What does one get with five months of inactivity and problems and three hours of doing nothing in front of a piece of paper and a pen? Well, of course...the Fifth Draft of A DESIRE FOR HER.
I tweaked the plot a lot. I was very disappointed with my first ten drafts (not exactly five, but it sounds a whole lot better that The Tenth Draft, don't it?) and I just got tired of Natsume as a band hottie. So...you'll see.
Next concern: do you or do you NOT want me to post Mikan's novel as well? :)
Must. Not. Delete.
Discussions closed. On with...
The Fifth Draft © Winter Moonlight Sonata
This is the fifth and final draft of the author's original story, A Desire For Her.
.—.
Prologue
Work, Work, Work.
.—.
How I envy my stories - Romeo and Juliet, meeting in a green forest with a clearing full of roses, the sweet scent of nature surrounding them...and the end? Well, happily ever after, of course. Gosh, what would I not give to have that sort of fairytale?
Well, nope. Instead, here I am, confined to the dusty and murky spaces of my centuries-old apartment building, with my brain slowly degrading due to the infinite hours being sat alone in front of the ancient computer that runs at a 56MB RAM (no, I'm not in poverty, it's just that I'm a natural workaholic and I'm too focused with my work to go around the streets and find myself a decent and up-to-date computer), pushing myself to type at the astonishing speed of ninety-five words per minute. These happy-ending fairytales are all here, stuck in the abysses of my mind, and never has it actually come true. Well, at least not in my real life.
I'm Mikan Sakura, twenty-two years of age. I'm an artist in all fields — writing, painting, dancing, and I even do a little singing. But most of the time, I'm stuck to the monitor typing my time away to my immense satisfaction. Truly in writing I find the freedom to express myself and be whoever I am. It gives me an outlet, keeping me sane and capable. But also, in writing, I find my own happily ever after, even if it's just a figment of my imagination.
Little did I know that my own twisted love story was about to be unraveled...
A knock ensued all throughout the dingy apartment and a young lady of twenty four was waiting outside the door, freezing in the cold; but contradictory to the temperature of the moment, her head was sweltering to its limit.
Mikan Sakura. I am going to make you pay for this.
Eventually, her gentle knocks became loud incessant thuds on the wooden door, which began to rattle violently, its hinges threatening to fall off. Her cold amethyst orbs were ablaze with sheer anger and impatience and her long raven hair seemingly crackled with what was surely a deadly amount of electricity. Her pale face was graced with features that were delicate yet, in the present moment, irate, and if you sniffed hard enough, you'd smell the killing instinct floating in the winter air.
The door creaked open only to reveal a smiling brunette with hazel eyes whose irises were dotted with shades of brown and orange. Her long brown hair swayed behind her as she opened the door a little wider for her best friend to pass through. The raven-haired girl stepped inside and felt the rush of warm air greet her frozen body. She was grateful for the warmth, but then again, she wouldn't have nearly frozen to death had it not been for her idiotic best friend. She was still mad.
"You made me stand in a ten-degree atmosphere for fifteen whole minutes," she began, glaring daggers into the brunette's wide eyes. "Have you anything to say?"
The brunette swallowed in fear. "Gomenasai, Hotaru. I was up in the room — "
"— 'typing my story because the deadline is set and I need to meet it,' yes, I know. Mikan, you've been saying that for the past three years," the girl called Hotaru finished for her. She huffed and suddenly looked at the brunette with genuine concern in her eyes. "Haven't you any intention of loosening up? You know, even if I'm very irritated with your unusually slow reflexes and nasty habit of making people wait in ice ages, I'm still concerned. You're getting overworked."
Mikan bowed her head, a small sad smile on her face. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
"You have a choice, Mikan. Everyone does."
She just sighed and turned away from the piercing gaze of her best friend's amethyst orbs. She swung around and went to the kitchen.
Hotaru dropped her jacket on the couch and sneezed when tiny dust puffs arose from where her clothes landed. Instinctively, her nose scrunched up and her eyes closed in disgust. "Mikan, how do you manage to live in this hell-hole?" she said in great indignity.
"Hotaru, you know I don't have enough time to go around the town and find myself a house," she said from the kitchen. "I'm too busy writing the story."
Hotaru rolled her eyes. Surely her friend wasn't that careless and irresponsible and work-addicted that she'd do everything for that stupid story of hers?
"Do you want iced tea or chilled soda?" she yelled.
Her eyebrows met. "So after having made me wait outside in the freezing cold, here you are asking me as to which refrigerated drink I would like to have? Oh, how hospitable of you," Hotaru said icily, walking over to the kitchen to help her friend out.
"Gomen ne, Hotaru, but I haven't got anything warm in here. To tell you the truth, all the food here are cold," the brunette replied. "I have no time to cook."
Hotaru froze, her blood reaching its maximum boiling point. Mikan never noticed and continued.
