DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.

Note: This fic is dedicated to BotheChicken and to Kyoko's No. 1 Grudge. YES THERE IS SMUT, so I'm happy to warn you that this is NSFW. There really isn't much of a plot to this. Have fun, ya'll.

Something Blue

Make of our hands, one hand
Make of our hearts, one heart
Make of our vows, one last vow
Even death won't part us now.

"Mo!"

Kanae shook her head and waved her hand at Kyoko's face. "Earth to Kyoko? Kyoko-chan?"

The girl in question looked over at her best friend, guilty at having been caught staring into outer space. Again. Guilty of thinking about him, again. Guilty of thinking about his kisses, his body, his smile when she should have been enjoying her last days as a single woman with her best friends. She supposed this meant she was a lewd woman, but she couldn't bring herself to be ashamed of it. She couldn't even pretend she'd been looking at the view outside the window of their penthouse suite.

"It's only been a few days."

Peeking out from her fringe of bright hair, Kyoko Mogami smiled sheepishly. "I know," she said. "But I miss him."

"Five days, Kyoko. Are you telling me you miss him after five days?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean—" Kyoko wanted him so badly it was a palpable ache in her body. She was afraid it was driving her crazy.

"You're getting married to him tomorrow, you know this, right?"

"I do."

"Save the 'I dos' for the ceremony. This is the last day you'll have as just one of us girls and I won't have you mooning over that pretty-boy any more than you already do."

"She can't help it," Chiori chimed in. "You know how they are."

"Oh Kuon, I love you so much," the girls said together.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh Kuuuuuuuuuuuoooooooooon," Chiori said.

"Ohhhhh Kyokooooooooooo," Kanae responded.

Kanae and Chiori faced each other and made kissy-faces, pretending to make out. "MMM mmmm MMmm."

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," Kyoko said. She was blushing a faint pink. "I mean…we're not that bad, are we?"

Her two LoveMe-mates looked at each other and began giggling—their mirth was infectious and Kyoko smiled despite herself.

"Honestly?" Chiori said.

"Yes, you're that bad," Kanae added. "Actually, you're worse."

"I mean, remember when we met?" Kanae opened the door of their hotel suite. They had to get going, and soon—they would barely make their lunch reservation on time as it was. In a perfect imitation of her best friend she said, "'I will never love again! I only live for revenge!'"

"Is it true that Lory invented the LoveMe section because of her?" Chiori asked.

"Hmph. Yes. The pink curse? All of it is her fault," Kanae replied. "Shachou told her she needed to regain the ability to love."

"You'd never know it," Chiori said. "The way she's acting—"

They both looked over at Kyoko, who was now blushing a bright red. "I— I mean," she stuttered.

Kanae took her by the arm and began marching her out to the hallway. "You know we love you, right?" she said.

"Yes," Kyoko muttered.

"Then come on," Kanae responded.

"Ok—"

Kanae huffed, but the look on her face was gentle. "And even I have to admit it…"

"Admit what?" Kyoko asked.

"That you two are probably bound in some awful, mythical, totally mushy, thoroughly embarrassing, red-thread-of-fate destiny thing." Kanae rolled her eyes but looked away. Though she'd never fancied whatever flavor-of-the-month Ren or Kuon or whatever he called himself happened to be, watching her best friend with him forced her to reckon with the existence of true love. The two of them were totally hopeless, true. They'd taken forever to get to this point—also true. There had been tears and lies and difficult conversations all along the path, but even Kanae had to admit it: there were few things as right in the universe as Kyoko marrying Kuon.

"Oh Moko—"

Kanae groaned.

"Do you really believe that?" Kyoko said.

Kanae sighed. She turned around and saw that her friend's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Mo! Enough! We're going to be late, and after Yashiro-san went out of his way to arrange the reservation for us!"

Chiori followed after them, closing the door to their suite. "Did you call a car already, Kanae?" she asked.

"I did. Grab her before she wanders off with fairies or something again, will you?"

"I'm not going to wander off with the fairies," Kyoko muttered. "I promise."

"Or wander off to call him secretly?"

Kyoko gave her a guilty look. She hadn't realized they'd notice her call to him. "I just wanted to say hi," Kyoko said defensively.

"Hey, it's not my fault you two had to spend the week before your wedding apart."

"It wasn't mine either," Kyoko said. "But I had to finish shooting Rivers here and Kuon had to close out Swords in Tokyo."

"Isn't he here now?" Kanae asked. Hadn't Kyoko mentioned picking him up from the airport a few days ago?

"He is," Kyoko responded, "But Otou-san and Okaa-san insisted that we spend this last night apart. And then Shachou backed them up. They wouldn't even let me pick him up. Said that it would be bad luck if we saw each other before the wedding."

"Hmm," Kanae said. "So that's why you didn't go to LAX yesterday. I was wondering why you were extra mopey."

Kyoko just looked at her miserably before attempting to rally a small smile.

"Must be an American thing," Kanae said. She put a reassuring hand on Kyoko's arm. "They say the week right before the wedding is incredibly stressful. Lots of couples end up getting into arguments and changing their minds…So maybe it's a good thing you two were able to spend it apart."

"Ha," Chiori snorted. "Those two? They're not changing their minds. Everyone knows that."

"I know," Kanae sighed and crossed her arms. "They're disgusting like that."

"We never argue!" Kyoko said. She was wondering whether she should've insisted on seeing Kuon after all.

"Kyoko—it's not like you can't talk to him. Don't think that we don't know you two text each other all night," Chiori said.

