Chapter 4: From Bad To Worse

-:-

The alarm's strident knell wrenched Hikari awake, a rather disgruntled groan emitting her lips.

A faintly tanned arm reached out from under pastel-pink sheets; feeling around aimlessly for the source of her vexation. With a relieved sigh, she slammed the snooze button on the near-by digital clock and efficiently deactivated the annoying blare of her set wake-up call.

She then flopped over onto her back, rubbing the remnants of slumber from her eyes before fluttering them open, bright crimson-red irises adjusting to the light. She sighed and remained still for a moment, recalling the prior night.

Every logical, and ill-logical, explanation for whatever she and Yamato had exchanged last evening flitted across her mind. The heat of the moment, she thought, or the atmosphere, was another.

She could very well spend the rest of the day telling herself these…excuses. She could very well type a three page essay justifying that the strange, somewhat mutual attraction between the two was nothing more then Hikari making more out of nothing.

But she couldn't, very well, stop the fact that in the deepest pit of her belly she knew damn well that every one of those excuses was an outright lie and that the somewhat mutual attraction between them wasn't her making more out of nothing.

Hikari sighed, heavily, as she jerked her covers up off her person, throwing them noisily against her bed and unsettlingly satisfied by the loud thump it made upon its landing. She pulled herself onto her feet, stalking over to her closet to choose an outfit for the day.

The sooner she got to work, the sooner she could get this off her mind.

-:-

Hikari was gasping for breath by the time she reached the outside of Teen Vogue's large entrance door, leaning heavily against the door paneling for support.

She had missed her bus, and what with Taichi having taken the spare car for school, the eighteen-year-old was forced to run the entire way to the office. Luckily for her, the Teen Vogue building wasn't all too far from her apartment complex. Though a five minute walk in the high-heeled knee-length leather boots she was sporting was sheer torture, let alone a twenty-minute run.

But some sacrifices had to be made for fashion, no matter how painful they may be.

After regaining enough composure to seem presentable, Hikari pushed past the tinted glass swivel doors and hurried through Teen Vogue's narrow corridors. She swiftly made her way up the winding staircase that had met her, then down the long hallway soon after, before finally stumbling into Ms. Tachikawa's large office space.

The woman in question was currently hunched over her fine, polished oak wood table; scrutinizing the several papers and photographs that scattered the table with a critical eye. Her pretty face was creased with firm concentration, every so and then throwing one of the papers off the table and carelessly onto the floor.

As Hikari made a move to voice her presence, a pale hand lifted in motion to stop the other female.

"I assume you've brought the photos from last night's show." Mimi droned flatly, pouring over one particular photo with a trained eye.

"O-Of course." Hikari paused for a moment, clearing her throat.

"I-I mean yes, here Ms. Tachikawa."

The eighteen-year-old's slender arms jerked forward after the words left her mouth, the large leather portfolio clutched tightly between her hands. Teen Vogue's resident editor clicked her tongue between her teeth before snatching the expensive case from the other girl's hold.

The younger brunette bit her lip with uncertainty, that familiar anxious feeling beginning to surface. Ms. Tachikawa remained indifferent at first, expression still firm and unyielding, until she came across one particular picture.

All at once, her impassive expression twisted into one of grand disgust, lips curling into a dark glower and brow screwing into a scowl of its own. She set aside the other photos, one glossy sheet of paper still held between her skilful fingers.

She then lifted her gaze towards her young intern, face slightly pained and distraught.

"The photos were superb, fathoming and snaring every ounce of the artist's passion. I can practically feel their souls flaring through the pictures; a gift that has taken decades for some of our photographers to master."

The speech made the eighteen-year-old double back a bit, eyes wide and disbelieving of her own ears. But stunned shock quickly gave way for quivering fear as her superior's woefully moved expression burst into one of irked repulsion, just as earlier.

"Which is why I cannot seem to comprehend the dilettante angles and mediocre flashes done with The Wolves. You photograph them like a fan, not photographer; with platitudinous slanted angles and disgusting sparks of light that nearly wash out the singer's face."

Each disdainful word, repulsed twist of her mouth and chiding stare was more then Hikari could bear. She took criticism to core, wanting nothing more then to be on genial terms with everybody.

