(HARUHI P.O.V)

Sitting on the floor, I sifted through my entire box of old photo's from months ago. In all the pictures the girl smiled and laughed. That was when I didn't know. As I stare at them now I notice that you could make out a hint of sickness in the set of her face, you could see the darkness lurking just behind the surface of her warm grin. I wonder how I hadn't known, why I hadn't listened to the little voice crying inside my mind. It screamed to me that the sickness was there, and nagged at my brain, but I had pushed it away, and forgotten about the little voice. As time passed by in the photos that had been taken, her smile had fallen a little. She was getting worse and worse. By the time I got to the last photo, her smile was weak, her eyes haunted.

I ran my finger over my fatigued face in the photograph. My eyes had the heavy knowledge behind them, I knew the truth. The cancer was there, and had done its damage, and I was wrecked beyond repair. I had pancreatic cancer and no hope. While this cancer spreads, it's virtually undetectable, but by the time you can tell, it's always too late.

I remember lying in a cold, stiff hospital bed, as the doctor stood over me, concern evident on his face. He began to speak, his voice low and solemn. "Miss Fujioka... As you know, the cancer has spread, and once it's spread… well…" He trails off, eyes lowered to the floor, lips pressed together in a small frown.

I lifted my head, and said in the strongest, most even tone I could manage, "I'm going to die." Despite my accepting words, my hands shook and tears pricked at my eyes. The four words echoed in my mind, but I swallowed back my tears, and blinked up at the man.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and nodded, face pale and drawn. "I'm so sorry." He left then, clicking off the light, and saying goodbye. Two days passed, and each day my strength lessened. When death came for me, I readily accepted it with open arms. I fell into it, peacefully, soundlessly, with a serene smile on my face.

Now I sit here, box with my memories spilling out splayed in my lap, and say the two words I never managed to say while still breathing. "Good bye."

(KYOYA P.O.V)

My head jerks up off the cool wood surface of my desk. I look around, heart throbbing heavily in my chest. That… that voice… It was Haruhi… I swear, I heard her soft, silky voice whispering into my ear. Whispering those two little words I never got to hear. Good Bye. I clench my hands into tight fists, trying to stop the sudden shakes rolling up my arms. How could she leave me? How? She can't be gone. I won't allow it. I pound my fist against the table, jaw quivering. Tamaki startles from his perch on the desk next to me, but then in a flat voice he mutters, "What's your problem, Ootoori? It's not like you lost anything we didn't." I hiss back at him in an undertone, "Shut the hell up, you bastard." He smirks, and looks away.

My fists ball up even tighter, and I barely suppress the urge to swing at him and knock him to the ground. How could this bastard not cry, or scream, or beg for her to come back, just like I did every single night that she was gone. How can he be so… emotionless? How had the sweet, happy princely boy become this cold, mean shell of a man? How could he not feel the loss of our own little princess? How could he not see that our Haruhi was gone?

She is gone. That delicate little girl who had gone from nothing but a commoner, to the one thing I needed more than food and water. She was the air I breathed, the sun that shined down on me, and the God I worshipped. She was Haruhi Fujioka, and she is gone.