A/N: yep, it's me again. I know. You're probably tired of always seeing my name on the list. Oh well. This is a new series I will be working on after I finish Underage Love. For more details on this new series and my other unfinished series (Cecil's Muse) please visit my profile page for more information. I hope you enjoy the first chapter as it would be quite some time before I update this, as my main focus will be Underage Love (for the meantime). PS sorry for the grammar mistakes.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1-First Encounter

Natsuki Shinomiya squeezed out a generous amount of ultramarine blue oil paint on his worn-out wooden palette. Afterwhich, he carelessly tossed the emptied out tube on the floor and grabbed another tube. This time, he dabbed a tiny bit of titanium white on a clean spot.

Using the filbert brush, he dipped the brush on the blue color until the bristles are loaded and then dabbed again on a clean surface of the palette. Next, he dipped the brush on the titanium white and mixed it on the blue spot he separated until he got the lighter shade of blue he wanted.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he began to color the edges of the lip outline on his canvas, concentrating on the distinct lines like unique fingerprints. He worked his way deftly around the lips, coaxing the image he had on his mind. He dipped his brush again, this time on the cadmium red color he had squeezed out earlier.

For a few minutes, silence reigned on the room. Only slow drone of the fan above him and his breathing were the noises governing his mind as he contemplated on the shadows of the lip, dipping his brush on an ivory black color.

Finally, he was satisfied.

He took a step back and admired his work. Dropping the wooden palette on the small moveable table near him, he wiped his dirty hands on his grey shirt. He reeked of the smell of oil paints and dried sweat.

He had not taken a bath for the past two days in a row. His skin itched, but he figured he could still last for a couple of hours more before he hit the shower.

"That's a nice lip outline" a deep husky voice interrupted him in the background.

Startled, he whirled around and saw his friend, Ryuuya Hyuuga, looking pristine and handsome, wearing a light green-striped long sleeves and a black tie. His honey-colored hair was still wet from the shower, his coat was carelessly slung over his back with his left hand, while an unlighted cigarette hung on his lips.

Annoyed at his friend for silently creeping up behind him, he took out his knife and began scrapping away the lip he had so painstakingly drawing for the past two hours.

Kreee… Kreee..

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ryuuya said in a wailing manner. "The lip outline looks good. So lifelike! Arrgh!"

Without looking at his friend behind, he can picture him at the back of his mind, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He almost gave a chuckle were it not for the fact that he was suddenly angry.

"Ahh.. Such a waste.." he heard him stomp around and sat down on the worn out sofa, as the springs gave a protesting squeak. He heard the clicking of a lighter before smelling burnt tobacco in the air.

Natsuki continued to ignore him, intent on cleaning out his canvas as much as possible. As soon as he finished. He threw the knife on his mobile table and went to the opposite side of the large, airy room and laid on his back on the large bed with rumpled bedclothes. It was his daybed, where he slept most of the time. His own bedroom was several doors away, but he was either too tired or too lazy to go there when he needed to rest. Hence, the daybed that Ryuuya purchased for him on his behalf.

They both did not speak. Ryuuya continued to smoke his cigarette until he finishes his stick, took out another and lit it with his old one before crushing the stump on the overflowing ashtray near the sofa.

The scene is not unusual for them. Everytime Ryuuya visits him; he always sat on the sofa opposite his daybed. And either he would be sitting up or lying down, tuning out his yapping and nagging.

"Natsuki, there's only four months left till the deadline. Mitsue is getting nervous that you won't be able to deliver the paintings in time."

He did not answer. He continued to stare at the white ceiling above him, his mind blank. Should he tell Ryuuya or not?

