Taking Your Picture
We will see what stupid does for me.

Gumi knew what to expect when she saw the street name in the directions given to her by text, but imagination and sharp reality were vastly different from one another. Rising like illusions from the ground were tall, intimidating buildings up and down the blocks she'd walked from the bus stop. Most were a delicate work of steel and glass that reflected the golden light of the hour, and it intimidated her. She felt like she was walking along a fortress that was built on over time, like she was viewing something made to appear beautiful yet forbidding.

P.A Apartments was within KKon's business blocks. While it wasn't unusual to have classy apartment complexes and condominiums pop up here and there to house employees, Gumi would have missed it if she didn't notice the simple brass wall plaque affixed to one of its protruding pillars.

The building's facade was a mixture of polished granite siding and reflective glass. In the right conditions, Gumi speculated it would appear black, not gray and brown like it was now. The prospect of a budding project made her fingers tingle, but she pushed the feeling away as she entered through the heavy glass door. She was here for a different purpose.

The lobby was generic-tasteful. It reflected the sharp masculine structure of the exterior, boasting a lounge area of blocky dark leather couches and dark glass side tables. An empty reception desk stood straight ahead, bordering a partition that divided the public area, elevators, and various other utility rooms. Even with daylight bulbs, the atmosphere seemed muted and gloomy; and the only softening anyone ever attempted was to distribute some fake plants here and there.

Gumi walked up to the reception desk, daring a peek around it to find it truly empty. She didn't want to loiter around for too long and seem any more suspicious than she already did; so after finding the elevators (there were two), she ascended to the sixth floor.

There were only three doors on the sixth floor. 602 was right across the elevator, and after taking a right, she followed the short hallway to 603. The trepidation slowly growing within her since she set foot in the building was making her shoulders itch, and she rotated them before ringing the doorbell. No matter his sexuality, a man lived beyond this door. A man was housed within its walls.

The door swung outward, and her forced greeting died on her lips as she recognized the man holding it open. Before her stood none other than Kamui Gakupo, barefoot, in just jeans and a ¾ sleeve shirt. It was a far cry from the smartly-dressed waiter she was so used to seeing that she dumbfoundedly blurted, "You're s. bushou?!"

Surprised as he was at seeing her and at her outburst, it was a show of hospitality that made the purple-haired man say, "Why don't you come inside first?" although Gumi wouldn't put it past him for being amused by the turn of events. A glance at his eyes said it all.

"I'm sorry about your old apartment," Gakupo said as he led her into the kitchen. It was spacious; with an island for food preparation, though it was used as a breakfast bar. Three short-backed stools stood at one of its sides, and Gumi perched on one as she watched the man move around in that familiar way anyone would in their own home. "Hiro came to me the day after it happened," he continued as he prepared drinks. "I never thought he would be talking about you though."

"No names," Gumi said, finally realizing what had been plainly obvious. Hiroshi never knew that Gumi and Gakupo were acquainted; and as such only knew Gumi as a neighbor, and Gakupo as a model/co-worker. While he did put in a good word for both of them, he never felt the need to disclose any specific information on either of them; he never had such obligation. This omission went both ways, it seemed, as today's meeting was just as shocking to both parties.

"I'm as surprised as you are," Gakupo confirmed, setting down a pale mug of tea in front of her. With the kitchen island separating them, he cradled his own in his hands. "The Mistress never explained why you joined the night shift."

"I asked her not to," Gumi smiled sheepishly. "I mean..."

"It's understandable," Gakupo nodded, saving her the time to explain such delicate matters. "You won't have to worry about security here. If I hadn't told the building staff that I had a guest coming, you wouldn't have been able to get past the door."

"But the lobby was empty," she frowned, her fingers wrapping absently around the mug before her.

"It's how they work," the man shrugged elegantly.

The whole building and its inhabitants seemed to be masters of subtlety. "It's a very lovely place. But the reason you have a hard time finding a roommate..."

"Ah." Gakupo backed up to lean against the counter behind him, setting his mug down to the side. "A lot of them seemed to think that being my roommate meant being a part of my life."

"Hiro-chan said you were very private," Gumi said out loud, recalling bits and pieces of her conversation with her neighbor.