The aspect of someone, anyone thinking badly of her made the eighteen-year-old well up with tears.

"Ms. Yagami, you have shown me your ability to its fullest and I expect it each and every time, in entirety, not in sporadic fragments. On the next show, I want a roll of film designated solely for The Wolves."

She wanted to sink to the floor and just sob like a silly child because the lady fates were being terribly unfair. They throw her this wonderfully amazingly handsome charmer to completely throw her off keebler on the first day of work who now was supposed to be the focal point of her next endeavor.

As Ms. Tachikawa opened her mouth, probably to berate her on several other bad aspects of her photography skills, the office door came swinging open.

A man stood in the doorway, a rather short-man with a short-cropped mane of rich russet auburn-brown. He looked to be about twenty-three or so, but dressed as if he were fifty; wearing a long-sleeved button up shirt of pastel yellow, tucked into a pair of snug tan khaki slacks. A thick vest sweater of burgundy red was worn over the shirt and a pair of shiny brown leather boots on his feet.

A large bouquet of deep wine red and rich blushing pink roses were clutched tightly in his left hand, a brown-leather attaché case gripped in his right.

Hikari took note as Ms. Tachikawa's face burned as red as the flowers in the gentleman's hands, a smile beginning to pull her lips despite her efforts to hinder it.

"Koushi," She murmured in a breathy whisper, the photo in her grasp slipping from her fingers like a leaf in the fall.

"You're early."

The auburn-haired man chuckled half-heartedly yet apologetically at that, his own cheeks warming at her words. He reached up with his hand, the one with the flowers and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm sorry Mimi, it's just that Professor Crane had permitted early dismissal due to the abrupt discovery of the homo erectus being from the early 300 A.D. era. He found that today should be spent as a celebratory day." He admitted softly, affectionately; but quickly caught himself as he took note of the other female's presence.

He promptly cleared his throat, straightening his posture as he cast the other female a cordial glance.

"Hello Miss, I am Koushiro Izumi, Ms. Tachikawa's fiancée."

Hikari felt her eyes widen to that of saucers, slowly turning about to give Teen Vogue's editor a queer stare. This was her husband…well, soon to be husband. They seemed terribly mismatched, a historic professor and a fashion executive.

A true ring of beauty and brains.

"Well, Ms. Yagami, you may leave now. But remember what I told you, The Wolves." Mimi spoke quickly and hastily, jerking the portfolio to the other female.

"Have a good day."

The eighteen-year-old swallowed heavily, blushing as if it were she who had intruded upon the two lovers. She nodded to her superior, muttering affirmations under her breath as she made fast strides out the door.

-:-

Today was, without question, a bad day.

The entire ordeal with Yamato was well-enough, the metaphoric equivalent of having her heart tossed carelessly into a blender and now was nothing but a chaotic, lost, helpless abyss of emotions. She liked him, she didn't, it was the atmosphere, it was this, it was that…

And then to crown off her grandeur emotional melt down, she had missed her bus and undeniably irritated her boss, which only accelerated further by producing an awkward situation between she and her betrothed.

Yes, today was definitely a bad day.

Hikari sighed heavily at that, sifting through the several items that housed her tiny purse in search of her house keys. In the difficult process, her portfolio slipped from under her arm and sent its contents skittering across the cement flooring.

The eighteen-year-old groaned despairingly, feeling her eyes burn with pitying tears as she fell to her knees to retrieve the fallen papers. She hadn't bothered to place them in proper order, corners protruding out at all sides, as she shoved them back into its leather folder.

She was just straightening to her feet when the door before her came swinging open, causing the female to stumble back in surprise. Her brother stood on the opposing side, dressed in a pair of blue plaid pajamas and a short-sleeved white shirt, a long-sleeved unzipped grey sweater worn over that.

"Tai?" Hikari questioned in a stunned tone, face puckering with befuddlement as she rose to full height.

"What are you doing home so early? I thought you had class?"

The auburn-haired male gave a little careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Some big discovery by one of the professors or something…" He answered lightly, reaching up and scratching a particularly irritating spot at the back of his scalp. He sighed before speaking once more, failing to notice the sudden burst of color across his younger sister's cheeks.