He was running out of ideas on what to paint. The last series he did, almost eight months ago was the hardest he had ever produced so far. A total of 38 pieces of artwork, a couple of sculptures and a dozen haunting music that the gallery plays in a loop, all centered around death and resurrection. Visitors to the gallery walked through maze, experiencing melancholy and the process of dying, until they reach the last part where their senses are resurrected. Most of the gallery's patrons left the premises crying and sobbing. It was a truly unforgettable, visual and auditory experience. His power of making his subjects go through the business of dying and going in a state of limbo, until finally, waking up resurrected and alive. Critics praised the series as his most stunning series yet. A lot of collectors wanted to buy his works, but only a few managed to acquire them. The bidding for his works escalated to such a ridiculous amount. In the end, a high-end museum in Tokyo managed to acquire the majority of his works and they planned to install them in a new wing they built the year before.

Ryuuya was almost rolling with shock on the reception he received, but instead of celebrating, he was recuperating when the news broke on the purchase made. He almost died of starvation when he managed to finish them. He spent his first free day recovering in a nearby hospital, where he was confined for a good week. Ryuuya scolded him for being careless as he stood inside the private hospital room assigned for him, wagging his fingers at him in anger, while he just stared out of the window.

But he did not care. Why would he? When he went to Egypt to spend a good two months there to relax, he was blind struck with the imposing ancient buildings and temples at Abu Simbel and Karnak. The smell of hot sand, dust and camel dung, notwithstanding, it was one of the most amazing places he had ever been to. As he closed his eyes watching the dying sun lower on the deep blue horizon, his senses came alive with the sounds and colors he could see, hear and feel.

His hands literally twitched with inspiration and excitement!

On his last week in Cairo, he visited the museum during the closing hours, after having obtained special permission, where he the rest of the night staring into the magnificent sarcophagi of the thousands of years old preserved ancient kings of Egypt. Risking arrest, he even dared to touch the relics, absorbing the hieroglyphical information with his fingertips, much like the same way he ran his hands on the column bases of the temples he visited. Touching the relics was forbidden as the oils secreted by human hands contribute to the damage.

Natsuki has a queer talent for pulling out inspiration from the things he sees, feel and smell. A normal artist may be able to paint any subject from memory or having the subject place in front of him as he work the hours perfecting the image he sees on his mind. On his case, he needed to touch the object first, feel it with his hands and fingers, smell it and study it until he can summon up the "life force" of the object he was holding on to. It was an essential process for him, like needing oxygen to live. In order to breathe life into his works he needed to really feel them.

That night, he began to have grand visions of death and resurrection.

When he came back to his home, it was as if something magical or diabolical possessed him.

He spent the next three to four weeks, devouring books about death and resurrection. Spanning his thirst for knowledge across different cultures and era, he spent most of his days and nights reading, making notes and sketching.

Finally, he was ready.

He instructed Ryuuya to not disturb him. After buying all the materials he needed and loading carts of cup noodles and bottled tea, he cut himself from the rest of the world and started his journey in the underworld.

He burned pieces of wood bark, cut a few of his own hairs, took coppery wires and glued them in the series of canvases he set up around his massive studio.

He painted as if his own life depended on it.

He painted while he eats. He painted until his eyes screamed for sleep. Heck, he was even twisting coils of copper in the shower, as he scrubbed the oil from his itchy skin. He painted until he was delirious with hunger.

When he finished, two months had passed and he had lost a lot of weight.

Weak from hunger, he could barely whisper to Ryuuya to come over and get the canvases out from his room. After that, he collapsed from lack of sleep. And he slept on for two days straight.

"Well?"

Ryuuya was waiting for him to answer. Truth be told, he was also worried. He hated feeling like this. Feeling lifeless and uninspired. He needed something to jolt him awake, send electricity on his nerve cells and make him produce something, anything. But nothing.

In short, he is screwed.

"God, Natsuki. What am I gonna do with you?" his friend groaned.

He could hear the springs on the sofa squeak again, as he stood up and walk towards the small bar where he kept his juice and water stored inside the small fridge. Ryuuya opened the door, muttered about not having beer before he settled for a Coke, popping the can open as it made hissing sounds.

Natsuki decided to spill the beans. After all, what are friends for? Maybe he can suggest something to him, though Ryuuya is mostly involved in the technical side of their strange partnership: he do his paintings, Ryuuya will deliver them to the buyers. End of story. He doubt whether his friend can perform miracles and suggest an idea that will take root in his mind. To Ryuuga, its all about business, transactions, sex and vices. That's it.