He murmured in agreement. They spoke of other things, then; of the café ("Are you gonna call me 'Gakupo-niichan' yet?"; "Only in front of your fans."; "Oh? How devious."), of their occupation outside of it ("You better not take my picture."; "I won't. My camera doesn't like people."); and other things ("Food? I like meringues."; "You know that's just egg whites, right?"; "Simple food with simple ingredients are best."). It was comfortable; their back-and-forth exchanges of words were not the least bit forced or awkward. They were both capable of civility at the very least. But of course, that was a prerequisite in the service industry.

At a lull in their conversation, his eyes seemed to study her, and she found she couldn't hold his gaze, lowering her own instead to the mug she cradled in her hands. It was pale, neither white nor yellow, and had no pattern. Simple, clean, and functional; just like the kitchen they were in.

"You look like you want to ask me something," his voice drifted to her, drawing her back to him.

Gumi knew he was judging her just as she knew he knew she was judging him; they were each evaluating the other, feeling out the other, seeing if the other passed a preconceived set of personal expectations. This troubled her. Even though they knew each other from work, they were virtually strangers outside of it. But that thin thread connecting them made her a part of his life, no matter how small. Gakupo had said so himself that he valued his privacy. How would she explain giving the same address to Tête-à-Tête's owner and manager?

On top of that, despite being what he was, Kamui Gakupo was still a man.

"Are you worried because of our differences?" he asked. He seemed to pull the thought right out of her mind, and it drew a flush to her cheeks. Was she being too transparent in her silence?

"Stupid, right?" she laughed awkwardly, her fingers tapping lightly along the sides of the mug to dispel her nervous energy. "I know it's normal for men and women to live together regardless of their ah...differences. It's even socially acceptable. But I...it's hard for me."

"You don't have to talk about it," he said, looking away from her to reach for his mug. "I won't pry. I only come back to this place to sleep, and the bedrooms have key locks. The bathroom goes without saying."

"Wait, wait. You...don't mind if I stay here?" Gumi asked tentatively, wondering if she had misinterpreted the meaning behind the man's words. It was thrice now that he referred to her circumstance in some form or other. No, she amended quietly as she recalled the last few moments, it seemed she never let him forget it.

"If you mind your own business, no, I wouldn't mind subletting you a room."

"But wouldn't you be compromising yourself by letting me stay?" she asked after taking a few gulps of tea. "You yourself said that you like your privacy. But I know you, Kamui-san. I work in the same café as you do. I now even work the same shift as you do. Letting a co-worker into your home life, lacking as it seems, is still an invasion of your valued privacy.

"Whoah," she brought her mug up to hide her face as she caught up to what just came tumbling out of her mouth. "Ah—er...I didn't really mean that your home life is lacking; just that you said you only come home to sleep, so I assumed..."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't," he interrupted her, setting down his mug with a bit more noise than was necessary. It silenced her babbling and recaptured her attention all the same. "You're assuming that by living in this house you're 'invading' my privacy. I beg to differ. I have little time to myself, true, and those are the times I do spend in this house. But I doubt my free time and yours will ever coincide." His eyes locked on her, strong and unwavering.

Gumi looked away from them, reminded of that time in the alley. It seemed so long ago, but it had only been a few days. His eyes were the same as that time; determined, headstrong and stubborn amethyst eyes. It seemed that he was through being subtle. It seemed that he had already made his decision to let her stay the moment he realized it was she whom Hiroshi was talking about. "You sound like you're not giving me a choice in the matter," she finally said, setting down her own mug with as little noise as possible.

"I'm only cutting down your flimsy excuses," he said bluntly. "What is really bothering you?"

"If you're taking pity on me because"—

"That's right," he said baldly. "It irritates me to know that it was you whose apartment was broken into. Because I know you; not that well, but enough that I can talk to you. I feel like I have to do what I can to help you. If it means giving you a room, then why can't I pity you?"

Again the chivalry revealed itself. He spoke as if his obligation to her as an acquaintance was a burden; irritation, indeed. It exasperated her. "So if I was a stranger, if I never worked at Tête-à-Tête, we wouldn't be having this conversation?"

"Yes."

