A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I am glad for all the support for this story and I am delighted that there are people who like this. Real life is not exactly going well for me now; she still is avoiding me… Sigh. This might never end and I might be hanging forever… Well, I can't make you guys wait forever so I shall dream something up! For the POV, you have to read this chapter as if you are Miku.

Don't worry about me, I haven't drastically changed myself like Miku has, I have only thought about it. I am still at the stage where I am being ignored by my Luka; the rest is my cruel imagination at work. It will be on a break for a while for the Mid-Years though, I have a lot of science and math to catch up with.

To Blestang, thanks for the lovely review! Did you really find Miku's messages to Luka magnificent? I really wrote a similar message to her myself, and I can't say it worked out any different for me than it did for Miku. Your English was great, by the way, I admire people like you who are fluently bilingual!

To Anon, thanks! I am glad to have a fan!

To anialexa, I am glad it feels real to you, because it is something rather real to me.

To SF-A2 Miki-chan, I will try my best to finish this, don't worry! I am glad you can feel the emotions I want to convey!

To Nexus Infinity, I am also glad you could feel the emotions I wrote this story with, I find stories nicer to read when you feel the character's emotions yourself, it makes the experience so enriching and heartrending.

Haruka

Sometimes, you let her have her way. You try not to look too awkward and too hurt when she embraces you, you try to smile at her even though it hurts so much. It feels like a sick game Fate has come up with, and you hate it. With all the lousy cards that have been sent your way, you feel that Fate owes you a hand full of aces by now. You have come to rely even more heavily on the blade as the days pass, you need it so you can release your emotions and feel absolutely nothing. You need it to get through those long nights, waking up hollow eyed at four in the morning despite only having sobbed yourself to sleep at two. You have lost a considerable amount of weight and are gaunt, depressed, and probably have gotten addicted to cutting. However, you do not care. You feel like going up to Fate, throwing the lousy cards she has dealt you in her face and say with an over-the-top plastic smile, "Look at all the f**ks I have to give!"

What you desire most in the world is Luka, is her love, her warmth, her voice… every little thing about Megurine Luka that drives you crazy is one of your greatest desires. You find it harder to push her away and close the door on her each time, your shell is cracking and your heart is crumbling along with it. You wonder how much longer you can keep up this act, this terribly long and dark play that is your life.

You marvel at the strength of these "sinful" feelings within you, feelings damned by so many, even your school Principal. Despite all their warnings that it is "godforsaken" and will "damn" you "to Hell", you still are unable to find any part of you that actually cares. They tell you that you are Hell-bound due to your sexuality and you think, "Very well, Hell it is then. I'm not going to stop loving her because some bearded man in a thick old boring storybook that is supposedly a Holy Scripture told me to. Heck, who knows if the Bible was your olden day Harry Potter turned into a religious cult?" You do not care about blasphemy any longer; Hell seems a pretty good place for a worthless, good-for-nothing girl like yourself to burn for all eternity. You wonder sometimes if you are going crazy, and have come to the conclusion that you most probably are. Oh well.

"Miku!" Luka calls your name cheerfully; it makes you want to scream. Her voice resounds and resonates in your flustered mind, slashing away at your insides. Luka's voice softens, becoming unbelievably gentle, "Miku." How can you possibly resist when the one you love calls your name like that? No, you cannot give in to her, you cannot. No matter how tempting it is, you are not going to be tricked into yet another "one more time".

She wraps her arms around you and you melt, defenses, offenses and all, into a gooey puddle of lovesick Miku. She feels so warm, you long to forgive her and let time try to return things to the way they were before all this shit happened. Time is already trying its best with your hair; it reaches your shoulders now. Will you only give in to Luka's advances when it reaches your ankles again? Nah, you definitely will not survive that long without breaking; you know it well.

"Are you alright?" Why does she have to say it so softly, so gently? You steel yourself as best as you can and nod curtly, even though you long to shout, "How can I be alright?!" and break down into her warm arms. She looks unconvinced; you wrench yourself away from her and continue on your way, feeling her heartbroken gaze on your back. It is the exact same gaze that rested on her back from you before; you want to laugh bitterly at this cruel game Fate is playing with you both.

