A/N: So, I had to do this before the actual story to apologise for some things. First of all, sorry for the blatant bracket abuse. Second, I don't usually write like this, but since it's in the POV of a egotistic model, it had to be done. Thirdly, sorry for the shortness. It is a prologue. Hell, I don't even think it will get much longer then this. Ah, well.
Actual characters will be introduced next chapter, whee. As of now, pairings are undecided, if there will be any pairings.

Kanon.

Let me let you in on a well-known secret of mine- transportation on anything other then my feet scare the crap out of me. Bikes, cars, planes, you name it. Unless both of my (gorgeous) feet are planted firmly on the ground, I will go into panic mode.

So, guess where my co-worker/frenemy and photographer/ex-boyfriend (boy, that nude shot last month was awkward) decided to go for our next photo shoot?
AN ISLAND.

Oh, sure, it has a beautiful beach. Oh, sure, I could work on my tan, since my old one was fading into an oblivion. Oh, sure. Major problem though, I REALLY. HATED. BOATS. (Oh, fine, ships. Shut the hell up and stop getting technical.)
Said lovely island did not have an airport, either. Which really blows, since I was better with planes. Not necessarily good, but better.

Major Frown-frown had declared war with my face. He was currently winning. (It would be better of you not to ask. Really.)
That cunning bitc- I mean, my lovely roommate/co-worker/enemy/adopted sister, Karin, sat facing me at a dining table. In the dining hall (is that what they're called? I don't even know). Of the ship. Needless to say (though I'll say it anyway), I was freaking out right now.
Freaking out as in the form of stabbing my fork into the lovely wooden table. I looked like a freak. And not as in 'freakishly good-looking', which I was often called.

"Now, now, Kanon~ It's only an hour long trip!" She said cheerfully, reaching across the table and wrapping her slender fingers around my wrist. It was a gentle hold, at first, before... she tightened it. Major Frown-frown had turned into Major Ohmyfuckinggodpanicpanicpanic as my facial expression contorted into one of (glamorous) pain.

One hour, huh? It feels a lot longer when you're in hell.

Karin.

I'd better not be paying for the table.
Just saying.


"I don't at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited."
- Oscar Wilde