Hello, readers. It's been awhile. I did promise an alternative ending to Underage Love. This ending is for Masato Hijirikawa. For new readers, I suggest you read Underage Love first so that you can understand the events that lead up to this. I wanted to do a stand-alone one-shot, but I find that I am unable to come up with a better work.

As life indeed gets to interrupt every so often, my commitments to upload alternative endings for Satsuki and Natsuki Shinomiya will take time too. Mostly because I need to coax my muse to inspire me. I cannot write without any inspiration to do so. So I pre-occupy myself with other works. Please visit my profile page for more info.

Pardon my grammar mistakes. This one-shot is unbeta-ed. If you are willing to offer your services to do beta works for me, drop me a PM. Thanks! Enjoy!

June 11, 2017 Updates: Spelling and grammer checks done. Special thanks to Aislynn Gemma Montgomery for taking the time to do beta-reading on my works. Please check out her profile and and support her.

Ode to Psyche

Masato Hijirikawa loosened the knot of his silk tie as soon as he entered the car waiting for him outside the The Royal Ascot Hotel. He bid a goodbye salute to the gentlemanly valet attendant who murmured a gruff, "C'est un réel plaisir que de vous voir à nouveau ici, Monsieur."
The door of the car slammed shut, and it took him a moment to secure the seatbelt on himself.
"Andreas, cancel my evening engagement. Extend my apologies to Pietro San Luis. Tell him I would be extending a lunch invitation to him at the end of the month."
"O-of course." His secretary, Andreas concentrated on his instructions before nodding. He scrambled a little to start keying important changes to his schedule on the large phone tablet in his hand.
The driver of his car waited for his cue. Masato sighed a little before nodding andreas is supposed to give the instructions to him. Nevertheless, he was too stressed out to point this small error to his PA.
"Let's go home. I am too damn tired to socialize. That meeting went on for ages, it turned my eyeballs white." He finally managed to undo the knot of his tie, pulling the silky material away and tossing it onto the empty space beside him. There.
It felt like he had tossed away some heavy shackles.
Andreas raised his eyebrows a little. Masato ignored the strange look his secretary gave him. True, the day hasn't ended yet. Moreover he normally works until it's almost midnight. Sleeping an average of five to six hours each day, he always starts his mornings with a glass of power juices, an hour at the gym or a good number of laps in a swimming pool. The rest of the day is normally divided into endless meetings, paperworks, perusing reports, etc.
Except today, he wasn't in the mood to work.
The driver shifted the gears of his Maserati Quattroporte saloon, the car purring, the tires making short work on the streets of La Defense, Paris' foremost central business district, easily joining the parade of cars and trucks around Boulevard Circulaire, heading towards Avenue Charles de Gaulle all the way to Avenue de la Grande Armee. His luxury apartment sits right into the lap of 16th arrondissement.
Paris in autumn is magnificent. The city took on a myriad of gold-toned and earthy colours of brown, red and orange. The trees has changed its coat of spring green to buttery yellow, fiery red and glowing orange; while the leaves carpeted the streets and falling gently in the slightly colder air. Pedestrians began to stash their summer clothes away in favor of bomber jackets, long trench coats, boots and scarves when hitting the streets.
One thing that has never changed in Paris was the presence of tourists. All over the world, tourists flock to the city in great hordes, tottering heavy cameras, strutting about with crumpled maps, noses almost touching the smooth screens of their smartphones while looking for their next destination. While the tourists flocking the area is always better for most businesses including his, Masato can't help but wish for the winter to hurry up on its way. The number of visitors in mid-winter always dropped down, leaving the residents to be able to breathe and enjoy the spaces again on their own.
Along the way, Masato let his mind wander, face tilted to face the window, watching the world go by with unseeing eyes. His fingers gripped his handphone, having just read an email message from someone.
From one Haruka Nanami in fact.

