~Juliana~

Eight months. He could hardly even believe it. This was his longest relationship to date, and it was still going.

He had given her flowers, candy, a gift, the whole nine yards. He'd set his apartment for the perfect mood. A candlelight dinner for two, soft music, and an open window for the moon to shine through brightly. They were originally going to go out, as they had for all their other anniversary celebrations, but this time she'd said she wanted to stay in. That was fine by him. He was making sure this night would be perfect.

When he really thought about it, the whole thing worried him. This was his longest relationship; he couldn't help but think that something wasn't right. He couldn't help but worry that its end was near, and more than that, inevitable. He'd talked himself down from just ending it himself several times so far. He couldn't leave her. He wasn't entirely sure, but he though that, just maybehe was in love.

He heard a soft knock on the door. That always killed him. It had been eight months, and she had a key to the apartment, but she was just too polite not to knock. That was part of what he loved about her. She felt the need for an even slower relationship than he did, so there was no pressure at all.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, with a smile. Something happened, at that point. He wasn't sure what it was, but as soon as he saw her, his stomach knotted with dread. He swallowed hard, his smile fading, and shook his head to himself. It was just that side of him that always had to be so pessimistic about everything.

Her smile faded, as well. "Sami, are you okay?" Her eyes reflected deep concern. She always got so concerned for him, and for some reason, it broke his heart a little every time.

The dread was slowly trying to overcome him, and he pushed it back as far as he couldsomething he would soon regret.

The smile quickly returned to his lips. "I'm fine. I just got a little light-headed for a second."

She nodded slowly, and he could tell that she was trying not to worry, even about that. God, why did she care so much? Actually, the bigger mystery was, why did it bother him? Of course, he knew to the answer to that; it was just something (or several somethings, as the case may be) that he needed to forget.

She held up a bottle of some expensive champagne, smiling again. He stepped to the side to let her in, and she headed to the kitchenette to set it down for later. "Oh wow, Sami, are you sure you're not gay?"

He laughed. She shared his taste in clothes and liked his sense of room. According to her, she'd only ever met gay guys who had that sort of decent taste. "I'm pretty sure."

She smiled and looked around the apartment, her eyes sparkling. "Everything looks beautiful. Why haven't we done this before?" She walked over to the sofa and plopped down on it, turning her head to him, as if beckoning him.

He followed, shrugging. "We never thought of takeout." Neither of them could cook so much as a block of instant ramen if their lives depended on it.

She gazed at him as he sat next to her, with a look so loving that it made his stomach churn. He hated that. These were supposed to be the things that made people feel good and warm inside. But, as soon as they had hit four months, he'd been getting these horrible pangs of dread. But, they were somehow worse this evening. He couldn't stand that she loved him so much; he knew he didn't deserve it, and he knew exactly where this relationship was going.

He shook his head to himself again. He needed to stop thinking like that.

She placed a hand gently on his thigh, not seeming to notice his unease this time. "Did you call yet?"

He nodded, pushing his dread back again. "Hai. But, they said they've been really busy, it could take up to an hour or so."

She nodded back. "That's fine. I'm not hungry just yet." She took his hand, suddenly, studying it. "Hey! Why aren't you wearing it?" They had given each other commitment rings. Not engagement rings, they were nowhere close to ready to get married, but her idea had been that two people can be committed without being engaged.

He flushed a bit, and averted his gaze. "I, uh, I sorta lost it"

She furrowed her brow.

"Gomen! I'm going to find it, it's around here somewhere, it has to be"

She smiled again. "That's what I love about you, Sami. You're so honest."

He flinched. There were a lot of things she could have said to him to make him flinch, but that just took the cake. He still hadn't told her his secret. He had meant to; she'd said he could tell her anything, that there was nothing he could say that would make her stop loving him. But the truth was, he was afraid. The reason he hadn't had any relationships this long is because he'd scared them all off. It was a lucky thing, too, that he hadn't killed any of them. And he wanted to tell her about this, before something happened, and he regretted it. He needed to warn her. And, if what she said were true, she would love him just as muchwouldn't she?

