an: thank you so much to my beta, floraone for her constant encouragement and complete faith that I have the capacity to finish this story that should have been done a year ago. you've stuck by me through 3 years of my tirades and insecurities.I appreciate you more than you know. also thank you to everyone who's stuck with me on this fic. I know it's been a long wait, but I hope it's been worth it.

Let me know what you think! I'd love your reviews 333

oOo

As a general rule, Usagi loved weddings. Loved weddings. What was there not to like, after all?

There was love and food and cake and dancing and drinks and cake.

And considering she was currently at the wedding of two incredibly dear friends, she should have been enjoying herself immensely.

She was trying. Honestly, she was. But as she sat at a table full of Mamoru and Motoki's extremely well put together friends from college, she was starting to wish she was anywhere but in this gorgeously decorated ballroom in Kyoto.

The ceremony itself had been beautiful. Reika had looked stunning of course, and Usagi wasn't sure she'd ever get over the look on Motoki's face when he saw his bride walking towards him. But she'd spent most of the time staring at the man standing at the groom's left.

There really wasn't much more she could ask for in life than Mamoru in a tux. There really, really wasn't. And if she looked at him long enough, she could almost ignore the intense longing that pulled in her chest.

She continued to stare at him now, still at Motoki's left, but at a table in the very center of the room, and as she half-listened to the gorgeous brunette woman sitting next to her shyly talk about her apparent meteoric rise in the Osaka police department, that intense longing threatened to overwhelm her.

It was a favor to the bride and groom that she was sitting at this table. They were all single without dates to speak of (though judging by the way the man named Kobayashi was conversing over Usagi with the police woman, he very much wanted to be something else) and since no one could bring a group together like Usagi, and the fact that she didn't feel like she could refuse Reika anything on her wedding day, there she was.

She was failing pretty miserably at her job, though. Unable to think of a single thing to talk to any of these people about. What was she supposed to talk about, anyway? How's the weather up there in the stratosphere of success that most people will never reach? You mean you don't eat dinner at your parent's house three times a week because you miss it and are too lazy to cook?

Another glance towards the head table left her sighing. She would have loved to have been at this wedding as his girlfriend, hell, she'd even settle for being called his date at this point.

The last time she'd visited him, he'd nursed her back to health in his bed with such a caring warmth she hadn't been able to shake the feeling it gave her even two months later.

But now, she was at the singles table, about as far away from him as she could possibly be. And after that night, she had no idea when she'd see him again, especially considering he had no real reason to visit Tokyo anymore.

To make matters worse, the wedding being held in Kyoto for the convenience of Reika's family had made it impossible for any of her closest friends to attend. Ami was in the middle of her residency, Rei had a festival at the shrine and Minako was off on some modeling assignment in the north.

"I'm sorry, babe," Minako had said when she'd had to decline the invitation, while Usagi pouted on the couch. "But look at it this way, at least you'll have another weekend of Mamoru all to yourself without us being there to embarrass you."

Yeah, right.

And while Makoto was there, she had been hired to cater, and was therefore in the kitchen practically the entire night, leaving Usagi feeling more alone than she had since middle school. Which consequently, was about the age she felt when compared to the people she was sitting with.

All through dinner she'd tried her best to keep her pleasurable moans at the taste of Makoto's cooking to a minimum, trying her best not to embarrass herself, all the while wondering why exactly Mamoru had ever chosen to spend time with her in the first place, when he could have been with people who so clearly were a better match in every way.

She hadn't even paid attention to the fact that a chair next to her had been vacated, too lost in the moving around the few remaining pieces of broccoli on her plate, when she heard a warm and familiar voice at her side.

"How're you holding up?" Mamoru asked, placing a new glass of champagne down in front of her.

She smiled at him. It was an immediate reaction she didn't seem to have any control over. "I'm fine for now, but I won't be if you keep trying to get me to drink alcohol," she said, picking up the glass and forcing herself to only drink a tiny sip, even though she wanted to down the entire thing.

Her insides melted when he smiled back. "What's the matter, Tsukino? Can't hold your liquor?"

Usagi stuck out her tongue playfully, forgetting her surroundings in the playful tone of his voice. "As a matter of fact, no, I can't."

"How is it you know this charming young woman, Mamoru?" Kobayashi asked from beside her, and Usagi whipped her head towards the intrusion, a blush staining her cheeks.

To her relief, Mamoru smiled at the man. "You always were the nosy one, weren't you, Kobayashi?"

