A/N: Okay, I decided to rewrite most of this songfic because many people weren't exactly impressed by it, and to tell the truth, neither was I. Hopefully it'll be a little better now...

Anyway, long story short, this is based on the song "If Your Heart's Not In It" by Westlife, a favourite song of mine when I was having problems with my now ex-boyfriend. This song sounds easy to write, but it's not...or maybe I just don't have the creativity. In any case, I'll let my writing speak for itself...read and review!

“Oh, Bob, do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“I do, Katie, I do.”

Cue the passionate kissing, as always. How clichéd.

Then again, almost all romances are clichéd, no matter how hard the scriptwriters try to break out of the mold. You can never completely break out of the stereotypes, no matter how much you tell yourself that you’re different from the rest.

Why am I watching this stupid movie again?

Oh, yeah. Because she picked it. I shake my head. The things I do for her.

Searching for a distraction, I take my eyes off the screen and let them wander around the cinema, but even off the screen I get no reprieve, for PDAs are going on everywhere, each a personal movie in itself. Romantic movies are just an excuse for couples to emulate the on-screen couples without getting lambasted for indecency. I should know.

We used to be one of those couples.

I sigh and focus instead on the girl next to me, sitting stiffly upright in her seat. Many people would think that she was engrossed in the movie, but I know better. Her mind is probably a million miles off, thinking about something…or…I shuddered, but forced my mind to complete the sentence…someONE. Oh, the irony. She’s sitting right beside me, but her soul is a thousand miles away, in a place where I can’t reach her, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to.

I’m afraid of what I might find…there.

It’s dark in the cinema, but I eat a lot of carrots, so I have better night vision than most. The reflected glare of the cinema screen also helps by illuminating her face. I study her features as if seeing her for the first time: Haunting black eyes, outlined boldly with mascara, making them look bigger and darker still; a perfectly shaped, aquiline nose. Perfectly plucked eyebrows arch over her eyes. She has this thing for piercings; her right ear has at least 6 studs in them. She looks just as beautiful as she did when we first started dating, 2 years ago…but now…I frown. Something’s different about her. I rack my brain, but come up empty. Deciding to let the matter rest, I resume my scrutiny of her face.

As my eyes travel over her soft lips, reminiscing about the times they caressed mine ever so gently, I notice her slight shiver.

Movie theaters are always freezing; they give couples an excuse to share body heat in the name of keeping warm. Instead of using that excuse to get her in my lap, I take off my jacket and try to drape it around her like the gentleman that I am. She looks at me briefly and shakes her head, indicating she doesn’t want the jacket, then turns her eyes back to the movie. I heave a tiny sigh and put the jacket back on again.

Then it hits me: Superficial. That’s what’s wrong. Everything about her is superficial…a far cry from the innocent, whole-hearted girl I loved.

No. Love, not loved. Present tense. Present tense.

I wonder why I should have to remind myself about something I should feel every day when I see her.

I dart a glance at the couple next to me, and wonder why the girl even bothered to put anything on at all…a bikini would have covered up more than what she was wearing. However, she obviously doesn’t feel the cold; wrapped up so tightly in her lover’s arms, I can’t make out where they begin and where they end.

We stand out in the crowd; two people sitting demurely side by side amongst the entangled couples, not even touching. And we call ourselves a couple.

How I wish we could be part of them.

One hour later, thank the Lord, the movie ends, and we file out of the cinema. The sudden bright lights of the shopping mall blind me for an instant, and I shade my eyes with one hand, reflexively snaking the other arm around her baby-T clad, tight-jeans wearing slim frame, but instead of relaxing against me like she usually does, she remains stiff. The silence between us is uncomfortable, and I make a brave attempt to dispel it.

“So, you liked the movie?”

“Yeah, it was very…interesting.”

“What do you want to do now?”

She gives a non-committal, one-shouldered shrug and I almost let out a growl of frustration. Could she be any more uncooperative? She sure doesn’t have a lot to say, considering that it was her who picked the stupid movie. She always did like sappy romance movies, I reminisce, grinning slightly to myself at the memory.

