Author's Note: This might have been the fastest turnaround time I've had. From idea conception to completion: 7 hours, and Just a Dream, covered by Sam Tsui & Christina Grimmie on repeat.

Dedicated to all those out there who meet the right one at the wrong time.

Piyo Gala, 10:17 PM.

She was lonely.

By nature, Mikan Yukihara, the glamorous starlet, wasn't meant to be a lonely person. Surrounded constantly by family, friends, fans, she rarely had a chance to be alone, and as the child of two world-famous actors, she had grown up accepting the fact. She absolutely abhorred the feeling of loneliness, and most days, she replaced it as soon as she could with human interaction or the imitation of such through videos, movies, songs, social media.

But, standing on the balcony beneath the twinkling stars of the summer night sky and the bustle of the gala behind her, Mikan relished in the sharp pain. Facing the sparkling city, she didn't need to force a mask on her face; for the first time in weeks, she allowed her sadness to leave an imprint on her usual smiling face.

She allowed herself to cry.

"Mikan, are you okay?" Yuka Yukihara, her manager and mother, approached, never more than two steps behind Mikan at all times.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just having a cry." Long ago, she had learned it was easier to be a little bit transparent than to completely lie; throw them a crumb of truth so others couldn't see the whole facade, admit to the minor wrongdoings so she could hide the bigger mistakes.

"Aww, anything I can do for you?" The older woman came up next to her daughter and squeezed her shoulder in a half-hug.

Mikan began wiping the tears from her cheeks. "No, no, I just… need to be by myself right now."

"Okay, but when you don't want to be alone anymore, you just let me know, okay?" Yuka acted as her manager, but she also knew when it was time to be a mother. She, too, had grown up in the fame's limelight.

"Thank you." Mikan sniffed, only partially ashamed to have been caught by her mother. "I know you wanted to be home early tonight so we can leave soon."

"You're an angel, Mikan," she tapped the brunette on the nose, "and you look cute as a button."

"Thank you." That time, Mikan mustered a genuine smile. Usually, she had a whole team of stylists dictating her wardrobe, but that night, she had pulled out a simple black-and-white polka-dotted gown, formal enough to be appropriate for the evening but playful enough to remind her of happier days.

"I'll start saying my goodbyes. Are you in the mood to say goodbye, too?"

Mikan shook her head. "I'll just leave whenever you do."

Yuka smiled and left her daughter to her own devices. Through the open doors, Mikan saw the glitz of the gala, the stunning gowns and the falsified airs of sophistication, and she turned away.

Piyo Gala, 10:23 PM.

Natsume Hyuuga had grown accustomed to galas and balls and parties. In his early acting days, he preferred to stay home and let his manager and publicist do the heavy lifting for his reputation, but as he grew older, he understood these events to be useful in boosting his network.

After all, how many offers had he received because he had been in the right place at the right time?

How many times had he met the right person?

He mulled over this internal question, absentmindedly looking over the shoulder of his blathering publicist, thinking about…

A flash of brown hair.

A polka-dotted gown.

A silhouette so familiar he could have traced it into the earth, erected statues in its shape.

"Mikan," he breathed, too quiet for anyone to possibly hear, and before he had even blinked, she was whisked away.

Tachibana Studios, 1:11 PM.

Ema carefully arranged the flowers in Mikan Yukihara's dressing room one last time. Recently hired as an assistant, she wanted to do her best to impress the actress, knowing this temporary position could lead to greater opportunities.

Even more so, she wanted (needed) to impress Mikan's fearsome manager, Yuka Yukihara, who carried her own fair share of renown. The probationary training had been intense; Ema had memorized countless daily schedules, learned how to navigate three different computer systems, practiced calls to book appointments and cars and meals, and much more.

As expected, Yuka blew into the dressing room like a tornado, immediately spotting the lack of snacks, the displacement of the costumes, the visibility of Mikan's medication. The other staff, make-up artists and stylists, busied themselves with their own tasks, not daring to look the powerful woman directly in the eye.