I saw my mailbox crammed full with messages from you and the twins. I am fine. I just got a bit sidetracked with my tour in Brazil. I can't keep on checking my emails every day! Besides, I went on a few short courses in introduction to Latin music. Incredible! I'm inspired to listen and to write. Ideas keep on piling inside my head.
I am on the last leg of my tour of South America. Beautiful continent with lots of beautiful and warm people. I can't wait to go back to Peru!
You can let Natsuki and Satsuki stay at my apartment if the twins drive you up the wall with their antics. Especially Natsuki. He can get some funny ideas sometimes. Just don't let him do some illegal and drastic changes to my interiors. I'd be really pissed if he ever so much as touch those mantelpieces above my fireplace.
As for the Mid-Winter ball. I am aware I missed two seasons, you don't need to keep on reminding me. I will definitely show up this year. You need not get Shining Saotome to call me!
Don't work too hard. Check up on Tomochika for me please? She gets into all sorts of trouble.
And don't give Andreas a hard time. He's the only one out of five that have yet to buckle with your demands.
Take care, Masato.

He can only imagine what she is feeling when she wrote the short message to him: exhilarated, happy. From the way she wrote the email it seems she is finally free from the heavy burdens she was subjected to, even hopeful of the future. His chest tightened when he remembered her half-lying, half-sitting in the hospital bed, looking so weak and fragile after she was rescued from a burning warehouse.
"I'm breaking the engagement."
Haruka Nanami's mouth dropped open in shock. He wanted to believe that she wouldn't let him do this; that she would finally confess she loves him more than anyone else.
Even Ren Jinguuji.
And yet, the inevitable disappointment came when she kept her mouth shut, the tears of relief welling in her eyes.
A huge part of him died that week. Not only did he have to let her go, he bid goodbye to the only friend who truly ever understood him and accepted him for who he was.
He thought he could recover when Haruka announced she would be taking a sabbatical leave; professing vaguely that she wanted to travel in Eastern Europe and maybe go someplace Mediterranean. He was not fooled by her reluctance to reveal where she is going. It would be a piece of cake to have his detectives dog her footsteps and follow where she goes but he understood the meaning behind her subtle message: stay away from me. She clearly made her intention to be on her own with no outside interference.
When she mentioned her plans to travel alone, he felt sure she would be visiting August's hometown in Istanbul. Like him, Haruka felt guilty for being alive. He had been planning to go himself but decided to give Haruka ample time to explore and contemplate should she wish to. They both have their own ways of mourning and honouring August.
Natsuki asked in passing whether he has plans to meet Haruka there but he declined, citing that it would be rude to impose when Haruka has expressed that she would like to be alone for a while. Natsuki seemed a little pleased with this answer. At first, he thought it was because Natsuki is still jealous over the amount of time he spent with Haruka but after a few moments, he realized that Natsuki completely understood what Haruka needs. Maybe because as a twin, it is very important to Natsuki to have some time alone in order to strengthen his belief on himself as an individual and not just another half of a single cell.
To him, Haruka is the same. She has gotten used to being alone most of her life and she felt suffocated from all the meddling that he did. He didn't want to leave her alone; after all, he grew up being shunned for most part of his early years, and he can also understand what she is going through.
It all happened so fast. Barely a couple of months had passed, Haruka bid goodbye to him, appearing at his home after a particularly difficult month to stabilize the company; after the exposed corruption and blackmail with some of his trusted corporate members was surfaced due to August's report meticulously compiled in such a short span of time, it took a while to settle things. For a a time, he thought his company might not survive with such a blow. Thanks to August's reports, damages to their reputation has been kept to a minimum.
Watching her leave was really painful for him. The moment the door closed behind her back, he felt lonelier than ever. He kept expecting August to suddenly appear and chide him for not running after her but when he turned to his right, there was only an empty space beside him.
"W-we are almost there."
Masato snapped out from his reverie and glanced at the person peering back at him from the rearview mirror andreas waited for further instructions.
Masato studied the half-Greek, half-British gentleman who came highly recommended by his stepmother to replace August; Andreas Easton has a respectably degree from a British Ivy-league university, quite proficient in Muay Thai, and maintained his physique with regular gym visits and long-distance marathons he participates in three or four times a year. He wondered why such a good-looking gentleman like him wanted to work as a PA when he could have a pick of positions. At first, Andreas was reluctant to reveal his reasons. It was only until after he placed him under probationary period did he found out the reason he is not forming his own company: Andreas is suffering from social anxiety.
He recognized the young man's promising talents, hampered down by years of insecurity and living under the shadows of his mental disorder. So he decided to give him a second chance and try to nurture him under his wing.
Blinking a little at his sentimentality, Masato turned his head to look outside again. Dinner for one. He gave another sigh and found himself wishing that the Shinomiya twins would come earlier. He would welcome company after months of isolation and although the twins would probably don't mind staying at the small apartment Haruka bought to house her belongings while she is on sabbatical, he would probably insist that the twins stay with him. God knows how vast his apartment was with only a few occupants in it, including the servants. His three sisters and his stepmother prefer staying at another of their apartments down the street from where his is located. That way, whenever they felt like entertaining themselves and inviting guests over to stay, the noise wouldn't disturb him as he went about his regular work obligations.
