November 1st, 20xx
The grey toned atelier beamed with the illumination of strategically placed lights that highlighted the single round podium in the center of the room, surrounded by immaculate mirrors.
"You've slimmed down a bit from the last time."
The attendant remarked as she combed through the draped tulle layers that flared out from her petite waist with experienced hands. Michiru didn't respond, staring lifelessly at her reflection. The silken, heart-shaped bodice melted into every contour and curve of her body, with her shoulders left bare and the sharp shape of her collarbone distinctly protruding from her milky skin.
She was a perfect vision in white.
"Oh my, isn't she just lovely?"
The smartly dressed attendant finished making her final measurements and fluffing the numerous layers of the dress before making a quick and polite exit as the two mothers entered, cooing.
"I must meet Vera and thank her for how beautifully she designed the dress."
"Oh but the dress is only half the image. It wouldn't look half so good if Michiru weren't as beautiful as she is."
Michiru tuned them out, fixating on the shape of her collarbone and tracing out the figure of her skeleton with cold eyes.
"- It'll look so much better once Michiru's hair is black again, can you just imagine it already?"
At this, Michiru finally broke from her reverie, turning sharply to look at her mother whose eyes flashed a silent warning.
"With how long it's gotten, I think it'd be best to leave her hair down, don't you?"
"Well she has such a long neck, wouldn't it be better to highlight..."
She turned back to the mirror, her apathy restored and moved onto examining the small, intricate lacing on her bodice that had undoubtedly taken an unimaginable amount of hours to stitch. She ran a tentative hand over the luxurious Mikado silk, seeming to feel every miniscule ridge and seam embed itself into her hand which then curled into itself.
A parade of well dressed, older men slowly shuffled out of the expansive conference room with a small murmur of conversation.
Mamoru stood at the front of the room, fielding questions and shaking hands with the various directors of the Chiba Group with a professional smile on his face. One particularly distinguished looking man made his way to Mamoru, who quickly fell into a bow upon sighting him.
"Furuya-san, I hope today's presentation was to your liking."
The older man chuckled and nodded as Mamoru straightened.
"I've always admired Chairman Chiba for having such a competent son like you and today's meeting has only confirmed that. Things were looking precarious after the revelation of the leak, but your tireless work over the past few months has made the continuation of this venture possible. I have the utmost trust that you will lead this venture to success."
Mamoru bowed his head in deference at the flattering remarks of the CFO.
"It's a good thing that this is set to go live soon, isn't it? With your wedding coming up soon, I'm sure you want to finish everything so you can freely enjoy being with your new wife. I know how newlyweds are."
Mamoru politely smiled as the man cajoled him.
"With a beautiful and talented wife-to-be like Kaioh Michiru, I'm almost jealous of you myself, even though I've been happily married for over thirty years."
He roared in laughter before shaking his head good naturedly and walking away, leaving Mamoru behind in the now empty room.
Haruka stepped into the airport with black shades covering the tiredness that seemed to consume her entire body. Although her bodyguard was skilled enough to prevent the mass of paparazzi and fans from crowding her, there were persistent blinding flashes and excited chatter as they all seeked to gain a glance of the famous racer. Various slips of papers and posters were vigorously shaken at her, begging for a small piece of the racer through her autograph.
"Is it true that you will retire after this final Prix?" "How do you feel about the final Prix, given that the rankings are so close?" "Any comments on your subpar performance this season?" "How do you feel with the final Prix on the very circuit of your accident?
At the last shouted question, Haruka froze, her expression unreadable and obscured by her shades. The spectators took no notice as they continued to shout questions that seemed to blend into an unintelligible white noise in her mind.
Taking a deep breath that strained her chest muscles, Haruka walked briskly away from the crowd without a single word and finally got into the security of her car.
Usagi ran happily to her friends who were waiting in front of a fountain in the Juuban Shopping District. With beams and giggles, they entered one of the many clothing stores on the street and Usagi revelled in the pure fun she was having, simply hanging out with her friends
With the social work licensing exam coming up soon, she had been studying nonstop and this trip was a much-needed break from the brain-numbing monotony of studying.