She whispers your name again, there is so much longing in it you feel like falling to your knees and wailing. You love her so much… you are desperate to forgive her and enjoy the warmth of her body once more. However… that wall of fear stands between you two, supported by your pride, and you are starting to understand how Luka's fear made her hurt you so freely, so utterly. The fear is cracking, but your pride remains solid, but the pride within you is not enough to keep Luka out. Not for long, anyway.

"Hatsune-chan!" No one calls you by your first name anymore, not since your shocking "transformation", though Yowane Haku has tried to keep a semblance of your previous closeness by using the honorific "-chan". You turn to see said tall silver haired girl and her girlfriend, blonde underclassman Akita Neru. You do not show any facial expressions, standing mute as you have been for the past four months.

"Do you want to go and watch a movie with us after school?" Haku asks shyly, she has been trying her best to involve you in social activities and gain your old friendship back. You are surprised that Neru is willing to go along with it; her abhorrence of socialization with people other than Haku is infamous. The blonde is an absolute troll on the Internet and has a bark a million times worse than her bite.

You shake your head and bow stiffly to convey some robotic sort of gratitude. Neru surprises you by saying, "Come on, Hatsune-san, I may hate people, but no one can hate you." You almost laugh out loud, letting them see the bitterness in your tainted soul, wanting to tell her that you hate yourself. "I can't bear to see you like this, Hatsune-san, and neither can Haku. She is a real friend, and she is truly worried for you."

You finally find your voice, cold, low and monotonous, "Nothing's wrong."

You turn and walk away from them, feeling Haku's worried gaze on your back. You want to apologize to her, but you have not the words to say. How can "I'm sorry" possibly suffice? You throw all these thoughts out the window and head to class wordlessly. How much more can you take? Not much, probably not any more. Perhaps you should give in to your desires and show this world an upside-down girl unable to continue living in this adult's world. Or should it be a bloodied girl lying peacefully on her bed? Or should you hang from the ceiling, inches between your feet and the ground? Or poison, will that work faster? Household poisons should be easy for you to get your hands on.

Do you have any goodbyes to say before you plan this? No, none at all. After you cut your hair, you cut off all ties with everyone you could. You refused to talk to anyone at all unless you absolutely had to, and even then you used as few words as possible, sounding rude and unapproachable. You have no goodbyes that were not given before, albeit wordlessly.

Perfect, then you can end this tomorrow. You just have to live down this last day, and it will all finally end. You decide to carve her name into your skin a few more times tonight, savor the blade and tattoo this body, before you end it all and release your burdens completely. You will jump, it will be fairly easy and the chances of survival are not high as long as you can find a building tall enough.

You have just the thing to meet your needs; your housing estate is twenty floors high and if you head to the garbage chute but turn left instead of right, you can access the ladder to the roof. Get up there and jump down, it will be over in a flash; just an upside down girl falling headfirst onto the asphalt, splat, physical pain, and then darkness. It will be your salvation; you will obtain the freedom and peace you desired on the other side, even if you do end up in Hell.

Heck, you can strike up a conversation with the Devil and insult religion together, poking fun at the stick-up-the-ass rule loving mighty beings that humans fall over one another to worship. It will be a nice afterlife, laughing at the cruel world you have managed to escape.

At last, you are thinking about other more pressing matters in Physics class again. It no longer matters whether you listen or not because firstly, you are probably going to die tomorrow, and secondly, you have already studied the whole syllabus backwards and forwards by yourself. You have done the workbook thrice and the Ten Year Series four times; you even did every example in the bloody textbook twice. You buried everything you had in studies, and it turns out you have a lot. You did the same for every other subject you took, you even started reading Mother Tongue newspapers every single day three months ago and finished the Geography Ten Year Series you never wanted to touch.

You wonder if you should hand up all that work, just to make the teacher happy. At least they will know that one person did all the work they would assign for the year even before they assigned it. Well, any extra worksheets will obviously be excluded since you do not have them, but at least you did all those annoying revision papers no one would normally bother touching.

The bell rings and you are in the hallway again, heading to Art class. That and Literature are the only classes you actually enjoy now, though you never show it. Luka is in your Art class, but you have resolutely avoided her by sitting next to the strange psychopath Sukone Tei, who is crushing on Kagamine Len and living in a fantasy world based on the girly boy. Everyone is frightened of her, she sometimes unnerves you, but she leaves you alone as she is worshipping the blonde Shota all the time and that is all you want.

