Standard disclaimers apply.


By Cassandra's Destiny


I possess special pheromones for attracting deceit and dishonesty.

At least, that's what I have let myself to believe. I've been living a lie, actually – my special pheromones never fail me. I lived my life believing the sky is a certain shade of blue because it was the preference of an ancient group of people. I lived my life believing ice cream can only melt on a hot summer's day. I lived my life believing physical strength is the only strength that matters. I lived my life believing the wrinkly old lady who gained one hundred pounds when her husband died is more adored by men than I'll ever be. I lived my life believing in streaks of bad luck, believing in magic, believing in reincarnation, in grammar rules, in low-fat diets, true love…

I trail off, hurt and bitterness evident. You swallow hard and keep your eyes on me.

I can only imagine the depth of the lies said to my face for the past seventeen years. Has anything I heard of been real? Has anything told to me been good and true?

But of course, there is a difference between flat out dishonesty and keeping the truth from me.

You are confused, but you try not to show it. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have you sit down and listen to me when you only passed by my house on your way to see your lover. Although a tiny voice inside my head tells me your lover can wait.

Perhaps my special pheromones attract that kind of attitude too, keeping the truth from me that is.

I laugh, but you're not laughing with me.

Am I not trustworthy? Am I not everything but honest with you? Do you find my attempts to make you feel comfortable talking to me futile?

It's not as if you are obliged to tell me everything, not as if I command you to talk to me more about yourself than the psychic devices or the weather. It's not as if I do, but I really wish you would.

I shift uncomfortably on my seat, seeing you oddly still. Do you absolutely think nothing of this?

I have had several observations, for sure, but they don't qualify for anything.

We train together at times, and go into battle, not necessarily as a team though. You fight with such great power that I myself have decided never to make you mad enough to earn your spite. But you assured me that would never happen. Once. I hope that wasn't a lie too.

Your lips part slightly and I hear you say everything else was not a lie.

Perhaps it wasn't. I'll be ecstatic if they weren't.

Now how about telling me the whole truth?

There are limited facts known about your background, and everybody knows those limited facts.

But I want to know more. I want you to tell me more.

What is the story behind your usual smile, your fleeting empathy and your unwavering loyalty? What is the drama behind your sometimes cold and detached comportment? Are there tears, flames and cries behind your soft spoken words? Are there scars and burns behind your insurmountable strength?

So many questions, really. Too many questions.

It just proves how very little I am aware of.

I know absolutely nothing about you in so far as your birthday.

You raise a brow. Surprised?

To think we always stand next to each other... to think I am the one person people see you engage in a casual conversation with.

I shrug.

I once decided on the idea that I wouldn't want to know. Then I became closer to you, closer than I have ever been to anyone else.

My decision changed to that of me not being able to handle it.

But hell, I know I can handle it. Do you think I can't handle the truth? I assumed you thought highly of me, regarded me as someone more powerful than I personally believe.

Perhaps my assumption was wrong.

It matters not. I just want to know you – do you think I can't handle your story? Surely, I can take the pain if there is any.

Tell me. Show me. You don't have to go through it alone.

I can take it.

Your face softens at the sight of me struggling, near shallow tears.

Honestly, I don't know what else I can do to prove that to you – to prove I care about you too much to hate you for what happened in the past. I don't know what else I can say to prove to you I'll accept the truth no matter what.

Silly me, I sincerely believed if I confessed my feelings for you, you'd wrap your arms around me and whisper to my ear that you feel the same way.

Silly me.

I laugh again.

I was hurt when I saw the solemn look on your face… hurt when you said I can't feel a certain way because I don't know you entirely.

But can I help it that I love you?

You close your eyes to hide the tears forming on your eyes. How can you suddenly turn so emotional?

It was not my special pheromones that dictated my feelings. I love you, and it's not a lie.

All you did was apologized and excused yourself that afternoon.

Opening your eyes, you draw your lips apart to say something. I can only bet you decided against it when they were pressed into a fine line.

If I'm not ready like you said I am, so be it.

If you're not ready like you said you are, I understand.

I can only revel in the memory of the butterflies in my stomach when you told me you loved me too, but wanted me to wait for you, just as you will wait for me to be ready. So you know I can take it; you just don't want me to share in your pain.

A single tear trickles down my cheek to the corner of my lips.

You love me and I love you – fairy tales would have given me a happy ending by now. Instead, you wanted me to be ready, wanted me to wait.

I surmise, if I love you, I will wait for you to be ready.


I see.

Maybe it's time to let you go…

You stand up to collect your belongings. A heavy sigh escapes your lips.

But before I let you run off to Tokiya—


Oh. I guess this is goodbye.

I feel your hand on my shoulder in comfort. Then again, comfort isn't what I crave for right now.

So, Miki, do you know what Raiha's reaction to this be?

You smile at me after shaking your head no. I suppose it's him I need to tell this to, not you.

In the next chapter, should there be a next chapter actually, still, I can't say.