Rei stepped out of the dressing room, somehow managing to look stylish in vintage flared trousers and a wide, scarlet headband. After an impressed round of applause, Rei went back in and Makoto came out in a flowery halter dress, twirling. The skirt billowed out around her and with a bashful smile, she stopped.
An appreciative chorus of sighs went around them and Ami replaced Makoto, coming out in a playfully chic two piece, the blue miniskirt hugging her thighs. They all wiggled their eyebrows suggestively at Ami who blushed and went back in.
Minako then sprang out from the curtains in a glamorous, scarlet dress that showed off every curve of her body and an excessively large mink coat, like the ones evil, rich mother-in-laws wore in dramas. They all let out a collective sigh and a shake of their heads before bursting into giggles.
Usagi came out cheerfully, wearing a fuku-like bolero over a white mini dress with a large pink ribbon at the back. She spread out her boot-clad legs and did a victorious V symbol with her fingers, and their laughter rang throughout the dressing room. Although it was Yoshiki Usui's latest design, it looked almost like a superhero costume rather than an outfit, which made their laughter even stronger.
Makoto ended up being the only one to like her outfit enough to buy it and they all paraded to the end of the line for the register. The line consisted of groups of girls, much like themselves, and as they waited, they couldn't help but hear the others' conversations.
"I heard her dress was hand-designed by Vera Wang herself!" "Zoisite's saying it must cost $30,000 at the very least!" "Oh my god, can you imagine how luxurious and beautiful the wedding's going to be?" "I'm not even the one getting married but I'm so excited!"
The four girls exchanged quick glances before Ami loudly spoke up, "Oh Minako-san, didn't you say you were looking for a cute makeup bag?"
"Oh, yeah! Usagi-chan, what do you think about this? Is it worthy for a future singer?" Minako vehemently asked her, holding up a glittering, rose gold pouch, "Or maybe I should get a cute one?"
She started digging into the bag section beside them, overwhelming Usagi with a variety of fruit-shaped, colourful, and sparkling bags. Usagi smiled brightly, "I think you should get this bunny one, isn't it soooo cute?"
The two mothers left the room and almost instantaneously, the attendant reentered, her hands quickly working through the numerous details of the dress and loosening it from Michiru's body.
Upon receiving a small nod, she left the room, leaving Michiru alone. The bindings now loosened and unhooked, Michiru pulled the dress away from her body and let it pool down to her ankles in a silken waterfall.
Why was it still so suffocating?
Michiru fell to her knees, her chest heaving up and down as if she had just submerged from a deep surface of water. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears that refused to spill, Michiru looked at the mirror and hated the despicable person she saw, the pathetic mess of a woman who was kneeling, dressed only in underwear and isolated in a mountain of pure white tulle.
Today, she'd be coming back but in two weeks, she'd be marrying Mamoru.
Michiru allowed herself one more second of vulnerability before pulling herself up, her arms wrapped tightly around her side. Without another glance at the discarded dress on the podium, Michiru strode out of the room with her head held high.
Mamoru collapsed into the chair, leaning over the glossy surface of the table with his face cupped in his hands. Taking a deep breath and massaging his tired eyes, he opened his eyes and the image of the room slowly became sharper in clarity. His arms fell in front of him on the table and he focused on just breathing.
In, out, in, out.
For the past six months, he had been living in a constant state of exhaustion, working tirelessly to salvage the efforts of his project after an untimely leak. Fatigue was just another part of his daily wardrobe that he wore with as much ease as he did his designer suits, and it was only upon close examination that one could see the cracks that were invading his perfect facade and threatening to shatter him.
Rare was the night when he was able to get more than a few hours of sleep and the spidery red veins in the whites of his eyes attested to that. Although Mamoru had always been of a lean muscular frame, without time to regularly exercise and eat, his muscles had become reduced with him filling out his suits just noticeably less.
It was only with his endless work that this project was now set to occur in just under two weeks, facing a six month delay. He'd called and met with endless foreign and domestic executives, pored over mountains of paperwork, and he'd barely had a second of thought to himself, let alone a chance to think about his upcoming wedding.