Gumi bit the inside of her lower lip, slowly rotating the mug in her hands. The word pity grated painfully on her pride. But did she still have to hang onto it in her situation, homeless and nearly broke as she was? Pride couldn't put a roof over her head, and neither could it put money in her bank account. It grated on her, this feeling of being helpless without someone else's charity. Was she unconsciously putting herself in this situation out of pickiness or was she truly just out of luck to be pitied by this intimidating man and his exclusive sense of chivalry?

"I don't think I can live here, Kamui-san."

She would have none of his pity.

"I'm home," Gumi chirped, shutting the front door with a bump of her hip as she readjusted the grocery bags in her hands. Although the lights were on, the house was quiet. It was unusual considering something was always going on, be it Len's games or Rin's music; maybe they both stepped out for a quick while. It gave her time to prepare dinner either way. After dropping off the grocery bags in the kitchen, she headed to her borrowed room to put away her bag.

In return for her staying at the Kagamines', she made their meals. It was a decent exchange; the twins usually subsisted on takeout and instant food, which was hardly healthy. Thus, presented with the use of a fully-equipped kitchen, the green-haired girl didn't hesitate. She had been dying to replicate some of the café's dishes for quite some time.

She was on her way back to the kitchen when the bathroom door opened and Len stepped out, wearing nothing but water droplets. His hair, dark from being wet, stuck around his face and the back of his neck; it drew her eye to the slope of his shoulders, neither broad nor narrow; down his back, neither muscled nor flabby; to the swell of his buttocks quivering ever so slightly with each step he took. He seemed anxious, quickly stomping down the hall to the living room, trailing water in his wake. Indeed, he didn't even notice her.

Was it just her or was she seeing too much nudity today?

Stepping around the footprint-sized puddles, Gumi continued into the kitchen, losing herself in dinner preparations until Rin stuck her head in and pulled her out of her reverie.

"I'm home! Something smells good. Is that Yuu-san's beef stroganoff?"

"Welcome home," she smiled, stepping aside and letting the blonde steal a steaming bite from the frying pan. "There was a sale on steak today, and I found pasta in your pantry. I hope you don't mind."

"Totally fine. It's not like I cook a lot anyway. My god, this is good!"

"You're just hungry. Hold off 'til I'm done, will you?"

"One more, just one, but with the cream~"

"Hm?" Len walked in, no doubt attracted by the ruckus. "When did you two get back?"

"Just now," Rin said, allowing Gumi to push her away from the stove to let her stir the sour cream into the pan.

"Since you mooned me when you got out of the bathroom," Gumi followed up right after, turning off the heat in the pan and moving to drain the pot of rotini in the sink. "Nice butt by the way, Len-kun."

"E-EH?!" Len spluttered just as Rin's snickers developed into full-on belly laughter. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Did you really think I could have said something at the time? You were in a hurry, and I was behind you."—"Ahahahahaha! Len, you're too helpless!"—"What if you turned around? I could have been blinded."—"You should have! You totally should have! You would have seen how big his dick is!"

"You! Shut up about my dick already!"—"Bahahahaha! Ahh, let me get the plates for you, Gumi. Oh, my stomach. Teehee! Doesn't he have a cute ass though?"—"Didn't I say to shut up?!"—"You're no fun, oniichama~"—"You are so gross. Gumi, I'm sorry for that, so stop giggling already!"

When Gumi next turned, pasta properly drained and divided into three portions, the twins' faces were equal shades of red; Rin's from laughing too hard and Len's from complete humiliation. She was sure her own face was flushed from the exertion of laughing, just as she was sure that Len's humiliation would be known to the café by tomorrow.

"At least I didn't take a picture," Gumi said consolingly. She and Len were sitting in the living room, enjoying the orange-banana jelly cups she prepared earlier. It was Rin's turn to clean up after dinner, so the two were out of earshot and safe from more potential teasing.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," the blond grumbled around his spoon as he shifted his jelly cup in his hands to handle the television remote.

"It makes me feel better though," she said, smiling at her cup. The glass was cold in her cold hands. It was the last summer-like dessert she'd make now that the nights were getting chillier. It was time to think of warm beverages.

"I think you've been hanging around my sister too much."

"Oh, no. Not like that," she quickly said, turning to look at him. "Staying with you guys has made me feel better. Awkward moments aside—or, no, even with the awkward moments, the past few days have been so fun. I'm really grateful that you let me stay." And she was. Being with the Kagamines made her realize how lost she had been feeling until then; worrying, being timid, and unable to truly relax. She hadn't been herself.