"What do you even talk about?" Kanae said. "You live together."

Kyoko blushed. She would die before she told them what they talked about—what would they think if they knew how filthy she and Kuon could be? And it wasn't all filth, but she was too greedy to share his words of love…or the poetry he'd write to her…or…the pictures. Dear god, the pictures. Both of them were guilty of sending those out into the ether…

"Look at her trying to look all innocent," Chiori laughed. "Like they haven't been sexting at all."

"I wasn't going to say it out loud!" Kanae exclaimed. "It's called discretion, Chiori-chan…"

Kyoko's blush deepened, but knew their teasing was all in good fun. Moko had taken time off from shooting her series, and Chiori had turned down a modeling gig. They'd put their careers on a short hold just to be her bridesmaids in her American-style wedding—of course she didn't doubt the depth of their friendship. Still, they didn't understand. Chiori had a boyfriend and Moko had dated on and off over the years, but she knew they hadn't found their fairy princes yet. Not that Moko would ever admit she wanted a fairy prince.

"Everything," Kyoko responded. "We talk about everything. Unless it's someone else's secret." She would die before she admitted that Chiori was right.

They left the Chateau Marmont in a hired car and alighted at the restaurant. Kyoko barely noticed passersby taking her picture with their cameras. She'd been doing a lot more work in Hollywood recently, especially with Kuon having made his breakthrough in the States. Her most recent film had been one of those superhero-ensemble-affairs, catapulting her into the American spotlight. Even those who didn't know who she was couldn't help but stare at the three actresses as they made their way into the restaurant.

Kyoko did her best to smile and be present. She loved Moko and Chiori dearly and they deserved nothing but all of her affection while she was with them. She knew that her marriage would change nothing between the three of them, that they'd have more days in the future to go out and have fun. But they'd given her the gift of their time. She would do no less. She sipped champagne with Chiori and split the chocolate cake with Moko. She endured their good-natured teasing and teased in return, squealed with glee at their antics, and felt gratitude for their friendship deep in her soul.

But even as she smiled and talked and ate, she felt his absence. She hadn't slept well all week. It wasn't just wanting him, though she'd tried desperately to control herself—surely her attachment went far deeper than lust.

It was the feeling of being unmoored and far from home. She was certain that he was only a few miles away today, but he might as well have been in Japan. She wasn't quite miserable, no. But she couldn't be completely happy, either.

They were in the car again and she worried while driving past palm trees swaying against the blue sky. She was worried Kuu and Juli were force-feeding him again. She worried that he'd cross paths with Cedric. She was worried he'd go to Rick's grave without someone's hand to hold. She was worried he'd change his mind—

"You're thinking about him again," Kanae said. "And worrying, from the looks of it."

"I told you, she can't help it," Chiori responded.

"I'm sorry," Kyoko said. "I'm being an awful friend—"

"None of that," Kanae said. "We get it. And no one calls my Kyoko-chan an awful friend. But you know he's a grown man, right? You know he's ok?"

"I know," Kyoko said. "And I really am having fun. I just…I miss him."

"First, you need to get to your spa appointment and so do we. Second, it is my duty as your best friend to remind you that you're marrying the man tomorrow, so chill." Kanae gave her an exasperated look. "Come on."

Kyoko walked into the spa, determined to enjoy herself. The only problem was that part of herself was missing.

=.=.=.=

"Absolutely not." Why was he sitting in this gaudy-ass limo? Kuon crossed his arms and glared at Kijima, who was looking affronted. "I am not going in there."

"You know, it's your last night as a bachelor," Kijima said. "Cheer up. Live a little."

"You and Yashiro-san can go, I'm not going." Kijima gulped as the look on Kuon's face darkened. "I told you I didn't want to go to a strip club."

"It's not a strip club," Kijima countered. "It's an upscale gentlemen's lounge. We should go in. For a drink."

"Nope."

Kijima pouted and tried to adopt the infamous puppy-dog look. "You've done nothing but mope since I got here, dude—"

"You should probably drop it, Kijima-kun," Yashiro said.

"But—"

"Dude, what the fuck." Kuon wasn't having any more of his nonsense. "I told you I didn't want to do this. And did you ever stop to consider the fact that I might be recognized? Do you have ANY idea what Kyoko would go through if some photographer caught me going in there the day before my wedding?"

Yashiro tut-tutted under his breath. He'd known what Kijima was planning, just as he'd known that Kuon wouldn't go in. Kuon's recent successes had curtailed his movements around L.A. and he'd been particularly protective of Kyoko. And even if he hadn't made his big break in the States, Yashiro knew that Kuon's loyalty would prevent him from going into any establishment that could even remotely compromise his relationship with her. Numerous actresses had tried to bed him before Kyoko, and numerous actresses had tried to bed him after. As far as Yashiro knew, Kuon never even noticed them. He'd worked too hard to earn Kyoko's trust to lose it under such circumstances.

"I made reservations at Le Comptoir," Yashiro said. "Let's have a nice dinner, shall we?"

"Oh god, it's not one of those 'bring out a hundred different plates with a single bite on them' places, is it?" Kijima groaned.

"They have a reputation for a larger vegetable focus on their tasting menu," Yashiro responded. "And the portions are well-suited to Kuon's appetite." Seeing Kijima's face fall, Yashiro added, "They have steak as an supplemental option, you know."

Kijima perked up. "Oh! Excellent," he said.

