Yay for slow updates! Actually, not so much of a `yay`, but I am sorry! ):

Anyways, this one took me a little bit longer due to the fact that school has started and I sort of fluctuate between good and bad writing moods. Sort of in the middle right now.

Also, I apologize for a possibly confusing time jumps between every side story but I TRY to keep them in order by time and try to keep them all in the same 24 hour period.

Don't own anything!


It was haunting. It was deliberate; it was the epitome of every regret he had ever felt. Forced him to writhe in the echoes of the misery surrounding. Like a snake this soft tune coiled around him, crushing his bones and robbing him of breath with every wary strike of the ivory keys.

He closed his eyes and was consumed.

But the melody was fleeting and the feelings decayed with the fading note.

"Jaaay?" Cooan's voice brought him crashing back to reality. Her nails, clipped into maroon points, dug into his arm as she tugged him through the chattering crowd of marinating perfumes and money cut hands. "Come now! I'd hate to be caught by that prune!"

His eyes darkened.

She enjoyed running away with the diamond on her finger.

It was like a little girl running away from her parents, tugging her dolly with her. He was her play toy, used and abused as pleased; dressed up with a mouth stitched into a smile.

How the mighty gained their might.

Disgusting.

He sneered and pulled his arm from her grasp, grumbling about finding some champagne floating around. Perhaps, if he were lucky enough, something even more indulging. His feet were quick to direct him any direction that would lead far, far away.

He could feel Cooan drilling holes into his retreating back as he moved through the crowd.

He'd pay, he could feel it.

She was just too much. He'd had enough of her absurdity for the night and would make note to avoid her at all costs. He'd simply tell her he had caught up with old friends while sifting through the swarm and had been invited back for drinks or something along those lines.

Always, always plan things out.

Upon first impression people seem to detect an arrogant and swaggering disposition about him, but Jayden was no fool.

He mentally patted himself on the back.

His proud glow diminished quickly though as he snatched up a passing glass and downed the content without a single remorse for his liver. He might have pursued the young man closely if he hadn't been snagged by the sleeve a moment later. Jayden, not being the heaviest or meatiest of men, reeled back into the clutches of a drunken colleague.

"There you are! I have been looking all over for you!" The man's voice rang with false elation, wrinkled cheeks flushed with the artificial contentedness his flask brought him. Halitosis wafted for miles. "Have you seen some of these legs?! I'd like to sink my teeth into them, boy!"

Older women threw pointed glares over their shoulders.

The blond nodded in incontestable agreement. Jayden couldn't remember the gentlemen's name, but he was sure the gentlemen wouldn't remember if he remembered or not. He just let the man's drunken babble merge with all the other background affairs while his thoughts kept him entertained.

He did try to show interest, that is, until it became inescapable...

Leaning unnervingly close to Jayden's unwilling ear he whispered as quietly as a low shout, "Don't look now, but the dessert for the evening has arrived!"

Ever so curious, Jay's eyes slid across the room and felt the flow of his blood quicken through his veins. Jayden had seen many perfected fake tans, dyed locks, and supple implants all (barely) hidden under pieces of tasteful cloth, but she was something else.

Dark lashes caressed ashen cheeks, elegantly sculpted brows rose with unheard laughter. Her body language was unhurried and deliberate as her fingers curled around a champagne glass, hips swaying under her crimson cocktail dress.

She must have felt all the hungry eyes groping her lithe figure, smelt the vapor cloud of breath fresheners, and watched as the need burned bright behind monocles. She must have been trained on poise and composure. Seen faces of thousands of handsome men, young and old; engaged them all in polite aversion.

Conceited? Perhaps.

However, the faint smile that graced her lips was convincing enough to tempt even the most heavily guarded of men to try to steal a quick glance while their wives backs were turned. But it was something more than her pretty face that caught his attention. Something he couldn't quite put a name to. Something reflecting in her brilliant orbs.

Perhaps…

It was the way her smirk dissipated as her head titled the slightest bit. How her ebony strands pooled across her smooth shoulders. How her posture stiffened. How despondent she looked within that solitary instant.

She must have reflexively shifted away from a wandering hand, Jayden wasn't quite sure, but her chin lifted and from behind the fan of feathered lashes their gazes collided.

Amethyst eyes swelled with unbridled passion, painted lips parted the slightest.

Jayden Haruto stood in a moment of profound, listless mystification completely disregarding his surroundings. But a good business man could never be caught slack jawed; never let an opponent read his true position.

The machinery of his mind clicked on and began to slave away.

Calculating, preparing.

He held her stare through his bangs, through the passing crowd. His underline cocky persona tugged a rueful grin across his lips and brightened his handsome face; the same look that claimed so many hearts and jobs alike.

A nasty habit.

For a moment, her exquisite features twisted into a look of anguish and broke away with an air of disgust. She vanished into the glamour.

Jayden blinked.

And blinked again.

Pursing his lips into a set line he untangled his Valentino suit from the gnarled man's grasp. He had enough of women. Back tracking he let his eyes comb over the tops of guests heads trying to find that damned server. He needed a drink.


It wasn't like her to reminisce. The memories were painful enough, to think of all the holidays her mother had spent sifting through the dog eared letters when she had thought she was the only one awake. Crying, smiling, lost. Alone.

Unaware to her mother she had her own collection. Nestled in between one of her favorite book's idle pages handcrafted postcards rested safely. Painted landscapes were so careful it was hard to tell whether or not it was a photograph.

But he hadn't left to be a photographer.

An artist must be free to express their thoughts and ideals. Free to explore and create willingly. Free to wander without the weight of responsibilities.

A surgeon dedicates their life to responsibilities that can wake them up at 3AM on Christmas morning. A surgeon dedicates their entire self to saving others. A surgeon must sacrifice their own family for the sake of others.

