Idea that popped into my head one day in an I.T. lesson (I always seem to get my ideas in that lesson…). Has been in progress for months, but because I'm so lazy, I've only being writing small chunks each time. But finally, I have finished it! ;D Well… the first part anyway (I intend it to be a two-shot).

Now, only another six unfinished fan fictions to go! (/^.^)/

Never written anything like this before, so please go easy if i've portrayed it in the wrong way. I've written purely from speculation, not experience.

Much credit to Olly who helped me when it came to the title (believe me, i absolutely SUCK at titles) ;D

Dedicated to Chloe, because she promised to let me off paying her back for the Panini if I dedicated a fiction to her.

WARNING: Hints at domestic abuse. I don't know if it's bad enough to be labelled as that, but just thought i'd warn you because i felt like i should? I don't know.

DISCLAIMER: Despite being well on my way to world domination, I have yet to acquire the rights to Gakuen Alice or any of it characters.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Those three knocks on the door changed my life. Sometimes I'm not sure if I know whether it was a good change or a bad one. I guess it was a bit of both.

What do you do when someone you've known your whole life hurts someone you've loved for what feels like a lifetime.

What if they really hurt them?

Hurt them over and over again; hurt them so many times that you found it hard… so hard, to believe that the person could still live on through it all.

What would you do? What could you do?

*

The silence of his apartment was deafening.

He clicked the door shut and locked it, his hand shaking slightly as he aimed the key at the lock and missed multiple times before finally succeeding. Sinking to the floor with his head in his arms, a spasm of pain ripped through his body, adding another scar to his already damaged heart.

He didn't know how much longer he could bear this; how much longer he could see her like that and say nothing. It made him sick to his stomach every time another mark appeared on her already-bruised skin; made him want to hurt the person who had done it to her and whisk her away with him, to a place where she wouldn't be hurt anymore and pain would just be a distant memory

Yet each time he had to silence those thoughts – not because he was afraid to act, oh no. It was because she had asked him to remain silent whilst she worked through the pain. She couldn't bear to leave him on his own, even after everything he had done to her.

So he had to make do with accompanying her on her trips to the hospital, listening whilst she explained to the curious doctors again and again how she had 'fallen down the stairs' or 'burn her arm on the hob'. And when it became too risky to go to the hospital anymore without raising suspicion, he bandaged her sore limbs and held her as she cried, her entire body convulsing against his, her tiny hands gripping his arms so tightly it could draw blood.

It was when she had to stay goodbye to him once again - as she did every time - which hurt the most. Knowing that she was going back to him made him feel so useless and weak.

What sort of man am I if I can't even save the woman I love from that?

He rubbed his eyes, harshly wiping away the traitorous tears that had escaped, took a deep breath in a futile attempt to steady himself, and raised himself from him position against the door. His footsteps almost echoed around the room as he made his way over to the small, minimalistic kitchen and pressed the flashing button on the espresso machine that he rarely used anymore. As the machine roared to life in a symphony of whirs and clicks, a bitter aroma filled the air and invaded his senses, reminding him of a day that seemed so long ago it felt like nothing more than a terrible nightmare…

"Ruka-pyon!" Her voice was light and carefree as she hurried through the crowd that lingered in the busy café; her hair - no longer restrained by its pigtails - flowed out behind her like a wave, dancing even in the still air of the room.

Mikan steered towards the blonde man who occupied a table in the corner; his head shooting up at the sound of his old nickname, knowing that it could only be that person. Upon his eyes meeting hers, a dazzling grin broke across his face and a youthful twinkle appeared in his eyes. Even though it had been a couple of years since they had graduated from the Academy, Mikan made Ruka feel like he was the small awkward boy once again, so overwhelmed with his emotions that he never knew exactly how to act around her.

When Mikan finally managed to fight her way to his table, she threw her arms around him in a warm, easy embrace. This, in turn, caused the familiar faint tinge of pink to colour the startled-yet-pleased Ruka's cheeks.

