~:I Loved You:~

There he goes.

He's perfect.

His hair: red as a rose. His eyes are verdant jade or emerald. His walk is steady and balanced. His voice is compelling and endearing. He is so kind, so polite. He's very handsome.

He's completely and utterly perfect.

My friends and I talk about him every day. Every conversation, every moment is about him.

I love him.

We all love him.

I was lucky. I got the same classes as him in middle school, junior high, and high school. My friends were so jealous of me of how much time I spent with him and I flaunted it.

I never once spoke to him.

I was a wallflower when it came to him. I tried to confess once. I walked up behind him, my words at the ready.

I choked.

He noticed me and turned around. He was so polite and kind in how he asked, "Do you need anything?" I wanted to drape my arms around him and hold him close, but I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. My words, the ones I was so proud of for creating, died out completely. I smiled as best I could and shook my head.

"Alright then. See you around."

I never attempted to speak to him again.

I was too scared.

Instead, I became absorbed in rumors and gossip. I no longer wanted to confess my feelings (although I did, I just knew I could never do it). The talk between my friends and I extended to a point of stalking. The simple 'I want to see him' became 'I want to see where he lives and what he does outside of school'.

Luckily, I was never caught, nor did I ever go too far. He had this aura about him that kept away any sort of harm. I got as far as watching him leave the school grounds. I didn't try for any further. I felt like an idiot for even considering the idea.

When he graduated High School, we all cried. Our chances of ever confessing to him were gone. Quite a few tried on the last day of school, as well as the graduating ceremony. The attendance for that ceremony was the largest the school had ever known. Every single girl in love, or who used to be in love, came that day.

I cried, too. I cried like there was no tomorrow. I cried like I lost my grandmother all over again. I cried like when our cat got ran over by a car. I cried like the time our dog escaped. I cried like when that same dog came home unharmed.

We all cried.

In time I got over him. I began small; I went to university. My love for him, the loss I had felt, turned into persistence and devotion. I was angry at myself for never even confessing my feelings and because of it I studied my brains out. Every night was homework, studying, and research.

I had a picture of him that I kept in a locket around my neck. I had it ever since high school. The newspaper's photographer had secretly taken an incredible photo of him.

They say a picture says a thousand words. This picture said more than that. Its original purpose was to allow me to see him any time I wanted; now it was my coach. Whenever I needed a motivational boost, all I needed to do was look inside the locket and remember my feelings for him and everything I failed to do with them.

After university I became a successful businesswoman. I started small, as a secretary and an intern, and rose through the ranks. I dabbled in the species of men occasionally, but I never felt any of them match up to him. They all left me empty inside and unfulfilled.

The locket, that had once been my idol, and that had become my source of motivation, became my enemy and the focus of my frustration. I blamed him for the fact that no other man could live up to him. In my mind, it was his fault I couldn't get relationships to stick.

In retribution, I threw the locket into my closet where it fell into a box full of miscellaneous items and I left it there.

Eventually, I found someone who took my breath away.

He wasn't perfect, not in the least, but he was endearing. He was funny, he was cute to a degree, strong, he lived well, he was kind and polite, and he became my everything.

We started out dating. After awhile he proposed to me out of the blue by hiding the ring in a bouquet of flowers. I accepted with tears in my eyes. I was happy. This was bliss.

We got married. It wasn't a big celebration, but it was sizable. Everything was white, green, and red; my favorite colors. Everyone joked that it looked like Christmas in summer. Every time I had to explain that it was simply my favorite colors thrown together.

I grew old with that man. We had children together; two girls and a boy. I loved them with all my heart. They, too, grew old and left us, but we were happy. It was sad, seeing them go, but it had to be done.

I wondered if this is what my family felt when I left for university. I left them all behind, empowered by my devotion, and sought out to fulfill my dreams.

One day, during spring cleaning, my husband came across a box of old things. We went through it together and found that old locket. I had completely forgotten about it and of him. I had become so absorbed in my life that he was nothing but a ghost.

"Who is he?" My husband asked me.

"Shuichi Minamino." I replied with a warm, reminiscent smile.

The days went on. I kept the locket with me once again. I learned that as I grew older, the more I wanted to remember my youth. I felt old. Plain and simple; old and getting older by the day.

Then, one unfathomable day at a subway platform, I saw him again.

I saw him in the crowd, the sea of people. If I hadn't kept that locket with me all these years, I may not have recognized him.

His hair, although still red, had faded and become a little wiry. Locks of hair had turned silver with age. His face had yet to gain too many wrinkles, but they were there. His clothes were no longer the red uniform of our high school, nor was it the business suit the girls had constantly imagined him in. He wore jeans; simple jeans and a blue t-shirt. The skin shown on his arms was weak and beginning to loosen. His walk, although still balanced, lacked the energy he had when he was younger. His endearing emerald green eyes had become dull and glassy.

He was old as well.

Thinking back, he just didn't seem like he would have ever become older. He was one of those people who you just couldn't imagine aging a day. And yet, there he was; old and aging still.

We boarded the same train.

I watched him for a short bit. I debated with myself; should I talk to him or not?

In the end, I won. My old fears were trumped by my experience and new light on life.

I walked over to him with no words prepared. He glanced at me, curious. I spoke the first words I could come up with.

"Excuse me. Would you happen to be Shuichi Minamino?"