Yashiro looked over at Kuon, who hadn't perked up at all. The man had been glowering all day. Yashiro didn't blame him—Kuu, Julienna, and Lory had picked him up at the airport instead of Kyoko yesterday. The boy had looked utterly crestfallen when his parents had told him Kyoko wasn't coming. He'd tried to hide it, at first. He'd even managed to have one or two conversations with Yashiro that weren't about Kyoko. And he'd tried—he'd really, really tried to entertain his best man and groomsman during the last day and a half. Surely he was jet-lagged, Yashiro thought, but he still gamely took part in the 'manly' activities Kuu had planned for them. Kuu's philosophy was to 'not give in' to the jet lag, insisting that they go out rather than allowing Kuon to get some sleep. Yashiro and Kijima found themselves dragged along. Yashiro was still sore from the rock climbing, and Kijima was bruised from wiping out on his surfboard, but Kuon kept up with his father wearing his gentleman's smile. It took a few hours, but Kuon's facade slipped as the day wore on. The man was miserable, and not even his Ren Tsuruga persona could hide it.

And now, here they were. The last night before the wedding.

"Fine," Kuon muttered. "It'll make her happy if I eat there, so I'll eat there."

Kuon was suffering in his own private hell. He would have gladly endured exhaustion and jet lag if Kyoko had been by his side, but she wasn't. Something about bad luck, his mother had said. It was bad enough that he couldn't postpone his shoots in time to spend this week with her in L.A.—and now this, too? He didn't even want to eat, though he forced himself to, for her sake. Thoughts of her haunted him—he'd been jerking himself off like a teenager to take the edge off things, but it wasn't enough. He'd spent his nights texting her, alternating between sending her terms of endearment and his most depraved thoughts about her tiny little pussy. Yashiro and Kijima had been staying on the Hizuri estate with him, but it wasn't the same. Who else would laugh with him about his mother's cooking one moment and then set his body aflame the next? Certainly not Yashiro.

They rolled up Sunset and Kuon groaned at the crush of tourists around their limo. The traffic was atrocious—of course it was, this was LA. He was glad the windows were tinted—at least they wouldn't have a mob of people gawking at him while he sat trapped in…whatever this monstrosity was. He responded like a robot to Yashiro's attempts at conversation. If they could just get this dinner over with, he'd be that much closer to seeing Kyoko again. It would pass the time, at least, until their wedding. Just one more night. And after that, he'd never let his parents talk him into anything again—bad luck, indeed! As if his parents had ever been superstitious like that. If the point was driving him out of his mind with Kyoko's absence, it was working.

They pulled up to the restaurant and Kuon narrowed his eyes at the line outside. "I thought this was one of those quieter reservation-only places," he frowned.

"It is," Yashiro replied. "The line is for the club next door."

"Think we can get in without being spotted?" Kuon asked.

"We can try going around to the back," Yashiro suggested.

"Sorry, gentlemen," the driver said. "This baby won't fit in the alley."

Kuon shook his head. He was tired and cranky and frankly, he wanted Kyoko. He was about to suggest grabbing some takeout from some obscure, untrendy location—maybe even fast food, even though Kyoko wouldn't like it—when Kijima preempted him by opening up the limo door, stepping out of it, and then keeping it open for Kuon and Yashiro. It was long enough for someone to spot him.

"It's Kuon Hizuri!" a voice shouted. A squeal rose from the women in line and Kuon knew they were seconds from being mobbed.

Kuon sighed. The evening had gone from bad to worse. He did a quick analysis of the situation. If they left the limo, they'd have a chance at getting to the restaurant, which looked like the type that knew how to keep things quiet. The limo, though, was going to be stuck in traffic. Traffic that was slow enough to allow a mob to keep up with them.

"Run for it," he said to Yashiro. He vaulted out of the limo and made for the restaurant doors, thinking all the while that if Kyoko were here, he'd have stayed to show her off to the crowd.

The restaurant, at least, was used to celebrity diners. They secured the doors after Yashiro made it in, and then seated them in the darkest corner of the restaurant at Kuon's request.

Silently, Yashiro and Kijima watched as Kuon took a generous swig of his scotch. "Did you have to do that?" Kuon asked Kijima.

"I—I wasn't thinking," he replied. "But—"

"No, you weren't thinking," Kuon said. "At least we managed to get out." Kuon took another swig. "It's fine."

"Naw, man—"

"No. It's fine." Kuon glared at Kijima, who quailed under his glare. "Let's just get this over with." Yashiro and Kijima exchanged looks. They both had seen bits and pieces of Kuon's temper, but they'd never really been exposed to it. He looked like a man that was barely controlling himself.

Kuon ordered the tasting menu for the table and dutifully ate each bite presented to him, not caring what any of it really tasted like. Part of him knew he was behaving very, very badly indeed. He should've known Kijima would pull that stunt with the strip club. Clearly Yashiro had planned for it and built plan B accordingly. There was no one to blame for the traffic, and as for that slip with the door—well, there was always a chance he'd be spotted, wasn't there? These were his friends, and he was sulking like a child.

Kijima and Yashiro watched as Kuon slowly calmed.

"Look, guys," he said. "I'm sorry."

Yashiro put a hand on his shoulder. "We know."

"We're cool, man," Kijima added. "We know you miss your girl."

"We're just trying to make you less miserable." Yashiro raised his glass. "To your wedding," he said.

They toasted, and Kuon felt his spirits lift somewhat. But he was fraying at the edges, and they all knew it. Everyone was glad the wedding was tomorrow.