"Let's call this an early night."
Andreas nodded and signaled for the driver to continue home, the car whizzing past the traffic and turning into a small street filled with cars parked on both sides, leaving just enough space for one car to continue down the road.
Home for him was one of the last private palatial mansions at Avenue Foch; the house has some historical importance due to its 18th century panels, intricately designed fireplaces and painted ceiling. It was a far cry from the penthouse apartment he used when Haruka lived with him. He bought the home, one because he couldn't bear to stay in his old penthouse- memories of his time with Haruka lingered there; and two, the mansion was being auctioned for a cheap price. He supposed he couldn't just let the mansion go to another person who might just redecorate the whole thing. He can make a few changes inside and probably sublet it to some famous person who can afford to rent it. He's been eyeing another property and maybe after winter, he can look forward to residing in another place where he can really feel at home.
The car slowed down, smoothly turning into a narrow, wrought-iron gate with crumbling, ivy-covered walls on both sides. The gate's automated security scanner recognized the car's plate number and the wheels at the bottom began to slid noiselessly to one side, opening up the gate for the car to enter. No sooner had the car dove in, at the corner of his eye, Masato spied a familiar tall figure with pale coloring entering one of the cars parked on the gutter side.
"Stop the car!"
Andreas swiveled around from where he was sitting in front, surprised at the sudden command from him. The driver has barely registered his instructions, but continued to move forward.
Wrenching the handle open, Masato heard a click, and he let his foot out.
"Careful!" Andreas cried in a panic.
The car came to a sudden stop, their bodies jerking forward when the driver stepped on the brakes, but he was already halfway out of the vehicle.
The gate behind them was sliding back into place when he shot and slid past the remaining open space between the iron frame and wall. The security bell gave a warning sound, letting the mansion's occupants know of a security breach.
Masato ignored the warnings, even the calls of his PA behind him, eyes frantically searching for the man who had just entered the car seconds ago, heart thudding heavily in his ears.
That person! Surely he is mistaken?
The car he sought was already at the end of the street, turning to the right, tail part disappearing before him. He couldn't see the occupant in the driver's seat, but he is fairly certain that the man is tall.
Clenching his fist tight, he debated running after it but for what? He could be hallucinating. There is no way that it was August Casimir's back that he just saw earlier.
A few minutes later, a couple of his bodyguards was jogging down the driveway from his home, reached the stalled car inside. One of them stooped down to talk to the driver, while the other noted Andreas standing inside the closed gate, watching him like a hawk. His PA looked a little stricken with his actions, face ashen, afraid to take his eyes off him lest he disappeared. He was clutching the iron bars of the gate, while the second bodyguard placed a hand on his shoulder and began to bark out instructions to manually override the controls of the gate and let it slide open.
Masato continued to gaze at the end of the street, distracted; wishing that the car would miraculously appear again and come back. Hoping that the driver forgot something. What the hell was wrong with him suddenly reacting like that?
He turned his head sideways and saw that Andreas was thinking the same thing. Only this time, he looked a little ill, a little livid.
It took just a few seconds, and when the iron gate and opened up enough space for a person to squeeze through, Andreas was already there next to him.
"What are you doing, M-masato! That was d-dangerous! Why did you suddenly just leave the car?" despite the stuttering, his PA struggled to contain his worry and anger.
Why indeed? For all intents and purposes, that was the first time he did something so unconventional. He gave a shrug, his mind unable to form even a coherent sentence of explanation for his actions.
This seemed to aggravate Andreas. "Y-you c-could have been injured!" he cried out.
Masato opened his mouth. Andreas has definitely crossed the line by yelling at him like that. Even the bodyguard's shocked expression reflected what he was thinking.
And then, he laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed some more.
He laughed like he has never laughed for quite some time. He laughed for the wasted months of burying himself underneath mundane work. He laughed because he knew he was an idiot and a fool for letting her go.
"M-m-Masato?" Andreas stammered, looking bewildered.
Masato wiped the tears from his eyes. He felt a little light on the chest, the heavy burden he's been carrying for a few years seemed lesser.
What does it matter whether the man he saw earlier was August or not? The dead will not rise. Wherever his friend is now, he hoped he is at peace. He already knew that feeling guilty will not serve him a purpose. Why it took him months to let this sink in, he didn't know but it's time to stop running away. The more he wallows in the suffering of his own making, the more he will lose his focus on life. Somewhere from far away the only woman who has ever haunted him is putting her hibernation to rest. Would it be wrong for him to try again and make her see that she is the only person he would ever want to be with?
Masato Hijirikawa straightened up.
"Come, Andreas."
"W-what?" Andreas' tanned brow furrowed in confusion.
"I have decided to go to Pietro San Luis' charity soiree." He took one last gaze at the end of the street. No car. The smile on his face faded a little. He felt a bittersweet feeling bloom in his chest.
No. August Casimir is no more. It is time to move on.