"I just like to have my finger on the pulse of my friend's lives is all," Kobayashi countered haughtily, though his face was warm and friendly.

"If you must know, Usagi and I actually met on a train a few months back, and discovered we had some mutual friends in common," Mamoru offered with that nonchalance she envied.

If someone had asked her that question, she probably would have gone on for a half hour about their meeting, completely unable to hide how much she'd loved every minute of it.

To his credit, Kobayashi seemed to accept Mamoru's vague answer without any follow-up questions.

"How's your research on that dementia drug going? I haven't talked with you since the clinical trial started," Mamoru went on, seeming to forget Usagi was there as he continued his conversation with his friend.

She sat still for a few minutes, occasionally taking a small sip of her champagne, trying her hardest to bite back her feelings of inadequacy and resist the urge to run into the kitchens and cry her problems out on Makoto's soft chest.

But as time dragged on, she knew she needed to get away from the table she'd been chained to, from these people who were a constant reminder of everything she would never be.

Placing her drink down on the table she pushed her chair back and stood, throwing a quick smile at Mamoru, and bowing quickly to Kobayashi.

"If you'll excuse me, I think Reika needs my help with something," she made up when the conversation had turned to what they had all been up to since they'd last met. Doctors, researchers, police chiefs...

She needed air. Needed to get away from Mamoru and his fancy college classmates who were all beautiful and accomplished and so far beyond anything she could ever hope to be.

Once she'd stepped out of the ballroom, she took deep breaths, resisting the urge to slide down the wall to the floor.

But her break was short lived.

"Usako?" Mamoru asked worriedly, sliding through the door she'd come through just moments before. "Are you ok?"

In all her jumbled thoughts, the one that screamed louder than any of the others was how good he looked in that tailored tux and bow tie and shiny shoes and perfectly in place hair.

She managed to smile, and mumble a, "yes, I'm fine," and before she could react, Mamoru had her boxed against the wall, his hands on either side of her head.

He leaned his forehead against hers, a dreamy kind of smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I thought you were trying to leave without me," he said and if she hadn't been watching him all evening, she would have thought he was drunk.

Mamoru wasn't this forward in public, usually. Sure he would hold her hand, let her snuggle into his side with a smile, even kiss her deeply when one of them was leaving on a train, but being caught in such a clearly intimate position just wasn't in his nature.

Had he been downing champagne in the few moments she hadn't been watching him? He didn't smell like alcohol, and his eyes were clear.

Usagi glanced to the side and realized why he felt so comfortable doing this. Because no one was around. No one would know he was with her. Silly, clumsy, average, not very smart Usagi.

Her heart sank.

"Mamo-chan, I-"

He was kissing her before she could finish, and for some reason she let him. Let him pull her close, hands tight on her hips, while his mouth moved lazily over hers in languid kisses that made her knees weak.

At least, like this, she reasoned in her clouded mind, she could drown with him. They were even here on this playing field. She could make him shiver just as violently as he did her when she raked her nails through his pure silk hair, make him whimper just as pathetically when she nipped at his lower lip.

Plus, and this was the overwhelming justification she realized as his tongue swept into her mouth, rendering her helpless to pull away, it felt amazing.

The door next to them creaked open, and reality came crashing down in the worst possible way.

Mamoru jumped away from her, causing her center of gravity to go with him, and she stumbled into his chest.

His hands came out to steady her, and she noticed his cheeks were flaming red, his hair still tousled from her fingers, while he placed her back on her feet an arms length away from him.

Her head whipped towards the door, ready to give whatever poor person had walked through the door a piece of her mind for disturbing them, but she was dismayed to see Unazuki, who was looking at them with a bright, amused smile on her face, and through her haze of embarrassment and shame, Usagi had the grace to blush.

"Uh, Mamoru, Motoki wanted me to find you and let you know it's time for toasts," she said, and her voice was full of poorly disguised mirth.

Mamoru let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, somehow making it look even more enticing.

"Yeah, thanks, I'll be right there."

Unazuki gave them one last knowing smile, before disappearing back into the noisy ballroom.

Mamoru finally turned to face Usagi, an apologetic look on his face, though he refused to meet her eyes.

"Usa-"

It was her turn to interrupt him.

"Go, I'll find you later."

He gave her a grateful look, before he hurried after Unazuki.

She leaned against the wall for a long moment, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. It failed miserably.

Eyeing the front door, she debated cutting her losses, and hightailing it out of there with what little dignity she had left, but she heard the muffled sound of Mamoru and the maid of honor being announced, and her curiosity got the better of her.