=.=.=

Kyoko had dreamed about her wedding since she was a little girl.

Back then she thought she'd be the happiest woman in the world—that a wedding would take away everything bad that had ever happened in her life, only to replace it with a happy ending.

She knew that wasn't true anymore. All the bad things stayed, but the good things did, too. And she wouldn't have traded her past and all that history with Kuon for all the fake happily-ever-afters in the world.

She was only a few hours away from her own wedding now. They'd decided to keep the penthouse suite of the Chateau Marmont to get ready. Kanae and Chiori were in the other room, also getting dressed. Meanwhile, Kyoko's hair was done up in curlers, and a hydrating face mask was on her face. She was pacing back and forth in her robe—her LoveMe pink robe, complete with the logo on the back. She'd groaned when she saw it. All three of them had one. Lory, of course, had insinuated himself into the process.

She felt sick to her stomach. Anxiety was pooling in her belly. She hadn't understood, but now she knew that wedding jitters were a real thing. She was shaking, her palms were cold and clammy. She felt as if she would fall to the ground if she didn't hold herself up with an iron will.

She was in a panic. Her thoughts were spiraling out of control. She'd missed him so much while they were apart—what bad luck had his parents sought to avert? Maybe they didn't want her to marry their son. Maybe they'd asked her to stay away because they thought he'd change his mind. Would he change his mind? Did he have doubts? What if he was only doing this for her sake? What if getting married was the wrong move? What if he got tired of her? There was a reason why they called it the old ball-and-chain, right?

Oh god she missed him.

Kyoko had been so busy with filming that she'd allowed Julienna and Lory to plan her wedding—she'd granted them carte blanche. She had no idea what to expect, though Juli had asked her if she was opposed to using pale green and pink as her wedding colors. She'd said yes—she was sure that whatever Okaa-san did would be beautiful, and in good taste. Juli would keep Lory's excesses in check, she was sure. As for the wedding dress…well. All Kyoko had ever wanted was a princess dress—the kind of dress Cinderella would have worn to her own wedding. In her head, it was a big, poofy thing with a narrow waist and a sweetheart neckline.

Did…did Okaa-san know that?!

Kyoko sighed, wishing she'd had more time to discuss things with Juli. Juli, of course, knew everyone who was anyone in fashion. But Juli herself tended to wear sleek, minimalist designs that emphasized her height. Pictures of Kuu and Juli's wedding showed a bride who knew exactly what worked best for her—and Juli's wedding dress had been a strapless satin sheath that was more Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy than fairy-tale.

It didn't matter. Right? Kyoko was marrying her soulmate. She was going to marry him with her friends and her family by her side. And a dress was just a dress—wasn't it more important to her to do her work with the dedication it deserved?

"Kyoko-chan," she heard, and the mother-of-the-groom poked her head into Kyoko's bedroom.

"Okaa-san," Kyoko replied. Juli crossed the room to take her hands.

"Your hands are ice-cold, dear," Juli noted. "You're nervous."

It wasn't a question. Kyoko nodded her head mutely. "You poor dear," Juli said. "I understand. The night before I married Kuu I was so anxious I vomited."

"I—"

But the older woman was hugging her. Kyoko leaned into the hug, grateful that Juli seemed so sympathetic and so very solid. She was glad Kuon's mother had adopted her as a daughter even before they'd been officially together. Juli had been the mother Kyoko had always wanted. And today out of all days, she wanted a mother desperately. "It'll be ok," Juli said. She patted Kyoko gently, feeling the younger woman's trembling stop. "What's worrying you?"

"Kuon," Kyoko said. "What if he…?"

"Never," Juli told her. She had an idea of what Kyoko had been worrying about, and she took it upon herself to comfort her in her son's place. "Not even for a second. He'd cut off a limb before missing this wedding. He'd die before he'd ever give you up. Put your doubts out of your mind." Kyoko was aware that her face mask was rubbing off onto Juli's shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready," Juli smiled. "I'm sure you want to see your dress."

Kyoko nodded again, allowing herself to be led by the hand. The mask was removed and her hair was arranged in an elaborate updo, her makeup perfected, and soon she found herself heading back to her bedroom. Juli had brought the dress to her room as Kyoko's hair was being done. Kyoko hadn't dared peek at it while she heard Chiori and Kanae squeal in delight.

She closed her eyes and waited as Juli led her forward and then stopped. "It's ready," she whispered, and Kyoko opened her eyes.

She gasped.

The dress filled nearly a quarter of the room. It extended outwards in a sea of white tulle, embroidered with flowers and arabesques throughout. Everything Kyoko had ever wanted was there—the elaborately embellished sweetheart neckline, the tiny flash of crystals, even tinier seed pearls. All of it came together at the gathered waist, which looked improbably small in the midst of all that fabric. She walked behind it to admire the cathedral train and the ribbons on the corset-back, noting that the tulle was backed with a heavier silk underneath.

For a second, she felt her eyes mist with tears. "Do you like it?" Juli whispered. Juli had known from the start what Kyoko would want, had confirmed it with Kanae, and then found the very best materials to deliver to an exclusive designer.

Kyoko looked up and around the room. Everyone was watching her—Kanae and Chiori, already dressed in their pale pink dresses, the makeup and hair artists, and Juli herself. "I love it," she said. "It's…so beautiful…"

It took four of them—Kyoko herself, Kanae, Chiori, and Juli—to get her into the dress. It was heavy and unwieldy, but fortunately she'd had experience walking around in ballgowns due to the period dramas she'd acted in. Carefully she made her way to the mirror and looked, and even Kyoko had to admit the woman she saw in it was beautiful.