The charity event is being held at the Louvre where guests were invited to have some cocktails and watch classical concerts at the Napoleon Hall, underneath the glass pyramid of the Chinese-American architect, I. M. Pei. It became an annual tradition for arts patrons to buy tickets, admire art works on display, mingle with other socialites, patrons, bohemian locals, international artists and even some indie celebrities or two.
Masato attended the event because he was personally invited by this year's organizer, Pietro, who was an interior and furniture designer with whom he has personal business dealings with. He liked Pietro's works.

Accepting a glass of wine, Masato murmured his thanks to the waiter who moved on to serve the other guests. Somewhere in the crowd, Andreas mingled, along with a small clutch of bodyguards who went with him.
Frankly speaking, he preferred going alone but after what happened earlier, Andreas became a little paranoid and insisted he went with him. Even after apologizing to him for acting out of character, his PA was still a bit dubious that he won't repeat what he did earlier despite his reassurances.
Masato wandered around, admiring pieces set aside by the museum staff for display on the night of the occasion. The more popular pieces remain inside their rightfully gallery locations, but few of the VIPs were invited for a private tour with an expert and knowledgeable tour guide- usually a professor of history from a notable university or a scholar in antiques.
He knew someone who would have jumped at a chance to join the tour without any seconds thoughts. Understandable since she wrote a lot of her thoughts inside the museum's many vast gallery wings.
Haruka Nanami.
With each passing minute, the crowd of guests swelled. Masato contemplated on joining the private tour before calling it a night when someone tall bumped into him. He gripped the wineglass tightly, the contents sloshing on the sides, spilling some droplets on the floor, avoiding a woman's skirt close to his side.
The person who bumped into him let a low, "Je suis désolé, excusez-moi," before moving on. Masato automatically took out his silk handkerchief to wipe his hand, absentmindedly replying with, "S'il vous plaît regarder où vous allez."
He look up to check the stranger who bumped into him, only to see his back disappearing into the crowd of men and women wearing their best silk dresses and black ties.
A tall, pale figure with a broad shoulder covered by an expensive looking evening coat was slowly making it's way to the bottom of the steps towards the entry to one of the museum's private salons.
Tall.
Pale.
Blond hair that was almost white.
This time there was no mistake. It's definitely him.
August Casimir.
Masato narrowed his eyes, heart pounding in his ears. Not tearing his eyes off the tall figure, he found his feet following the path his prey took. The wineglass he was holding, he handed it to a passing waiter, ignoring his query for more drink. The crowded hall was full to bursting, background orchestra playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons, wine flowing like water, laughter floating in the air as they huddled together while the temperatures outside continue to drop. Autumn winds were beginning to pick up their pace slowly.
He lost count of how many times he apologized as he bumped into a number of people as he tried to keep up with August. He stood with a group of rich-looking people in their silk ball gowns, nodding to one before they made their way up the escalator, intending to participate in the private tour, and finally disappearing on the first level above.
Breaking free from the crowd, he rushed towards the escalator but even before he can take another step, a guard blocked his path.
"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur, seulement invités spéciaux sont autorisés pour la visite privée."
He opened his mouth to force his way past, when someone called out to him.
"M-masato."
Andreas has a thin film of sweat on his forehead. Nevertheless, his PA still look gallant despite obviously a little weary from chasing after him.
"Is there a problem?" his PA asked, glanced at the guard who watched them like a hawk.
The longer he talks, the further his prey is. He cannot let this chance slip through his fingers. That person looked exactly like August Casimir, he is sure of it but he needed to get passed the security and rush after him to check if it is really true that he is alive.
"Is there a problem. Hijirikawa?"
A spritely Gaelic man with light brown hair and heavily accented English interrupted them.
Pietro San Luis was holding a glass of champagne, followed by a couple of his own PA, wearing formal dresses, but with a clipboard with a sheaf of papers on each. Ever the businessman that he is, Pietro made sure that the charity event is running along smoothly. No doubt, the PAs are there on overtime pay to ensure that the party is a success and that whatever meetings or arrangements planned during the numerous minglings he had tonight are well documented. Pietro is always, always obsessed with the small details and is notorious for his service oriented work.
Masato opened his mouth but hesitated. Is he under some delusion? Or some wild goose chase? August Casimir is dead. He personally watched his coffin being lowered down on earth. He was buried right before his eyes. There is no logical explanation for tonight's strange coincidence. Except maybe he was too intoxicated by wine. Maybe after months of withholding himself from a drink and forcing himself to work relentless overtime hours, his alcohol tolerance was at low. It was probably an illusion. He was thinking about a lot of things in the past and maybe his mind triggered something that made him see things that are not supposed to be.
Andreas noted his hesitation but he kept quiet.
"If you wished to take the private tour, there would be the next one in fifteen minutes. I myself will be joining it." Pietro shrewdly deduced based from his expression.
He snap his mouth shut. Maybe he should just leave and call it a night? After all, he did mentioned he was tired. Alcohol and stress is not a good combination.
He was about to make his excuses to leave when Andreas interjected, surprising him.
"Actually, M-monsieur San Luis, m-my boss was supposed to take the private tour that has just left earlier. H-he promised one of his acquaintance that he would j-join him to discuss about a certain acquisition."
Masato turned to raise his eyebrows at Andreas. He met his look with a just this once, I am letting you out of my sight, but you need to call me if something happens.
The corner of his mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, appreciating his PA's ingenuity with the excuse.
Pietro's face looked slightly horrified. "Oh, why didn't you say so? It must be an important meeting that you need to discuss!" He motioned for the guard to let him in. "Monseiur Hijirikawa is with that group that left earlier. Let him in so that he may join the others."
The guard looked slightly abashed by this, not realizing that the person he had just prevented was an important person. He quickly stepped aside, gestured with his hand.
"A thousand apologies, sir. Please go up straight. You will not miss the group. They would be at the Richelieu entrance heading straight to the Sully entrance."
Masato nodded his thanks, turned to Pietro and gave him a small salute, before throwing a meaningful glance at Andreas with I promise this is a one time only thing.
Andreas shoulders slumped a little in resignation. "Enjoy your tour, sir."