"Ah, I missed you, Ruka-pyon! We need to meet up more often than just once a month!" the brunette bubbled cheerfully, before glancing around the room, searching someone out. "Oh. I wonder where Natsume went…"

"I'm here, baka. No thanks to you." Ruka's crimson-eyed best friend had appeared so quickly that it was almost as though he had just materialized. To an outsider, Natsume's words may have seemed slightly harsh, yet amongst the trio, the other two could pick up on the gentle edge that lay hidden in his usually cold voice – they knew it was just his way of showing his affection. "Hey, Ruka."

"Hey, Natsume. How're things going?"

To this he received a non-committal shrug and a lazy smile – the most of a response that anyone could expect from him. It was a sign of their friendship that Natsume even bothered to smile at all.

After the greetings and usual "Anything new?" questions had been asked, Ruka and Natsume settled down into the plush armchairs surrounding their table, and Mikan, after consulting Natsume on his choice of drink (A Cappuccino, no chocolate sprinkles), headed over to the counter to order.

Ruka couldn't help but marvel for the umpteenth time at how beautiful Mikan had become. Although she may still have kept her somewhat childish attitude, her looks had matured and she had blossomed into a striking young woman. Ruka often wondered what might have happened had he not given her up to Natsume, but each time he resigned himself to admiring from afar – it was obvious his two friends loved each other deeply.

A comfortable silence had descended over the pair that wasn't broken until Mikan returned, two steaming cups in hand. "There you go Natsume" She placed the cup down in front of him, and served it with one of her heartbreaking smiles.

It was then that Ruka had felt suddenly in need of the bathroom; so, sliding out of his chair and excusing himself, he wandered over, and did what had to be done.

Wiping his hands on a paper towel, which he then discarded, he pushed the door open and paused at what he saw.

Natsume had grabbed Mikan's wrist with one hand, and was gripping the still-steaming cup in his other. He appeared to be gesturing (angrily, Ruka had noted) to the cup, whilst speaking harshly to Mikan, who looked slightly scared, seemingly trying to calm him down.

Ruka caught snatches of the heated conversation: "I said I wanted a cappuccino, idiot! What the hell is this?!"

"I-I'm sorry, Natsume, I mixed up the order. I'll go and get you another-"

Before she could finish what she was saying, Natsume had tipped the boiling liquid onto the wrist that he was still restraining, glaring at her as she cried out from the pain.

Ruka felt an icy stab of disbelief in the pit of his stomach as he watched the scene play out – what the hell had just happened? Sure, Natsume could be a little mean sometimes, but he'd never actually hurt anyone before (except on his missions, obviously); especially not Mikan.

Mikan cradled her scalded hand to her chest, her eyes sparkling with tears and a look of confusion on her face. Before she could ask him why, Natsume stood up and stalked from the busy café, not even sparing a glance back.

No one else had noticed the disturbance amongst the general hustle and bustle of the packed café, and their table had been secluded enough that no one nearby had even looked up. Well, one person looked up when Mikan had screamed, but, upon spotting that it was Natsume who held the cup, they turned away as though they had seen nothing. That was proof of Natsume's status.

Ruka felt sick as he hurried back to the table, to the sobbing Mikan. "Mikan! What happened?!"

She dried her eyes and gave a weak smile in his direction. "Oh, nothing, I just spilt my coffee all over myself. I'm so clumsy…" She didn't know that he had seen everything from the bathroom.

"Where's Natsume?"

"Oh, um, he had to leave – I think he said something about a mission…"

Ruka grabbed Mikan's hand and examined it – it was bright red and would obviously blister, if not scar. Just as he started to dab her poor hand with some napkins and go to ask for some ice, she yanked it from his grasp and stood up from her chair.

"I have to go, Ruka. It was really nice seeing you again." With that, she turned on heel and fled the café. Her exit was so different from her entrance – excitement replaced by pain and confusion.

Ruka could only stare after her, a numb sense of horror paralyzing him.

What had just happened?

The espresso machine fell silent at last, its job done as the steaming beverage sat expectantly on the tray. Ruka couldn't even stand the smell of the drink as he emptied it down the sink without drinking a drop. He didn't know why he had even made it in the first place; he would never be able to drink the stuff again. Old habits coming back to haunt him, he supposed.