Their mothers had all too happily took on the role of planning the wedding, hiring all sorts of high-end planners, designers, chefs, and etc. It was for the best since he and Michiru had no such vested interest in it. Left to them, they would have gone to the courthouse and signed the legal documentation without any superfluous pomp and frill, or better yet, postponed the wedding to the point where they just didn't get married.
Pulling out his phone, Mamoru's thumb swiped across the screen until the list of missed calls greeted him. Bright red lettering stood out from the sea of numbers and names.
Tsukino Usagi (1)
Somehow the bright 1 made him feel worse than if she had bombarded his phone with an excessive amount of calls.
His phone suddenly began to vibrate and Mamoru was shaken from his brief moment of despondency. That was right. He had no time to drown himself in his sorrows. He needed to work.
Haruka hadn't been able to stop herself from purchasing a magazine on the plane.
"Everything You Need to Know About the Upcoming Chiba-Kaioh Wedding!"
Even as her mind screamed at her, her arm had somehow clutched the magazine and paid the flight attendant. Now it lay open on the marble countertop of her hotel kitchen (not the Kaioh Hotel).
Sipping a black cup of coffee that burned her throat on its way down, Haruka impulsively grabbed the magazine towards her, eyes viciously scanning the article.
She absorbed the information about the personally designed dress, the luxurious venue the grand wedding was to be held at, the exclusive list of Japan's elite who were to attend, and other such trivial details before chucking the magazine into the trash.
There was nothing about her.
Haruka let out a bitter laugh at the pathetic state she was reduced to, poring over gossip magazines for just one glimpse, one detail of the aqua haired woman who had crushed her heart ("You knew she was dating him right from the moment you met her. Whose fault is it really that you're this heartbroken" a sly voice nastily whispered in the back of her mind but Haruka ignored it).
Popping a few painkillers into her mouth in a futile attempt to lessen the throbbing of her chest, the bitter taste in her mouth intensified and when her phone rang, Haruka answered it almost gratefully.
"You have a charity function hosted by one of the Ferrari sponsors tomorrow evening. You need to look your best to represent Ferrari, do you understand?"
The brisk voice of her agent cut through the silence in her room and Haruka mindlessly voiced her understanding. Just two more weeks and she'd be done with everything and she could finally get over the ruthless woman who still held her heart despite her best efforts.
Usagi had excused herself to the (thankfully empty) bathroom, and now she stared at herself in the mirror. Tears spilled from her glittering eyes and she tried desperately to stop them.
"Stop it Usagi. You only knew him for a month, it makes no sense for you to still be heartbroken," her words sounded half hearted even to herself and she couldn't help but wonder if Endou-san, no Mamoru-san was hurting as much as she was.
Quickly redirecting her thoughts from that dangerous direction, Usagi wiped away her tears only for them to be replaced with new droplets. She really was a hopeless idiot, wasn't she.
There was a knock on the door and Minako's voice softly spoke, "Usagi-chan, can I come in?"
Urgently running cold water over her face to erase any signs of redness, Usagi happily opened the door and let Minako in.
"Sorry, I think I might have eaten too many takoyaki," she sheepishly laughed, "Did Mako-chan finish buying her dress?"
Minako didn't match Usagi's smile, and Usagi felt her words begin to falter under the blonde's steady gaze.
"What about your purse? Did you find something you can wear as a singer?"
"Usagi-chan, we all love you and we're worried. You don't have to force yourself to act happy," she ignored Usagi's bubbly words and finally, Usagi's facade fell to pieces around her, revealing the utter devastation she had felt for the past six months. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she began to open up in a light, trembling voice.
"I know it's silly but I can't bring myself to hate him. I keep wondering, does she know that he doesn't like bell peppers? Does she know that he has a weak stomach and can't eat too many sweet things but has an even weaker resolve and will eat too many sweet things just because he wants to make other people happy?"
"Does she know that when he really, truly smiles, the smallest hint of a dimple forms on his right cheek? Does she like the way his eyes light up when he's surrounded by roses? Does she know that he's a workaholic and he needs to be reminded to have fun once in a while so that his shoulders aren't constantly weighed down?"
