A/N: i know the update's late... :I apologizing sounds lame so I won't.

Major exams are coming... and i haven't studied... 0.0

+++F O U R+++

Luka had slept peacefully that night. Maybe it was because of the warm fuzziness in her chest from the alcohol last night, or the soft fabric and comfortable bed she'd slept in. Either way, her sleep even though a few hours short was restful. And that moment, she was simply marvelling at the heavenly comfort she was subjected like a baby resting in a crib. Her sleep-fogged mind didn't register or remember what had happened that previous night or that she was sleeping in somebody else's bed. She was simply content to prolong her stay under the warm covers. During mornings, manners and useless thoughts never enter a person's mind since the mind is technically still half-asleep and would take a small while to fully function.

Luka blinked when she decided to get out of the bed and noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. Her memories entered slowly before her mind processed the information. She was in Miku's place. Twisting her head sharply to look at the other side of the bed, she noticed it was empty with the sheets tossed aside messily. Like Miku couldn't be bothered to straighten the blankets herself. If Luka had noticed something about the other girl, it was that the artist had OCD when it comes to order.

After what had happened last night, the creepy stalker-like behaviour she displayed at the living room Luka decided to be a good guest and fix the bed. When she was done, she hesitated of going out of the room. Meeting Miku again felt weird with the image burned in her mind. God, she wished it was just a dream. A weird dream. Luka had never been shy before. She was proud. But the heavy nervous feeling she was currently drowning in was foreign to her. And to add in, she didn't know why.

Just get it over with she thought to herself as she opened the door slowly. Steeling her nerves, she peeked out and was greeted by silence. A sigh escaped her as she walked out of the bedroom and padded through the living room. Luka had never seen the whole place last night and never had the time to study it closely. And under the morning sunlight she was surprised by how bare and vacant it was, too sterile. Even her small apartment was appearing to be a better place, even though it was a little messy. At least, her place looked like someone was living in it.

The lack of furniture in the living room unnerved the pink-haired woman. Hoping that the kitchen has a warmer appeal, she sought it out. It wasn't any better, if anything it was worse. Bare shelves, empty cupboards and drawers greeted her. Aside from an upturned glass on a saucer and the humming refrigerator, Luka would have thought no human was living here.

Luka remembered that she had lecture this morning and searched for a clock. Her deep blue eyes landed on a clock displaying a false time. Damn, not even a working clock. Luka went into the bedroom and into the adjacent bathroom, looking for her cell phone. Last time she remembered, it was in her jean's pocket. After an arduous task of searching for a laundry bin, she realized Miku didn't have one. Instead she saw her dirty clothing neatly folded with her phone on top of it. Who the hell folds other people's dirty laundry?

Picking up the phone and flipping it open, she sighed in relief. She still had three hours before she had to leave for school. Now that her initial worry was gone to keep her preoccupied, she didn't know what to do next. She still hasn't seen the shorter girl and the flat was too silent. Her feet led her to the living room and Luka draped herself on the couch to call the key keeper.

When the keeper had promised to open her apartment door for her in an hour, Luka watched the weather channel in the telly. A sunny day, the forecaster promised with a morning smile.

Luka's stomach growled and she hoped it wasn't loud. She had decided to wait for Miku to come back from god-knows-where and not raid her fridge. The doorbell rang and Luka wondered if there was anyone coming by to visit the artist.

Opening the door slowly, Luka was surprised to see the golden haired guy from the Blonde's Diner. But her surprise was nothing compared to the shock in the boy's eyes who took a step back, eyes wide.

"Ah, did I get the right floor?" he muttered to himself as he looked to the side of the door and peered at the floor number, 18. Yep, he was in the right floor. He simply didn't expect the gorgeous pink-haired girl to greet him on his friend's doorstep.

"May I help you?" Luka asked kindly, a little awkward. That was when Luka noticed the take-out box the boy, Len (his nametag showed) was carrying.

"Uh, hello. The erm, breakfast that Miku ordered." Len stumbled out, shoving the package into Luka's hands. "I'll just put the payment in Miku's tab. Good morning to you!" he rushed as he walked away hurriedly.

Luka didn't even get to explain why she was staying at Miku's place. The golden haired boy must've thought something else. What would you think of seeing the gorgeous new tenant wearing your friend's shirt in her apartment so early in the morning? With *cue thriller music* the bed hair?