"Well, if waving my ass around is therapeutic..." he started to say, making her choke on her jelly as a giggle bubbled up.

Gumi couldn't possibly impose on their hospitality for longer than she already had.

...and yet a week had already passed since she first started looking for a place to stay. It was nothing short of frustrating how the places she initially skimmed over due to various reasons (location, price, people, etc.) were already occupied. It also irked her to know that, no matter how many times she visited the housing center, there were hardly any new roommate ads. In fact, the amount lessened as her visits increased.

Thoughts of missed opportunities and regret affected her, bleeding into her daily functions in the form of deep sighs whenever she had the spare time to dwell on such things. Fortunately, those times were when she was alone, so nobody was subjected to needless worrying over her well-being.

It still came anyway, the worrying.

"What don't they like about you that they wouldn't let you be their roommate?" Rin asked bluntly during the shift change. The blonde had happened to overhear the end of her phone conversation when she and Miku walked in on her in the changing room.

"Apparently her dog didn't like the sound of my voice," Gumi said dryly, putting away her phone and picking up a sandwich that Yuu-san was kind enough to make for her dinner.

"That has got to be one of the most retarded reasons," Rin muttered under her breath, and Gumi couldn't help but agree as she ate.

"Eh, Gumi-chan, are you having trouble finding a new place to stay?" Miku asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Kind of," she smiled around a bite, embarrassed, "but I'm not giving up yet!"

"That's the spirit," Rin said, nudging her by the shoulder. "Actually, why don't you move in with me permanently?" At the green-haired girl's incredulous look, she continued as she put on her street clothes, "Do you really have to keep looking? The flat's pretty close to school."

"Yeah, but aren't you forgetting something?" Gumi asked, sandwich in hand, as she followed Rin and Miku back out to the floor.

"Mm? What?"

"What about your brother? He can't sleep on the couch forever."

"I could always kick him out." ("What was that?!" Len asked from his stool at the bar.) "He's useless, anyway. You, on the other hand, make really delicious food for me."

"So that's what it takes to get to you, huh," Gumi smiled wryly. "Thanks, but I think Len-kun's about to cry."

"Tch. That's all that matters," Rin winked before moving on to argue with her brother about his position in the household. "See you at home!"

Gumi shook her head, and remained standing behind the bar, digging into the last half of her sandwich. The twins had been very considerate of her staying with them, but she felt horrible that that consideration came at the cost of Len's comfort and privacy. She couldn't do that to them.

At the thought of privacy, the afternoon at Gakupo's kitchen came to the forefront. She found out quite a bit about the man in that time; how stubborn he was, for one thing. The man, after shooting down a lot of her excuses, finally accepted that she with her current state of mind couldn't live in his apartment. He finally let her go after making her swear on her camera to not breathe a word to anyone about his residence. Were all gay men really so pushy? She recalled Hiroshi being the same, while at the same time managing to be considerate. It was hard to be angry with either of them when they both were trying to be suffocatingly and annoyingly decent. ...for longer than a few moments, anyway.

"How have your nights been?" a voice came at her elbow, surprising her enough to make her almost drop her last bite of sandwich. Gumi looked down to see Miku rearranging items in one of the mini fridges.

"You surprised me."

"Sorry," the teal-haired woman smiled as she straightened up. "You seemed deep in thought."

"Yeah, sorry. Ah...hey, Miku-san, do you have any experience with gay men?"

"Eh?"

"No, that was insensitive of me," Gumi said quickly, remembering that her boyfriend was also an insufferable, well-meaning bastard. "Have you had experience with pushy people?"

"Pushy, like being unable to take 'no' for an answer?" she asked, leaning on the counter. "A lot of people can be like that when they really want something."

"Yeah, but when what they want and what you want aren't the same thing, you end up fighting."

"It's a little annoying, right? If only that time spent arguing was instead spent on compromising..."

"What if it was a situation that had no compromises?" Gumi asked after swallowing the last of her sandwich.

"That's when you either walk away or give in, isn't it?" the woman smiled, offering her a glass of water.

