It happened one night. He didn't know what had happened but that night it did happen. It happened and he had no idea of it. He wasn't even aware of anything until he suddenly woke up. He turned to the left to face the face of his bosom buddy, Haruhi Fujioka sleeping peacefully next to him. Why was she here? His mind went frantic. What had happened?! His mind screamed, as his face contorted in horror. What had he done to her? His eyes round with fear.

Time… What time was it? He looked at the wall then grimaced. There wasn't one. This room wasn't his room. Where was he? Was this place hers? He looked for an alarm clock. It was on the side table. It was a digital clock. It showed 4.00am. He turned to stare at her. Why was he here with her sleeping next to him? Fear of what he had done to her made him look under the blanket. He gulped in despair at the sight he was in. He was naked beneath the blanket.

He gaped as his eyes cautiously glanced at her creamy, smooth skin. She was naked as well. His panic thermometer had risen because the fact was that he had his hand was on her bare bottom. Furthering his panic, she had her leg on his hip. He slowly tried to disentangle himself from her. She sighed with her eyes still closed, asleep. Then she caught his face with both her hands and kissed his lips as if it was a natural thing for her to do. He clamped his lips together then he licked them.

He gulped hard, that kiss made him look at himself under the blanket. This wasn't good… Not good at all! She turned on her back. One of her twin peaks peeked out of the blanket. It made him swallow again. No, not good at all! Then, his eyes bulged in terror at the sight of the slight smear of blood on his inner thighs. His eyes shifted to the sheets and he clamped his mouth. He nearly screamed of shock. The sheets had slight splotches of blood. He quickly looked at her soft mound under the blanket.

Her inner thighs had blood. He had her blood on his inner thighs. He glanced at her soft mound again. It was wet with blood and… wet with… with… Nooooo…!!! His mind screamed as realisation hit his entire being with the one thing he didn't want to happen to his bosom buddy. He'd become a monster. He sat up, he rubbed his forehead rigourously. He'd unwittingly taken something precious from her. Something he could never ever give it back to her. He smacked his forehead then winced of pain.

Damn it! He slipped out of bed slowly as not to stir her up. He gave the room a cursory glance. It wasn't her place. It was a hotel room that they'd shacked up for the night. He went into the bathroom for a leak and a bath. Why did he do it to her? He frowned as he watched the red being mixed with water as it entered into the drain. His heart constricted painfully as if he was trying to erase the fact that they'd had sex and he couldn't remember any of it.

He slammed a hand on the wall. The rivulets trickled from his head to his chin as he turned off the shower. He tied the towel round his waist and got out of the bathroom. He saw her standing by the window looking down at the specks of people swimming in the pool. She was in a robe. Her hand was on her chest. She had a faraway look. A look that said she'd accepted what had happened to her. She didn't cry like some others. Her face didn't show any regrets or sadness.

"We've got to talk," He went behind her, "of what we… I did." He didn't dare touch her.

She turned her head slightly, "Do we?" She whirled and faced him, "There's no need to have a discussion on what we did." Her hand splayed on his chest.

"I've compromised you…" He protested but she placed a finger on his lips.

She shook her head, "No such thing happened," She sneaked her hand on his chest to his nape. "It was an agreement, I give and you take."

He grabbed her arm firmly, "What sort of agreement?" He furrowed his eyebrows in curious vexation. "Was I punched drunk?"

She nodded. She dropped her hand to her side. "You asked me whether I'd like to have a non-committal relationship with you." She raised her eyes looking at him straight in the eyes. "I agreed."

He gaped and he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her a little, "Why did you agree? I was drunk! Don't you know the implications it might have on you? Are you mad?!"

She smiled slightly, "I don't think so. I agreed because it's a non-committal relationship. A non-committal relationship doesn't actually mar our friendship or my occupation. We're just boyfriend and girlfriend but not lovers."

Somehow her words deeply pierced his heart. It wounded him. He felt wretched and angry at himself and at her. She moved away from him. He watched her with narrowed eyes. She went into the bathroom. She closed the door and locked it. She turned on the shower, took off the robe and hung it on the towel hook. She was aching inside. Her hands rubbed the smear on her inner thighs. The clear water washed the blood and semen. Her heart was breaking.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. They were in a small, bar obscured from prying eyes. He was punched drunk. He confessed that he liked her for a very long time ever since their first year at Ouran. He loved her when she made him her friend instead of looking at him like he was trash. He loved her more that she supported him morally when he was down and out with the right words to put him on the right track in his life even though they led different paths.

She didn't know that she was the one he loved. She was disappointed that he hadn't the guts to tell her so when he was sober. She thought it was mad to accept his proposal when he was drunk. The non-committal relationship agreement was what she'd come up with. He wasn't the one who'd proposed it. She came up with it because she was upset with him and because she loved him she had given herself to him without abandon.