Maybe he could use sex and vices then? He'd seen, smell and touched enough of his friend's vices littered around the house: cigarettes, beer, condoms and sleazy magazines. He even takes home a girl once or twice a month and they will use the guest bedroom in this house. And he has no choice but to endure the screams, moans and whimpers coming from the room as they both fucked themselves senseless.

Nah.. Vices and Sex are too predictable.

He could hear Ryuuya munching on the dried noodles of the ramen cup he stocked on his pantry.

Well, here goes nothing.

"I'm fucking dead here, Ryuuya."

"Huh?" the munching stopped.

"I said, I'm stewing my brains out for something, but I could not come up with anything." He answered slowly. Damn, he could be slow sometimes.

Silence.

"Holy, fucking shit! You are screwed." His friend said. "We are screwed." He added.

Holy, fucking shit, indeed. He agreed silently. They are both royally screwed. There is not enough time to produce the series with four months left until the deadline. If he could not come up with something within the week, who knows what will happen?

Breach of contract. They were both thinking.

Natsuki stood up, scratching the rough stubble of facial hair on his chin. Maybe if he took a bath, his mind would clear up and something good will be squeezed out by his brain. He glanced at Ryuuya, who was still munching on the food absentmindedly, while holding the Coke with his other hand. He's probably contemplating on what reasons he can give to the gallery owner while they scrambled for something to produce within the timeframe.

He was about to tell his friend to wait for him while he goes for a quick shower when the sound of smashing glass interrupted him.

Against the glinting afternoon sunlight, the jagged shards of float glass landed on the wooden floor, marking broken patterns on the wood. A dirty baseball lay near the broken shards, wobbling a bit on the uneven surface it landed on until it stopped moving.

He saw that one of his windows had a hole on it, the sharp edges of the opening outlining where the ball entered.

These fucking annoying kids.

Natsuki was not overly fond of his neighbors and their kids. He preferred solitude and being alone. Unfortunately, the reason why he chose the apartment he was in was because of the amount of light coming through the slanted roof covering his studio. It was the one of the apartment's best rooms. With its large airy space, wooden floorboards and clean, straight lines, he immediately envisioned it as his own. And the comfortable climate inside the apartment was thanks to its unique wall trellises filled with climbing roses. It covers several parts of the apartment's exterior, making it look picturesque when viewed outside. It had the feel of a country cottage. If anything, he love nothing more but being surrounded by beauty. Though the havoc he created inside, once he started working in his studio, is anything but.

The place is so good, its bound to have some setbacks. And the setbacks come in the form of annoying neighbors who has kids. Young kids, especially. Young, middle-school brats.

He quickly went to the window, intending to shout at the culprits one level below him. He slid the damaged window part up and was about to lean out to scream his head off at them when he caught a whiff of lavender and vanilla in the soft, gentle breeze that came in.

Strawberries and cherries

An Angel's kiss in the spring

A foot below him, directly where the trellis ends, was a young girl climbing up to his window. Her long, straight hair glinted in the sunlight, making them glow a warm, reddish gold color. He saw her eyes and stopped. For a second he thought them colorless, transparent, like glass or clear mountain water. But when he blinked back at her, they were actually a bright amber color, with tinges of gold and a hint of green around the irises.

Her face were sharp, chin a bit on the pointy side. Her nose is small, like a button, cute even. And her lashes are sooty, heavily fringing her incredible eyes.

My summer wine is really

Made from all these things

As she slowly climbed further up, meeting him eye to eye, he suddenly held his breath as she was silhouetted against the light.

Porcelain. He thought. And his heart begins to race. He could feel the vibration running down his arms and his fingertips. His senses awakening as if from a deep sleep.