Slipping back into the hall as quietly as she could, she stood against the back wall, not daring to make any movements that might distract Mamoru as she watched him take the microphone in one hand, his other holding what looked to be an untouched glass of scotch, that was so often his drink of choice after a long day.

She knew how nervous he was about this. This wasn't some academic lecture on the brain he could practically do in his sleep. This was personal. He had to talk about messy things like emotions and friendships and relationships.

Usagi couldn't help the small snort that left her at the thought. Hell, she'd been with him for six months and hadn't been able to drag anything out of him about what he thought about their relationship. Or whatever it was.

Motoki, you lucky bastard.

"I can't tell you all how many times, I tried to get out of doing this," he said, and she couldn't help but smile a little. At least there was genuine humor in his voice.

"But every so often, you have someone that enters your life you're willing to do any number of things for, including maudlin displays in front of hundreds of people."

Usagi smiled even wider when she saw Motoki and Reika beam towards him from their table, Reika's head gently laid on her new husband's shoulder.

"I first met Motoki when I was ten. And without getting into specifics, he gave me my first taste of what toxic masculinity really was when he punched a rather obnoxious kid in the face for me within five minutes of meeting him."

The crowd laughed, and Motoki had the grace to blush and shrug his shoulders.

"But I knew that day that I was going to have a really difficult time shaking off this sandy-haired kid, even if I wanted to. Before I knew it, he'd become family."

Usagi sighed at this, biting her lip to keep threatening tears from spilling over as the people around her awed at what he was saying. If they only knew just how desperately true his words were.

"And as the women he dated came and went, and there were plenty of them, I started to wonder if he'd ever settle down," he went on, a real smile on his face that took her breath away. "But I'll never forget, the night after his first date with Reika, he came over to my apartment, pounding on my door and proudly declaring he had found 'The One.'

"And not too long after that, I was being dragged along on their dates, being the excellent third wheel that I am, and suddenly, Reika was my family too."

If it had been possible for Usagi to not cry during his speech, that last bit sent her over the edge, both with happiness and a longing she couldn't quite place that seemed to appear more and more often these days.

"Your marriage isn't the beginning of something beautiful, but a culmination of two lives that have been well-lived and loved, and that is something that can never really end. Thank you both for including me in this day, I love both of you. Cheers," he finished, raising his glass along with the rest of the room, and taking a small sip of the caramel colored drink in his hand.

Making her way back to her table while Reika's best friend spoke, Usagi wiped furiously at the corners of her eyes, trying her best to hide her emotions from those at her table.

She steadied her breathing as much as she could, still shaken from the kisses they'd shared in the hallway and his abrupt exit before she could even remotely think of a way to bring up her mounting insecurities.

It wasn't the time for it anyway, she chided herself. This was Motoki and Reika's wedding, not some excuse for her to finally pin Mamoru down into a relationship, no matter how badly she wanted it.

She couldn't help staring at the couple in front of her, dancing their first dance as husband and wife without a care in the world. They were everything a newly married couple should be. Happy and glowing in their own little wedding induced bubble.

And she hated the jealousy that welled up inside her. Hated it with every fiber of her being that looking at her dear friends gave her such treacherous thoughts. As if it was their fault she was stuck in a relationship that wasn't. As if they had made the decision to stay all these months.

And as more and more couples went to the dance floor, even the people at her table abandoning their singledom for a dance or two, her mood continued to darken.

"Ever wanted to hook up with the best man?"

Usagi jumped in her chair, her head hitting something hard in the process and she heard a hiss of pain come from the offending voice.

Whirling around, she found Mamoru clutching his chin that she'd hit with the top of her head, his eyes watering from what she imagined was a pretty stinging pain.

"Oh, my god, Mamo-chan, I'm so sorry!" she said, rising from her chair at the empty table. "You scared me; I didn't know you were there!"

Mamoru waved her off, putting his back against the nearby wall, and taking in a few deep breaths.

"Geez, Odango," he said with a strained smile, when she handed him a hastily made ice pack that consisted of a napkin and some ice from a nearby water pitcher, "remind me to never sneak up on you in a dark alley."

She blushed deeply and glanced around them, grateful most of the guests were preoccupied with the dance floor before she glared at him. "You shouldn't be sneaking up on anyone, ever, Mamoru-baka!"

Mamoru let out a huff of laughter, and Usagi moved closer to him, gingerly taking the ice napkin from his hands and placing it down on the chair she'd vacated.