But he did propose to marry her. He even brought a solitaire with him. Something he had bought and kept for a very long time. He slipped it on her ring finger. She was shocked, and furious that he would do such a thing when he was not in his right sense. She was also happy that his love for her was unconditional. He loved her enough to have gone through many perilous things to help her with a few of her unclosed cases when she was with the Justice and Legal Department.

But had no choice to deem it as unsolved because it dealt with yakuza. The cases were always about yakuza versus yakuza versus public not versus assemblymen. Sometimes the states assemblymen had some connections with the yakuza. Those cases would become cold files. He went so far as to buy a ring but had never had the courage to tell her he loved her. She remembered telling him to tell the person he loved that he loved that person.

Yet his courage had fled him when it presented itself to him. He got himself punched drunk and with the aid of alcohol he was able to tell her of his feelings of endless love. She felt like hitting his head with her handbag. Even then she was happy, and she thought she was crazy for being happy. A man who confesses with the aid of alcohol wasn't a man but a coward who couldn't face reality of being rejected. Anyone with a brain would surmise it to be just that.

She blinked back her tears. Even so she'd accepted him inside her sacred 'sanctum.' Just behind the pub was a three star hotel. They entered it under the name of Mr and Mrs Kurosagi Ryoka. The hotelier stared at them and she purposely placed her left hand on the counter for him to see the sparkling solitaire on her ring finger. The old man smiled at them and he ushered them to their suite. In the suite, their interactions became a little too wild.

She was surprised that for a rough man he was really gentle. She wiped the remaining tears with her palms. She twisted the shower tap. She took the robe from the hook and slipped it on her. Then she wrapped her head with a clean towel. She turned the knob and stepped out of the bathroom. She looked at the room they'd shared a passionate love, and her eyes went all misty again. He wasn't around but his clothes except for his boxers were still strewn on the floor as were hers.

The towel he wore was left hanging on the chair at the dressing table. He'd worn a bathrobe and his boxers then he went out. She knew he had gone out to clear his befuddled mind and calm his frazzled nerves. She wore her clothes quickly. Her hands were trembling. She felt she was breaking apart. She skipped wearing make-up but wore light rouge to give her an artificial glow. Her skin was too pale because she had lost the vigour of life in her. It shouldn't be this way.

A person who'd made out with another whom the person loved should possess a radiant glow. Instead it was the reverse for her. She looked back on the dressing table and swallowed a lump in her throat. She gave the room a flying kiss and walked out of the room. She closed the door behind her with a soft click. She walked towards the opening lift. It was empty, entered the lift and pressed ground floor button.

At the same time, Ritsu Kasanoda was in the other lift going up to the third floor to their room. He had come to his senses. He'd remembered everything. He wanted to tell her that he was a jerk. He wanted to tell her of his feelings again now that he was truly sober and himself. He had to tell her he wanted her to be his wife not some convenient non-committal relationship. He wanted a deeper relationship with her, a lasting relationship because he wanted to be with her for always.

He had wanted it for a long time but was too concerned for her and he didn't want to taint her with his 'world.' He was glad that she wasn't with the Justice and Legal Department. She was with Ootori Medical Research Centre as its Senior PR and Legal Consultant. He knew he was a jerk for being drunk and confessed his love for her in that state. He'd do it again and he'd do it right this time. He walked towards the door in anticipation and trepidation.

He closed his eyes recollecting himself. The key in his hand, he inserted it into the keyhole and gave it a twist. Opening it he found the room to be silent. His heart was beating fast. It felt empty. He walked further and his frown deepened. His heart was slowly sinking. His clothes that were scattered on the floor were neatly folded on the bed. His shoes were placed at the edge of the bed. His trousers were hung on a hanger, his jacket also. His belt was coiled and placed on the bed.

A neatly made bed without the sheet, his eyes shifted on the neatly bundled sheet on the floor. He felt the white sheet, it was damp where there were erased splotches of blood. He sat limply at the edge of the bed. She was gone. He stared at the bathrobe that was on the bed. It was damp. He took it in his hand and brought it to under his nose. It had the faint smell of her. He looked at it and without care he sobbed heart wrenchingly as he buried his face into the bathrobe.

Then he remembered something. His eyes darted to the dressing table. His heart soared with renewed hope and happiness. It wasn't there. The solitaire ring wasn't on the table. She'd taken it with her. It indicated that he meant more to her than she'd led on. It meant that the non-committal relationship wasn't what she had wanted. What he wanted was what she'd wanted too. It really meant she loved him. It meant she was giving him a chance. A chance that he'd never let go off this time.

Teary eyed, he smiled.


A/N: Can a man really be so emotional as to bury his face crying into a leftover of something? I really dunno know about that ever happening in real life. Perhaps what's not applicable in real life works tremendously well in fiction. Anyway, I wrote this as a continuation to ONLY THE LONELY. I guess you were all rooting for poor Kasa to get the girl. But the process of getting the one he truly loves takes time, patience and a lot of emotional build-up for conflicting moments (which I'm putting a minimum to it as you've read this fic) to its intended climax. Kill me I don't care. I'm just an evil otaku… hahahahaha…