- My Muse -
Chapter 1
Two weeks ago
A picture can speak a thousand words.
Though a picture painted with a thousand words speaks so much louder.
He grasped the paintbrush between his fingers. The bristles were dipped in the product of the perfect mixture of blues and greens, and hovered just above the canvas. But nothing came of it.
How does a painting speak, when you have nothing to say to it?
And what worth does it hold if it's speechless?
He dropped the paintbrush in water an tried again, testing a darker color; this time in shades of brown and reds, mixed to a rich burgundy.
It's been two years since the public eye has seen, Hikaru Hitachiin. Before he was on every celebrity-gossip tabloid, and news article on social media. Nothing in his life was a secret. Reports knew where he had been and where he was going. No matter whether it was in a positive light or not, they published his name wherever they could get their grubby hands into.
But lately, it had seemed like he had faded into the background, and the community was over him like a trend. The only things of him the magazines wrote about now, was who's daughter he was spending the night with.
Beside him, there was a magazine in particular. It's headlines:
"Where is Hikaru Hitachiin, today"
He used it to dry off his paintbrush.
He reached for a jar of his other paintbrushes, but he stopped, as a pair of warm hands managed to snake their way around his shoulders. Hot breath trickled down the base of his neck and he tensed.
"It's blank."
Hikaru looked up, glaring at his canvas, that was collecting more dust than paint. His eyes lowered to his jar of water, that had turned black from all the times he changed his mind.
"I'm working, what do you want?"
His brother, Kaoru, scoffed, as he cuddled his face into his hair.
"I came to check on you," he whispered, which sounded more like an excuse for something else. He tightening his arms around him, being the same height, his eyelashes fluttered against his ear. "Your nanny baled, so I decided to bring you breakfast."
Hikaru shrugged off his twin, and he slid off him like liquid, snickering at how unaffectionate he's gotten.
"What are you dressed like that for?" he grumbled, referring to the tight suit Kaoru wore, that stood out beside his loose white shirt and jeans. He looked at him up and down, almost disgusted.
Kaoru looked down at his fitted suit. His tie tucked neatly behind his pressed blazer and his shoes were freshly polished.
He feathered his hand over his slicked back hair, and fuzzed over a wrinkle in his pants, before he caught his brother's stare.
"Well excuse me for not dressing like a lonely hermit." He chuckled, tucking in his front pocket. "I have a date."
Hikaru frowned. "With who?"
"It's an arranged luncheon, so I'm not sure," he shrugged. "I'll see when I get there."
"You're trying awfully hard to impress a stranger." he muttered.
"I'm impressing myself," Kaoru huffed. "Why does everyone think that, when I put effort towards myself, it's because of a woman?"
"It wouldn't kill you to clean up nice," he added dismissively. "Isn't that the outfit you wore yesterday?"
"Did you come here just to nag."
"I worry about you."
He rolled his eyes.
"You'll live," Kaoru leaned over, kissing his temple. "I brought your favorite. It's in the fridge."
"I don't need you to feed me all the time."
"If I don't who will?" he pouted, "You can't take your medication on an empty stomach. You got sick last time." Hikru grimaced, as his thumb traced over the dark circle under his eye. "Is that why you look so tired?"
He swatted him away. "I don't take them anymore."
Kaoru sighed, sinking away from him again, He watched as he turned his back to him, ready to follow him if he started to escape to the other side of the room. "Oh? I didn't know your doctor took you off of them. I should pay more attention."
"What do you want, Kaoru?"
He shrugged, concluding that worrying about him was a lost cause. "Mother said you decided to go to Mizuma's gallery show this weekend."
Hikaru glared at the wall as he jerked the water on in the sink, to wash his hands, even though he hadn't painted anything, and his hands were still clean.
"What about it?"
"Nothing," Kaoru bit his lip, biting back the wrong words. "Are you... going alone?"
"Across town?"
"For four days," he defended, as if that justified the reason for the new stress lines on his forehead. "There's a wine venue that's having a grand opening on Monday. I have a conference meeting with the president of Dongfeng then, but his daughter will be there, and... I knew you were going so-"
Hikaru dropped the rag he was using to dry his hands on the table, that almost knocked over a tub of paintbrushes. "You didn't... tell her I'd be there." He furrowed his brows. "Right?"
"Well... I might have suggested your company."
"His daughter's barely twenty."
"Twenty-one."
"She's practically a child," he growled. "You're trying to set me up with her?
Kaoru held his hands out as if he was calming down a provoked, wild beast. "She was interested in you," he argued, "You were only going there to kill time, so I thought you two could keep each other company."
Hikaru's face curled in disgust.
"Not like that."
"I'd rather choke."
Kaoru lowered his gaze to a crack in the floorboards. He didn't know what he was expecting. He hasn't been able to get his brother out of the house for anything that wasn't related to work, and when he could, Hikaru closed himself off. He was convinced everyone was out to take advantage of him. He gave everyone the cold shoulder, and that eventually warded off the press. Reporters wanted nothing to do with him; the Paparazzi got bored of him.
Hikaru built a wall to protect himself. They had let go of that isolated world they created together, a long time ago, but something in him just fell apart, and it ruined everything, and now he was in that world all alone.
And it broke his heart, knowing the only person who could really help him, was himself.
"She'll probably get bored of you anyway," he concluded, with another shrug. "You're so old."
"I'm not there to make sure she has a good time."
"Well... she is the daughter of one of mother's associates, so it would be nice if you woo'ed her a bit."
Hikaru didn't reply. Instead, he sat down in one of his chairs and turned his back to him completely. He grabbed another rag, and started to clean off his paintbrushes.
"Mother's worried about you, too." Kaoru said quietly. "You should visit more often."
He didn't more from his spot, even after Kaoru bid him goodbye and shut the door.
Hikaru didn't say anything, and just continued to rub the paintbrushes, even though they weren't dirty. He had been so absent in painting, but so obsessed with the fact that he had been busy, his home studio was spotless.
After the wood of his paintbrushes were warm from his hands, he tossed them into a jar.
He looked up at the blank canvas. The fabric was so white that it reflected light from the window, and it was almost blinding.
After a moment of listening to the easel laugh at him in mockery, he decided he might not be ready to give up his medication just yet.
Without a second thought, he stuck his leg out and kicked it over. The canvas falling head first to the floor.
How could a painting speak, when it's painter is drowning in silence.
The elevator doors opened to a herd of impatient lawmen, and the accused. They were tapping their feet, yelling into their Bluetooths, or glaring at their watches. It was a busy Monday, and it wasn't sparing anyone. At 3 in the afternoon someone had already thrown their tie in the trash and walked out.
It had been such a long afternoon for them, that no one even bothered to bow to their superior as she walked past them, buried chin deep in her own work. They just sneered at her, before scrambling to get to the elevator's buttons first.
She was the only one in the office smiling, and the whole office was conspiring against her for it.
That's what she thought anyway, when the pile she was carrying crashed to the floor as someone bumped into her and all she got was a bitter "Watch out." in response, as if it were her fault that he lost his job.
"Haruhi!"
She gasped as a shoe stepped one of the papers she was trying to pick up.
"I'll take these for you," someone above her stated, and without warning, her file was ripped out of her hands. After seeing who it was, she quickly tried to take them back.
"N-no, it's okay! I-"
"Mr. Hokkai is having one of his fits again," her co-worker (she really wished she could remember her name), said. "Where are you taking these?"
Haruhi took her entire bottom lip between teeth as she watched her crumble her papers under her arm. "My... office, but-"
"Here," she passed her a cup of coffee as she was standing up, and she had to struggle just to not drop it. "He likes you more than me."
Before Haruhi could object, the woman was already walking away with her precious court papers, and she was stuck with a '1# boss' mug in her hand while everyone in the hall stared at her.
Ah well... it used to be a great day.
After having to go back to the crowded elevator, she stalked the hall, her fist white from clenching t handle of the mug. Just because she wasn't called out by their boss every morning, did not mean he liked her, and she didn't like him either. She was one of the company's most sought out attorneys, and he was the heir to daddy's company. They simply tolerated each other.
The door to his office creaked wide open as she tried to quietly knock on it. He was sitting at his desk, pressing his finger to his earbud, nearly losing his voice over the other person on the other side of that phone call.
"hold on," he growled, putting the call on hold, and immediately turning towards her. "What?"
She gestured to the cup in her hand before setting it down in front of him. "Sorry to interrupt." She muttered.
"I'm busy, Fujioka, make it snappy."
"I'm taking Misumi's case," she said. Years of working with criminals gave her a iron backbone, so his glares just felt like an inconvenience. "The one of the Furukawa's. I'll hand in my schedule tomorrow morning."
"The Furukawa's?" He scowled. Coincidentally, the information for that one was sitting fresh on his desk beside him. "But you're a defense lawyer."
"Misumi left on maternity leave yesterday afternoon. She asked me to take it over."
"I'm not doubting your abilities," he said, as if it physically hurt to admit that. "Divorce cases aren't exactly in your expertise. You've never handled one before, why would you now?"
That was true, and they were boring. She would rather work with drunk over a traffic violation, but she couldn't say, no. Especially when she had no other cases lined up and hasn't had one in over four months. She had taken it more so out of desperateness than actually wanting to help the woman who gave it to her.
"Because she asked me to." Haruhi answered.
"Bored of writing wills." He corrected.
"Don't sign me up for anything," she changed the subject. "I'm not going to juggle three cases at once like last time."
"I won't have to," he scoffed. "No one spends as much time with their clients as you do, Fujioka. With a divorce case they'll get so sick of you, and they'll fire you by Tuesday."
"Don't call me in until next week."
"I wasn't going to."
After today, the last thing Haruhi wanted to do was come home to messy apartment, but that's exactly what greeted her as she opened the door.
She sighed and threw her bag in the hall closet, and stepped over a pile of dirty clothes. One would think that belonged in the laundry room. It was beyond her why it all had to be thrown out in the front room. It wasn't how she left it this morning.
"Joichiro," she groaned, almost tripping over a PVC pipe. "Didn't I say to keep it in your room."
"Did you say something?" a man's voice came from open door to the kitchen. "Also, you're late. I thought you were going to be back at five."
"I was working." She sighed again, exchanging her shoes for a pair of slippers. "I know it's late."
The man stepped out, showing his face from under a pile of freshly trimmed wires he so casually threw down on the floor. Because the floor was closer than the table.
His paint covered face curled in a pout. "It's seven thirty."
Haruhi grimaced, reaching over to brush dirt off his cheek. "And you look like you've kept yourself busy while I was gone."
While that wasn't the first thing he wanted to hear, he still grinned and grabbed her shoulders, directing her attention to his dirty shirt. "And guess what."
"Do I want to know?"
"Do you remember the gallery show I told you about?" He suggested. "It' Saturday."
"This Saturday?"
"Would I be telling you if it were next Saturday?"
She cringed. "Do I have to go?"
His face fell. Obviously not amused by her lack of enthusiasm that he honestly should have expected. "If you want to support your wonderful fiancée, then yes. Who asks that?" He hesitated. "And... also yes, because you're my ride."
Before she could say she honestly didn't want to and would rather spend her Saturday doing nothing, her mind directed it itself to the important subject of the matter. She forgot that this gallery was the most exquisite gallery show in Japan. One could only ever get inside the building every seven years, and the invitations were limited to the rich a fabulous. Painters brought their artworks to be auctioned at higher prices than her yearly salary.
So how did her fiancée, a struggling freelance artist, get himself an invite? Or even afford the entrance free?
"How?" Was the only word that managed to tumble out of her mouth.
Somehow he knew exactly what she was referring to.
"Ah, well," he cleared his throat. "I... may have borrowed from the savings."
She glared. "How much?"
"All of it."
Nothing came out of her mouth, and her mind completely shut down. How much was in the savings again? How much of that money was just thrown out the window? The numbers were giving her a pain in her stomach.
"That..." She started, but quickly shut her mouth. "Everything in the savings was for the wedding."
"Really?" he pulled away, this wasn't the first time she told him this, but it was apparently the first time of his actually hearing it. "Why was there so much just for that?"
"Because your family lives in Europe."
"Ah," he muttered, he looked like he was deep in thought, but she was wrong. Was she really going to marry this man in eight months?
"Eh." He shrugged. "They don't need to come."
Joichiro watched as five different facial expressions fought to stay on her face at once. His poor common minded fiancée. She was going to give herself high blood pressure again.
"Don't worry. After I auction off my painting we can afford the wedding, and honeymoon in Hawaii. " He said. "We can get a house and a car. You can even buy all that makeup your pretty friends always talk about." He pushed his finger against her nose.
She arched her brow.
"I promise you won't even notice it's gone."
'But you're a horrible painter' she wanted to say, but she managed to bite those words back, and save them for her pillow that she was going to scream into later.
After watching her expression ease, he grinned and lent down and kissed her cheek. "What's for dinner?"