"I haven't got any time to eat a decent meal, I can't buy supplies, and I can't clean the house. I can't do anything; I really need to finish the story."
This last statement seemed to have pulled the plug in Hotaru's system.
"Mikan Sakura, this is going too far!" Hotaru finally burst out. "You'd give your life for that story! You have forsaken yourself, for Kami's sake! You don't go out, you don't cook anything warm, you don't date – though that's out of the question - , you don't live, Mikan! You don't live at all! That's it! You've pulled the final straw!"
And without waiting for her reply, Hotaru ran up the stairs towards Mikan's bedroom, took out her suitcase, and began stuffing the latter's clothes into it.
"Hotaru! What are you doing?!" Mikan yelled from her doorway, eyes open in shock.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking you away from this dust house. You're living with me."
Mikan just sighed in defeat. There was no way she could change Hotaru's mind. It was impossible...
...just bloody impossible.
He was so sick and tired of having to read amateur stories with the same plots. He was getting drained up by the number of books he still had to read, rate, and review. And none of them were in the least bit interesting. All seemed to be made of the same elements, and all of them felt so superficial, so fake. He wanted something with which he had a connection to. One with the writer's emotions poured into it, piece by piece, emotion by emotion.
He was so sick and tired of having to sit in a damned chair all day and do nothing but turn the pages of non-sense
He wanted a novel with heart. And he didn't seem to be getting any of that.
But no, fate seemed to enjoy taunting him. So here he is, stuck inside his lavishly decorated office, reading tons of novels that have no sense at all. He has had enough of this diabolical nonsense.
He heard the light squeak of the door and glanced toward its direction and saw his blonde-headed best friend.
"Natsume?"
He pretended to be reading a story and merely said, "Aa?"
"Do you...want to go out tonight?"
He just sighed. He knew this was coming, and he was sure his best friend already knew the answer. No, he had no intention of doing so. He had work to do and he had deadlines to meet; so much to do, so little time. And time was something that wasn't on his side. His mouth was already poised to reject his best friend's offer, but when their eyes met, he seemed to have given in. He gave a tiny nod, knowing he'll regret this decision later.
"Finally!" his best friend yelled in triumph. He rolled his deep red eyes and thought of how immature his friend is. Ruka may seem highly sophisticated and masculine, but although he is truly that, he is also childish and has the tendencies to be happy at the smallest of things.
Ruka's sapphire orbs were aglow with glee. "Finally, you accepted an invite!"
He just smirked, although sarcastically. "Where? And with whom?"
"At the Le Chanceux, with Hotaru and her friend."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Your girlfriend and your girlfriend's friend? Are you really inviting me to dinner or to a truce with the female Hitler and her associates? You know we don't quite get along with each other, me and that Imai girl of yours. The war is still waging. Don't try to act as a peace volunteer."
"Oh, calm down. And yes, I'm inviting you to dinner, but not with the 'female Hitler and her associates'."
"Really? So with whom am I having dinner with? Aside from the female Hitler, I mean?"
Ruka sighed. Convoluted man. "Hotaru and Mikan Sakura. Mikan has been Hotaru's best friend ever since."
Mikan Sakura, thought Natsume. It rings a bell...
"Plus, she's a dedicated writer."
His brows shot upward in interest but then dropped again. "A writer?"
"Yes, a writer," Ruka replied, running his slender fingers through his blonde tresses. "Want to read her works?"
He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. She might just be one of those proletarian writers who have no idea what writing truly is about. Nope, I think I'll pass the offer. I don't want to waste any more time. Besides, I've got a lot on my plate already," he said, motioning to the immense pile of manuscripts atop his dark mahogany desk. "I don't want to be bothered by what might be a very poor piece of crap."
Ruka laughed. "Natsume, really! For you to be this judgmental! She's quite good, to be honest with you. She's already gained the approval of Yale, Harvard, and Oxford University and Hotaru's thumbs up. And I personally can tell you that she's a prolific writer."
"Ruka, it's a no and it's final. I repeat, I don't want to waste any more time. I haven't got much of that and you know it."
Although it was such a simple answer, Ruka knew the implication behind those words. He knew that his best friend only had years left. Also, he knew that there was nothing he could say to stop his best friend and make him reconsider his decision.
"Besides, I think I'll know if she's good or not upon first meets."
Ruka's mood suddenly brightened up. "So you're really considering reading her work?"
He stood up and prepared to leave the room.
"Maybe."
And just as Ruka's mood finally lightened up, Natsume added words that really ruined his expectations of the night's meeting:
"And 'Maybe' means no."
Ruka just sighed.
"Hotaru, is this really your home?" Mikan asked in awe. She was looking at a three-storey stone mansion that was beyond her wildest imaginations. Even with her imaginative mind, she can never created this sate-of-the-art piece of modern architecture.