"Now now," Juli was saying, "don't cry, dear! We have an American tradition, you know." She smiled. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

Kyoko looked at her with some surprise as Juli came forward with something in her hands. "Your dress is new," she said. "But these—these, my dear, were my grandmother's, and then my mother's, and now they're yours."

They were diamond earrings—simple, elegant drops that descended from posts built in an antique style. "But I can't—" Kyoko gasped.

But Juli was already fastening them onto her ears. "They are something old," Juli said. "And it is my hope that someday you'll pass them on to your daughter too, dear."

Kanae came forward next, holding a pair of elegant pearl hairpins. "You gave these to me for my birthday a few years back," she said. "And when I saw this dress, I knew these pins would go perfectly with it." Carefully, she added them into Kyoko's hair. "They are something borrowed. Give them back after the wedding," she smiled. "And take your time."

"And something blue?" Kyoko asked.

"Kuon has it," Juli smiled. Kyoko's heart skipped a beat. It had begun to feel as if she'd never see him again. "He's waiting for you," Juli added. "For your First Look."

"First Look?"

"Another American thing, I'm afraid. As it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding—some people like to have a photographer document the first time the groom sees the bride in her dress."

Kyoko smiled nervously. "But what if—" What if he doesn't like it? she was about to say.

"Shhhhh. No more worrying," Juli said reassuringly. "You girls go pile into the limo and head to the house."

=.=.=

Somehow they made it into the waiting car, Kyoko forming a cloud-like vanguard with Kanae and Chiori behind her holding up her train. She and Kuon had decided to hold their wedding at the Hizuri house—it was certainly large enough, and it was beautiful enough that they hadn't even wanted to consider another venue. The house was situated on a high bluff overlooking the sea, and Kuu and Juli had planted a garden and trees on the grounds over the years. Kyoko figured they would have set up the standard seats for the ceremony. Perhaps Juli would have the florists make something of an archway over where she and Kuon would stand. The venue didn't need much, of course. Even the reception could take place in the massive room that Kuu and Juli called their 'dining room' and the terrace just beyond it.

All this would have been perfectly lovely, of course, except Kyoko had momentarily lost sight of the fact that Lory had been involved.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived on the estate, and instantly Kyoko knew she had underestimated her wedding planners considerably. The gates opened up and as the car passed through, Kyoko saw the archways built over the drive. Thousands of flowers greeted them overhead—all in various shades of pink and white, with ferns and mosslike greens behind them. All three of them gasped at the sight of it. The flowers were hanging off of intricate arches made of willow, and the flowers led them all the way to the garden. The car stopped, and Kyoko was helped out by Kanae and Chiori.

"Go through the gate," Kanae said, cryptically.

"Aren't you—aren't you coming with me?" Kyoko asked. She was feeling nervous again. All of this was too surreal, too odd. She'd played a bride many times, but nothing prepared her at all for this. She was overjoyed, of course, but right now all she felt was anxiety. All her senses were heightened, and she could feel everything…the way the dress's silk lining felt against her skin, the feel of her feet in her white satin heels. She could smell the scent of roses rising from her bouquet—Juli had insisted on heirloom roses that retained their scent. Her heartbeat was beating against her chest like a bird trying to escape a cage.

"As if," Kanae responded. "Go. He's waiting."

He's waiting! Kyoko heard, and her heart skipped a beat.

Tentatively she twisted the knob that held the Hizuri garden gate closed. She could hear the sea from where she stood, a calming susurration that felt like a balm on her frayed nerves. Her dress swept along the flagstone path. She followed the tall topiary towards where they had decided to hold the reception.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Where there had been a wide lawn overlooking the sea, there was now a chapel of sorts—one made almost entirely of flowers and tree branches. Somehow Lory had found trees planted in containers and arranged them so that they formed a ceiling overhead. She could see the blue sky between the canopy of flowers which had been hung from them. At the far end, there was a bower shaped like an oriel window where they would stand for their vows. It was more than Kyoko could have ever predicted—each and every nook and cranny had been filled with flowers everywhere she turned. For a second she wondered if the garden gate had been a portal into fairyland.

But, she noted, it was all done in good taste. Over-the-top, certainly, but there was a distinct lack of flying monkeys. And elephants.

"Of course," she muttered to herself. Juli had likely won a few concessions—her dress was likely one of those, and the lack of bizarre accoutrements in the venue another. Who knows what the president would have done in Juli's stead?

She headed further into this make-shift bower, observing the little details she'd missed at first glance. Flowers were woven through the chairs and the dais. Gilt cages holding songbirds were interspersed through the high branches. The guest book stood next to a centerpiece made of an old book of fairytales arranged to look as if flowers were growing out of it. Beyond the little chapel she could see tables had been set up, and even more elaborate centerpieces awaited there. She could see fairy lights woven into the trees and candles on the lawn for when the sun went down.

She floated through the space in her dress, alone amongst the silent flowers. She was wondering if all of this was really real. Even now, she felt as if she'd wake up and still be that poor, harried girl working three jobs to take care of someone who had never cared for her. But she ran her hands across the elaborate bodice of her dress. That was real. She took a finger and ran it across the sharp thorn of a rose, and that was real too.

"Kyoko."