He knew he should warn her, tell her to be careful and alertbut things had gone so well for them, so far. He was afraid that, if he told her, she would be scared away like most of the others. Or worse.... He couldn't tell her, it was too hardand he was too afraid.

"Sami?"

He blinked and smiled back at her. "Th-thank you."

She tilted her head. "Are you really okay?"

Gods, stop asking me that "Hai, I'm fine. I'm just, um, I've been out of it today, that's all."

"Oh, okay." She paused, her grin widening, as she moved her hand up his leg. "So what do you want to do while we wait?"

He froze as the dread rose like bile in his stomach. Her hand it felt. . . .

Wrong, that's wrong, something isn't right; tell her something isn't right. Tell her about how you murdered ten people, about how you've lied to her this whole time. Tell her to stay away; far, far away; where you can never, ever get to her, because if you don't, she's going to die. Wrong, wrong, wrong, this is wrong.

The feeling passed in a split second, and he blew out a breath of air. He couldn't take much more of this; he had to stop it.

"Hello?" She was beginning to sound more than concerned, almost irritated.

"Hai, sorry"

"Hai? It wasn't a yes or no question."

"Oh, what was the question?"

She sighed, beginning to feel aggravated. "I asked what you wanted to do while we wait. Sami, there's something wrong, isn't there?"

"No! There really isn't. I'm sorry. I'm fine. I'm fine, now. I'm sorry."

"You're keeping something from me"

Tell her. "I'm not. I'm really not, I promise." Did you have to promise? You asshole.

She paused and swallowed. "Are you seeing another woman?"

His eyes widened. "Of course I'm not! Oh gods, it's nothing like that! It's nothing at all! I swear! Please, don't read any more into this than there is. I'm really just. . . my mind has been elsewhere today, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'll stop now, I promise. I'll focus."

"It's really nothing?"

"It's really nothing."

She nodded and bit her lip for a moment. "Do you want to make out?"

He blinked. She wasn't normally so forward, but he figured he'd kind of ruined the mood, leaving her with only more conventional methods to work with.

He managed a smile. "Hai, I'd like that." Of course you would like it, numbnuts. He thanked the Gods that she couldn't read minds.

With that, she climbed into his lap in an instant, kissing his lips tenderly, and running her hands through his hair. He wrapped his arms around her and returned it, trying his hardest to forget about all those feelings. They were ridiculous.

She pushed him slowly into a lying position, staying right on top of him.

He broke his kiss. "Ow!"

She blinked. "Oh, honey, that's okay."

He winced, and pulled something out from under him. "No, it's the remote" He sat up with her.

"Oh." She giggled a bit, and then turned serious. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Say no, tell her to leave, say you never want to see her again, or else you'll gut her like a fish, because you will. You know it.

He smiled slowly, in spite of every instinct in his body. "Hai."

She stood and pulled him to his feet with her, taking him gently by the hand. He followed her as she walked into his bedroom, and sat down on the bed, smiling seductively at him. He sat down next to her, and she gently pushed him onto his back, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

He took deep breaths, masking his unease behind passion; as she slipped out of her own shirt, and leaned down to kiss his chest softly. "I," kiss, "love you," kiss, "so much"

He wanted so badly to touch her, but found himself just lying there, all but frozen. Get your act together "I love you too. . . ." He closed his eyes, and moaned softly, as she worked her way up his neck.

He finally found it in himself to wrap his arms around her, by the time she got back to his lips. That horrible feeling was quickly fading, replaced by that of extreme happiness. They were becoming more passionate by the moment, and he began to forget that he had anything to worry about at all.

He didn't even notice as he reached to the side and picked the letter opener up off of his nightstand. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. He didn't even wonder why he'd done it, until he was holding it, poised above the both of them, right over her lower back.

His eyes shot open, glowing an eerie maroon. But her own eyes were closed she didn't notice. Warn her! Warn her, dammit, tell her to get the fuck away! What's the matter with you!? Why aren't you doing anything!?

