"Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death."

—Coco Chanel

I don't go.

Reason #1: I can't handle it. If I see his face, the guilt sleeping inside of me will wake up and continue the endless torture. Last night was an exception. We didn't talk anything out. It isn't even considered as a confrontation. He didn't yell at me; he merely kissed me—because I kissed him. And anyways, I couldn't see his face properly, just his green…green eyes.

Reason #2: What can I say? I sure as hell can't say a simple "I'm sorry, Usui," because hey, it's not enough; it will never be enough. I don't know how I'm going to start explaining everything, start to finish. I might stammer, go off-topic, beat around the bush, or my emotions will overpower me and I'll start sobbing pathetically. He'll eventually get irritated because I'm stalling and leave—for good.

With a baffling personality like Usui's, you just never know what's going to happen. He's capricious. It's been about two years, so I can't assume how he acts now. But, what with his strange appearances, it's a huge likelihood that he's the same person—though with many changes.

I shake my head and place the carton of juice inside the basket. Thinking about him will only distract me from everything. He hasn't been on my mind for a long time—he used to just appear from time to time—and now that he's here…I don't know what to think.

I walk along the aisle and make a turn. I head inside the vegetables and fruits part of the store. I tap my chin, looking around for some fruits Suzuna asked me to buy. I pick up the pear and examine it, seeing if there are any holes or bruises. I see a hole; I set the pear back down. I pick another one up and examine it, too.

"I can get better vegetables from my grandpa, you know," a voice says.

I hear a sigh coming from a girl. "I know that, but it's going to take some time getting all of those vegetables from him since he lives far away from here. We don't have much food at the apartment now, and I'm tired of eating the same old crap," she replies.

"Hey! Instant ramen isn't crap!"

"Yeah, sure."

I stop eavesdropping from the couple not too far from me. I don't look at them. For some reason, their conversation makes me smile. I don't know, but maybe it's because their relationship seems so easy and happy. I can sense that they're pretty much strong together. It must be nice to have something like that.

Which I did, and then I threw it away.

That ugly feeling comes again, creeping up my throat. I rip off a plastic bag, dump three pears inside, and toss them inside the basket, feeling the extra weigh against my arm. I start fast-walking to the cashier, because I just want to go home now. I think this feeling will come out of my throat, making me vomit all over the place. I don't want that. The cashier tells me the amount of money, and I slam the money down on the counter, knowing exactly how much it is. I grab the groceries and practically run out of the convenience store. I lean back against the wall and breathe in and out, slowly and deeply. I close my eyes.

I guess the feeling—that damn feeling—came back again. You can say it's a concoction between remorse and pure misery, and now I think it's mixing together, forming an alliance against me. I can't say I blame them. I don't take them on willingly, but I'll just let them do their job.

Am I emotionally pained? Of course I am. I am not suicidal, though. The image of me dying, leaving Suzuna all alone, getting sent straight to a social worker, living with a family she doesn't know and doesn't treat her well—it kills me; it kills me. No way in hell will I leave my little sister, the person I live for, alone. If keeping in all of these negative emotions and inner conflicts inside is all it takes, then I'm doing that. I don't care if it tortures me forever. I don't freaking care.

I let out a deep breath.

"Misaki?"

It's not Usui—I at least know that.

I can feel another feeling coming up my throat. It's not the same one; the previous combination disappeared—for now. This feeling is twisting around, poking. I feel liquid prodding at the corners of my eyelids, making me lift them up so they can pour down freely. And they do, pour down freely, I mean. My vision becomes blurry, but I still see him.

I choke back a sob, and I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells just like freshness. He always smells like that—fresh. It's hard to explain the scent, but it's rather inviting, not too strong, and not too soft; it's just enough to make you feel at peace in a way. He's warm. I hug him even tighter than ever as if I am afraid he will fade away and leave me all alone, being tormented.

I notice that he's hugging me back, stroking the back of my head. He doesn't say anything; he just holds me. I like that about him—how he would give you comfort whenever you needed it. I also like the fact that he knows me; I get the feeling that he knows me more than I know myself, which can be true since I never understand my state of mind most of the time. He can sense the grief inside of me, lingering until I die—or maybe it will stay with me even if I die.

"Y-Y-You-k-ku-kun…," I whisper, "I m-mi-missed y-y-y-you."

He holds me tighter now. "I missed you, too, Misaki," he whispers back. He starts to comb his hands gently through my long hair.

Shintani tells me that he has to go and inform his friend that he's going to hang out with me. I protest, because I don't want to seem like I'm interrupting some quality time between him and his friend. He insists, though; he hasn't seen me in a long time. He missed me.

I missed him.

I really missed him.