Her skin has this pale, pale color of porcelain. Like fresh milk that would easily blush in the slightest provocation. The sunlight seemed to pass through her thin frame, making her glow from within. Is there such thing as a glowing body? Her long, slender neck was perfect, smooth and fragile, disappearing in the opened V-neck of her blouse. She was wearing a school uniform, with sailor collars in dark blue, the blouse white and buttons in the same dark blue hue. The hems of her blouse billowed in the breeze, offering tantalizing glimpses of female flesh.

Take off your silver spurs

And help me pass the time

He took a step back, as if giving permission to let her in.

She gave a sheepish smile, understanding coloring her eyes. A faint blush creeping underneath her white skin.

"I'm sorry" she whispered. "I did not catch the ball. Did I hurt anyone?"

He shook his head and swallowed. He was afraid to blink lest the vision before him disappeared.

"I am going to get the ball. Do you mind?"

"No." he managed to squeak out. Tell me I'm not dreaming. Behind him, he could hear footsteps come nearer and knew that Ryuuga is now standing beside him, watching.

She smile. A slow, sweet smile that seemed to make his heart skip a beat.

Ahh. What did I do good that I was suddenly rewarded with such a perfectly unspoiled specimen of beauty?

The girl lifted her right leg and hooked herself on the windowsill. Her short, navy blue uniform skirt, knee length probably, hitched higher, exposing more flesh, and he felt himself hardening at the sight before him. Had she been careless in her window climbing, she could be flashing her underwear at him- err- them, he amended to himself, remembering that Ryuuya was still inside the room with him. Her white socks were dirty and stained with grass, and her black shoes were dusty. She ducked her upper body slightly, before entering the window with a ballerina's grace. Snatching the ball on the floor, she looked up at the two of them apologetically.

"I'm sorry about the broken window. Please do not scold Hotaro. I can pay for the bill."

"No need, young lady. It's all right." It was Ryuuya who spoke.

"That's very kind and understanding of you." She beamed at them before turning her back, preparing to go out the same way.

Natsuki cleared his throat. "Uh, would you like to use our main door instead?"

She turned back to face him. "No thank you. I will go out the same way. Besides, I love smelling the roses." And with that, she climbed out of the window as easily as she had climbed in.

Who took the silver spurs, a dollar and a dime?

And left us cravin' for more summer wine?

Natsuki rushed to the window and leaned out.

The young girl was quick and agile, already halfway down. The baseball she tucked inside her blouse, precisely resting on top of her chest. He could almost make out a hint of bosom with the extra opening the ball had created.

Finally, she jumped down the last few steps and landed on her feet.

"Thank you!" she mouthed at him, waving, the breeze blowing her hair around her face, she took the ball out of her blouse like it was a natural thing to do, even if a grown man like him was staring down with a clear view of everything. This girl, have she no sense of modesty?

She crossed the street below him, going to the direction of the park opposite his apartment where a group of kids playing baseball in the open grass ran to meet her.

The glass made crunching sounds as his slippered feet moved away from the window.

"Careful." Ryuuga said sharply. He already had a small broom on his hands.

Natsuki sat down on the edge of his day bed, breathing heavily, senses tingling, alive and pumped with energy. The vibrations on his fingertips have not stopped. His hands ached to hold a pencil to capture the moment. But he ignored it. He continued to stare at the window, wanting to freeze the image inside his mind: the lights, the colors, the smell of lavender and vanilla, grass stains and dying roses. And her skin. The smell of her skin, even the saltiness of her sweat and the texture of her clothes. Ahh if only he had touched her arm even for a few seconds. Or even the silkiness of her hair. He wondered whether he could sleep tonight, knowing he would be dreaming about her. Sweet, delicious dream filled with white skin, light, floating hair and eyes that will follow him inside the recesses of his mind.

The first painting, Fateful Encounter, he thought to himself.

"There's the answer to your prayers." Ryuuga said as soon as he finished sweeping the floor free of broken glass. "And she looks fourteen."

"God." Natsuki moaned. "How am I gonna touch her without being labeled as a pervert? She looked like the embodiment of a modern day Lolita!"

oOoOoOo

A/N: Hi, before you post your violent reactions, complaints and rants, please visit my profile page first to explain further on this new series.

Thanks!