Hi everyone. Right now, I have ideas for some other stories; 3 for Shima and 1 for the Vocaloids Rin and Len. So if I don't update Mosaic and Senseless, it doesn't mean I've abandoned them. Only for now. I'll probably update those ideas first. This is just a one-shot I thought up during a movie I watched for the umpteenth time. Guess which movie, if you'd like :p

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Knight or Pocky. You know, in the anime, I think they use some other kind of snack, not Pocky. I don't own An Appointment With Love either, that is owned by S.L. Kishor. It's a good story, you should check it out. I think you should read it first, actually.

~Kinshi

Never Did

I never did; never will.

"Actually, I've never liked Pocky."

The fateful words slipped out of my mouth unwillingly. I didn't mean to say them.

It was a beautiful time of day; the sun in the sky so steadily making its way under the horizon. The heavens were painted like a canvas; colours hard to explain. It was blue, yet not blue. Red, pink, orange, yellow; it was all of them, and yet, not. More beautiful than a rainbow, yet uglier than a storm.

The sunset matched quite a few things that day.

It matched his mood, which was slowly descending into sorrow. It matched the tears running down his face.

It matched my own tears.

I didn't mean to say them, not like that. And on White Day, to the one I held most dear. Shiki held up an arm, which extended towards me, holding a box of chocolate Pocky. At the mention of my words, however, it fell limply at his side.

I remembered every single waking moment of my time with Shiki. Even my dreams of him I could recall. I could still remember the happy day we had first met. It was years ago, a day similar to this one. That day, I had been introduced to the snack he held in his now rigid hand. Even since that day, I had never liked it; never liked Pocky.

And I figured, since I'd already dropped a bomb, I might as well drop the rest.

"Ever since we met, I never liked Pocky," I said softly. His already tense shoulders stiffened.

"You… you mean… are you saying…" he struggled to string together a coherent question.

"I never did; never will," I answered him. Almost inaudibly, he sucked in a sharp breath. He lowered his head so his bangs shadowed his face. And yet, in the dying sunlight, I could still see his glistening tears and dull eyes. To anyone, perhaps his eyes looked glazed regularly; his silver-blue eyes shrouded in fog. But in reality, his eyes were bright, dazzling, like the scales of a fish.

Right now, though, his eyes had lost all their original radiance and shine; they were a misty silver, any trace of the metallic-blue was nowhere to be seen.

And it made me wonder what my eyes looked like right now. Were they an indifferent light indigo? Or a dull shade of cerulean? I would expect no less; I hadn't thought he would react so harshly. And frankly, it pained me to see him like this; to see tears cascading down his face.

"It's n-not what y-you think," I said. My voice was stuttering. Damn. "Shiki?" He snapped.

"Then what is it? You haven't been using me; haven't been having fun with me all these years? Having a good laugh, are you? That's not it? No? Don't make me laugh," he said.

"No, it isn't," I said clearly. Contradicting his words, he laughed, albeit humourlessly.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" he shouted. Tears were still making tracks down his cheeks.

His question made me remember another memory; a day when we were small. I recalled it so clearly; Shiki and I making a promise never to lie, a promise we made on our two pinkies. The recollection brought a kind of mental pain to my head, and I narrowed my eyes and clutched my head.

Those actions caused a flicker of worry to cross Shiki's face, but then it was gone, like the setting sun was close to becoming.

"What's this? Another act to make me pity you? To make me believe in you?" he asked cruelly. The rhetorical questions echoed through my head. And I reminisced in another memory.

A while ago, our school had had a play. We were having a short study on it, so we were obliged to do An Appointment With Love. We had a traditional vote, and I had won the role of the young woman, and subsequently, Shiki had gained the role of the young man. I remembered the script and how, as I walked by, his eyes had been trailing after me, as he was asked to do, and it really did look real. It certainly looked real when he met the older woman and was disappointed. His acting made everything seem real. But maybe that was for real.

The thought brought a surreal pain to my heart and as I kept one at my head, a hand flew towards my chest. Only when I had collapsed did I realize my knees were trembling.

That caused Shiki to bend. He rushed forward and descended to my level and embraced me. Once I had calmed down, he ripped open the package of Pocky and took out a stick, only to stop abruptly as he bowed his head.

I took the stick from his hands and shoved it in his mouth. "Just because I don't like Pocky, doesn't mean I don't like you," I said faintly. Did I wish that instead of the Pocky, he was biting into me? It was so unclear.

He became exasperated. "I don't understand! The first day we met, I gave you some Pocky, you took it and said you liked it! And every day I gave you some, you would always take it and say you like it!" he shouted. "I don't understand at all—" Shiki repeated.

"—Here," I said as I stuck yet another stick of Pocky into his mouth. He closed his eyes in frustration and scowled. And I took advantage of that.

I kneeled in front of him and lightly bit on to the other end of the Pocky; lightly enough that he didn't notice. And as he nibbled into it, I leaned in, following each bite. When the stick ended, our lips met.

He opened his eyes in surprise and as the metal looked into the cerulean, both cleared as the first became a silvery blue and the second became a bright indigo.

"I never liked Pocky; never will," I repeated, "but right now it's okay."

"I still don't understand!" Shiki shouted, though he sounded considerably happier.

"Damn it! Stupid idiot! I don't like Pocky, I like you!"

It wasn't a particularly beautiful time of night; the sun had set under the horizon. The coloured canvas of the heavens was gone, replaced by a colour easy to distinguish; rather, a shade. It was a deep black. Yet… the black of the seraphic skies was pierced by a number of empyreal lights. Not as beautiful as a rainbow, yet more beautiful than the storm that materializes one.

Edit: It seems there was some confusion, but please interpret the one-shot in any way you would like. If you want to know what I intended to express in this story, please leave a review or PM me. Thanks for reading.

EDIT [07/29/10]: Changed a word or two.

I'm not sure if you realized, but at the end when it says 'more beautiful than the storm that materializes one', it means after rain or a storm, a rainbow is formed, so is the rainbow really more beautiful?

I'm sad 'cause I wish this was longer. Usually, I see one-shots over 2500 words long, so I feel unaccomplished. I don't get how people make them so long… But I guess it's ok; this one-shot spans the time of about 5-10 minutes? Maybe shorter. You know, recently, I've become more comfortable with swears. I can't say the s-word or the f-word, but I can say other things. I said the f-word by accident to someone who insulted me, which makes me hate him even more, but ah well. I hope you enjoyed the one-shot! Subscribe to me or look out for updates under my name! Constructive criticism in each review please!

~Kinshi