Miku stating the obvious felt like a revelation to Gumi in that she felt compelled to smack her hand against her own forehead for missing it. It was true, she thought to herself as she washed the glass she used. Upon reflection, she had been doing things according to common expectations; but was there really no other way? Give in, walk away; stay, go?

"So how is your new oniisan?" Miku asked as they wiped down the bar, preparing it for Kiyoteru's arrival. "Kaito has been telling me that the pair of you are becoming popular."

"He's very doting," she answered easily, "though not as bad as Leon-niisama."

"Be glad Leon-san isn't around to hear that," the woman chuckled.

"It's true," Gumi said earnestly. "Leon-niisama acts like he has a complex, but Gakupo-niichan is more gentle, and likes to bully me with it. He gives me pats on the head whenever I do something he's proud of, and apologizes if I 'scold' him for treating me like a kid." She paused, realizing something. "But now that I say it like that, it seems like I've been a bit too childish. It's not like that though. Not really."

"Exaggeration is a must in our line of work anyway. Isn't it a good thing to act a bit more spoiled?"

"I'm not acting like a kid at a night club, Miku-san!" she exclaimed, her blushing face making her cleaning companion giggle. "And stop cleaning. Go sit! Your shift's been long over."

Kiyoteru came soon after with a crate of beer bottles, evicting both Miku and Gumi from behind the bar with a hushed word of thanks. The rest of the staff trickled in; Meiko in particular making a beeline toward the bar to harangue the self-taught mixologist into pouring her a shot. Gumi couldn't completely smother the giggle that slipped out as Luka gracefully swooped in and effortlessly dragged the brunette off to the changing rooms.

After a week of adjusting and learning her work routine, she was used to the ordered chaos of the night shift's rehearsal hour. That evening she and Miku observed Gakupo and Luka harmonizing the chorus of a song about a regretful, undeveloped love while Kaito plucked the strings of his guitar in accompaniment. Meiko, occupied with a notebook and a pen, sat at the far end of the bar closest to the door, humming to something playing on her iPod while Kiyoteru stood close by, polishing whiskey tumblers. After a while, Miku left for the evening, escorted to the station by Kaito; and with the exception of Big Al, who barely just made it to the café's reopening, everyone performed their duties like usual.

There was an invisible bond with the staff that allowed them to behave thus without disrupting one another; and while it wasn't something that Gumi could easily immerse herself in, it was something that she admired.

The evening's set list was mellower than she liked, making her movements around the tables more sinuous and soft. A few customers lightheartedly teased her about it, saying how out of character it made her; and while she sassed that she had always wanted to be a ballerina, she silently chastised herself for letting her personal preference affect her work.

"But why ballads?" she whined to Kiyoteru after reciting her drink orders. The bespectacled bartender merely shrugged as he pushed her drink-laden tray forward and shooed her away with a flap of his hand.

"If you make a request, I'll sing it," came a voice behind her. It was velvety, made romantic by the music in the air; but she knew he was teasing, and his teasing usually came with a price. Not willing to give him any sort of satisfaction, she took her tray and twirled away from his favor trap; saying, not without an ounce of mischief, "Don't meddle, oniichan."

"They grow up so fast." She rolled her eyes at Gakupo's lament and glided merrily away before she could listen to the customers coddle and coo at him with sympathy. It was beginning to be a usual occurrence, in which the devious brother ran an over-indulgent pity party after his sister rejected his questionable affections. What she didn't understand was how anyone couldn't see through his guise; he was playing them as easily as he was bullying her, and somehow she always ended up being painted the villain. Where was the justice if looks and a well-timed sigh could win anyone over?

Gumi spent the rest of her shift cajoling her patrons into requesting more upbeat songs. But it was Thursday, and Thursday was a slow day wherein the café catered to customers who came specifically for softer beats and mellow tunes. Though they teased, their answers were all the same: that her dancing was fine.

"You dance nicely enough though," one customer said, smiling prettily. She was an older woman with the air of an office lady. Gumi had found her sitting by herself at one of the tables hugging the wall.

"I feel more like crying though," she smiled back as she set down five shots of tequila in front of the woman. Soppy and depressing love songs always seemed to get her down; and now that she was working the night shift, she was sure to feel down at least once a week.