Only Ema, the fool, stood there in the midst of the chaos.

"Run to set five and grab some of the food there. Wait, before you do that, shift this rack over a meter to the left. Do you want Mikan to trip as soon as she enters? For God's sake, Mikan's health is a private matter, put these bottles in the drawer, and I don't want to see them out in the open again! And no more red lipstick, we're using nudes this season."

Ema nearly cowered beneath the mighty authority, but knowing better than to stay frozen for too long, she scrambled to rectify all her errors, trailing behind Yuka like a clean-up crew.

Taking one last look around the room, Yuka nodded at all the corrections and caught sight of the magazines, some light reading, that Ema had left for Mikan.

Yuka's eyes blazed once more.

"No, no, take this magazine away, throw it away, burn it, eat it, just get rid of it! If I see anything like it ever again in this room, you're fired!"

She thrust the accused magazine into Ema's arms, nearly pushing her over.

"What's going on?" Fresh out of filming, Mikan still wore the costume from the latest drama series where she played an innocent woman caught in her best friend's murderous scheming.

Yuka got straight to business, skipping over Ema's blunders. "Nothing, just briefing the new assistant on how to organize your schedule for the month."

"And what do I have coming up?" Mikan plopped down in her chair, her make-up artists getting right to work on touching up her face, and picked up a magazine to flip through. Ema clutched the forbidden magazine behind her back.

"This week, you wanted to give yourself a little vacation so you've got Paris Fashion Week with Sumire and Wakako. After that, you have the Centown Awards on Friday night. They called and wanted to let you know that they will be including a tribute to Narumi since he passed on recently."

Yuka took a moment of silence to honor his memory, the man who had cast Mikan in her first big role, who had taught her daughter how to move on-screen, who had mentored her.

Mikan stared at her reflection in the mirror and said softly, "Yes, he was a good man, like an uncle to me."

Mikan wanted to cry again.

Yuka sensed it was, once again, time to leave her daughter alone. "Okay, enough with her make-up, let's give Mikan a break. Honey, do you want to take something right now?"

With her eyes, she glared pointedly at Ema and then at the door.

Knowing she had been dismissed, Ema scurried away and took a deep breath once she was outside, leaning against the wall. The first day, and she almost got in trouble!

She took another look at the magazine still in her hands and wondered what could have caused such a fuss.

Heartbroken Kusami Caught Partying on Island

Natsume Hyuuga: Finally Engaged?!

Hotaru Imai Shares Booty-Busting Workout Routine

Centown Awards, 8:14 PM.

"Natsume."

"Polka," he seemed to shake off his surprised trance. "I mean, hello, Mikan."

Although stunned by his presence at her table at the Centown Awards, Mikan still had the sense of mind to act natural. She slid off her mink coat, draping it on the back of her chair, self-conscious of how stylish and elegant in her form-fitting, floor-length black silk gown.

She looked most fashionable in red, but she hadn't worn red in a long time.

Mikan sat down and couldn't quite meet his eyes, opting to grab a flute of champagne and to look rather at his broad shoulders, his vibrant red tie that matched his eyes, his slicked-back hair.

Ever so sharp, he noted the empty seats next to her. "Kusami not coming?"

Mikan's hesitance to broach the subject of romantic relationships battled her ingrained training to be polite. Slightly eager to maintain a friendly demeanor, she answered truthfully, "Kusami and I went separate ways a few weeks back."

"Ah, I see. Sorry to hear that. You both looked… happy." The last word tumbled out of Natsume's mouth like an unfortunate hairball.

Mikan nodded, acknowledging his comment but not trusting herself to speak.

And you? And you? And you?

The question nearly slipped out, her curiosity flaring, overwhelming her.

She knew her mother, subtle as she was, had banned any mention of Natsume from Mikan's life. In fact, it was a strange and rare oversight that Natsume and Mikan had been seated at the same table together. Maybe, finally, at long last, they could reconcile.

And you?

Two little words, only one second of courage required.

"The gang's back together again!"