He became a little confused, but he remained relaxed. "Yes." He answered. "How do you know who I am?"

I smiled. "We went to the same middle, junior, and high school. We had the same classes and everything."

"We did?" He scratched his head in thought. "I apologize, but I simply don't remember you."

My confidence didn't sway. "I've changed quite a bit over the years; however, you haven't changed a wink. With the exception of the gray hairs, of course."

His hand toyed with the said gray hairs a bit. "Of course." He replied.

I stood beside him for the rest of the train ride. We spoke a bit, about how things have changed over the years. How our lives (well, my life, as I never had any time to ask him for his) had been going. He congratulated me on my marriage.

Suddenly, I blurted out, "I used to be in love with you."

There was a short silence followed by, "Really?"

"Yes." I confirmed.

"Well," he commended me, "you did a good job getting over it."

I shook my head. "I don't think we ever get over our first love."

"Perhaps not." He agreed. After another moment he added, "I'm heading over to a friend's ramen shop, would you like to come? If you're not busy, that is."

I glanced at him. "Sure."

"Consider this the date you never had, then." He suggested.

"No." I declined. "Let's just go as friends."

"If that's what you want."

We arrived at the stand soon after. His 'friend' greeted us in a very awkward inducing way.

"Whoa, Kurama. Did you get yourself a girlfriend? About time…"

"No." He shook his head. "She's an old friend."

Kurama?

"Who is Kurama?" I asked.

He sighed and replied, "A nickname, nothing more."

He seemed to be hiding something. I let it slide. We all have our little secrets.

"An old friend? I've never seen her before." The man said.

"Old is the operative word." I stated. The man stared blankly before shrugging it off.

He and I took our seats, made our orders, and waited. "This is Urameshi Yuusuke, by the way."

I nodded and turned to the man. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too." He replied. "What's yours?"

"Hm?" It took me a moment to realize what he meant. Once I realized it, I told him my name.

"Eh? Weird name." He remarked. Our orders came out after a bit.

When I finished I told him. "Wow. Best ramen I've ever had."

He beamed. "Thanks."

"Thank you for the meal."

"So, how long have you two known each other?" I asked.

"For years and years."

"Far too long, if you ask me." Yuusuke replied.

"I come here every Friday to talk with him and reminisce."

"Ah, the good ol' days…" Yuusuke laughed to himself.

"Hm…" I pursed my lips. "Would it be too awkward to come here every now and again as well? Perhaps not every Friday like you, but to visit?"

"Not at all."

"I don't mind." Yuusuke shrugged. "You've got some spunk in you. Reminds of a bit of Keiko when she was younger."

"She's as old of Keiko."

"I know!" Yuusuke exasperated. I laughed even though I didn't quite know why.

"Yuusuke asked if I was your girlfriend. Have you ever fallen in love?" I asked him.

He seemed surprised, but answered anyway. "No."

"No one? No one at all?"

"No one has caught my interest."

"Ah…" I sympathized. With the exception of himself, no one had caught my interest before my husband.

"And it seems that the only people who know me well enough are either related to me or male."

I laughed at that, too.

I did come back to that ramen stand every now and again as I promised. I saw him again, spoke with Yuusuke every time, and met some of the other residents of that stand.

Keiko, despite what Yuusuke had said, was still fiery. She came quite often after she was done with work and she didn't always get ramen. Sometimes she came just to talk and spend time with Yuusuke.

Kuwabara; the second he told me he had a cat I was interested. Cats were, and always had been, my favorite animal—followed by dogs, wolves, and every other species of the canine family. I always encouraged stories about his cats.

Shizuru very rarely came, and almost always with her younger brother: Kuwabara. She was very interesting despite her age—she was older than any of us by a few years.

A sprightly young woman by the name of Botan came a couple times.

I became friends with many of his friends. Maybe not close friends, one whom they would tell their secrets, but a friend nonetheless. Occasionally I was invited to go out on excursions; shopping trips and what not.

I died before any of them.

A few of my new friends came. Kuwabara thanked me for a cat toy I had bought for his cat. Shizuru offered a smoke to my dead body. Keiko came to say goodbye. Yuusuke sent a bouquet of black roses (he wasn't one for 'boring funerals' as Keiko put it). The flowers were placed upon my body and were said to have brought a glow to my face.

My husband wept a little bit before pulling himself together. Our children did likewise, save our son who just looked extremely sullen.

He also came. He came to say goodbye. He spoke to my husband. That husband of mine remembered him immediately and went for the locket still around my neck, opened it, and showed it to him. He explained to him what my love for him did within my life, and thanked him for making me who I had become.

At the end of the funeral, Botan came to take me to the world beyond.

A/N:

The idea from this started from a fic I was reading about Kurama, one I was actually interested in (I very rarely find fics I actually like) and my ADD made me start thinking about, well, Kurama. My mind drifted to Graphospasm's fic: Fakes and Friends, and Kara Sugoi, a Kurama admirer. Then I drifted to all the fics about a girl who isn't his fangirl and they fall in love. From there a sudden 'what if' popped into my head and I went "THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!" So, let's thank hana4262, and Graphospasm!

7/21/15: Pffft. I came back to read this, and while I liked the story itself I facepalmed at my A/N. I was such a 15 year old. Left the first paragraph of word vomit because of the thanks, but deleted the following two because WOW. Fixed a spelling mistake near the end while I was at it. "my love for him did within my love" indeed.