a/n: It's been a while since I've written anything for fictionpress. I'm still not completely happy with this one, so I may end up putting out a sequel or a sister story of some sort from a different perspective. Please don't forget to review.

Hate That I Love You

I stared at him angrily, as if it could change the way I felt about him. I hated him. And as soon as I had thought it I sighed, because I knew it wasn't true. I loved him. But that didn't mean I had to like it. I may be in love with him, but I did not like the fact. I actually hated that I loved him.

And I hated that he knew it even more. Damn him for being so observant. And damn him for taking advantage of the fact that I was head over heels with him when he couldn't care less about me. Damn him for not loving me back.

I think that's what hurt the most. Knowing that I loved him and he didn't feel the same. And he knew it, too. That sucked. It would be different if he were sympathetic to my unrequited love, but he wasn't. He tortured me with it. He tormented. He teased me to the point of tears. To the point that I was ashamed of how I felt and that's most certainly not how love should be.

God, I hate that I fell in love with such a jerk, but I can't help it. Even when he's being a jerk he's the most breathtaking person I've ever seen, and I'm not just talking about looks. Everything he says and does, he does with a passion. Even if that passion is directed at me in a negative fashion.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, looking at me as I glared.

"Nothing!” I replied vehemently as I pushed myself up off the stool.

From there I stalked across the arcade to the sliding doors, intending to make my exit. I didn't expect him to follow me, the jerk. He was the last thing I felt like dealing with today. I pretended that I didn't know he was right behind me and headed towards my house, fuming all the way.

I couldn't stop my thoughts as they took a turn for the worst. Why did I still love him? It was clear that he was never going to feel the same. So why was I still crying myself to sleep every night? It defied common sense. But then again, I've been told that love does not follow the rules of common sense and I didn't like that. Everything in my life was very orderly and relied heavily upon common sense and logic.

I kept walking, letting my thoughts continue down their trek against my better sense. I hadn't listened to my better sense in weeks, which is his fault. He is turning me into someone I don't want to be. I had never hated someone so much until I met him. Or rather, I had never loved someone so much. I was so confused, I wasn't sure I knew what I felt anymore.

I would say that I didn't love him anymore, but he was always there, lingering in my dreams, reminding me. Taunting me. And I hated it. I hated how I relished every moment of those dreams because it was the only place that he was ever going to worship me the way I wanted to be worshipped by him.

I wanted to cry. And I probably would have if he hadn't been behind me still. The last thing I needed was to give him any more ammunition against me and my fragile self-esteem. So I ignored him and blinked back the burning behind my eyes.

I took in a shaky breath and almost instantly regretted it. "Are you... crying?" I heard him ask me, before he started laughing. "Priceless!"

I continued to ignore him. I kept walking as if I hadn't heard him. I wasn't crying. Not yet, anyway. If I kept letting my thoughts run rampant though, who knew when I would break down again? Yes, again. Emotional breakdowns had become the norm for me as of lately. Emotional overload, I suppose. I was beating myself up over something that I couldn't control, I would constantly remind myself, not that it usually helped.

I turned down a street a block away from my house and I wondered if he was till behind me. I had been using the shop windows to keep an eye on him, but I had finally made it to the residential area so I couldn't resume that tactic. And I was too much of a coward to look back and see.

So I kept walking.

But I tried really, really hard to stop thinking. But a sad song started playing on repeat in my head and I knew exactly where my mentality was taking me. Right where I didn't want to be. I sped up my walk, wishing I had used my head and driven today. But it had been a nice day and my mom had encouraged me to walk instead of ruining the environment when I didn't need to.

And now I was regretting it.

My breathing was getting ragged as my body prepared itself for a good pity party filled with tears and sobs. I broke into a run, a few tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes as I went. I prayed he wasn't still behind me. I flew around the corner onto my street, pushing myself to go faster. It was just a few feet ahead...

And there he was. Leaning against my car like he belonged there. And for one, tiny, very small moment, I allowed myself to admire how much he did look like he belonged there. And then I shook it off. I wondered if he could see me when I was this far down the street and tried to dry my eyes without attracting his attention.

Apparently he didn't see me because he didn't comment. He would have if he had seen me. He never passed up an opportunity to torture me. I didn't want to pass him. But if the tears that were coming at an increasingly alarming pace were any indication, I had to get away to get it out of my system.

So I turned around. I ran in the opposite direction of where he was standing, waiting for his chance to gloat over my pain. And the tears that had only been leaking a few short moments ago started coming out in a torrent as I ran.

God, I was such a coward, I thought pathetically. I couldn't just face him and tell him to fuck off for once. Because I was afraid of making him hate me even more than he did now. Oh, but what does it even matter anymore? He had made it so painstakingly obvious that I was just a stupid little girl with a crush she couldn't handle.

...but it was so much more than a crush! If it were just a crush, like the one I'd had on the guy that worked at the arcade a few months ago, I would have gotten over his rejection by now. And his constant teasing wouldn't continue to affect me so.

I swiped at my eyes as I ducked into an empty alley a few blocks away. From there I stumbled my way into the back of the alley and collapsed into a pile of self-pity and hurt. And that's when the storm really hit. I cried until my body couldn't take the constant wracking sobs that I was producing and I started dry heaving.

The sun was starting to go down and I thought about going home. But I didn't want to head back until I was positive that he wouldn't still be hanging around. My normally blue eyes were swollen and red; evidence as to what I'd been doing for the past few hours. Not to mention how I couldn't seem to stop sniffling. If he, by some miracle, managed to miss the puffiness in my eyes, he'd surely hear my constant sniffling.

I leaned back until my back and the back of my head were touching the brick wall behind me. I watched as the first stars came out, making silly wishes for a love I would never have, as they did. As I watched the colors of sunset spread across the sky, I realized that I had to go home. Even if he was still there. My mother would be worried since I told her I would be home around three and it was closer to seven now as the sunset indicated.

So I stood up on shaky legs and took a deep breath. I was strong enough to do this. He probably wouldn't even be anywhere near my house when I made it back there. I tried to force a smile to my lips, wondering what I was going to tell my frantic mother when I got back.

"Oh, yeah, mom, no big deal. I just went into a dark alley and cried my eyes out and almost tossed my lunch to the rats..."I muttered under my breath. "Sounds real good."

I let go of that excuse and opted for the one that made sense; I had lost track of time at the arcade. It had happened before and she knew that it was something that I was liable to do. My cover story in place my head I started dabbing at my eyes with my sleeves, praying that it would make them look a little better. If my mom asked me about it I could always say that there was a smoker standing outside the arcade; my eyes didn't react well to smoke at all.

I made it all the way to my street without letting my thoughts wander from my mother. But then I saw my car. And he wasn't leaning on it. Thank God, I thought as I walked up to the driver side door to look at my face in the window. The reflection wasn't perfect since it wasn't really a mirror, but it suited my needs. My eyes, despite the abuse I'd put them through, didn't look as bad as I'd feared. They were a little red, but no where near as swollen as I thought they'd be. I was glad for that.

Satisfied with my appearance, I headed towards my front door. My mom met me at the door. She was a nervous wreck, just like I'd anticipated. I soothed her with stories of my stupidity that were filled with giggles. I was able to escape to my room fairly quickly.

I'd survived to fight another day.

Owari

a/n: Please review!