Every step he took made a small noise on the marble floor steps. It seemed to ring a little more louder on his ears. Nothing, however, could dim the noise of his heart thumping.
He seemed to be walking a little blindly, eyes not seeing the shadows of every corner of the museum, nor the faint spots of lighting illuminating the several priceless works of arts on display. Instead, his eyes replayed all the memorable moments he has with August; some of them even punctuated with images of Haruka.
Continuing to follow the echo of noises- the faint sotto voce of the tour guide explaining each artwork on their stop, Masato's heart seemed to increase its beat.
What will he find? Will he be the August he was looking for? He finds himself afraid to confirm. Him, the fearless, ruthless, Masato Hijirikawa, afraid to confront a ghost from his past.
Putting his hand on the front pockets of his coat for the handkerchief he stashed away earlier, his finger brushed against a stiff piece of paper.
He stopped on his tracks.
He pulled the paper out, fingers immediately tracing the linen fibers used to create the expensive material.
It was an envelope.
His brow furrowed. How did this thing managed to land inside his pocket?
Tearing open the seal, he peered inside and saw something sparkle. Tipping the contents upside down, something heavy and cold landed on his palm.
And out came a paper and a ring. The ring has a large, square cut diamond; its white gold band was molded in square patterns in cascading size, each one holding a small diamond in place.
An heirloom. A Hijirikawa heirloom in fact.
The last time he saw his jewel, it was sitting on the slender hand of Haruka Nanami. She lost it that day when she was abducted.
Feeling his legs turn into jelly, he unfolded the paper and began to read the contents.

Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:
Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,
They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!