"Is that so?" the woman asked. "Well then." She offered Gumi a shot and bumped it with another. "Here's a toast to overcoming men. Who needs them anyway?"

"Right on," Gumi cheerfully agreed despite being misunderstood, and was raising the shot to her lips when it was plucked out of her hand. She turned her head, eyes tracking the glass as it touched a pair of lips and was drained in one go. Her dismayed protest fizzled out into a soundless huff of breath. Al stole her shot. The asshole stole her free shot.

Staff generally weren't allowed to drink unless permitted to by the customer they waited on. For Gumi who had just turned twenty some months ago, and who had just started working night shift, such privileges were few and far between. The girl had never felt so cheated in her life.

"And all the single men in the world cried tonight," the wolf said smoothly as if nothing was amiss, setting down the empty shot glass on the table. "Lady, your toast is a death blow to all of us. Have mercy."

"Oh, we have a sweet-talker," the woman purred, leaning an elbow on the table as she reached out to lightly trace a fingertip down Al's hand still on the table. "You're ten years too early to be flirting with me, darling," she dismissed him with a wave of that same hand she used to touch him.

"I'll come back later," Al grinned roguishly, slipping an arm behind Gumi's shoulders as he straightened up. "I just came to take this little miss back. Her overprotective brother's just been lookin' here a while now and is wondering what was holding her up."

Gumi looked in the direction Al was waving, and saw her "brother" leaning against the corner of the bar. He was flanked by women who, as usual, were talking at him though he paid no mind to them. Just as the head waiter said, the man's attention was indeed on her.

Despite telling Miku that she wasn't going to act like a child, Gumi blew him a raspberry. The effect was lost on the man as he was protected by distance, but his smirk told her that he was amused by her reaction. As naturally as breathing, his smirk slipped away into a genial half-smile as he finally paid attention to his hangers-on, ignoring her altogether.

"Hang in there, girl," were the customer's parting words to her as Al led her back to the bar.

"Al-san, you stole my shot."

"Sorry, kiddo. Your beloved oniisan said no drinks."

"But that was my shot." ...and he wasn't her real brother anyway! She didn't know who to be more annoyed with.

"Careful, you don't want to start sounding like Meiko. Come by on your next day off. I'll treat you then." The wolfish grin Al directed at her was one that supposedly melted off his fans' underwear. To Gumi, the look was predatory and it raised the hairs on her arms. "Now get outta here. Shift's over. Fix that attitude of yours and stop pestering the customers into doing something they don't want to."

"Urgh." Were all head waiters omniscient?

"It's not 'urgh,' it's 'yes, Al-san.'"

"Yes, Al-san," she mumbled around a pout.

"You should be arrested for excessive cuteness," the big man rumbled as he ushered her behind the bar. "See you tomorrow."

Unlike the first night when she accidentally left through the shop entrance, she left by the staff door after changing out of her maid uniform. The alley that she stepped out to was, though clean, dimly lit. Meiko's warble was a muffled, distant sound in the air. Looking to the right, she could only make out a vague outline of Sui waiting a ways down, leaning against the wall closer to the street. He kicked away from the wall as he noticed her approaching, holding out his hand for her to take.

Sui was reserved in his affections, which made it hard for Gumi to express hers, but she thought he wouldn't mind that she stopped at his side and tiptoed to plant a kiss on his cheek. The alley was dark and deserted after all, and there were plenty enough shadows to hide them from anyone passing by on the sidewalk. When he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, she grinned and met his lips halfway. She was glad he was obliging her.

He leaned back against the wall; bracing his feet apart as she nestled into him, her legs brushing comfortably between his. He kept a slow pace, using only his lips to coax her own into movement. His hands wandered down her back and up her sides, barely ghosting the sides of her breasts before cradling her face with the lightest of touches. His fingertips pressed softly behind her ears and under her jaw, his palms brushing her cheeks as his lips slowed into a long, sucking nip on her bottom lip. He reluctantly pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against hers as he murmured in warning, "We're outside."

It took her a few seconds to realize that, while Sui was giving her the best after-work service ever, her hands had slipped under his shirt, sliding it up and exposing his abdomen.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly, neither at all sounding nor feeling sorry. His heart was beating slightly fast beneath her hands though he breathed normally; she took it as a small victory to have made him feel this much.