"Well I'll be back in a minute or two, Kar. I'm gonna pass by the corner market to get a new carton of milk…" He paused suddenly, indifferent expression gnarling into one of indignation as he tilted his head over his shoulder.

"…since YAMATO over here ended up knocking our other carton down the sink!"

The brunette didn't really hear anything else beyond the muttering of Yamato's name, her face growing warmer then before. That urge to just crumple onto the slightly dampened cement pathways of her apartment complex surfaced fast and hard. How exactly was she supposed to deal with her said-object of affections when he was currently waiting in the room next over?

Perhaps he wouldn't talk to her, she assured silently, perhaps he would say a quick hello and then turn back to the television.

She gulped away the sudden flow of farce excuses and hopes that had accumulated in her throat, knowing damn-well that he wouldn't just say hello and in all probability that he would talk to her.

And she would just have to deal with it, whether she liked it or not.

The eighteen-year-old felt her eyes widen as she felt something soft brush against the flesh of her cheek, wrenched from her inner-musings. Disappointment unknowingly settled across her being as she discovered it was merely Tai, of who muttered another good-bye before stepping past her, ambling down the hallway.

Hikari sighed at that, scowling at her silly thoughts as she entered the port of the apartment. She absently shut the door behind her, awaiting the familiar click before coming further into the dwelling.

She had only managed one step into the living room when her movements stilled together all at once.

The Wolves lead singer was sprawled along the couch, one hand tucked behind his head while the other gripped the tiny remote control, half-heartedly flicking through the television channels. He wore a pair of pleasantly tight blue jeans, a snug short-sleeved white shirt encasing his upper-half.

It was casual and comfortable, yet oozing that ever-cool air so innately Yamato Ishida.

The blonde glanced away from the television screen, eyes widening at his sight of her. He flashed her one of those grins as he absently shut off the television set across from him.

"I'm guessing you got back from work." He remarked, pulling himself up into a sitting position as he propped his feet onto the coffee table placed before the sofa.

"How'd the photos come out?"

Hikari blushed something fierce, reaching up with a trembling hand to push her loose strands away from her face, tucking the thick stuff behind her ears. She swallowed, and then gulped; nothing at all seeming to get that nervous thing of uncertainty that was efficiently messing with all of her senses.

Her mouth was bone-dry, everything melting into a repulsive grey color and nerves gone cold and numb.

A struggling moment, a shuddering breath and then she had finally managed to fathom her voice once more.

"It was fine except for yours."

She could have mentally beaten herself to a bloody pulp right at that moment, visibly cringing at her own choice of horrible wording. It was The Wolves, not he personally, The Wolves. But there was little to say now, since Yamato's brow lifted in stunned question, mouth opening to say something.

"She says I need more of the band," She quickly spout, cutting off the male from speech and trying her best to keep her blood flow through her lower-half instead of her face.

"More up-close shots and stuff."

The twenty-one-year-old smirked at that, settling into the cushions of the sofa with a confident sigh, hands clasping at the back of his head.

"Well of course you need more shots of us, we're The Wolves." He stated with an all-knowing kind of air, casting the female a contented stare.

"Would you mind if I saw the old shots?"

Hikari nodded twice, legs eagerly closing the distance between the two and handing the blonde her portfolio. As he opened the large case, his gaze lifted back up to the brunette, stare questioning.

"You can sit you know, I don't bite." He teased softly, the corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous grin as he patted the vacant spot at his left.

"That is, unless, you want me too."

On any other occasion she would've found that comment disgusting and a grand turn-off, but spilling out from Yamato's mouth…it sounded all too appealing. The key factor of him being a charmer was spat out viciously and loudly in her head, over and over, as she frantically fought the sudden flutter of tingling sensations from her stomach.

She swallowed, for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day, as she carefully took seating next to the older male. She crossed one leg over the other, folded her hands onto her lap and quietly awaited his next words.

It seemed to drag on for eternity, the blonde pouring over the images with great care, brow puckering slightly in something uncertain. He seemed neither appalled nor happy by them, only examining them with practiced indifference.

For some reason, Hikari found his opinion far more imperative then that of any fashion magazine.

He suddenly gathered the photos back into a neat stack, setting the glossy papers back into its container with a single photo remaining in his grasp. He suddenly moved in dangerously close to the younger girl's face, lips a wavering moment away from her ear.