Koko Yome arrived, and the atmosphere immediately lightened.

Sumire Shouda followed closely behind, greeting Natsume with a nod and Mikan with a kiss on her cheek. "Yeah, they wanted us all together because there's a really touching montage of Narumi so they wanted to get all our reactions together."

The others arrived soon after, and Mikan busied herself with greeting her former cast members, though she was still in touch with all of them. Except one.

They took a moment of silence for the man who had guided them through the awkward first stages of adolescence and fame. They had grown up together, on screen and on set. Most of them had been 10 when they were casted (Koko the youngest at 8, and Sumire the oldest at 11), and the popularity of the franchise had brought years worth of work. The audience saw transformations and glow-ups galore.

It was almost funny in an ironic way how most of them grew up to embody the personality of their characters.

Koko had started stand-up comedy because his character did.

Sumire had become involved with fashion because her character did.

Hotaru had learned to engineer because her character did.

Ruka had learned how to care for animals because his character did.

Anna had started a bakery because her character did.

Nonoko had dabbled into chemist work because her character did.

And Mikan and Natsume… Sometimes, the lines between acting and reality had blurred for them.

All throughout the opening ceremony, Mikan fidgeted, nervous to look anywhere in Natsume's direction but knowing she had to eventually, if only to act cool and unbothered by his presence.

"As we all know, one of the most beloved members of our community passed this year, leaving behind a beautiful family and a lasting legacy. We would like to honor his memory with a tribute of all the wonderful experiences he has imparted on the world."

First, they played clips of his early works: musicals and plays. A poorly concealed cameraman conspicuously placed himself in front of their table, training the giant camera lens on each of their faces.

After a minute of watching, Mikan's throat closed up. For the sake of the camera, she stayed in her seat, allowing her sadness and her grief to show, allowing her eyes to well up. Delicately, she pressed her fingers to her mouth as if to choke back emotion - or a scream.

Pictures and behind-the-scenes videos started of Alice Academy, the show that had sparked all of their careers. Other actors and actresses sighed, and Mikan could feel their eyes pricking her skin.

Mikan recognized every single video; after all, she had been the one who shot the majority of them. She had been a goofy girl back then, second only to Koko in smiles and laughter and jokes.

There they were, throwing food at each other, studying in their trailer, pulling pranks on the older actors, visiting a farm, playing with the snake from season two, the dance-off from season five, the festival from season seven.

All together.

She had been happy then.

The video ended, and everyone clapped. After a brief moment, after the emcee had moved on to the next order of business, Mikan politely excused herself from the table.

Outside in the hallway, where only servers bustled around, she took a moment to breathe. She leaned her forehead against the wall, she closed her eyes, she counted in her head, she focused on her rhythm, and yet she still couldn't help but wonder if maybe she should take something.

With a great sigh, she turned around and leaned against the wall, startled to find a Natsume Hyuuga standing in the hallway, less than five feet from her. He examined the wallpaper, fingers tracing the pattern.

"I don't like being around such a big hullabaloo anyway."

"Hullabaloo?" A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

Natsume let out a soft exhale that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "It's just one of those words I've picked up."

From who? From who? From who?

Trying her best to calm down, Mikan managed to force out, "From Aoi?"

"Yeah, exactly. Studying for the university entrance exams."

"Oh." The thought of pure, precious Aoi studying, working hard to find her own way, to better herself, caused a tsunami in her heart. Mikan hadn't seen Natsume's little sister in months. "Oh."

Mikan began to cry. Frantically, she pressed her palms against her eyes, but they kept leaking. She blinked up at the ceiling and fanned her hands. "I - I'm so - sorry."

Natsume looked concerned, but he did not say anything to stop her tears. Instead, he came closer and stood next to her, leaning against the wall behind them and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He didn't look at her, for which she was grateful and made her cry even harder, opting to look just about anywhere but her.

What an odd pair they must have made: Mikan Yukihara, blubbering and bawling, and Natsume Hyuuga, standing stoically by her side and staring off into the distance.

Former lovers.