After Shintani informs his friend, we end up walking to wherever our feet will take us. He's standing beside me, squashing me against his side with his arm around my waist. I put my arm around his waist, too, enjoying the contact. We may seem like a couple in other passersby's perspectives, but I don't pay attention to that. He's here with me. My best friend, my childhood friend, my supporter, is here with me.

He brings me over to a water fountain, and we sit down the bench. He holds my right hand, and I let him. I don't care if he's being all intimate with me. I really don't. All that matters is that he's here with me, even if it's just for one moment.

"How've you been, Misaki?" Shintani asks, smiling at me.

I stare at my shoes. "I've been…well," I reply quietly.

"Why are you lying?"

I gulp. Damn it.

"Why are you lying, Misaki?"

I clench my teeth together. I just want to let it all out. But we're in public, and I don't want to dump all of my problems on him. It's utterly selfish, and I really want to just be with him. Scaring him away and feeding him unnecessary crap aren't worth it.

"It's—it's hard, Shintani." I let out a shaky breath. I'll try to make this as simple and easy as I can; no need to give him anything extreme. "My life's okay, actually. It just gets hard from time to time. I mean, I have to work late at night, but I don't like leaving Suzuna all alone at home. But we need the money. I'm okay. Obstacles come." Obstacles like a particular alien.

He squeezes my hand. "Hey, we all go through those things, all right? Life just throws those conflicts at you, and you have to solve them no matter what. Keeping them in isn't the right way, because while you still have those unsolved conflicts, more and more will appear, drowning you, suffocating you. I don't want that to happen to you, Misaki."

It did, You-kun, it already did. It's killing me. But I don't say that. I just nod and stare at my shoes.

If I tell him, what will happen? Surely he'll help me; he's that willing and that kind. But I don't want to be self-centered. I don't want him to know what I'm going through. Like he said, I have to work on my own conflicts. I do not need to tell him my conflicts, though. And if I don't solve them, then I'll be the one suffering, not him, not Suzuna, not anyone else.

If I don't tell him, what will happen? He'll think I'm living a somewhat okay life—which I was, until that damn freakin' pervert came back and messed up everything. Shintani will keep hanging out with me, all smiles, being the same carefree person he is. He will think everything is okay, and I want him to stay like that. I want him to be happy. If I don't tell him, he'll be happy, content with life. Even though he's my best friend, even though I'm very tempted to spill it all out at once, I can't. I can't ruin his life. I can't.

We end up enjoying the peaceful silence in the park. We start to reminisce, talking about childhood memories. A feeling of nostalgia is floating in the air, and we both inhale it deeply and happily, hoping it will stay inside—and it will. I laugh at the times he would get sent straight to the nurse after eating too much or eating weird combinations of food and after he would heal, he would continue eating a lot and eating weird food. He starts to talk about how everyone admired me, and I deny it because it's not true.

I wonder if he still loves me. I wonder if I want him to love me. Do I love him?

I look at my watch, and I realize that it's almost lunchtime. Suzuna still has to cook. (Yeah, I still don't know how.) I face Shintani and smile sadly.

He sighs. "I hate it when good moments never last long enough," he grumbles. His stomach growls and he pats it. "Not now. Lunchtime later, Misaki time now—or not anymore actually…" He frowns.

I smile at him. "Another time, 'kay? You live near here, right?"

He stands up, bringing me up with him as well. "Yeah—just a couple of blocks down that way." He gestures the direction with his pointer. "Not too far from where you live. You still live in the same place, right?"

I nod.

He lets go of my hand, placing both of his hands on my shoulders. I realize that he's gotten slightly more muscular and that his hands are calloused and rough from hard labor. He stares straight through my eyes with his light brown eyes,

"Tell me, Misaki: is there anything else you're not telling me?" he demands, firm.

I try to hold his penetrating gaze. "No, Shintani," I murmur. "There is nothing else."

Clearly, he's not convinced. I can tell. But he pulls back away, sighing.

On an impulse, I hug him again. I wrap my arms around his middle, breathing in that fresh scent of his. I feel his warmness envelope me everywhere, touching me delicately. His hands are wrapped around me.

"Please tell me you're all right."

I can just tell him. I can just scream out loud, "YES! PLEASE HELP ME, YOU-KUN! TAKE AWAY EVERYTHING THAT'S EATING ME INSIDE EVERYDAY! YOU-KUN, I CAN'T TAKE IT, I CAN'T TAKE, I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

But I don't.

"I'm all right."

No, you're not.

Shut up.

. . .

I haven't seen Usui all day, all afternoon, all night. I mean, it's still midnight, but still—where the hell is he?

I'm afraid he might've left me because I didn't go to the park like he asked me to. I wonder if life gave me that opportunity to talk things out or at least have some closure with him. Maybe if I went, a huge weight would've been lifted off of my shoulders.