That time had only been the beginning. After that, every time they met up, Ruka would notice a new mark or a fresh cut somewhere. At first he had tried to convince himself that he was just imagining everything - that Mikan and Natsume were a regular happy couple – but after the day that Mikan had called him on his mobile and asked him – between tearful sobs - to take her to the Hospital, where she was treated for two broken ribs, he couldn't ignore the facts anymore.

Mikan was being hurt. By Natsume.

After that time, he had ensured that Mikan could always reach him and that he would always be there for her when she needed him. He had been forced to watch the care-free girl he had fallen in love with die, little by little, until she was replaced by a frightened shadow of what she used to be; the smallest sounds would make her jump and look over her shoulder, the most fleeting of touches made her wince away from him as she remembered a not—quite-forgotten pain.

Pacing over to the cold black sofa that lay sprawled in the centre of the apartment, he collapsed onto it, an arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the light. As he peeked through his fingers at the empty room around him, he was suddenly struck by how little like a home this actually was.

This isn't a home – it's just somewhere that I'm forced to sleep and eat. Nowhere is a home, unless she is there.

One minute, Ruka was haphazardly sprawled on his sofa, wallowing, the next he felt his eye lids grow heavy and a strange lightness overwhelm him…

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Ruka was roused from the restless doze that he had slipped into by the insistent banging that now shattered the lingering silence. Running his hand through his hair groggily and glancing over at the luminous numbers that shone from the digital clock resting on the end table (22:14), he hefted himself up into a standing position and dragged himself reluctantly over to the door.

Undoing the lock and opening it, he was met with a sight that wiped all traces of tiredness and sleep from his face.

Mikan stood in the doorway, tear-tracks staining her face, emphasizing her already damaged beauty; her hair was dishevelled and an angry red burn marred her left cheek, the salt from her tears only aggravating it more. The usual pattern of black and purple on her arms were now sewn together with cuts and scratches like some horrific patchwork. She didn't have anything with her except the clothes on her back. She didn't make any attempts to move, just stood there, sobbing out the torn pieces of her heart.

It was him who moved first, gently placing a hand on a patch of skin on her arm that didn't look as abused as the rest and leading her into his apartment whilst fighting back tears of his own; they made it about halfway to the black sofa on which he had previously being sleeping before her legs gave way and she sunk to the floor, her weeping reaching fever-pitch.

Ruka fell to the floor with her, enveloping her trembling form in an embrace that screamed promises and whispered soothing words without him even having to open his mouth.

As gently as he could, he brushed her hair away from her face and scrutinized the burn on her cheek; upon closer inspection it was clear to see the distinct hand-shape it resembled. Ruka, for the first time in his life, cursed the Alice that he had been born with – if only I had an ice Alice or an Alice of healing, I'd actually be able to do something for her! Instead, all he could do was hold her until the shaking subsided and the sobs quietened, replaced by the almost inaudible sound of her sleeping breath; even in her sleep she hadn't released her killer grip on Ruka.

Tenderly, he scooped the now-sleeping Mikan up and carried her into the bedroom and placed her under the covers of the bed that he had grown used to sleeping alone in; like the rest of his apartment, it was minimalistic, a plain black silk sheet lay over the snow white duvet with matching pillows.

He surveyed the sleeping girl in his bed momentarily before climbing in from the other side and pulling himself close, clutching her to him. His heart pledged to love her; his soul swore to heal her, to fix every scar until she could live again.

He had lost too much of her already; this time, he wasn't going to let go.

Hmmmm. Not sure if I like that ending, but it does leave it open, I guess.

So, there's the first part of my Gakuen Alice two-shot – not a clue when I'll get round to writing the second part, so don't hold your breath (not that you would, because that would be kind of stupid. No offence intended to anyone who enjoys holding their breath for no reason).

Enough of my pointless ramblings that, as me and my friends discovered ALWAYS lead to places of mega fan-service and mental scarring. Ahhh, the life of rabid fan girls …

…What happened to no more pointless ramblings….?

If you spot any errors I'd appreciate it greatly if you could let me know - I uploaded this without running it by any beta's

Much love and junk,

AbsoluteAddiction-x

xo