"Care to tell me what this one is for?"

The fact that his voice had become eerily, mind-shatteringly sultry was the first thing to come to mind; right after the fact she had Yamato Ishida's lips practically grazing the flesh of her ear. The air was entirely comprised of his potent scent, her nerves a flame with his intake and outtake of breath and her throat had swelled shut, lungs constricting due to the lack of air.

Her eyes focused then refocused, trying her best to discern the photo he was talking about. It took about a full five minutes before finally making out the lines of the image, her face burning even more then she thought possible when she realized which one it was.

It was a photo of Yamato and only him, his head tilted away slightly away from the camera lens with an unabashed, unconscious smile across his face. It was a candid shot, obviously, of a close-up of the side-view of his face, his golden locks falling rakishly about his head without a whim of uniformity.

It was a beautiful picture, in Hikari's mind, one she had taken upon her own personal will and for her own personal care. She had intended to keep that one at home but must have forgotten in her rushed movements earlier that morning to set it aside. And now she was going to have to explain the very questionable photo to the said object.

Another gulp.

"I-I ha-had one ph-photo left for the roll." The eighteen-year-old managed to say, wanting to sink away into the cushions beneath her at that current moment.

She prayed with every ounce of her being that God would spare her any more deeply embarrassing moments for the rest of the day. The lack of blood flow to the rest of her body was seriously beginning to take a medical toll on the girl, her head growing light and dizzy.

He was silent for a moment, which seemed far longer in the brunette's mind, as he contemplated her response. He bit the corner of his lip in tortured debate and thus forming the sexiest expression Hikari ever came across.

Ever.

Then, he sighed, unaware of the sudden gush of warmth that kissed the eighteen-year-old's golden-tanned flesh.

"Well, I look good." He stated with a nod of the head, pulling away as he re-situated himself on the comfortable sofa they sat upon.

"In fact, I'd have to say I look downright…"

And the words came out before she could think.

"Sexy."

That die-on-the-spot urge from prior paled into comparison as to what she felt now, whatever she felt now. If she had known taking this internship would make her life a living, breathing, walking hell; she wouldn't have taken it in the first place!

She missed the days when she could casually wave at Yamato without the slightest qualm, without dissecting each and every word that managed to roll out off his wonderfully, pleasantly, deliciously full kissable lips.

Which were now hovering perilously over her own…wait, what? Hikari had to blink several times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating and only felt herself cringe when she found out she wasn't.

In the small time between her inadvertently clarifying Yamato's sexiness and going into a severe mental lashing, the man in question had closed nearly all the distance between the two.

He held the strangest look on his face; confusion, horror, a twinge of disgust (at her, no less) and…pleasure?

Without question, her day had gone from bad to worse.

-:-

KoumiLoccness: Haha, first off, I love your screename. And second off, I added a bit of Mimi/Koushi just for you. ;P But, it's primarily going to be YaKari. I do thank you deeply for the review! Hope you keep reading!

Aizlynn: I'm so delighted to find out old readers came back! Thank you for reviewing! I'll try and post faster ;P

Crest Of Music: Okay, you are the sweetest damn person I ever met. Your review is so touching and I'm glad you came back to this story. I hope I can fulfill your expectations and keep you reading!

BandGeek99: I'm so glad to hear I have you intrigued by a YaKari. Hopefully, I keep you intrigued xD And I was skimming your profile and you love Tom Felton (Draco Malfoy) as well? :D Uhm, consider yourself my new best friend. lol (I really hope you continue reading this story after my very creepy statement prior . ) Uh...thank you so much for the review!

The Lost-Kitten: I'm so glad you enjoy this! As a write, I just get so delighted when others enjoy my stories; makes me feel like I'm doing something (lol, sorry for the cheesey-ness.) That and, I read your profile and you're from the UK? Lucky! I'm a sucker for their accents! xD

Mystical23: Dude, thanks for liking my story and writing structure! xD Some people say I tend to over-detail but eh, whatevs!

Thank you to all other reviewers and I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner in previous chapters, but I was so eager to post the chapters up!

Review (wonder what it feels like to be chopped up into millions of pieces? Yeah, you should definitely review or else...)