I am pulled back to the present when she tries to shrug my arm off as lightly as she can. Did she really think I wouldn’t notice that? I clench my free hand tightly, restraining my frustration, and abruptly decide that we need a break.

“Well, I have to go to the toilet…how about if we meet outside the restrooms later?”

She nods, trying not to seem too enthusiastic, but the flash of relief in her eyes doesn’t escape my notice. She shrugs my arm away, gently but quickly, and stalks away as fast as she can in her 3-inch heels. I watch her go, and lean against the cool wall, wondering at how much things have changed between us.

I'm so afraid that you're saying it's over
It’s the last thing that I wanna hear

This awkwardness between us has been going on for weeks now; ever since she returned from that month-long trip to America. She was never quite the same once she returned. My heart pines fruitlessly for the cheerful girl that had greeted me every day with a hug and a kiss; who never lost an opportunity to tell me how much she cared about me; the first girl whom I had really fallen in love with.

Love. What a strong word to use…yet it was completely true.

Perhaps that was why I was closing both my eyes to all the signs. I know I risk my masculinity by admitting this, but I was just…so afraid. Afraid that my worst nightmare would come true.

If I hadn’t been so experienced, I would have dismissed her odd behaviour as stress, or something else, but the signs are all too familiar to me. The way she doesn’t look me in the eye when she addresses me. The way she always seems like she wants to be somewhere else. The way she goes rigid when I touch her.

I know it’s only a matter of time before I hear those dreaded words:

It’s over.

I flinch as those words appear in my mind, struggling frantically to erase them from my mind. Don’t jinx it, I admonish myself. Maybe if you don’t think about it, nothing will happen. Maybe you just think too much.

A smaller voice whispers, But maybe you’re right.

I quash that voice.

Yes, I’m a coward. I don’t want to face the truth.

In all honesty, I dare not.

But if your heart's not in it for real
Please don't try to fake what you don't feel
If love's already gone
It's not fair to lead me on
Cause I would give the whole world for you
Anything you ask of me I'd do
But I won't ask you to stay
I'd rather walk away
If your heart's not in it

I send her home 2 hours early, because she says she isn’t feeling well and needs a rest. When we pull up outside her house, I lean over to kiss her goodbye, but she quickly turns away so that my lips only graze her cheek. Before I say anything, she wrenches the car door open quickly, mutters a hurried goodbye and sprints up the steps with a newfound agility, vanishing into her house in the blink of an eye.

If she’s feeling sick, she sure is hiding it well.

I sit there at the wheel, frozen, wrestling for control over my emotions. I have always been the cool, collected guy, but today, I finally lose control. Feeling the frustration in me bubble over like a boiling pot of soup, I summon up all my strength, double up my fist and crash it as hard as possible into the steering wheel, driving it in, trying to let it all out, not even noticing the resultant pain. However, the act of violence has done nothing to appease my temper; if anything, it has merely added fuel to the fire. She was never an actress, never convincing enough during the few times I saw her lying.

I see it all the time now.

And she’s still a bad actress.

I don’t understand. She knows she means everything to me. She once said the same thing to me. How can she bear to torture me so? The Kayla I knew for the past two years could barely bear to hurt a fly…and now she’s breaking my heart, just after ONE visit to the States.

I wonder if she knows that people can die from heartbreak.

The least she could do, I think bitterly, is confess the truth I have been avoiding for weeks:

I don’t love you any more.

Heartburn strikes abruptly, but I ignore it. I never believed a mere…girl…could affect me the way she did. I never planned on falling in love with her, but I have, and it’s too late to do anything about it. I hoped she would be different than the rest…but it’s clear that I was wrong. Still, the last thing I want to do is let her go; but I’m so tired of this farce we call a relationship. I bite my lip, but I am resolute: If her heart’s not in it any more, I won’t beg her to stay…no matter how much I want her to.

I hate myself for even considering that possibility, but I know it’s true.

And I hate myself even more.