It was bound to break.

She was away too much and he wasn't away enough.

He must have felt trapped within the grim of Tokyo's streets. Why else would he have left her so young?

She was so little she hardly remembers him.

At the same time, she can hardly remember her own mother.

So why was she here in this solitary hell? Why follow the snow blown footprints of her mother? Why condemn herself to the same fate?

She was in debt to her. She had dedicated her whole childhood to making her proud and would continue on. The cozy chasm she'd dug herself would have to do.

Ami traced the miniature scenery with a delicate fingertip wondering if she had made her father proud as well. She wondered if he knew anything about her.

Questioned what it'd be like to be a tiny figure living comfortably in her father's world.

How things could have been… how things weren't…

Sighing, she placed the stack of mementos on her end table and folded her arms over her chest. She should be studying and outlining, but the repressed nostalgia kept her drifting off into space. She'd close her eyes tightly, but every time she did she'd see that man's face.

He looked like something out of a foreign movie with his crimped, flowing hair and mood ring eyes. That face which was so wonderfully proportional, so well groomed.

The innocent thought of his devilish smile made her cheeks grow red.

But, it was that man caused this scourge. That beautiful, charming artist who she'd most likely never see again except behind closed eyes.

She rolled over and stared at her wall.

Too many people kept disappearing.


She had to get away. She had to escape. Needed to breathe and tear apart these images that grinned so menacingly from the darkest corners of her subconscious, creeping closer to the surface.

He looked so young.

No glasses, no facial hair.

No dark circles shining under his eyes or beauty mark.

His hair tussled in a playful way.

Could she be mistaken? No, no. It had to be him.

She couldn't see him now. Not so in such a disgraceful and lowly state. Not so soon.

Rei exhaled deeply as she pushed her way through the bathroom door. She needed to put herself back together. She clicked over to the sink and flicked the faucet on.

Clutching either side of the basin she stared long and hard into her own reflection. This wasn't going to be it. She wasn't going to let some stupid man tip her equilibrium so easily. She was not weak and she would not have another episode.

Stuttered words and softened eyes would not be tolerable.

Swiping her bangs away from her vision and running a fingertip along an eyebrow she squared her shoulders. This was not going to faze her. She would go on like nothing happened. She would perform as scheduled.

The water shut off.

Giving herself a fierce look she sauntered back into the limelight.

The door swung closed.


"I hope he accepts this…" Makoto sighed.

It was about an hour before midnight, but she just couldn't settle into her bed sheets the right way until she knew she was in the clear. It really wasn't like her to give in so easily, but for some reason his stern expression kept trickling through her mind.

His eyes. They kept accusing her; kept crawling just under her skin.

She hadn't been able to eat, or clean, or flip through her scrapbooks. She just sat at her table fingering the petals of the stolen contraband. The guilt had set in.

With a lowered head she had gathered up all the fresh ingredients present and for the next two hours threw together her toughest bento box yet. She scrolled a quick note of apology, folded it into the package, and set out.

Now, standing in front of the dark flower shop, she fidgeted. The light above the store glowed dimly and shadows passed across the blinds every once in a while. Someone was home.

The stairway on the side of the shop creaked menacingly under her weight. Curling her fingers around the crumbling rail she blindly fumbled her way up the stairwell. Letting a heavy breath escape she smoothed the invisible wrinkles from her turtleneck.

She wholly wasn't doing this because he was exceedingly good looking. She was doing this to help herself become a better person. She really was.

…She could be doing it for both, right?

Rapping her knuckles against the door she took a step back and waited.

Nothing.

Again, she knocked.

Nothing.

Pursing her lips in frustration Makoto banged a fist harshly against the flimsy wood.

"Haven't done enough damage for one night I see."

Jumping in surprise she peered down the darkened stairway nearly missing the blackened shape leaning haphazardly against the bowed rail.

"I came back to repay you for earlier," Makoto frowned at his taunting tone.

The sound of bags rustling was the only indication to his movements as he climbed his way to the top. She felt the blind heaviness of his presences as he squeezed passed her, pushing through the door.

Nethan set his grocery bags down inside the entry and turned back towards his unwelcomed guest with a raised brow. The light that filtered through the cracked doorway illuminated the untamed pride safeguarding her emerald irises, hugged her tanned skin, and reflected off her tawny tresses.

"I hope this is enough," she murmured ignoring the way his eyes watched every curved movement of her glossed lips.

Apologies didn't come easily and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She shoved a box into his chest, bowed deeply, and shuffled down the stairs without another word.

He pulled the lid off the black lacquered box and smiled leisurely at the adorable little garnished bunnies, cats, and flowers all warily handcrafted especially for him. He unfolded the blue parchment and traced every loop of her neat scrawl and chuckled at the tiny doodled rose.

Opening his door further he leaned out, peering after her in hopes of catching her one last time in the creeping glow of his hallway lamp.

But Cinderella had slipped away.


Minako stifled a yawn with a cupped hand. It was well beyond closing time, but she'd been waiting.

And waiting and waiting and waiting.

It was absurd, but her horoscope had specifically said something fabulous was bound to happen to spurt her love life into action today, but today ended in… two minutes.

So far nil.

Zilch!

None even came close...

Sighing Minako threw her broom down and let her eyes wander towards the booth in which he had sat a little more than 24 hours ago.

Locking up she flicked the lights off and slid into the seat across from where the silver haired splendor had stiffly perched. Resting a cheek on the table top she idly watched her fingers dance in and out of the light slinking in from the streetlamps.

Minako fell asleep listening to the clock striking midnight, completely unaware that the paper she had been reading had been a day slow.


Sorry for the little Minako action, but I pretty much have her story planned out.

R&R!