She jumped and turned around to see him, and then without thinking, they were running towards each other. In the blink of an eye, she was in his arms—he had her around the waist and had picked her up off her feet, clouds of tulle notwithstanding. They spun; she was above his head and twirling against the sun, and then she bent downwards to kiss him.

The kiss was real. More real than the earth they stood on, more real than the air they breathed.

She felt her skin break out into goosebumps as a chill went up and down her body—only to be followed by fire as she reveled in the feel of him. She felt him lower her until she was curled against his chest. She probably should've been worried about wrinkling the dress or messing up her hair but she couldn't care less about them. All that mattered was that he was here, finally, and the sea of longing that had kept her in a state of constant discontent broke through and dissipated as his mouth found hers.

"I missed you," she breathed.

"I missed you," he responded.

"We'll never let them do that again," she said.

He nodded in agreement. He had her hand entwined in his, and only then did they realize there had been a photographer there all along.

Kyoko blushed a hundred shades of red while Kuon glared at the unsuspecting man. "If you got the shot my mother requested, you should probably leave," he said.

The photographer blushed and nodded and then made to scuttle away. Kuon turned back to Kyoko. "Honestly," he said, shaking his head. "We should have just eloped."

"Eloped?"

"It's when you run away to get married," he explained. "Sometimes people go to Las Vegas and get married by Elvis Presley without telling anyone."

"But planning this made Otou-san and Okaa-san so happy," Kyoko said. "And Lory, too."

"Of course Lory's happy," Kuon said. "We're his ultimate success story. He'll be feeding on this day for the next decade."

"Did you know he got all of us 'LoveMe' bathrobes?"

"Did he? Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Kuon said. He shook his head. "I needed to see you. 'First Look' my ass."

"Is it common for couples to do that?" Kyoko asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Kuon replied. "But Mom insisted on doing one."

"They said you'd be waiting for me."

"I was. But you didn't see me at first," he said. "The photographer got a shot of my face, though." He didn't mention that the photographer had probably gotten a shot of more than just his first look, but he figured Kyoko was mortified enough. He led them away from the little makeshift chapel and into a nook in the high topiary deeper into the garden.

"Won't they look for us?" Kyoko asked.

"Do you care?" he responded. He had taken her hand in his again, kissing her palm as her breath caught.

"No," she whispered. He kept her hand in his, her palm facing upwards.

"Something blue," he whispered back. Instantly she knew what Juli had meant—knew what her something blue must be.

He put the familiar stone in her palm.

"Corn," she said softly.

The stone was warm from the heat of his body and she closed her fingers over it. "It brought me back to you," he said. "It reminds me of you when we're apart."

His fingers were gently caressing the inside of her wrist. "It felt only right that it should bring you to me today."

And his lips found hers again. Whether or not his family would claim he was anticipating his vows—he didn't care. She drew him like a magnet—she was true north, he was just a compass needle seeking her out. His control was slipping. He knew he should have given her Corn and then given her a chaste kiss goodbye, only to meet her again at the altar. He knew that they were minutes away from having to welcome their family and friends. He knew that they'd emerge from this rumpled and blushing, that the makeup that had been so carefully applied on her face would bear the telltale signs of his desperate kisses. But he kept kissing her, unwilling to let her go. If they'd wanted him to keep his hands off of her, they shouldn't have insisted on the First Look, he thought. If they'd wanted him in any kind of sane state of mind, they would have let her pick him up at LAX. But no—he'd suffered the torment of having been kept away from her when she'd been mere minutes away in the same city.

They should have known that leaving them alone together was tantamount to lighting a match in a room full of gasoline.

Kyoko was as far gone as Kuon was. Her hands were around his neck and then in his hair, his own were clutching at her waist as his tongue found itself in her mouth. The sweetness of the moment gave way to heat—a foregone conclusion, it was always like this with him. Hungrily his mouth descended, only to latch itself onto her neck as she arched towards him. She could feel his body underneath the suit he was wearing—no designer shirt could hide the way his muscles flexed under her hand. She felt the layers of her wedding dress between them and wished he would just rip it away, lay her in tatters so she could finally sate herself with his body.

"Kuon," she whimpered. In her voice was supplication, a prayer for relief. He heard it and knew what she wanted.

"Yes," he said. Yards of fabric—too much fabric—were between them. "Yes," he breathed, and moaned as she nipped his lip with her teeth. It was her turn now to lick at his throat—and then he pulled away only to get on his knees before her.

"What—what are you—?" she asked, bewildered.

"I know what you want," he answered. "I've wanted it too since I got here."

She was flushed, her eyes glazed and hooded as he looked up at her. He pushed her legs apart under the tulle she was wearing and her breath quickened. She trembled as his hands made their way up her stockinged legs, jumping when they finally got to her uncovered skin. He moved back and began peeling layers of her dress upwards, having her hold them up and away until he saw the outline of her sex, swollen and wet, underneath the bridal lingerie her best friends had bought her.

He grinned as his fingers caressed her sodden slit underneath lacy white panties. Did her friends know they'd prepared her for such a lewd encounter? How was he going to survive, knowing this was what waited for him underneath her dress?

She could feel him staring at her. "Kuon, please," she said.

"As you wish," he said.

Looking into her eyes, he descended to her aching pussy. He pulled the lace of her panties aside to reveal her sex to him, and then slowly, holding her gaze all the while, he delicately licked her nether lips with his tongue, moving upwards until he reached her clit.

She gasped.