But then I wouldn't have seen Shintani.

I keep my thoughts together, wiping the floor with a mop. A previous customer vomited earlier, because apparently he had too much to drink at one time. It was a pain, and I was the first person Sato-san asked. I didn't complain, because I would rather do this than dance up at that stage for those desperate assholes. I place the mop inside and use the squeezer to squeeze the excess vomit/dirty water inside. I put the mop inside. I head inside the bathroom to go wash my hands.

There are two girls putting on makeup, chatting vivaciously and inappropriately about something that doesn't concern me. I ignore them and wash my hands.

"He was mega-sexy, I'm telling you," a red-haired girl gushes, putting on some mascara.

"Lies. All lies. Not much hotties come in here now since business sucks ass here. The only hot stud that came here was that teenager. He got kicked out 'cause he was, like, underage or whatever," the other girl, black hair with blue streaks, replies, placing large amounts of lip-gloss on. She leans back. She smacks her lips and places the cap on the tube. She adjusts the corset she's wearing.

"Uh, hello, Eimi? Blonde, green eyes, tall, obviously muscular, mysteriousness? He's your type, my type, and every person with boobs or a homosexual implant in their brain's type." She grins at her reflection. "Ooh, la-la."

I scrub my hands harder and harder with the soap. The person she's talking about has got to be Usui. Was he here earlier? Or wait, is he here right now? I hear my heart beating fast.

"Well, is here now?" Eimi asks, pulling her skirt up even higher. "For all I know, it could be some bullshit you're spitting out, June."

"Shut the hell up. He's here—at least I think he is. He should be. It's like he's waiting for someone." June gasps. She takes out her lip-gloss from her bag and putting a lot of gloss on her lips. She mashes her lips together, molding it, and twists the cover on. "It might be me!"

"Dream on, slut."

I immediately exit out of the bathroom. I go down the hallway, pushing men who are drunk out of the way. I look out at the main area, searching for Usui. All I see are perverted men, staring lustfully at the dancer performing. My eyes look at the main entrance, hoping he will be standing there like before. But he isn't. He isn't. He isn't there. He isn't.

I smack myself on the forehead, feeling the sting vibrate. I walk slowly over to the dressing room, hearing my heels go click-clack, click-clack annoyingly. I sit down on a small cushiony chair in front of a vanity mirror. Girls are chatting away, but I block them out. I block out the loud music, the insane cat-calls and rude remarks, and everything.

I place my head on the table and close my eyes.

Images of everything killing me are swirling around in my head. I try to block them out too, but it's hard. I just want to see darkness, and I just want to hear nothing. I want to be nothing; I want to just be somewhere far away where I can lie down on a patch of daises and stare the clouds drifting by without a care in the world. I want to go to a good school, get good grades, have fun with my sister, and just enjoy life because you have to or else it'll all vanish.

I can't. I can't. I can't.

Pretty soon, it's about 3 A.M. It's a good thing I informed Suzuna before I left that I would be really late because of inventory at the café. I change out of the diminutive clothing and put on some regular comfy clothing. I grab my stuff, and I head inside Sato-san's office.

As I go inside, I see that she's leaning against the window, smoking. The window is open. Her eyes look far away as if she is in some distant memory, thinking about something good or bad. I don't know. I clear my throat. She snaps back to reality and looks at me, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray. I watch pieces of ash fall down.

"Yeah, Ayuzawa? You can go now, you know," she says brusquely. "I want some time alone, so leave. I'll lock the damn place up."

Something's bothering her. Without hesitation, I leave. She must have her own inner problems, too. We all do.

I walk down the street, clutching my bag strap tightly. I inhale, and I almost cough. I forget that I'm still near the club and the smell of alcohol and smoke is still around the air. I sigh deeply and trudge down the steep part of the street.

I feel as if someone's watching me. I look to the side, and I almost drop my bag.

Usui.

Usui.

Usui.

Usui Takumi.

He's standing there on the other side, staring at me with his green eyes. He just stares, and I do stare, too. He turns away, looks down, and then leaves inside the alleyway. I'm about to run after him, but then it's like he disappeared.

I bite my lip. I almost tear apart my bag strap. I almost scream. I almost cry. I almost die.

Or am I dead already?

I curse repeatedly in my mind and head home.

He disappears. He always does.

Just like that.

[Pretty angst-filled stuff, eh?

Well, it is angst, so yeah…

Sorry for the super-duper long delay, folks. I'm a freshman who is still adjusting to this irritating high school experience. Focusing on grades, still trying to know what career I want, and just trying to survive this ugly confinement—the usual.

Yup.]