Minako stared wordlessly at her, her heart aching for her friend. Even with her knowledge of Usagi's overly loving heart, she hadn't known that Usagi had fallen this deeply in love with Chiba Mamoru. Her hand clenched into a tight fist; if she ever met Chiba Mamoru, she'd give him a piece of her mind for hurting her innocent friend and inflict upon him a fraction of the pain he'd caused her.
"And then I realise that I only spent a month with him. She's been with him for seven years. She probably knows more about him than I do. How could our month together ever compare to that?"
"How could I ever mean as much to him as he does to me?" With this last whimpered question, Usagi dissolved into tears and fell to her knees, arms wrapping around herself amidst large, gasping sobs. Minako rushed towards her, hugging her fiercely and on the tiled floor of the clothing store's bathroom, Usagi wept all of her pent up heart break into the warm embrace of her friend.
November 1st, 20xx 7:00 PM
Even with their parents in full control of all wedding preparations, they still had an image to uphold and so tonight they were at the opening of a new art gallery. The couple stood, a measured distance between them, as they stared at an abstract canvas, its liberal uses of various colours blending into an altogether confusing and not particularly aesthetically pleasing painting.
'It looks like an elephant dancing happily with a bear!'
'I don't think the artist was quite going for that.'
'But isn't the beauty of art that it's free for interpretation? Everyone sees and interprets art differently based on their own experiences and the truly great pieces of art are those that everyone can connect to.'
The corner of Mamoru's mouth lifted in an imperceptible smile, feeling his exhausted eyes light up at the thought of the blonde. Usagi would definitely say something like that. Even when he didn't deserve it, she was cheering him up, he grimly mused.
Mamoru chanced a look to his side, feeling a final sense of disappointment when he was greeted with the sight of aquamarine tresses rather than blonde buns.
Thankfully Michiru herself was lost in the painting, and hadn't noticed Mamoru's momentary faux-pas.
'This looks like something a three year old could paint. It holds nothing to your paintings. So why don't we find something more interesting to do?'
'I will admit this particular painting isn't to my particular taste but in that case, would you be willing to become my canvas? I have a few new brushes I'd love to try on you'
Although no visible change could be detected in Michiru's face, a weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders as she relaxed in a way she hadn't since stepping foot into the gallery. She could just imagine Haruka's blushing and sputtering face, and the thought of it made her warm down to her core. A glance to her side quickly dispelled all such warmth as she examined the face of her fiance with the dispassionate gaze of an artist. After a moment, he noticed her gaze and seemed to guiltily startle.
At this, Michiru gave him a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. How pitiful they were. They were the two most luckiest people in Japan, privileged with unparalleled looks, talents, and wealth, and yet here they stood in front of an ugly painting, forsaken to a loveless marriage and futilely pining after the two people who really held their hearts.
"I quite like this piece," Michiru lilted, an undertone of sorrow in her voice before turning back to the piece that had allowed her to see and hear the blonde, at least in her imagination. Mamoru nodded in agreement as he lost himself in the brushstrokes of the painting and the blonde he'd never stopped yearning for.
For the rest of the night, the two stayed, fixated on the abstract painting no one else could bring themselves to like, an unending sea between them.
A/N: I couldn't help it. Here is the beginning of Part II, six months after the end of Part I.
Michiru's wedding dress is based off of Michaela Pratt's bespoke Vera Wang wedding dress in HTGAWM. I personally think Michiru would be better suited to a sleeker dress but right now, the moms are in control of everything. Bonus points (and perhaps a sneak peek?) to anyone who can match where all of the Inners' outfits came from!
I accidentally posted the chapter without the final section, I'm so sorry! It shows how even when M/M are together, they still can't help themselves from thinking about H/U. The italicised quotes didn't actually happen but are just M/M imagining what their lovers would say in this situation. Even though they empathise with each other, there's still this new distance/strain in their relationship because in the end, they don't want to marry each other (if that makes sense).
The next chapter really will not come until June 1st passes. As much as I enjoy writing this story (I'm so excited for future parts!), it takes more time than I can currently afford to give. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy this story!