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Veritas
by Celeste

Author's Note: Written in second person narrative, this is my first time posting a RuHana fic (I've written a MitHana before. Hi Wowie!).This is un beta-d and written within a 7 hours between writing another fic. I hope y'all like it.

Dedications: For Wowie and K-chan!! ::waves to both:: Sorry Wowie, I haven't followed up yet on that MitHana. K-chan (or should I call you Kristel?), I'm finally posting in the RukawaLoveHanamichi ML.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

You sit on a grassy hill, in a park near a basketball court. Your breathing is even now, if not a little too deep than normal. Your shirt was damp with sweat, and your hands were tender and almost numb from handling the ball in an extent that would've killed an ordinary human. The dribbles, the lay ups, your hands grasping the ring as you have completed another dunk. You had practiced your skills in the sport for nearly 5 hours straight; but to you, it was simply not enough. You did not think that frustration would get you this far. That frustration would drive you to the brink of madness. You also didn't think that the frustration would be the outcome of falling in love with him, a stupid bumbling idiot.

You lean your head back, and sprawl in the grass. You feel the tiny green blades prickling you through your jersey, tickling your worn out limbs and caressing your sweat-dampened cheek. You look at the sky, to see cotton-candy clouds stream by, the light blue sky looking calm, and you would've appreciated the beauty of it all, if not for the mere image of one of the clouds looking like him.

You've pondered on everything far too much, and far too deep these days, and it was becoming a head ache to deal with. You didn't want think about it, you didn't really want to, but as it was, you were honest, far too honest. And honesty was quickly becoming a bitch. Because being honest meant that you had to be honest to yourself, and being honest to yourself meant realizing your feelings and emotions—not that you had any before…

Your reactions, or rather, the lack of it show how much you really care. Which would be suffice to say:

Zilch…

Zip…

De Nada…

You've never cared for anyone other than yourself. That was the simple fact, the simple truth that everyone tends to ignore. The truth that everyone psychoanalyzes as some sort of abnormality you have carried when you were young, with some sort of traumatic past that you had experienced. Some even contribute it to the upbringing of your parents. All because of the beauty that you held, the so-called appeal that you held. They all wanted it, that elusive beauty, the so called perfection, and it seemed that they wouldn't accept that you were born to it, born to that lack of emotion.

No one gets a reaction from you.

No one.

Not a smile, not a twitch, not irritation not anything.

They want to blame it on anything there is to grasp because they did not want such beauty to be so cold with the reason of: just because.

To you, it wasn't self-preservation. It wasn't out right selfishness. You didn't waste time with the formalities. You don't bother your conscience with mustering up false politeness and the trap of being nice. The bullshit in life, where displaying emotion just seems to take up years of a person's life, when a person could be doing something else, like improving to perfection, and keeping the purity of your passion…

Something you are doing, something you are accomplishing, something you've wanted with an insatiable hunger all your life, until you (you scoff to yourself-- of all people) had been side tracked.

Sidetracked by him. Sidetracked by a punch, a kick and then that infamous head butt. It shouldn't have been any different from other fights, those damn purposeless fights where your fists would be in a dialogue rather than your voice. Yet when he fought you… It was not the mere Neanderthal urge to prove that their fists were larger than their brains. When he fought you, he fought with purpose, he fought with intent, he fought for that damned idiotic girl that you wish you could dunk in a ring and let her get stuck there for the rest of her bimbo-ic life.

It wasn't supposed to happen, you weren't supposed to notice him, you weren't supposed to notice his red hair, his chiseled face, those damned hands and mocha eyes, and in all the places to notice someone, it was in a stupid fight! And you got /enthralled/ by a highly idiotic person.

And when you entered that basketball court, you didn't want to believe it was fate… and yet you thought that perhaps it was. You think, this was a test, this was your test, if you don't react to him, then you would still be the same With those thoughts came the realization that for the first time, you didn't want to be honest to yourself, he got a rise out of you, he got something out of you that you've never given to anyone before:

Pure annoyance.

It might have been *much* to some. Some who think that you are irritated with them (enjoying the reaction illogically), but in fact you simply want to ignore them (Insert the Ru-Ka-Wa cheerleaders sneezing simultaneously).

From that annoyance spawned reactions you didn't expect: smirks, scowls, twitches and kicks. Childish payback, heated fights and snorts of condescendence. It wasn't supposed to happen, none of it was supposed to happen. You should have put a little more stock in it, evaluated it a little more, but you didn't. And now it's biting you in the ass… or maybe, clutching you in the heart.

You rake your hair with your hand, felt the sweat and strands beneath your fingertips. You then sit up as the sun was shining herself at your face, blinding you with brightness.

You then hear a voice, a voice you've known from the moment that you've met. The voice that calls you baka and kitsune in which your voice fervidly matches, with your evenly ice toned do'aho.

You don't swivel your head to the general direction of that voice. You didn't stare in the corner of your eye. Your body didn't make any discernable move towards any direction. You didn't need to see him; you've already memorized his face.

You don't flinch, twitch, but maybe, just maybe, your breath hitched. Just maybe, your heart stopped at that pitch of voice that his voice takes, where you know he's full of himself, of all his mediocre accomplishments, of his idiotic need to impress her…

Then your body tenses, and you know the reason why. You know the reason why his voice is so loud, so high, and so full of bravado. You know the reason why he was talking about himself; extensively bragging meager things that he has began learning to do. You knew why he was boasting of future defeats, that of the large monkey, the porcupine and the boss monkey. You knew the reason why the list didn't include the stupid kitsune. You knew why-- he was with another person…

That girl no less!! Damn stupid, idiotic, nuisance, blind and bitch of a bimbo girl!

You then realize something that you have to be honest about once more. He, without knowing, has gotten another reaction from you.

Jealousy.

This angered you more. You never wanted this, this stupid feeling that's twisting you, squeezing you, leaving that feeling inside, that feeling that you just want to push him against the wall, run your hands on those soft red-headed curls, fiercely kissing him on his lips, making him writhe against your body, moan your name…

Kiss him.

Touch him.

Move him.

Break him.

Love him.

Yet you are honest with yourself again, the feelings he roused against you were numerous: irritation, jealousy, anger, lust… but the most that you could think of, the most that can really hurt you, hurt everything that you're doing, hurt everything you've accomplished, and the one thing that's stopping you:

Fear…

You then stand up, straighten yourself, and simply walk away…

-FIN-

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