Mamoru."

I sighed and ran a hand through my tousled hair. I hadn't the energy to rehash yesterday afternoon's events in any gruesome detail. "Let's just talk tonight, alright? I'll explain everything then."

"Fine." He was growing cross with me now, as it inevitably happened with anyone who had more than minimal amounts of contact with me. Even saints must have their patience tried. "But promise me you won't go moping about the apartment today cleaning invisible dust off the shelves or rearranging your furniture or whatever it is you do when you're frustrated." Was it a crime that I liked to keep my apartment immaculate and happened to find cleaning therapeutic?

"Deal. See you tonight." I released a breath when I heard the dial tone on the other end and placed the phone back in its receiver. Sometimes I wondered why Motoki continued to put up with my moodiness after all these years.

Despite my 'deal' with Motoki, I spent the better part of the afternoon rearranging various volumes of books on my shelves until they were lined up in perfect rows. The kitchen next fell prey to my stress-induced cleaning spree; only when the marble counters gleamed dully under the fluorescent lighting was I finally satisfied.

My final project was to make sure I didn't show up looking haggard, which would be a slight to my gracious hostess and the closest person resembling a mother figure that I would ever know. Not to mention I would likely be seeing her again if Motoki had any say in the matter. And vain as it might sound, I didn't want to face her unkempt and unshaven. After a lengthy inspection of the admittedly meager contents of my closet, I settled on a dark blue button-down shirt and black trousers. Reika had complimented that the dark blue "brought out the color in my eyes" or some other flattering statement that I hadn't paid much attention to at the time. After one final assessment in the bathroom mirror, I tossed my presents into a bag and set out into the cold December evening, fully aware that, no matter what, nothing would be the same after tonight.

Motoki's mother welcomed me with a broad smile and a warm embrace. Her hair was just a bit grayer than last year, but the sparkle in her eyes was just as I had remembered.

"I hope you brought your appetite, Mamoru," she said as I stepped in from the doorway and shook her husband's hand firmly. "I made all of your favorites."

"You didn't need to go through all that trouble," I demurred politely and fumbled as I pulled her gift from my bag. "Arigato for inviting me."

"Oh Mamoru." I was enveloped in her warmth again, and wondered, not for the first time, if this was what my own mother's embrace would've felt like. I was next entreated to take off my coat. "Motoki and Reika are in the living room," she said with a wink.

The couple in question was in the midst of a hushed debate when I plopped onto the open seat next to Reika on the sofa. From their sudden guilty silence upon my arrival, it wasn't too hard to guess what their subject matter had been.

"You made me wait all day, Mamoru," Motoki spoke up first. "You probably don't want to know some of the theories I've come up with as to what happened."

"Motoki can have quite an active imagination, you know." Reika patted my leg sympathetically before shooting her boyfriend her signature 'I'm-exasperated-but-still-love-you' look.

Before I knew it, the words exploded from my mouth like a bottle of champagne that had been shaken one time too many. "I hadn't meant to say anything…but then she was looking at me like she would have and her hands were on my face and I wanted so badly to believe it was her, that she wanted me, that something would actually work out in my favor for once in my life…"

I might as well have grown a second head by the way Motoki and Reika were gawking at me now, mouths slightly open in shock. Motoki was the first to try and tackle my word vomit.

"I'm…confused." He played with that word and decided that it fit the situation. "Very confused actually. You're saying you told her about your past with her?"

"No, I—" I was so deeply frustrated, but it wasn't Motoki's fault. I had no one to blame except myself. "I didn't…I couldn't…"

"So what exactly did you say to her?"

"I called her 'Usako,'" I admitted in defeat. "As if I could ever call her mine."

Motoki broke the tension with laughter that was quickly silenced by a choice slap in the shoulder from Reika. "And…?"

"And…?"

"How did she react, man? I swear Mamoru, sometimes I just want to…" A timely glare from his girlfriend promptly halted that train of thought.

"Honestly?" I closed my eyes for a brief second and tried to conjure up her face in that instant. Her eyes had widened, her eyebrows had raised, and her cheeks had shown the beginnings of a blush as her mouth dropped open in wordless surprise. "I didn't stick around long enough to see."

"So you call the poor girl by a pet name—which is ridiculously cute by the way—and then run off without another word?" When he worded it like that, I guess it sounded a bit unfathomable. Yet then again, this entire week was like my personal comedy of errors.

"Technically it wasn't without another word," I supplied weakly with a cringe. "I think I told her it was a mistake."

"Mamoru." This time, Reika interjected before Motoki displayed another instance of foot-in-mouth syndrome. "I know you have trouble believing that people might actually like you and want to spend time with you. And it's hard, believe me I know, to let someone else in. To be vulnerable and exposed, to give that person power to hurt you. But you have to let that go, Mamoru. Let all of that hurt, pain, anger, and regret go."

I squeezed her hand, expressing my gratitude in deed what I couldn't in words.

"What she said," Motoki muttered quietly.

"Mamoru." We were standing by Minako's door, and I was seriously regretting accepting that generous second helping of dinner at that point. "You just say the word. Distraction? I'm your man. Extraction? Just give the signal. Celebration? I told you so."

"Arigato, Motoki," I said gratefully. For all the bad luck I had thrown my way over the years, I had at least been blessed with friends who supported me unconditionally and without judgment. "I don't deserve a friend like you. Truly."

"Sure you do," he replied cheerfully, "you're just too stubborn to see it. But don't worry, one day we'll drill it into that thick skull of yours." He wrapped his arm around Reika's shoulders, and she smiled encouragingly. I returned the gesture with some hesitation as the anxiety mounted in painful knots in the pit my stomach. "So are you ready for this, Mamoru?"

I doubted I ever would be, but it was time I stopped running away. "Do I have a choice?"

Motoki grinned as he pressed the doorbell. "Here's to hoping for a less grumpy Mamoru in the very near future."

Next chapter should be fun! :) I'll try my best to get that one out over the weekend, so be on the lookout. Until then, please drop me a review!

This story was written and posted November 2015.