It had never been a publicity stunt as rumored by most. On the show, they were written to be star-crossed lovers, a slow romance burning until they finally got together in the season finale of season four, and somehow it became real.

All those years of holding hands, snuggling up together, calling each other nicknames, teasing each other, kissing each other…

The media used to call them many names: twin flames, soul mates, relationship goals, power couple, end game, Team Natsumikan.

And at the end, they had called them by only one: doomed.

It simply had not been the right time for them. Nothing bad happened; there was no cheating, no other person, no fighting, no belittlement, no forgotten anniversary, no withdrawal, no "falling out of love," nothing of the sort.

One day, they were together; the next they were not.

And the last three years had consisted of them trying to figure out how to exist without the other.

Natsume stood quietly by her side until the waterworks stopped and were reduced to a small sniffle. Mikan pulled a handkerchief out from her clutch, bypassing the tiny pill bottle, and wiped her face.

Without speaking and without looking, Natsume imperceptibly extended his hand towards Mikan, the movement so slight, it barely registered as a twitch.

But Mikan knew, after years of concealing their affection from the paparazzi.

There was no mistaking what he offered, his fingers curled innocently, his palm facing outward, open for Mikan.

The tips of their fingers barely grazed one another, but knowing the other was there brought immense comfort to both of them.

"I'm miserable," mumbled Mikan, "I always want to cry, and I can't seem to be happy anymore."

I was happy with you, I would be happy with you now

Natsume's heart thudded in a similar fashion.

Be happy with me, with me, with me; be with me

But he could not dangle such false hopes, for either of them; instead, he opted for practicality, anything he could do to make her life easier and better.

"Are you still seeing Dr. Serio?"

"Yes, and he keeps prescribing things, but they always have such bad side effects."

"You'll work through them, I know you can. You're strong."

"Reo's tough and says my voice should be better by now.

"Reo's an asshole and uses autotune. Don't listen to him."

"He's the best in the business."

"Only because he's overhyped. You should talk to Toma."

"I was thinking about you the other day."

"I was, too. I saw you at the Piyo gala."

"You did?"

"Mhmm, right when you were leaving."

How could they have fallen so far? A couple once in the limelight, a couple who had graced multiple magazine covers, a couple who had made so many believe in true love, reduced to whispering clandestinely in the hallway.

"Mikan!" Her assistant called out to her. Mikan had been gone too long, and she knew the new one would report her absence and her moments with Natsume to her mother.

Withdrawing her hand from his, she stepped away from the wall and passed him.

He watched her go. "Bye, Polka."

She smiled wryly. "Bye, Natsume."

Tokyo, 12:01 AM.

Mikan woke up slowly, reality and fantasy blurred. As she sat up in the dark, she tried to sort out and process everything that had happened. Her skin tingled as it had in her dream, and she felt absolutely electric, a drowsy ecstasy overtaking her senses.

She and Natsume… Together again.

It had always been a love so fragile and exquisite. Mikan trembled with wonder and awe, remembering how it had felt like, so simple, to be with Natsume, remember how it felt in her dream to be able to reach and touch Natsume once more.

"Just a dream," she mumbled, laying her head back down on her pillow.

And it would only be a dream; the universe itself had declared it to her.

Tokyo, 12:01 AM.

Natsume no longer dreamt so when he did for the first time in years, he took it as a sign from the universe, a vision to unfold.

He startled awake, caught by the intense electricity buzzing in his body, as the clear and vivid scenes replayed in his mind, unable to move on.

He and Mikan… Together again.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, before his courage could fail him, he followed the directions of his instincts. The urge to fulfill the fantasy, to make his dream real, compelled him to turn on the light and reach for his phone.

Call her now now now

She had always been the right person; of that, he was most certain.

Mikan Yukihara (he wanted to scream her name from the rooftops) was the right person for him; they had just found each other at the wrong time. Everything in the universe had lined up nearly perfectly, but it had not been enough: right place, right person, wrong time.

And now, it was the right time.

Natsume called.