"Oi, baka. You're swooning. Get yourself right."
But Mikan hardly heard her. She was too busy taking in the details of her new home. And Hotaru lives here alone?
"My cousin, Shino, lives with me," the girl beside her said, answering her unasked question. "He's 24, an d he's single."
"Oh."
"SINGLE."
"Yeah, I heard."
Hotaru's temple popped a nerve. "He's looking for a girlfriend."
"Well, tell him 'Good luck' for me."
The raven-haired heiress just gave up on Mikan and rolled her violet eyes. The density of your high-class brain — it's really unbelievable.
Running through Mikan's mind was a different thing. All that she was able to comprehend with her surroundings was the fact that it was technological. Everything was controlled by someone holding something. Also, she saw the marvelous façade of the house: white marble, four pillars, an imitation of the Fountain of Brethren from Harry Potter, and the huge space in between their car and the façade, filled with all types of flowers imaginable. And for once, she actually thought she was living inside her own story's paradise...only this time, it's much better. And it's for real.
Mikan barely noticed Hotaru's car coming to a halt in front of the mansion's front doors. Nor did she notice Hotaru unloading her heavy baggage out into the patio. She also didn't notice a handsome young man who was tapping on her car window, trying to rack her head away from her stupor, until a hard hit in the head brought her out of her reverie.
"Ouch! Hotaru, what was that for?!" she bleated, rubbing the back of her head where Hotaru's fist made contact.
"Baka. You were daydreaming while Shino was tapping on your window ledge."
"Me? Day — Shino? Who's Shino?"
Hotaru pointed to somewhere behind Mikan.
Mikan followed the direction where Hotaru's fingers were pointed at and was nearly overwhelmed by what she was. This, perhaps, was the moment when Mikan could use the term "drop-dead gorgeous".
Shino. Shino, Shino, Shino.
Shino and Mikan's first meet. Definitely one of Mikan Sakura's most unforgettable – and not in a good way – moments.
Why, you ask? Well, it's quite simple.
She fainted in front of him. Fainted. FAINTED.
The word resounded in her head as she lay in her enormous bed, staring blankly into space, unable to forget her stupidity.
"Don't worry. It's alright," said a deep voice from her doorway. Her eyes widened in shock as she sat up and her head turned robotically towards the direction of the voice.
"Shi — Shino," she said, cheeks tinted with bits of red, which was very unfortunate for her because she had pale skin, meaning the blush was very obvious. "I'm very sorry! It was...an...an accident."
Shino laughed smoothly, his laugh resounding in her ears.
"Don't worry, Mikan," he said again. "It's alright. You must have been very exhausted, that's why."
"E-Exhausted? Oh...uh..right. Exhausted, yeah, that's it!" said Mikan, laughing hesitantly, unable to look straight at Shino, fearing another attack of the red spot in her face.
To be truthfully speaking, it was no wonder she was blushing madly whenever she stared at Shino (or even glanced at him for that matter), because he was very handsome. He had blonde hair that glistened whenever light hit it, tantalizing jade eyes that shone with a light fervor and – as of the moment – humor, and a tall, lean frame, accented by his overlarge shirt. His smile consisted of pearly-whites that never failed to make her swoon.
And swooning she was.
"Oi, Mikan," said another voice, "stop swooning at my cousin."
She broke out of her relapse again and turned to look at Hotaru. She noticed that Hotaru was wearing what looked like a dress. A second look made it clearer to Mikan: it was a gown.
"Hotaru, where are you going?" Mikan asked, looking inquiringly at her best friend. "You look so...formal."
"Dress up, Mikan," replied Hotaru nonchalantly. "We're going to dinner."
"Huh? Dinner with whom?" Mikan asked. "And Hotaru, I haven't got any dress."
"Dinner with Ruka and Natsume Hyuuga. And Shino, her dress, please."
Shino handed her a brown box then left shortly afterwards, leaving a spellbound Mikan behind.
"Mikan, wear that. We're leaving in ten minutes."
"Yes, ma'am."
She opened the box and was awed at the dress. It was a halter empire-cut baby doll dress in a fierce shade of red and lined with white, embedded with patterns made with sequins. Under the dress was a pair of strappy red high-heels. All Mikan could do was smile. It's been years since she last wore a dress, and it was one that wasn't worth remembering.
Then, like a lightning bolt, it struck her.
I'm going to dinner with Natsume Hyuuga?!
But it struck her a little too late.
Outside her door, Hotaru was smirking roguishly when she heard Mikan's not-so-trifle scream of horror.
It was sure to be a long night.
--
Next update is in a week. Now that I've got a lot off my plate, I think I'll be able to write better. :) Thanks for the patience, guys. I really appreciated it. I just hope you don't get mad at me...
Lihsa-chan © Winter Moonlight Sonata. O9.