Feeling shaken by the words he had just read, Masato saw his fingers tremble. What does it mean? What does it all mean? He was only faintly familiar with John Keat's works, except for his Ode to a Nightingale, of which he was forced to memorized during his 9th grade for an extra credit point in Literature.
His hand crumpled the envelope, torn between going after August or head to another direction of the gallery, where Canova's famous sculpture resides. For he knew very well what the poem alludes to: Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. The famous pair of marble is part of the Louvre's collection.
A part of him wanted to ignore this, but another part is insisting he must check it out.
Cursing a little under his breath, he made his decision; pivoted on his heels and hurried away to the opposite direction to where the Denon wing is located.
Each step seemed like a hum, a symphony building up to its climax. For some reason, his very pores seemed electrified, sensitive to the air around him.
The rest of the tour groups continued on; he could occasionally hear them in one part of the museum. He hoped he could bump into one of them, maybe to see that person again. Now, his mind was preoccupied with something else. Something he must have been waiting for but didn't realize it until now.
As he entered the sculpture apartments, he could see a lone figure standing ahead. At first he couldn't see who it was, given that the lights were faint-just enough to give some illumination, more for the mood effect, but not enough to damage the artifacts. As he got closer, he could see a splash of color of the person standing before his intended destination.
Haruka Nanami, his one time ward, his protégé, his one-sided love, stood at the very statue he was looking for. She looked lost in thought, mouth puckering a little, eyes heavy-lidded, lashes dark and thick. Her black ensemble of a silky skirt and ruffled blouse enhanced the brilliant gleam of red-gold fiery hair of hers that fell in cascading waves down to her back like gleaming waterfall.
Why was she here, when she was half a world away, wowing the Brazilians with her enthusiasm for music? Is this another of his mind's tricks again?
But the moment he smelled her vanilla-lavender scent, he knew she is real.
"Haruka." He called out before he reached her.
She turned, eyes widening with surprise but before she can say anything, Masato took her in his arms and hugged her tight.
"Masato." She whispered.
"You are real."
He could feel a small bubble of laughter rising. "Of course! I am not some ghost!"
"I am so glad to see you! I thought you were still in Brazil!"
"I was. Well, two days ago that is. I felt the urge to return. I was supposed to call you, but I wanted to pay my homage first with my most favorite place. A friend invited me to come to this event. I didn't know you would be here too!"
Of course. Haruka Nanami would always be forever worshipping at the altar of her muse. The Louvre serves as part of her source for inspiration still and while he is glad that she is now back safe and sound, he couldn't help but wish her reason to coming back is entirely different- not just about her lyrics and rhythms.
How selfish can you be, Masato? His inner voice chided him.
He cannot ask for more. How could he ask for more? What right does he have? Haruka Nanami will always be someone he cannot have and knowing this, his chest tightened in an achingly familiar manner.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from hugging her, wanting to study her face. It's been so long since he last saw her; months since he last heard her voice. They have only been communicating via emails and text messages, though he has attempted to call her up several times, but she refuses to answer. He didn't want to push her with his overbearing attitude, and so he stopped calling her, acquiescing with her preference of communication.
As he took a step back, he noticed her face darken with hurt and confusion. It might have been his imagination because after a second, her face broke into a wide smile.
"So, you got yourself lost with your private tour group I see."
He gave out a small chuckle. "As if!" But then he stopped. Should he tell her about August? Would she believe him? Would she be able to take the news?
Truthfully, he did not want to. What is the point of dredging up the past that they both wanted to forget?
"Is something wrong, Masato?"
He found himself gazing back into her golden eyes and he swallowed a lump in his throat. I wish things were different.
He opened his mouth, but she surprised him by blurting out something he wasn't expecting.
"Listen, Masato. It's not that I don't want you to know that I am back in Paris. The truth is, I've been gathering up the courage to call you, ask how you were doing but it felt like it is too soon to broach the subject of what happened previously." She turned her face away from him, not wishing to meet his eyes.
"And the way we parted was a little awkward. After spending much time trying to be out of touch, it seemed like it was a good idea to be alone. To grieve, to think, to analyze on the events that led up to that fateful night."
Masato tightened his jaw. He could see that Haruka, despite being away for so long was still struggling to recover by those events. He wanted to be there for her, wanted to take away all those pain wholeheartedly. After all, a part of him was responsible for her well-being.
"Haruka. I.." he hesitated. His chest ached so much that it was difficult to draw out a breath. Haruka still needs more time to recover. She's been traumatized by the events more than any of them: him, Jinguuji, the Shinomiyas.
Their eyes met, and he could see them shimmering with unshed tears.
"I realize that what I am doing was just running away. I succumbed to cowardice. Instead of pulling myself together, I wasted my time in South America blaming myself for what happened; what I might have done and how it could have ended." Her voice was low.
"It is not your fault, Haruka. We all played a part." He whispered.
"I came back, Masato. Because I have been selfish these past years. I know deep down inside me that in order to free myself from the shackles of regret, I need to be here."
His hand absentmindedly gripped the ring resting heavy on the inside of his coat pocket.
"I know you've been suffering a great deal, too and I lied earlier about not seeing you. You were the first person I saw when I entered the events hall tonight. You looked like you were enjoying your time, and I deduced that maybe you don't need me around after all. That maybe, I was the only one who has yet to face my fears. That's why I didn't approach you like what I planned. I thought it might be better if you still continue to believe I am in South America. I need not drag you into the pits of my despair." Haruka bit her lip in uncertainty and she turned her gaze away from him.
"You are wrong, Haruka." He reached with his free hand and cupped her chin, gently pulling her to meet his eyes again. Her skin felt smooth, soft, like rose petals. Just touching her made him tremble with need for her.
"I am not the same person that I was three years ago. Like you, a part of me died on that day. I grieved for the two people I lost."
She pursed her lips, unsure whether to believe him. "Do not lie to me, Masato! I have encountered enough deceit to last me a lifetime."
He let out a sigh. Still the same old stubborn Haruka but he wouldn't change her. He loved her with all his heart, flaws and all. Does she think that just because she was still shrouded in misery that he would think twice about his feelings for her? He can give her as much time she needs, but this time, he would be there for her. It doesn't matter if she protested or not, she herself admitted that she needed to be here. To be beside him and he must know if that is her real intention. He stopped playing games with her a long time ago.
"Lies are a waste of time Haruka. I learned that lesson the hard way." His eyes narrowed, "Why are you here, Haruka?" he asked in a grave, and rather harsh and serious voice. You should know the answer by now.
She stayed silent. Again, she diverted her gaze from him. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, contemplating..
Masato took a deep breath. Honestly, if only she herself would stop beating around the bush.
"Look at me!" he commanded impatiently, moving closer. "I stopped playing games the moment I realized I cannot breathe without your presence! I let you go because you need your freedom but do not come back here and entice me with your charms if you are not sure with your reasoning!" He felt a little angry.
"No, Masato. I know that you are not playing your games anymore and I know how much you've suffered too." She whispered. She hesitated a little before closing the gap between them and her soft lips landed on his, finally silencing his tirade.
Ahh.. So this is how it will be.
Tentatively, almost afraid that he might offend her, he let his hands snake around her waist, pulling her closer, and drank deep from her lips.
Her hair fell heavily on his shoulders, but he didn't mind their weight. Haruka is warmth and joy, his hope and his despair, his present and future.
And to think, she is his at last. It was almost to good to be true.
They were both breathing heavily when they pulled away.
"This is not a dream right?" he asked hoarsely. "I will not wake up and find you gone?"
She held out her hand.
He took it.
Clasping it tightly between her fingers she slowly smiled radiantly at him.
"Come. Let's go home. We have a lot of time to convince ourselves that this is not a dream."