Pushing firmly against the insides of her thighs, he parted her legs wider. He teased at her, feather-light touches with just the tip of his tongue against her clit, flicking at her clit as she whimpered. She cried out, he moved to devour her. He increased the pressure of his tongue, using the whole of it, licking the length of her and then inside of her, moving faster as her hips began to move against him of their own accord. He was surrounded by her scent; he was drowning in it. Hungrily he licked up the juice that leaked from her pussy, relishing the sounds that came from her throat. Her hips began to move against his mouth in a familiar rhythm when he inserted his fingers inside her—two of them, moving in and out, matching her need. He could feel the walls of her pussy begin to quiver, and he sucked her clit in as she clenched against his fingers.

When he looked up again, he found that she'd been biting at her knuckles to keep quiet.

"Is my princess happy?" he asked.

She nodded, dazedly, and then came back to herself. "Oh god—Kuon—" Her dress was bunched in front in an unseemly pile. Kuon could see how her lips were swollen, how the lipstick she'd worn had worn off as they'd made out.

He was painfully hard in his wedding suit, but shook his head as she reached for him.

"It's OK, love," he said. "I'll be fine. I'll wait." Desperately he tried to think of unsexy things. Food. Yashiro. Jabba the Hutt—except this just led to him thinking of Kyoko in a metal bikini. He shook his head and then thought about his mother and father—and that did the trick. He used a handkerchief to wipe his face as clean as he could, and then he offered her a hand. She stood up, legs still trembling, leaning into him as her knees buckled.

"I—you—"

"That good, huh," he grinned.

"You—you bully!" she exclaimed.

He kissed the tip of her nose in response. "I prefer this natural glow to whatever blush they were using on you," he said.

She shook her head, pouting at him.

He helped her straighten her dress and tucked the tendrils of hair that had escaped back into her updo, surprised that the dress hadn't been more wrinkled. He was relieved that only the most discerning eyes would see that anything untoward had happened.

"I believe your bridesmaids will be waiting at the house," he said. He walked her to the terrace, kissed her hand, and walked away. He needed to find his own friends before he grabbed her like a wild animal.

=.=.=.=

Kyoko thought she looked none-the-worse-for-wear when she checked her reflection in the hallway mirror but Kanae and Chiori rolled their eyes and burst out laughing when she walked into the room.

"What!?" Kyoko asked.

"Nothing," the girls chorused.

"Nothing at all," Kanae said.

"Nope. Nothing," Chiori echoed.

"Mo! Come here," Kanae said. She dragged Kyoko forward into better light and proceeded to touch up her makeup.

Chiori followed suit, holding a steamer to take the creases out of Kyoko's dress.

Kanae and Chiori had been speculating amongst themselves as to what Kyoko's state would be when she came back from seeing Kuon. Neither one of them had thought Kyoko's makeup would survive the encounter. Chiori had speculated that Kyoko's dress would be ruined, too. They were pleased when they saw Kuon escorting her up to the house, seemingly in one piece. They had to acknowledge that Kyoko's dress and makeup had held up better than they expected—anyone not looking for telltale signs would never have noticed the faint creasing in the tulle, or the fact that all of the makeup had been rubbed off of Kyoko's lips. "Honestly," Kanae muttered. "We leave you two alone for ONE minute—"

But Kyoko was looking at her with a dreamy smile on her face. "MO!" Kanae exclaimed. "You are HOPELESS, both of you!"

"I love you too, Moko," Kyoko said. It had finally hit her that she was getting married to him, and nothing was going to keep her from being happy today.

"Better not look her in the eye, Kanae-chan," Chiori said. "She'll turn you into stone."

"Do you ever wonder how she and Hizuri manage not to turn each other into stone?" Kanae mused. "Purse your lips, there we go…" Kyoko dutifully blotted her lipstick on the tissue that Kanae offered.

"Some kind of immunity," Chiori said.

"There," Kanae said. "All done."

"She does look radiant, ladies," they heard. They turned to see Juli come into the room, resplendent in her own gown—a deep magenta, contrasting with Kanae and Chiori's much paler pinks. "Good job."

"Okaa-san," Kyoko said, her eyes misting.

"Did seeing him make things better?" Juli asked, smiling.

Kyoko blushed but nodded yes. "I missed him."

"And he missed you," Juli responded. "I know. He's been insufferable since he touched down." A motherly hand tilted up her chin. "Just a moment."

A veil of powder was dusted over her face, and then Juli stepped back. "Seeing him becomes you," she said. "You're positively radiant."

Kanae handed Kyoko her bouquet. "It's time," she said.

=.=.=.=

Kyoko watched as the people dearest to her stood up in the little chapel made of flowers. The string quartet was playing—some songs were familiar, others weren't. Beyond the doorway, she could see everyone looking expectantly for her—the Takatsukis, looking proud, Lory, looking even prouder. Her heart filled as she saw them all. There was Maria, just on the cusp of womanhood, standing next to her father. Shingai, Joji Morizumi, Ogata—all of her directors were sitting next to each other in a row, looking pleased at having been invited.

Kuu and Juli were walking up now, as the parents of the groom. And then it was Chiori's turn, followed by Kanae.

She felt an uncharacteristic frisson of stage fright as she began her walk down the path to the platform, but then she saw him. Past all of the expectant faces of everyone they loved, he was looking at her and her alone. Kuon Hizuri, undisguised, his eyes gleaming like emeralds—the fairy prince of her childhood, the senpai of her adolescence, her lover. The other half of her soul. She calmed as the rest of the world faded away. Slowly, she walked all alone up to him. And when she finally arrived at his side, they shared their secret smile.