"Did something happen?" he asked while she pulled his shirt back down. He slowly slid warm fingertips down the sides of her neck, making her shiver. "You're surprisingly perceptive tonight," she murmured, her hands drifting from the hem of his shirt to play with the parted zipper of his jacket.

"You're usually so bouncy, even at night. The difference is hard to miss."

Gumi smiled, warmed by more than just his hands caressing her neck. "Someone stole the drink a customer gave me."

"Good. You shouldn't be drinking on the job anyway."

"That's not fair, Sui-san."

"And?" he lifted his head, looking at her expectantly.

"And what?" she looked back at him.

"What else happened? You can't be this affected by a stolen drink."

"Ah," she glanced to the side, toward the sidewalk. "It's nothing big. I just got to thinking about how I haven't found my own place yet."

The silence between them, however brief, was smothering. It gradually suffocated the comfortable mood they stood in, allowing such other feelings as defensiveness and awkwardness to seep in. His hands stopped their gentle caresses.

"Gumi," he sighed. "Didn't I say you could just"—

"Don't," she said, knowing what he was going to say to her. He never failed to bring it up every few days since she left his apartment that night. She took a bracing step back, away from him and his hands. "I really don't think I should."

Her movement seemed to cause a change in Sui; the new distance between them draining him of his earlier gentleness. "I thought I was obvious about my intentions," he said stiffly, straightening up. His eyes, which were half-lidded just a moment ago, were now stern and alert. They glinted with what little light they managed to catch, and they were on her.

Gumi folded her arms in a protective gesture. "And I thought I was obvious about my response when I gave you back your key."

"No," he said, biting out the word as if it hurt. "You slid it under the door. I'm tired of your half-hearted answers, Gumi. I want to know why."

She didn't say anything, her lower lip curling inward as she looked down at the ground between them. What could she really say? She didn't like the idea of living with a boyfriend, no matter who it was. The amount of change wrought by breaking up and having to move out would be too much trouble. She didn't want to be anywhere near that kind of situation. But how could she say that to someone as sensitive as Sui? It must have taken a lot of patience to not demand immediate answers from her. He had been nothing but a gentleman since that night at his apartment. He was still strict, but lately he was a lot more mindful of his words.

Gumi could tell he was holding himself back from voicing his usual harsh judgment of her, and she found that it pained her. Here was a man who was trying so hard to be someone she could be happy with, and she was unable to give him any assurance that his efforts were appreciated. She couldn't give him what he wanted, and she couldn't take what he offered.

"I'm not asking you to marry me," he said quietly.

"I never thought that," she whispered, blushing from the idea.

"Can't I at least give you a place to stay? Can't you rely on me? I'm your boyfriend after all."

"I do want to rely on you, Sui-san, but not like that. I can't live with you."

"Why?"

"I just can't, so please stop asking me!"

No.

She didn't mean for that to come out so sharply.

It was as if Gumi had slapped him. But instead of flinching or reeling back, he froze. His gaze never wavered from her face, the only change in his expression was his brow furrowing over his eyes. She took another step back, expecting him to take her down a notch with a verbal lashing.

She opened her mouth and faltered on her apology.

Sui's voice when he finally spoke was as quiet and cold as the chill that long since settled in the alley. "Fine." He started towards the sidewalk, not once turning back to offer her his hand. He had closed in on himself.

She turned to follow him, "Sui-san I'm so"—

He stopped. "Sorry," his voice was just loud enough for her to hear, and frosty enough make her flinch and stop her before she even took her first step. "I'd like to be left alone for a while. You shouldn't have a problem with it, right?" The rhetoric in his words was as sharp as jagged ice, and what he didn't say dug far deeper into her than anything. He resumed walking, and was out of sight in just a few seconds that she wondered if she had been standing still for far longer than she thought.

He thought she didn't want to be with him.

Knees shaking, she staggered to the wall, the rough surface digging into her shoulder as she leaned against it. But before she could wallow in her misery, the sound of a shoe scuffing behind her shocked her out of it. Gumi whirled around, overwide eyes landing on Gakupo who stood under the light of the café's staff entrance.