When she moved back, she stood on the tips of her toes, having ditched her heels a couple of hours before, to take a closer look at the damage she'd done.

She could feel his breath move the hair on her forehead, and she tried to put it out of her mind that being this close to him still did funny things to her insides.

"Well, doctor," she heard him breathe out, "am I going to live?"

A small smile came unbidden to her face, and she was pleased to see that it didn't even look as if the hit he'd taken would leave a bruise.

"With the right care, possibly," she said, lowering herself down to her normal height.

"What a relief," he replied with a wink. "But you know what I'm sure would completely heal me?"

Usagi wasn't sure if she liked the mischievous look on his face or not, no matter how good he looked at the moment. "A swift kick in the head?"

He looked at her with fake exasperation. "As delightful as that sounds, I'm not sure my body can sustain another of your injuries."

She rolled her eyes. "What then?"

Mamoru held out his hand to her, and she took it without thinking, gasping a tiny bit when he pulled her in close. "Dance with me?"

Her eyes grew wide, surprised at his forwardness and she nodded mutely, finding herself being gently led into the middle of the dance floor.

The music had changed to some slow love song she normally would have swooned to, and as his hands settled on her hips and she allowed her head to lay against his starched dress shirt, she had to admit she was swooning.

How could she not? Mamoru was easily the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen, and here he was, dancing with her, sighing dreamily with his chin nestled between the buns on her head. She could almost close her eyes and just forget…

But it wasn't enough. The worry that had nagged at her during the past six months rearing its ugly head. Worry she'd managed to put from her mind because of how blindingly in love she was.

The wedding had caused all of that denial to fly out the window as a real, committed, lasting relationship was shoved in her face in every way possible.

"Mamo-chan?" she asked, looking up at him, her chin still resting on his chest. "Will I still see you now that the wedding is over, and you don't have a reason to come to Tokyo?"

Mamoru smiled down at her, and she felt her burden ease the tiniest bit. "Of course you will," he said, and she smiled back. "You're in Osaka all the time."

Usagi stumbled over her own feet at his words, and she would have fallen completely if he hadn't been holding her so steadily.

Yes, she was in Osaka all the time. For him. Because she loved him. And wanted to be with him. Was he really not willing to return the favor?

She broke eye contact with him, looking down towards the floor to hide the disappointment on her face while he continued to move them slowly back and forth in time to the music she couldn't really hear any more due to the pounding in her ears.

"And besides," he continued, reaching up to take one of her hands, spinning her out and away from him before pulling her back in, even closer than she was before. "It's not like I'm never in Tokyo. I'm sure I'll have conferences every few months."

Sucking in a breath, Usagi forced herself to look up at him, her voice wavering and betraying her in a way that made her want to cry in frustration. "E-every few months?"

He smiled at her again, but it looked a little sad for some reason she couldn't place. "But like I said, you're here all the time, so I'll still see you."

She didn't even have time to process what he'd said, as his eyes lit up in apparent recognition of someone across the room.

Usagi turned her head towards the direction he'd been staring, and she noticed a middle aged woman with soft blonde hair waving enthusiastically in their direction.

His arms dropped from her waist and he was tugging on her hand, a bright smile on his face while he explained, "There's someone I want you to meet."

She tried to calm her spinning mind while he gently led her towards the smiling woman, but the roar in her ears wouldn't stop and she wasn't sure she had any control over her facial expressions any longer.

Feeling like your life was falling apart around you wasn't exactly conducive to making conversation, no matter how skilled she was at talking.

But here she was, watching Mamoru hug a woman he wanted her to meet, and she was only vaguely able to register his voice as he introduced her.

"Furuhata-san, this is my friend, Usagi Tsukino," he said, hand warm and ever present on her back. "Usagi, this is Motoki's aunt, Mei Furuhata. She's the one I told you about that owns Il Boccalone."

It was an almost out of body experience. As if she had left her body, her feelings and emotions behind in order to not feel the sting of his words.

She felt herself bow politely, was fairly certain she had even managed a small smile with a shaky, 'nice to meet you.' But her insides were screaming.

He'd never said it so plainly before. Friend. She was his friend. His friend.

That was all he thought of her, of their time together. Every kiss, every touch, every phone call, every moonlit stroll.

Friends.

For the second time that night, Usagi knew she needed to get away. Every synapse in her brain was practically begging her to run.

She could hear Motoki's aunt asking Mamoru about his job and the usual platitude he gave, "Good. Busy, but good," made her want to scream in frustration.