Luka mechanically put the warm food on the table and laid it out. Her thoughts still occupied about had just transpired. She was quite surprised to see her usual lion's share full of tuna delicacies and another composed of pancakes, a tub of onion flavoured butter and a pack of sauce. As hungry as she was, Luka knew she had to wait for the artist. Where was she anyway?

When Luka was bored out of her mind, she decided to investigate. That led her in front of a door she had never noticed before. Was this the room on the other side of that bathroom? She thought curiously. Placing her hand around the knob, she turned it. The door didn't even creak or make a single sound as it slid open, revealing colourfully stained floor and soundproofed walls. Leaning on the walls were numerous canvases, some draped with a thick cloth while some were just lying around in the open.

Luka could tell why the floors were stained what she didn't understand was the soundproofed walls. That was until her eyes found an electric guitar resting on a stand and an amplifier next to it. Like everything else in the room, the musical equipment was also covered in acrylic colours but instead of making it look dirty, it looked characteristically Miku. It involuntarily bought a smile to the pink-haired woman's lips.

Luka studied the pieces closely, they were mixed styles. Some were displaying vibrant colours that screamed gentle warmth and happiness while others were so darkly-themed that you'd stare at it hypnotically, mesmerizingly sad and horrifyingly beautiful. Luka stared at that portrait, her jaw slack as her blue eyes roamed the darkly painted canvas. Broken glass jutted out of the canvas, painted over with dark blue and purple and it portrayed a dark transparent shadow over a feminine face that was looking up with hands over her mouth. As if stopping a scream. The woman in the portrait looked desperate for escape; her neck was exposed, multiple hands pushing her down. What Luka stared at were the glassy eyes filled with pleading helplessness.

Eyes the colour of shadowed turquoise.

Luka's mouth was dry when she forcefully dragged her eyes away from the heart-wrenching picture. That piece seemed too personal to the painter and Luka was ashamed to have seen it without permission. She felt like she had violated a law, like she had committed a mortal sin. In a way, she knew she had.

Walking through the maze of stacked canvases, Luka saw a figure working on a painting. It was like Miku knew exactly where to put her brush, where to use her fingers and spread a certain colour. The artist was so into what she was doing that she didn't notice the intruder watching her intently. Or her work-in-progress.

It was incomplete and Luka could have figured it out before the artist turned her head towards her direction. Luka stammered a series of apologies and bowed repeatedly, not daring to glance at the teal-haired girl's expression.

"It's okay." Miku responded in a rather soft voice, one Luka has never heard of. It wasn't the indifferent voice she was used to. Looking up Luka saw Miku glancing at the clock before sighing, "I'm sorry, Len must've delivered the food by now…"

"It's in the kitchen." Luka said as she mentally breathed out in relief. Miku was not mad. But guilt gnawed at her conscience. Of course she's not mad, she hadn't seen you watching that particular painting. If she knew…

Luka swallowed nervously as she followed Miku out of the door, careful not to look too curious at a certain painting among the many in display.

Miku hadn't been able to sleep well. Not because she had a guest staying in, and sleeping beside her. But because of the sensation in her stomach and the weird buzz humming in her chest. She couldn't put a finger to the feeling but at the moment her head hit the pillow she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully. Yet she was too tired. Just a few hours and I'll figure this out.

When the feeling has gotten unbearable, Miku got out of the bed hurriedly by the time she recognized the feeling. They always felt different. Each was unique yet somehow they were the same. They all give her that feeling that she could do anything. Miku wants to paint. She needs to. It was the only way to sate the pleasant burn.

The artist was blind to what she doing. She didn't care what her hands and fingers were doing as she was just letting her body go into the flow of inspiration. She was vaguely aware her hands were mixing red and cobalt blue together and it turned into a dark shade of purple. The colour needed to darker so she added more blue into the messy mixture. Shadows needed to be emphasized because it gives more depth into the picture, the moment. It makes it more real.

Each finger has a designated colour when smudging or spreading. When Miku looked at her hands, noticing she need to add another colour but lacking the finger she washed her hands and wiped it with a rag. She was surprised when she was adding a thin layer of pink, very light pink and it appeared to glow amongst the shadows in the canvas. Deciding not to question her instinct, she led her mind away from reasons or excuses. Those things weren't important. It was just the artist and the art, no one else.