Emerging from the Sully Hall after taking their time to stop at Daru staircase, where Nike, the Winged Victory of Samothrace commanded the guests' attention. They took a few minutes to pay homage to the headless, elegant marble statue. Masato can see the how Haruka's eyes light up in a familiar manner, her breath hushed. As he studied her profile, he felt his love surging for her, overflowing.
Holding hands, they took the escalator down to the Napoleon Hall, where Andreas stood waiting nearby.
Masato gestured that he is ready to go home, even while the invited guests continue to greet him and crowd around him for a closer look.
Unexpectedly, he raised his head and met the steel-gray eyes of someone at a distance.
It really was August Casimir. Only he looked younger, less tensed, as if he lost ten years of his age. The expensive suit he was wearing made him look like a million bucks. His icy-blond hair, almost looking white, was longer, grazing the collar of his stiff white shirt. For the first time since he worked together with him, August looked healthy, face not lined with an inner weariness of the soul.
Masato Hijirikawa stood rooted on the spot. Beside him, Haruka felt his jolt of recognition.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her face lined with worry.
He knew August for more than a decade and not once did he ask for anything that was selfish. He would always put others before his needs: him, Haruka. He wanted to rush forward, demand an explanation. Ask why he did not contact him that he had survived; how hard it is to accept what happened. He expected to get angry but in his heart, he knew he had to let go. August Casimir, his only close friend and ally, deserves to be free from him.
Masato watched as August gave him a nod of acknowledgement. His mouth pulled into a soft smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling a little.
Farewell, he mouthed at him before turning to meet a well-dressed young woman, with shiny dark, curling hair and small stature. He could see him stoop down, and when he straightened up, he was holding a boy dressed in his own black tie suit. The boy looked exactly like August, except for the ruddy cheeks and cherubic mouth. The woman standing close beside him gave him a peck on the cheek.
His son and his wife.
The boy looked to be about two, maybe three years of age and he looked happy being carried by his father.
August moved with a slight limp on his left leg but he didn't seemed to mind his slight disability. He looked far too happy to have a care about his own physical limitations. Together, they walked away from the crowd, intending to go home.
Farewell, my old friend. He wished he could hear his goodbye.
Maybe the fates are at work tonight. Or maybe his sheer thoughts was enough to compel his friend to finally show his face, but not speak to him but when August turned to look at him one last time, his eyes spoke volumes and Masato Hijirikawa understood.
Until we meet again, Masato.
A sense of peace landed on his chest.
Haruka tightened her hold on his arm.
Masato looked down. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. Of relief, of joy, of contentment.
"Shall we go home now?" he asked, happiness starting to burst from within.
"Of course." Haruka replied. "Home." She repeated.