Didn't he understand that nothing was good? That he was ruining everything?

"And what is it that you do, Usagi?" Mei Furuhata asked, suddenly directing the conversation towards her.

Usagi froze. She knew she looked ridiculous, wide eyed, mouth hanging open, floundering for a practiced fact she had to rattle off all the time.

Mamoru was looking at her with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Usako? Are you ok?"

"No!" she yelled, finally finding her voice in the most embarrassing way, noticing several guests around her sending her strange looks for her outburst.

She most certainly wasn't alright. And the dramatic soul in her wondered if she ever would be again.

And there she stood, floundering as Mamoru's eyes grew worried and his hand reached out towards her.

"No!" she shouted again pulling away from his touch, and starting to back away from him one halting step at a time.

"I have to go," she whispered, shaking her head, not caring that she was probably causing a scene. Not caring that his face seemed more alarmed with each step she took. "I have to get out of here. I'm so sorry, I just…"

And she turned to run, racing to the table she knew her shoes and purse still rested at, hoping against hope, for the first time since she'd met him, that he wasn't behind her. She couldn't think when he was around, would allow him to keep hurting her if she couldn't break away to breathe for even a few minutes.

"Usagi! Wait!" she heard him call, but she was already out the front doors, cursing under her breath and refusing to look back.

She stopped briefly, trying to decide which would be the fastest way to her hotel, hastily putting her heels back on her aching feet, and it was in that moment of hesitation that strong hands came to rest on her shoulders.

Whirling around, knowing full well who was behind her, Usagi didn't even bother to hide the hurt on her face.

She was done.

"Let go of me, Mamoru," she said through gritted teeth, and he obliged, looking completely bewildered. It was so typical that he had no idea of what he'd done. So fucking typical.

"Usako, what's wrong?" he asked, hands clenched at his sides. "I don't understand-"

An unlady like snort left her, garbled by the sound of her increasing tears. "Of course, you don't."

The look on his face, one of shock and confusion, only fueled her anger. "You were perfectly fine in there! What the hell happened?"

"You honestly have no idea why I'm upset with you?" she asked, voice rising with each word.

He seemed frustrated at her, now, his sarcasm out in full force. "Yes, I clearly have an understanding as to why you're yelling at me in the street, which is why I keep asking you why you're upset!"

"You don't get to be an asshole to me! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Mamoru raked a hand through his hair, glancing down at the pavement and taking a deep, steadying breath. He took her balled fists into his hands, and Usagi flinched but didn't pull back, while his eyes found her watery ones.

"Please, Usako," he said, his voice seemed calm and rational, while she bit her lip at the name to stop more tears from falling. "Tell me what I did wrong."

She didn't speak for a few long moments, just looked at him, taking the same steadying breath he had just a minute ago.

Her mind was surprisingly clear.

She loved this man. Had been in love with him practically from the moment she saw him, no matter how impractical it was. She had poured six months of her life into their relationship. Gave up countless weekends, time with her friends and family, making every excuse to see him…

She had moved mountains for him, and he had never once returned the favor.

It wasn't even a relationship to him. Had never been. He had called her his 'friend.' And no matter how much she loved him, she just couldn't do it anymore.

Usagi looked around, the bustling streets of Kyoto had never felt further away from home, and she knew she had to get away from this place, this hurt, as soon as she could.

"I have to go," she told him, wrenching her hands out of his hold, and turning away to the left, still unsure if it was the right way to go or not.

But this time, he didn't move to come after her.

"Usagi! I can't come after you, I have to be here!"

She stopped, and looked back at him with a sad smile and a shrug. "You never do."

Mamoru's brow furrowed in confusion, and she had to bite back the urge to run back and smooth her fingers over the creases on his forehead.

"What do you mean?"

Usagi sighed through the silent tears making quick tracks down her cheeks. She supposed now was as good of a time for the truth as any.

"It's been six months, Mamo-chan. I've given you everything, and you…" she paused and a small hiccup escaped, "haven't. And I just can't anymore. I'm so sorry."

She took a moment to take in his face, he was still giving her a mixture of confusion and something akin to fear, though she couldn't place why. And it wasn't as if she needed to try to memorize him, as she was fully convinced she knew his face better than her own and that it would haunt her for years to come, maybe even for the rest of her life, but she had always been a bit of a masochist when it came to love, and why should this be any different?

And then she turned and walked away, trying to keep the rest of her heart from withering away when he didn't even try to stop her.