"Dearly beloved," the officiant said, and Kyoko tuned everything out until Kuon began speaking his vows.

"...I gave you my heart long before either you or I knew it," he said. "Every time, everywhere, no matter where I went, I came back to you. I will always come back to you, in this life and in the next, because the red thread that binds us can never be broken. You are my heart. You are my destiny. You are the reason why I understand what they mean when they say, 'I am my beloved, and my beloved is mine.'"

Kyoko looked into his eyes, which were brimming with unshed tears. She fought back the urge to kiss them away. Her voice, when she found it, was heavy with the love that rose out of her chest. "Every step I have ever taken," she said, "every obstacle, every mountain I've climbed—ever since I was a little girl—has brought me to you." Her voice, which had wavered, grew in strength. "If you would have me, I would love you for all the days of my life. You are my home, my family, my joy. You are my happily ever after."

They were brought back to themselves as the officiant cleared his throat.

"I, Kuon Hizuri, take you, Kyoko Mogami, for my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

"I, Kyoko Mogami, take you, Kuon Hizuri, for my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

His hand took hers again and she held her breath as he slipped the plain golden band onto her finger. It felt like a clock striking midnight, like a happy ending, like the unlocking of a door. It warmed against her skin, but it was her turn to slide his ring onto his finger.

"You may kiss the—"

But they were already kissing. No one even blamed them for forgetting themselves, or blinked an eye when Kuon picked her up as he had earlier and spun her around. Kuu and Juli were weeping into their handkerchiefs, Lory looked as if he'd won the lottery.

=.=.=

They exited the ceremony quickly—as quickly as they dared. Back into the house they went, giggling all the while. Kuon wanted her alone, and Kyoko knew what he wanted once they were. They knew that the photographer was waiting for their wedding photos—but Kuon had already sent the man a message to reschedule. He knew Kyoko wouldn't mind putting her dress on again, but right now what they both wanted was to get it off.

Quickly they disappeared into the long corridors of the Hizuri home, Kuon leading Kyoko by the hand past the house's guest spaces. Did he care that Yashiro would roll his eyes and berate him? He did not. And he was willing to bet that Kyoko didn't care that Kanae would do the same. If they were quick enough, everyone would think they'd merely gone with the photographer—and Kyoko was planning on changing into a separate dress for the reception anyway. All the way at the end of the second floor's corridor, he opened the door. Kyoko stepped into the bedroom he'd left as a teenager in her wedding gown; he grabbed her, shut the door, and then pinned her against it.

Neither one of them wanted or needed to take it slow. His lips found hers and he kissed her insistently, brutally, even, seeking to annihilate the distance between them. His hands were pulling out the ribbons of her corset-back in great handfuls; she had managed to untie his tie, flinging it onto the floor with abandon. The suit jacket was shed like an unwanted skin—she had his belt-buckle undone and his shirt half-off when finally, with a roar of triumph, he managed to free her from her dress.

He pushed it down to the floor, leaving her in nothing but the white strapless bra she was wearing. He growled as he saw the rest of her—the same garter and panties she'd been wearing earlier, just as wet as they'd been when he met her in the garden. He didn't bother asking her to step out of her dress. He merely picked her up and all but threw her onto his bed as he finished what she'd started with his clothes.

At last, when he'd stripped fully he climbed on top of her, caging her with his arms on his bed. Their kisses only grew more fervent—he could hear Kyoko make mewling cries as he ground himself onto her. They didn't stop to breathe. He kept kissing her as he stripped off her bra and her panties, flinging them unceremoniously off his bed before descending again to take her nipples into his mouth. She was arching upwards, seeking relief—he knew what she wanted, knew she was ready, and drove himself home.

Kyoko cried out as she felt his member drive deep inside her. She was clutching at him, raking at his back with her fingernails in need. There was nothing slow or sensual about their joining, and yet she knew that this act was nothing less than the attempt of two separate beings to make themselves whole again. Over and over again he thrust into her—they were pressed together without separation as they grew more frenzied. She felt herself tighten against him, and then the familiar feeling of agony right before the sweetness of release—he felt it, too, and thrust faster.

They came together, panting, still kissing as they lost themselves in each other.

It was some minutes before Kyoko spoke up, sheepishly. "We should probably go back, Kuon," she said.

"Don't wanna," said her husband, curling himself around her.

"Neither do I," she replied. She nuzzled into him, but she knew they'd have to get up.

"Five more minutes?" he asked.

"Mmmm," she said.

Later, they would get up. Kyoko would make sheepish apologies to Kanae and Chiori who'd covered for them, saying that they'd gone off with the photographer. Kuon would greet his groomsmen, only to be high-fived by a leering Kijima as a disgusted Yashiro looked on. Kyoko changed into a dress just for her reception, moss green and pink and looking as if it were made for a dryad of the woods. If a hickey over her heart was just barely peeking out of her neckline, no one said anything.

They would spend the night surrounded by their loved ones in a bower filled with flowers and lit gold by the lanterns and the candles set up by Juli. Kuon fed Kyoko her piece of cake carefully, refusing all calls to smash it into her face.

Lory's magnificent fireworks were exploding over the sea as they promised to live happily ever after.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Please feed your author. She needs dopamine to finish the next DoK chapter…lol anyway, please review if you are so inclined. (10/31/2022 - author out)

Epigraph: "One Hand, One Heart," West Side Story