You say that you love me
But baby sometimes
You're just saying the words
If you've got somethin' to tell me
Don't keep it inside
Let it be heard

I'm so afraid that you're saying it's over
But girl I'll make it easy for you

“Of course I love you! Why would you think otherwise?!?! Don’t you know me well enough by now?!” she asks loudly, indignation apparent in every syllable, playing up the part of the hurt girlfriend. People stare at us curiously…I even hear some girls whispering about my lack of sensitivity behind my back.

The problem is, I know you too well.

I wonder if I’m the only one who notices that she didn’t look me in the eyes when she said that?

Even to my biased ears, the words have a hollow ring to them, like she was quoting from a drama script. Because that is what this is rapidly escalating to become: A long, drawn-out drama.

And from the way things are going, it’s not going to end “happily ever after”.

I sigh, and give her one last chance: “Is that all you have to tell me, Kayla? Because you know you can tell me everything…I don’t want you to hide anything from me,” I emphasize, hoping she’ll pick up on my hidden meaning and make things easier for both of us, even as another part of me desperately prays that she’ll prove me wrong.

She looks straight at me after that last sentence, and blinks her large eyes at me, slightly stunned, but recovers her composure quickly. “Of course it is! Don’t ever ask me that again!” she huffs angrily, and stalks off towards the back of the school.

I might have believed her, but she wasn’t fast enough.

She looked away again.

How I wish I could take us back in time
But it's gone too far now we can't rewind

(And there's nothing that I can do)

(To stop me losin' you)
I can't make you change your mind (If your heart's not in it)

I sit in the shadow of a drooping willow tree beside the riverbank, hidden from view by the long fronds skimming the surface of the river, like a curtain from the outside world. All is silent, not even a breath of wind stirring the leaves. The silver moonlight makes the calm surface of the water shimmer, its reflection clearly visible in the water. This silent Eden used to be my favourite retreat for when I wanted to be alone and just think. I thought I was the only one who came here, until one night she pushed through the fronds and saw me sitting here. A bittersweet smile curls my lips briefly as I remember that fateful night.

She asked me to fish the moon out of the river for her.

If I could turn back time, I would.

I wish with all my heart that I can start all over again, beginning with that day.

Maybe then, things would be different.

Maybe then, my heart wouldn’t be breaking into a thousand pieces.

I peer through the gaps in the fronds. No stars tonight.

Just the lonely moon, a solitary light standing out against the pitch-black backdrop of the night sky.

Never mind. I’ll be your companion tonight.

Fragmented as it is, my heart refuses to give up, running feverishly through a thousand possibilities to explain away her odd behaviour, trying to make excuses for her. But I already know what’s going through her mind, even though she never said a word.

I hate feeling powerless.

Because that’s what I am.

Powerless to change her mind, to make her stay.

There's nothing I can do.

But if your heart's not in it for real
Please don't try to fake what you don't feel
If love's already gone
It's not fair to lead me on
Cause I would give the whole world for you
Anything you ask of me I'd do
But I won't ask you to stay
I'd rather walk away
If your heart's not in it

I see her at school today, and I am determined. I know this will hurt me beyond words, but I know that it’s better this way…for both of us. I recite the words in my head as I walk towards her:

“This isn’t fair to me, Kayla. I know you already love someone else. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me, but since you won’t…I’ll do it, then. We’re over. I wish you good luck with him.”

Without warning, the pain bursts forth, but I keep it in check with gritted teeth and fists clenched so hard that my knuckles turn white and crescent-shaped injuries form in my palms.

Unconditional love also brings unconditional pain.

I dread having to tell her those words. Who knows how she will react?

Or if she will react at all?

My mouth goes dry with nervousness and I lick my lips. I haven’t been this nervous since the night I asked her out, two long years ago. I drag my feet, hoping to delay the inevitable.

A blond-haired, blue-eyed figure approaches her from the opposite direction. I watch as she whirls around towards him, then stand frozen as she kisses him, the way she used to kiss me.

Ah. Now I know where her heart is.

Surprisingly, now that I've witnessed the truth with my own eyes, I feel nothing more than cold resignation.

I know then that nothing more needs to be said.

It’s over.

Turning soundlessly on my heel, I walk away. For real.