Notes:

A. French Translations (Again, I have no formal training in other languages other than my own and English. It is all thanks to Google translate and various sources in language learning._

C'est un réel plaisir que de vous voir à nouveau ici, Monsieur - It is a real pleasure to see you here again, Sir.

Je suis désolé, excusez-moi – I am sorry, excuse me.

S'il vous plaît regarder où vous allez – Please watch where you are going.

pardonnez-moi, monsieur, seulement invités spéciaux sont autorisés pour la visite privée - Pardon me, sir, only special guests are allowed for the private tour.

B. Other Notes

1. Ode to Psyche is a poem written by John Keats (of Ode to a Nightingale fame). The poem does not describe the plot of the original Cupid and Psyche myth. In the original myth, Aphrodite punishes Psyche, a well admired girl, by having Cupid use his power to make her fall in love. Cupid, instead, falls in love with her, but he could only be with her in the cover of darkness in order to disguise his identity. Curious, she uses a light to reveal Cupid's identity, but he flees from her presence. Psyche begins to search after Cupid, and Aphrodite forces her to perform various tasks before she could be united with her love. After nearly dying from one of the tasks, Cupid asks Zeus to transform Psyche into a goddess so the two can be together.

The action of "Ode to Psyche" begins with a narrator witnessing two individuals embracing. The narrator immediately recognizes Cupid and is astonished when he recognizes Psyche.

I chose the title to honor the poem and Masato. When I was looking for inspiration on Masato's alternate ending, I remembered John Keats, with the intention of using his Ode to a Nightingale work. However, his Psyche poem caught my eye, especially the part when Cupid is supposed to mete out his mother's will to Psyche but fell in love with her instead. It very much describes Masato's state, supposedly, he was only there for Haruka to fulfill the terms of Goldschmidt's will, but instead, found himself falling for her.

2. Social Anxiety Disorder is a mental disease. It is commonly known as social phobia. People with this kind of disorder are extremely anxious about what they will say or do in front of other people. This includes public speaking and day-to-day social situations. But it is more than just being shy or nervous before public speaking. The fear can begin weeks or months before an event. It can cause a fast heartbeat and make it hard to focus.

Some people fear only one or a few types of social situations. For other people, many situations cause stress. This problem affects their daily life. People may be so stressed or afraid that they avoid public situations, including missing work and school.

3. Victory of Samothrace, and Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss are real works of arts (marble sculptures to be precise) which can be found at the Louvre. I had the privilege of visiting this awesome place two years back. Though unfortunate, I was unable to view Victory due to renovations ongoing at that time.