It wasn't Rain

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

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She had yelled at him, called him an idiot for disagreeing with her. That was the way it always was, always had been. Ever since he first turned around in his seat and asked her about her hair.

There had been an understanding between them, something that had never been needed to be put into words.

But he had walked away. Was that her fault? She couldn't remember anymore, but it probably was. Either way, somehow, their understanding had been destroyed, the status quo had been shattered.

Normally she would've been in ecstasy for being able to escape from an old pattern, to be able to leave the comfortable normality behind.

So why did she feel as if someone had just ripped her heart out?

Why did she miss him so?

The mere thought that he had left her, never to return again, was enough to make her knees buckle under her weight. She had crumbled to the floor of the clubroom the first time the realization hit her. He was gone. And it was her fault.

Why did she have to pile, task after endless task on him? Why couldn't she have been more lenient when he failed to arrive on time to their meetings?

Her tears were flowing unhindered now. There was no reason to keep them hidden any longer. There was nobody left to hide them from. When he had left, the rest of the Brigade had shattered, uncertain of what to do next. She could see it in their eyes, so she'd dismissed them. And they had left, fearing to go against her when she was already so unstable.

And then, when the door had closed and there was no longer any sound of their steps, her knees gave in, the tears began to fall and she finally let go of the mask of rage that had hidden her sadness, her loneliness and her terror.

How could she be so scared? She had faced worse things in life, right? So why couldn't she recall anything that compared to this? Did he feel the same?

Of course not. How could he? He was the one who had left her. So why would he feel something like this? That would've just been stupid. Then again, he was an idiot, maybe he actually felt something like this after all?

But his face had told her otherwise. That face he had worn when he had looked at her.

She pushed those memories away. They cut too deep. When he'd looked at her with that face, she had been unable to breathe, everything had been pain.

How could he make that sort of face? Did someone somehow teach him how to do it? Why would anyone teach another person how to do that?

Her thoughts shot in every direction, desperately trying to distract herself from the pain she felt in her chest. She knew that this was the end for the two of them. He would never again grudgingly complain about her plans for the Brigade, only to be dragged along by her. She would never again be able to simply grab his tie, forcing him to follow her orders.

Her tears had yet to stop. She knew that they would sooner or later, nobody could cry forever, but she was finally able to realize how uncomfortable it was to sit on the floor for longer periods of time. So she began to force her legs to carry her once again, she refused to crawl as if she was some kind of whipped dog. She would stand or she would fall, but she would not crawl.

It was a struggle to stand, it was as if the earths gravity had increased tenfold. But still she stood. She tried to force her legs to walk, but instead they crumbled beneath her once again.

Once more she was sitting on the floor, unable to stand and yet refusing to crawl, crying seemingly endless rivers of tears.

Would he remain the same? All the times that they'd spent together, would he simply shrug it off, as if they'd never mattered in the first place?

Somewhere in the distance there was a faint, rhythmic, sound, almost like rain. But that didn't matter anymore, none of it mattered. It could rain as much as it liked, it wasn't important right now, she couldn't feel that anything could possibly be important anymore. Not without him.

The sound grew steadily stronger as tears continued to pour down her face, then, without any warning, the sound stopped.

"Kyon…" she didn't know why she called for him, he would never answer her, even if he had managed to somehow hear her quiet, fragile sounding voice. He would never answer her again. Never call out her name. The thought was painful beyond description.

She wasn't really sure what happened, but the door was now open. Apparently she hadn't locked it properly. But why was it open?

She couldn't find any answer to the question until something warm suddenly wrapped itself around her. Her tears stopped, too shocked to understand what was happening, she could do nothing but blink as his voice broke through the silence.

"I'm sorry, please don't cry anymore. I will never leave you Haruhi. Because, ridiculous as it might sound, I love you, with all of my heart."

Unable to answer him, she just grabbed a hold of the fabric of his shirt, promising to herself to never let go of him again.

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A/n: I really can't stand writing sad endings, even if that means that they'll end up ridiculously cliché as a result.