No title

Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket, any of the characters, places, things, what not. I own the first of the four DVD's, and I've seen to the third to last episode, and half of the next to last. There are no true spoilers in this, just a little bit of introspective bits, and a 'could be' 'could have happened' 'might have been' 'might never be in character' warning.
This spawned from a focus on a single moment in time in one of the last episodes I saw, and from a few points in the series. I know someone with the same kind of hidden depression as is described here, and I myself have no less than a touch of it myself, and it's a feeble attempt to try it from someone else's angle.
If anyone can offer a title suggestion, I'd be grateful – I apparently suck at titling things ;)

Title-less Bit.

The room was silent, the moon the only light, falling over the surface of the table. The only sound was the soft scratching of a pen against a piece of paper. The scratching was frantic, almost as if the words were pouring out faster than the writer could keep up.

It's lonely.

That's all I can really say about it. It's a very lonely existence.

I mean, it's really almost perfectly fine if you choose a lover the same sex as yourself, but, unfortunately, even that could go horribly wrong. You know, with all the intense situations. It could get messy if it's not a family member.

It's funny. All of my verbal and written charisma is gone when I try to express my own feelings.

Perhaps I should start over.

It's a lonely existence, being a part of this family. At least, it is for those of us with the curse. (If you're reading this, then you are well aware of the family curse of the Zodiac, and aware of Tohru's presence in my home.) It's not often that I am able to do more than speak to any woman. I'm quite fond of them, you see. And sure, I've said that I've felt a few. But, it's not like I could get that close, sadly.

And, there were so many times where I would have liked to offer our Tohru some kind of comfort. But, I was unable to even put my arm around her shoulders without the fear of transforming.

I understand that it is something that I must live with, and that's all there is to it. But, it doesn't make living with it any easier. Perhaps it is that all you have ever seen is my calm, talkative, jovial exterior. Inside there are things so dark that I can't face them.


Things I keep hidden from the light. The pain of watching so many people I care about hurt. The anger that wells up because there is so little I can do. The anguish of seeing the results. And, so few people I can turn to.

How many people know why I lay awake so often. How many people are aware of some of the things I put in my books that I just can't do? How many know of the fact that I vent all of the pain in my writing? But how often do I get to do this? Just.. tell the truth?

How long do I have to keep it all within me until it destroys me? How far will I have to go? What will happen if I try to pour all this out? Will it be me who is hurt next? Will it be me that lies on the ground bleeding as someone else hold Akito back from causing more damage? Is it wise to even be writing this? How could I have even thought of something so stupid? Perhaps... perhaps it is in the hope that someone will understand.

Who am I kidding?

The pen clattered to the desk, spilling droplets of ink over the page. The words, not even dry yet, smudged as tears dropped onto the page. Cheek, then forehead touched palm and settled there heavily as the other hand moved to pick up the sheet of paper and crumple it.

It was rare, these occasions. He pondered leaving for a while. Perhaps a walk would do some good. But he could not stand. His heart was too heavy yet. Another wash of pain swept over him and he began to cry harder, still in silence. It simply wouldn't do if he attracted attention. Hari would understand. Aya would understand, but they were out of reach at this time of the night. He couldn't disturb their sleep with this. He could talk to them tomorrow. But... what about now?

Leaving the crumpled outpouring of emotion, he staggered toward the kitchen, pondering a cup of tea. Halfway there, he stopped again, and slid his shoes on in the front hallway, then slipped outside. One hand still against the side of his face, as if half-heartedly trying to stem the flow of tears, he slipped off into the gardens, then into the woods. What he needed was a place he could let this out, somewhere he wouldn't be heard. He paused, leaning against a tree.

This was a particularly bad one. His body wanted to sink then and there, unwilling to carry him far enough to vent in peace. He wanted nothing more than to scream his agony to the rest of the world. He again pondered returning to the house and making a phone call to either Hari or Aya. Or both. He shook a little, and realized if he kept this up, he would spent the rest of this night a dog. He pushed away from the tree and quickly pushed deeper into the woods.

Perhaps another ten feet, he collapsed against the trunk of a tree. He wasn't going to be able to do this alone, and he wasn't sure how well he was going to be able to make it to the main estate like this. He couldn't swallow it back when it had come this far. His eyes closed, and tears spilled anew. He held still for several moments, cursing himself for not calling when he first thought of it. They would understand, where so few others would. Wouldn't they?

His eyes opened again, and he realized that if Kyo decided to sit on the roof tonight, he would have seen this. Would he understand? He turned back to look. He didn't see the telltale orange hair, and relaxed a little. He bit back the tears and started for the house. He would call Aya. He would find a way through this attack, and be cheerful once again by morning, where he would be free to write his stories once more, where he would be free to tease Yuki and Kyo, or keep them apart, whichever became more necessary, and where he would be free to talk to Tohru.

One ring, and the phone was answered. The tears welled up, the panic struck, and only one word escaped: "Aya?"

And the answer was immediate, serious, and awake. "I'll be right there."

He didn't move once the phone was back in place. He sank there, and waited, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay.