Hello again! BIIIG BIG BIG BIG thank you to my two wonderful reviewers, LiveLifeLong and Woahisme! (I will definitely remember your comments for my later chapters!)

But you don't want to read that do you? You'd rather have the next chapter. Luckily, I had this one basically finished when I posted the prologue, so here it is!

DISCLAIMER: still don't own it. But I forgot to mention I have all three anime soundtracks as well as every Marukaitte Chikyuu released.


Chapter One: Reunion

"Uhm, excuse me?" startled by the deep voice that called for me, I nearly fell off my ladder before glancing down, paintbrush in hand and balancing precariously a good 6 feet from the ground. A tall man with silvery platinum hair and a faded pink scarf stood below me, a slightly perplexed look on his face. His long beige coat and the edges of my paint-stained overalls rippled slightly in the night breeze, the time somewhere between one and two in the morning. He called out to me again, "Excuse me? Are you the, ah, Sunflower Man?"

Well, that couldn't be good. Was my cover blown? And this mural was almost finished, a peculiar array of planets and stars all made up of various kinds of flowers and leaves. Right in the center I had just started to paint the 'sun', a brilliant, large sunflower. Dang, I hated having to abandon a piece once I got caught...

"Haha, yeah, people call me that," I chuckled half-heartedly, flipping my cap up on my golden blonde hair, adjusting my paint mask to better hide my face. I hate getting caught on the job...

"Would you, ah, c-come down for a minute?" the man stood at the base of the ladder, I could tell his eyes were flitting between me, the ground, and the surrounding alleyway. He sounded... extremely nervous. Well, considering I was going to rabbit out of there as soon as my foot touched the ground, I guess I was pretty nervous too. My hand moved unconsciously to pat the back of my neck, flipping the back of my collared shirt up to mask the sore purple bruise that had formed there, knowing I had others scattered across my back and legs. I stepped down the limited steps and set foot on the ground, pausing to formulate the quickest way to escape. Smiling beneath my mask, I turned to face the stranger.

I nearly had to double-take. The silver haired mystery man towered at least a head taller over me, with beautiful violet eyes, the darkness dimming them to a shade much like my bruises. His broad chest promised muscles and seemed like the sort of build that only appeared on the covers of romance novels. His features were soft and slightly rounded but still handsome, and the smallest of small smiles graced his pale lips. He blinked owlishly at me, as if expecting something. I cocked my head and blinked back.

"Huh?"

When his already small smile disappeared, my gut twisted with an obsessive twitch; I had to make this guy smile again. Maybe if I do something unexpected I could see his lips pull back and those slightly off-white teeth reveal themselves, something unexpected...

Like a hug. Which was the situation I suddenly found myself in. My face pressed into the soft fabric of the man's scarf, the smell musky and reminiscent of alcohol, vodka perhaps. Had the circumstances been different I would have buried my face into his chest and hugged him back, but logic kicked in and I struggled away from the warm body, squirming when the strong arms did not leave my waist. I looked up with wide eyes when a gentle hand tipped my hat back, my hair flick Nantucket springing free. A slender finger ticked once against my glasses, named Texas. Calm violet eyes reflected an eager happiness on a tranquil surface of sorrow, the lashes just slightly longer than an average male's. The night's shadows made his silver hair more of an ashen color, it fit his subtle stature and masculinity. I admit, I felt a little dwarfed by this guy.

"You do not remember me, do you?" mystery man asked, slowly wedging a finger beneath the strap of my paint mask, easing it off of my ear, pausing briefly as if to see how I would react. I blinked in the same owlish fashion he had shown me earlier, my lips twitching uncontrollably into a smile.

"Can't say I do, sorry bub. You from the museum? Or maybe the kitchen?" the guy didn't seem like a pet keeper or the staff of another organization, and there were precious few other places that knew my alias. A teeny tiny giggle escaped his pale pink lips before the saddest and meekest frown appeared, and, with a simple gesture of his hand, my mouth was liberated from my mask, and I snapped from my trance. I pushed back roughly, using my arm to shield my face. Oh Gods, if Arthur found out about this...

A timid hand rested on my arm, cautiously, and a soothing voice with matching steadiness cooed at me, "Please, please do not be alarmed, I wish only to see you once more... Y-you remember, da? That day, in the sunflower field?"

I remained silent for an eternity. I imagine my face must've gone through enough emotions to make a full length feature film. Eventually, I finally managed an extremely weak "Vanya?", before the boy from my memory materialized in my mind, that same shy smile replicated by the childish joy that appeared on the man in front of me. He squeezed me closer, and, through some feat of inhuman strength, lifted me from the ground and spun us in a circle, laughing like a kid on Christmas who just got that one toy they had always wanted. The infectious laughter had me all smiles, as I strained my brain trying to remember more. Flashes of a sickly pale boy appeared, images of us holding hands, playing together on the play structures, watching clouds pass by beneath a shady tree, and, most importantly, the tears and then the smiles we shared among the sunflowers.

"Oh, Alfie! I missed you so much!" the flinch shuddered up my spine before I could control it.

'Alfie'.

That name, the second strike on Arthur's list. One more and my bruises would start multiplying and a pain would manifest in my lower back and spread to an ache so bad I wouldn't be able to stand for about a day. Arthur cut the ties to almost everyone who had the privilege of using a nickname not based on flowers, leaving Arthur as the one person who could call me four different names. One for a warning, three for the strikes. I had only realised this rather early on in our relationship. Arthur calls the shots and does what he likes, he could call me anything he wanted to, and get away with it. Or else. I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to Arthur... When he wasn't interested in me, I suddenly found myself dead to him. That pang of hurt twisted itself deeper into my gut.

But a gentle touch to my cheek sent those dark thoughts scurrying away. Now, my childhood came rushing back to me, and I could relive my fondest time. Ivan Braginsky. Vanya, my Vanya. Vanya came back from Russia. Vanya came back... and he found me. I snuggled my head into his chest, relishing in the quick tempo of his beating heart, before remembering myself.

With a shove perhaps a bit too harsh, my best friend that I hardly even knew anymore found himself well acquainted with the dirty alleyway cement, a baffled, rosy-cheeked expression on his soft face. I gaped at his blissful ignorance in horror, confusing confliction settling in my brain. Arthur. Arthur would be getting back to the house at any minute, if I wasn't there when he arrived...

"Vanya, Vanya I'm so sorry I hit you but I really need to leave," I paced around the alley before dropping down beside my long lost friend. A first time criminal would look less paranoid than I would. I glanced at my wristwatch, flinching a bit at the scab trailing up my arm beneath the strap. 2:27 AM. Arthur would arrive any second, or may already be back at a time like now.

"Listen, listen," I muttered half to myself, fretting hands patting down his chest, worrying at his scarf, the nervous energy outletting itself as I tried thinking on my feet. My mind always left me in these cases; generally, only a mantra of 'Arthur' rebounded inside the walls of my head, it being the only thing I could think of. But now, now something new wedged itself into the chanting. How can I stay in touch with Vanya without Arthur finding him? "Here, I'll give you my cell number, but promise me you'll wait until I call you, okay?" I mumbled almost deliriously, searching my body for scrap paper to write my number on. Understanding fingers set themselves on mine early on into my search, and I looked back up into those unbearably sad eyes, their earlier happiness muted.

"Everything will be alright, Alfie," I nearly choked at how softly he used my second warning name. "Here, you can enter your number directly into my phone, da?" sure enough, those slender hands offered up a somewhat bulky, flip-to-open black cell phone, I recognized the model as at least five years old. With a sudden calmness I didn't think I could pull off, I stopped my panicked maneuvers and accepted it. Switching to autopilot, I hardly even saw myself entering my number into his contact list, which was surprisingly rather long. However, Alfred F. Jones rested at the top of the list. I handed his phone back with robotic precision, and smiled unconsciously when his lips pulled up as well. "Would you like me to drive you to your house?"

YES.

"No, but I really have to get going... I'll see you later, okay?" I asked politely, collecting my paints and brushes and stashing my ladder where hopefully no one would take it. I smiled at him as he stood up beside me, and for the briefest moment we gazed at my almost completed painting. I felt a timid arm wrap itself around my outside shoulder, and I smiled up at my friend.

"Of course, I hope very much to see you again. Your artwork is so beautiful, almost as much as you are," he mumbled, nervousness and strength of will combined. He leaned down and pecked me on the forehead, that same rosy-blush color dusting his cheeks. I imagine some of the dust must have fallen onto my own.

"Thank you," I replied just as quietly, and gave him a quick hug. I inhaled as much as I could of his scent and then pulled back, turning quickly to run out of the alley.

The time read 2:43 AM.

Arthur had been home for thirteen minutes.


YAY! an actual chapter. I can't believe i actually got around to posting something, it's so weird...

I'm going camping with my family for a few days, so I'm sure by the time I get back I'll have the next little piece done for all of my lovely readers :3

Like it? Love it? Hate it's guts? Found an error that is absolutely atrocious that I didn't catch? I won't know unless you tell me~~

Also, is confliction even a word, or is it just conflict? Everyone keeps giving me different answers...