Tei is drawing yet another frightening rape scene with her screwing Len with a cucumber; you are used to it and no longer raise an internal eyebrow at her work. She is a good artist, anyway, and who are you to judge? You look down at your sketchbook for the year, the front has kittens, puppies, flowers, beautiful scenery and even Luka in it, but ever since four months ago your work has all been dark. A girl slumped over a table, an empty bottle labeled "Sleeping Pills" lying unscrewed on its side on the floor, having fallen from her limp hand. A girl lying on her bed, eyes shut, her wrists a bloody mess with the veins slit clean through from the wrist to the elbow. A girl held up by a rope around her neck, inches between her toes and the floor, a toppled stool near her feet, her back facing whoever is looking at the drawing, A girl standing on top of a building, long hair drawn out behind her by the wind, heavy and depressed eyes boring into the viewer. The same girl falling down the building headfirst, eyes closed. The same girl sprawled on the asphalt, blood dripping from her lips that are turned upward with a gentle smile, dead. They are all black and white, wonderfully shaded monochrome pieces that reflect the dullness of your life.

What all those girls have in common is that they all have long twintails, your old hairstyle. They all look like you; those works are subconscious self-portraits that show the world what you desperately long for. Release from this life, freedom from all your burdens, death.

You start sketching again now; it is a girl slumped on the bathroom floor, a razor in her limp hand that rests on the white tile, her head leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed. This is in full color; her skin is so pale that the white shirt she is wearing nearly matches her skin color. Her wrists are scarlet red, deeply slit vertically, and splattered all around the walls that surround her is the word "LUKA". You want to die this way instead, to show the world how much you love her, to splatter your own blood over the walls showing your fervent desire, "LUKA LUKA LUKA LUKA LUKA", covering the entire white tile wall with her beautiful name.

That girl has turquoise hair just like you, and short hair that has barely passed her shoulders. It feels like a prediction of some sort, maybe it will be interesting if they find you dead like this tomorrow and the police take a photograph of the 'crime scene'. They will go around looking to see if you left any clues that you were going to do what you did afterward, and find this drawing with the art teacher. And when they place the photo and the drawing side by side they will gasp at the uncanny similarity… You want to make it happen; it feels like it will be a fun game. However, you are not sure if you will actually die, if they catch you before you bleed to death, you will wake up in a hospital and will have to see a psychiatrist. Maybe they will send someone to watch over you. The thought makes you shudder, you don't want to fail. There is too much at risk if you fail, for they will know you have a 'problem' and will shatter this life you are leading now, making it worse than it already is.

"Miku," Luka is here, why? She is afraid of Tei, that psychotic girl could actually go ballistic and start raping everyone with a cucumber without warning. You look around to realize that Tei has shifted to the painting station to finish up her latest piece.

"What is this?" She takes your sketchbook before you can close it, her eyes widen with shock as she takes in your completed artwork. "You won't…" Luka gulps, struggling to stop her voice from wavering and failing horribly, "You won't do this, will you, Miku?"

"Why not?" You respond, struck by the hurt in her crystal blue eyes. There is absolutely nothing for you here but yet another bad hand in an endless game you no longer have the strength to play. She places your sketchbook on the table gingerly and envelops you in a warm hug, tears spilling into your hair.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Luka sobs, her entire body is trembling, "Miku, please forgive me… Please… don't do anything stupid to yourself… I love you…"

How can she play dirty like that? An aching blow to your heart causes the frozen door to scrape at the ice, struggling to give way. How can she do this to you? You almost had what you wanted in your hands, and now she is going to plant doubt in your heart?

Luka… Luka… Luka… You do not realize you are speaking aloud, muttering her name senselessly as she sobs, cradling you in her arms. I'm sorry, Luka, but…

Your fingers trace the letters engraved in your skin gently. "M L", Megurine Luka, carved in capitals into your wrist. "LUKA", her beautiful name, carved in capital letters into your arm. All signs of how much you love her, how much you want her… You wonder if someday, you will regret it, when you finally move on to another girl or a boy (however unlikely that seems now). Will you even have the time to regret it? You may be dead by tomorrow, dead while you still love Luka, and then you wouldn't have anything to regret.

You wrench away from Luka's embrace, pick up your sketchbook and flee the art room. Luka looks after you, and so does everyone in the class (save for Tei). They start to whisper as Luka crumbles to her knees, sobbing pathetically, gossiping as always. You run as fast as you can, wanting to be as far away from Luka as possible before your tears fall…