He had been finishing off a cigarette, the butt of one under his shoe which alerted her to his presence. For all that he looked, his posture suggested that he hadn't been paying attention to her or anyone. The man had just been having a smoke, and he had been looking at the alley walls doing it.

But he turned his head to her, and the sight of him brought back the sounds she didn't know she had tuned out: traffic, people, music. It also made her realize that he could have heard everything.

Had they been too loud?

"Wait there," he called out to her, turning around and walking back inside. The faint smell of smoke wafted down to her in his wake; and between him, Sui, the smoke, and everything, she was left dumbfounded.

Gakupo reemerged moments later, shrugging on a dark trench coat over his uniform. "Come on," he said, walking up to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Walking you home," he said it like an open challenge, daring her to argue with him about it. "It's late."

"But your shift..."

"I'm on break."

Gumi sighed and started walking, Gakupo easily falling into step next to her. 10 PM hardly deserted the streets of Ensou, but she was glad for the quiet company. He left her to her thoughts as she reviewed the last few minutes when she went through too many emotions in too short a time. She knew she was in the wrong this time, but she didn't know if her apology to Sui would fix anything.

Then, horror dawning on her, there was Gakupo. She was sure that, if at least he didn't hear the argument, he saw what happened. The realization only made the train ride to KKon more awkward and silent. But like the first time he walked in on them, he didn't bring it up; and she surely didn't feel the need to talk about it.

They were walking down a quiet street, heading to the twins' apartment when the man in question suddenly spoke up beside her, making her jump. "Ah," he said out loud, "a shooting star."

Impulse made her look straight up, trying to see the tail-end of said star, but a hazy purple sky crushed her expectation. Only a faint smattering of stars twinkled past the distant clouds, and none of them were falling across the sky.

"You missed it," came his voice next to her.

She stared back ahead. Someone had to keep their eyes on the road after all.

"Oh, there's another one," he said again, deadpan. "And another."

She didn't bother looking up this time, choosing instead to say, "Are you going to be one of those really annoying older brothers?"

"Yes," he said easily, making her huff.

"You also had Al-san take my drink."

"I wouldn't want you to fall on your face from inebriation."

"As if a shot could—forget it," Gumi shook her head. It would be useless to argue the point anymore; especially since he was taking such joy in her frustration. "We're not real siblings, Kamui-san, you don't have to go that far."

"Then the act would be pointless, wouldn't you think?" Gakupo asked, flashing her a smirk.

He was right, she silently conceded with a stiff nod. A mere chink in an otherwise flawless illusion would destroy it, making it for what it was: an illusion.

"I also wouldn't mind keeping up the act to make you feel more at ease with the idea of living in my apartment," he added, amusement leaving his tone. He was looking ahead when she turned to him to protest, but she found she could say nothing more than what she had already said before. Yet, knowing all this, he still left his offer open to her.

Pride wouldn't put a roof over her head. That was one of pride's many faults.

"I'll think about it."

End Chapter 4: Hello

Luka and Gakupo's duet references Boys Don't Cry by fatmanP for Luka. Out of the covers—maybe because I'm writing about him—Gakupo's version stuck so I thought I'd slip it in.

With regards to Beiowulf's question about Gakupo's sexuality: Gakupo is straight, but Gumi doesn't know it. Rather, she doesn't seem to want to know, preferring instead to believe her neighbor's assessment on the silly misconception that all gay people have excellent gaydars. SO. Not only are our two lovable fluffbutts family-zoned (but don't worry too much, Ten-Faced!), they're also gay-zoned (one-sidedly; good luck, Gakupo!).

Your reviews, messages, favorites, and alerts have made me so stupidly giddy that it has made my struggle to write all the more worth it. To you guys, Laniessa, Oink, Ten-Faced, cloudy eve, and Beiowulf, your words are like an empowering balm to my battered writing spirit. I know how frustrating it is to come to the end of a chapter that doesn't end the story. Even more, I know how painful it is to wait for the next one. So I'm very, very happy you're still hanging on. Thank you!

ALSO. My dearest, darlingest bonbonchocolate drew me another MikuxKaito. It's so gorgeous. That meaningful look! I'm using it as a cover for Letters. I love her. She spoils me rotten. Copypaste and remove spaces~ i41. tinypic dot com 5dqa8m. jpg

Hello is a song by Electrico.

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