When her stomach rumbled, the artist paused and realized that she hasn't eaten dinner last night. Putting down the foil she was using as the paint plate, she cleaned her hands off any paint and took out her phone to order a heavy breakfast. Remembering that she had a guest sleeping in, she added the only thing she saw the certain girl eat from last time. She wouldn't be complaining if I feed her tuna, would she?

When that was out of the way, she returned to her project and stared at it. Like all her other works, they evoked too much troublesome emotions. Miku had never known how to deal with her feelings, especially the strong ones. If love had a colour, Miku would use pink. It was light, soft and soothing to the chest but clearly too strong for her. The stronger the emotion, the more troublesome they are to deal with. The only way for Miku to get rid of the strong ones was to paint it away and drain it from her. Sometimes screaming it all in songs helps too. Whichever she needed during her moments.

Lost and deep in thought, Miku continued with what she doing. She was in the 'zone'. Her concentration was completely focused with the swirling colours in front of her. She couldn't hear anything, or do anything else not related to the matter at hand. Her brother had commented about this part of her personality. He'd said it made her unwaveringly loyal to what she was doing. It was like nothing else existed.

The artist could feel the drive start to ebb away. And she was beginning to feel the drowsiness creeping up on her but Miku felt accomplished. Even if the painting was half-done, she knew the result would be beautiful. She didn't know where the sudden inspiration came from and the artist wasn't about to question it. All she cared about was that she did what she could, and now sleep would be no problem for her. But first, she needed to eat.

Turning around, she saw Luka standing a few feet away, with a clear view of her work. Miku, who was pleasantly tired from what she'd accomplished decided to let her off the hook. The studio was her private room but right now, in this moment, she couldn't find the ugly betrayed feeling in her heart. She couldn't bring herself to scold the taller woman, for barging inside the deepest crevasses of Miku's subconscious or better known as the studio. Before she could greet the taller girl, Luka had bowed repeatedly and started to apologize profusely.

Miku's lips twitched upward, "it's okay…"

"There's a question I've been meaning to ask." Luka started as both of them cleared the table.

"What is it?" Miku asked as she dumped the dishes on the sink and soaked them with water.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I just need to get it out of my system." Luka said as she tried to emphasize that she wouldn't mind if the artist didn't answer her upcoming inquiry. "How long have you been in here, in this apartment?" the taller woman waved around the unfilled apartment. Luka knew the question was a little prying but figured it was worth asking. The emptiness of the place was weird even to her.

Miku looked up and stared at Luka, trying to gauge the taller girl's intent. "Quite some time. Two years or so, when I graduated high school." The artist replied as she looked down at the dishes.

"How old are you?"

"You're asking an awful lot of questions." Miku stated stiffly as she started to wash the dirty utensils.

"I'm curious. If it makes you feel better, you can ask me anything." Luka shrugged. She wanted to understand Miku and if the teal-haired girl asked any question, she'd answer it wholeheartedly. It wasn't like Luka had anything worth keeping, aside from a few of her dirty secrets. As far as Luka could tell, she was dreadfully normal, painfully ordinary. She was just another college girl taking Music as a degree, supported by her parents.

"I'm eighteen."

Luka's head snapped to the artist's direction. "Eighteen? For real?" she exclaimed incredulously. "And you own this flat? What were you, sixteen, when you had this place?" She spread her arms to cover the vastness of the entire floor.

"I graduated high school at sixteen. The name written in the legal contract was my brother's name but he gave it to me as a graduation present." Miku explained simply.

"You graduated at sixteen?" Luka said with wide eyes.

"I skipped two year-levels, if that's what you meant."

Luka stared at the teal-haired girl, "What's your IQ?"

"Hundred forty-nine."

"…"

A/N: Before you guys think that paint splattered shirts are stylish, they are not. Honestly, the paint is such a pain in the behind to clean! They get stuck between fabrics and wouldn't come off! D: Washing my favourite jeans covered in colourful paints was enough to discourage me from being lazy when you could just change into your normal clothes in less than a minute with no hassle.

So if you see a person with a shirt splattered with paint, they're not trying to be stylish or cool. But because they couldn't wash it off but wear it anyway!

Even I wear my faded shirts to school... =_=

PLEASE REVIEW~