He watched helplessly, her lips still locked with his, as the letter opener came down, along with his hand. It made a horrible slicing, squishing sound as the blunt metal buried itself completely just to the left of her spine. He cried out, before she even opened her eyes. He had to stop this; he had to stop, now, before it was too late. A wave of agony washed over him as he tried to resist, and his efforts were futile.

Why, WHY didn't you tell her!?

She broke their kiss as her eyes flew open a moment later, their soft hazel burrowing into his own unfamiliar maroon eyes, reflecting a horrified confusion.

Her jaw trembled. "Are you okay?"

Oh Gods, she doesn't even understand! Tell her to run!! But he didn't tell her. He couldn't. He just stared at her, trying in vain to keep his lips from curling into a smirk.

She turned her head, unable to comprehend the horrible pain she was somehow feeling; and, for a moment, unable to even register the bloody letter opener that he held in his hand.

She whispered in terror, turning back to him with trembling lips. She spoke in a hushed whisper. "What. . .Sami. . . Why?" Terrified tears were brimming in her eyes, as she found no trace of the boy she loved in his twisted, inhuman expression.

He pulled his hand with the letter opener back toward him and held it menacingly, a sadistic smirk accenting his every movement. STOP!!

She tried to get up and run, but something vital must have been severed, because all she could do was stumble back to sit at the foot of the bed. She tried to scream, but she couldn't. She was too confused and afraid to make any sound at all, at this point.

He lunged at her almost immediately, and it was all over in a matter of moments. Moments that seemed like years to him. The letter opener had made it's way from the middle of her chest, to just below her chin, bringing with it wave after wave of blood. There's so much. . . why is there so much?

The need for resistance suddenly ceased, and the maroon faded from his wide eyes. He was sitting over her, on top of her, holding the blade in one hand, dripping with blood. And there was blood everywhere else, too. It was all over him, all over the bed, and of course, all over her.

He started shaking violently, unable to tear his horror-stricken gaze away from her. "No. . . ."

He could barely even see her. It all came in pieces. Her wide, terrified, frozen eyes; her mouth, blood still pouring from it; her neck and chest, completely covered in blood; he could see inside her.

He backed away, suddenly, dropping the letter opener. He had hardly even been holding onto it. He stepped off the bed and dropped to his knees, shaking violently. Tears were suddenly streaming down his cheeks, but he didn't notice. He dragged himself to the corner and threw up, but it did nothing to ease how sick he felt. He leaned back against the wall, sobs tearing through his shuddering frame.

Has to be a dream, can't be real But he knew it was real. Just as real as the others. He didn't dream anymore.

Her last word wouldn't stop flashing through his mind.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why?"

Why why why didn't I tell her? He couldn't remember ever feeling this sick. He barely registered someone ringing the buzzer, probably the delivery guy.

He couldn't just sit here and sob; he needed to do something. He looked around. Where was it? He spotted the forgotten letter opener, right where he had dropped it, right next to her bleeding, lifeless body. He crawled over weakly, feeling nauseous and lightheaded, and shaking like a madman.

He pulled himself halfway onto the bed, to grab the blade, and got one more good look at her fragile, desecrated body. "Gomen. . . " The words came out a pathetic, shaking whisper. "Gomen nasai. . . I love you. . . Gomen nasai."

FUCK you!!

With that, he brought the opener back and thrust it into his stomach. He repeated, over and over again, his own blood now dripping everywhere; hoping that, by some miracle, he might be allowed to die.

He had no such luck, however, as he slowly became too weak to even maintain a grasp on the letter opener. It clattered to the floor as he dropped to his side with a thud. Why? Why hadn't he just told her? Why hadn't he left her? Why? "Why?"

"I hate you. . . ." he spoke to himself, his voice coming out a croaked whisper. "I hate you."

He lay there until sunrise. He didn't have to worry about the body now, or covering all this up.

Jenova wouldn't let him get caught.

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