A/N:It's been a while. It's that time of year again, so happy holidays. I hope you're all well. All reviews and feedback are appreciated.

Art Imitates Life

Just a few days before the fall semester at Kosei began, Yusuke and a few other visiting lecturers threw a small gala for friends, family, and students to attend in an outdoor gallery set up in the director's garden, who invited Yusuke to teach for the year.

The last days of summer arrived, and very often, students sighed out loud, their utter disbelief that summer was over. Yusuke reminisced on the days of Ryuji panicking over incomplete assignments as students entered, well-dressed in their uniforms.

He watched closely as the installation team hung his most recent work, "Euphoria." Each lecturer was to bring one piece they'd show students as an introduction to their course. No one had seen this work yet, and Yusuke felt ready to share it with the world – especially since it was a product of lovemaking to his muse.

There was that word again. Lovemaking. They were inappropriately used by Yusuke's subconscious. He and Futaba weren't lovers or dating. They weren't anything. They were roommates. He could hardly describe himself as her friend at that point. The thing he feared happened.

They avoided each other and didn't spend nights in the apartment if the other was there. This resulted in Futaba spending more time with Akira at Leblanc and her nights at home with Sojiro.

He often thought of making love to Futaba when their previous encounters were opportunities based on desire – and only that, or so he told himself.

He recalled Ryuji's recent words – that loving someone didn't mean you were right for them. He confessed his love, was rejected, and then correctly avoided her. Though he loved Futaba, he was confident he had made the right choice. Especially as he often daydreamed of lovemaking, not just sex. He imagined holding her hand as they walked through the park, kissing beneath stars and falling asleep in each other's arms.

His daydreams were interrupted by, "Kitagawa-sensei, one of your guests has arrived." Yusuke faced the young hostess who walked him to his visitor.

At the fountain, in the garden's center, a young woman with medium-length black hair stood in a yellow summer dress. It highlighted her frame and emphasized her elongated features. She stood not too many inches shorter than Yusuke, with a model figure. "Mei. It's good to see you."

"Yes, you too. Thanks for having me."

At the entrance to the garden, Haru entered, wearing a sheer blouse with a large bow tied at the neck and a pencil skirt. She held Futaba's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Haru inquired.

"Like I'm going to hurl."

Haru giggled. Futaba spoke with the same audacity she did as a teenager. It was refreshing. Futaba smiled back at Haru. She was grateful her friend supported her. She didn't want to see Yusuke, but she had to at some point. At least she wouldn't be alone.

"Let's get champagne!" Haru pulled Futaba along, and the finely dressed women made their way to the bar.

"Yusuke?" Mei called honey in her voice. The warmth with which she said his name broke the trance he was in, seeing Futaba wearing a floral sundress and bombshell hair. He hated that even being in the same few feet as her made his brain cells feel like they were fading away. But then there was Mei. A woman he was powerfully attracted to and respected as a fellow artist.

She ditched the pink hair. That was the old her. Since their breakup, Mei reevaluated her life. She couldn't stand Futaba and Yusuke's apparent affection for her, as it became the overtone and undertone of their entire relationship. She began to have contempt for a woman she barely knew. She came to terms with the fact that being with him made her more insecure than ever before and began negatively affecting her art.

As an apology, he offered her residence at no charge in his Kyoto studio. After a few months, she offered to become a long-term tenant. The rest was history.

Last year, she made sculptures that gained a lot of overseas attention. She had several gallery showings in Kyoto before heading to Seoul to house her art and have a studio of hers. Her flight was that evening. Before her departure, she wanted to show Yusuke her support and thank him. Breaking up with him did wonder for her art.

"Yusuke." She called again. He faced her. He was still the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.

"Seoul. I can't say I won't miss having a steady passive income." He smiled.

"Is that all I am to you? Steady passive income?"

"You're easy on the eyes as well."

Even after all this time, she wasn't sure if he was deliberately flirtatious or -

"Congratulations again. I just wanted to say it in person." She touched his shoulder. He smiled. Despite his fixation on Futaba, Mei wasn't a bad girlfriend.

They looked good together at shows. Had the same interests. Worked well together. The sex was incredible. But Yusuke began to conform to the idea of the man he thought Mei should be with and became less of himself.

It was him. He was the problem – for them both. And where Futaba was concerned, he was the problem now.

"Send me an invitation to your next show?" He asked though he knew this would be the last time they saw each other intentionally. The art world would have them see each other in the field and passing, but unlikely, it would be anything more than acquaintances.

"Of course." She politely lied, "Thank you for everything." She kissed his cheek gently and pulled away from Yusuke with saddened eyes. Ending a bond always hurts. Even the ones that need to be let go.

Futaba watched from the other side of the garden. The champagne wasn't hard enough.

She felt like an idiot. Why did she allow Haru to drag her along? She was perfectly fine avoiding Yusuke. Seeing him now with another woman only had one effect – it made her desperate to move on. She even began apartment hunting for her place.

She didn't know Mei well but knew her face. Her eyes. Her glares and how possessively they looked at Yusuke; how contemptuous they burned into her. Now, here they were, ostensibly flirting in a professional setting. Tasteless.

Everything did seem bitter after her ex, Tyrell. Everything but Yusuke. He didn't even need to touch her. Looking at her - the world would taste sweet for a moment.

As Mei exited, Futaba felt her upset grow. Haru looked at her companion, worried as she couldn't anticipate her next move. "We can leave if you want."

"I'd like that very much."

Futaba and Haru held hands again and made their way toward the exit. Yusuke panicked, seeing them hurry off.

"Futaba!" He quickly made his way over before he'd be too late. Haru released Futaba's hand and turned to him, stopping Yusuke in his tracks.

"Let her go. Focus on what's in front of you now."

Yusuke stood still, watching Futaba's back. His heart felt like it was being shredded, "I am."

Though he respected Haru – he found he loved Futaba more, and if he did nothing, it would consume him. He side-stepped her, and his long stride brought him to Futaba in a few steps. She didn't face him. His arms circled her and pulled her into his chest.

Students and guests watched from afar.

"I love you, Sakura Futaba. I have this whole time." He interlocked his fingers with hers, "and I will do my best never to leave you to feel empty ever again. I swear on my ability to create," he kissed the top of her head, burying his face into wavy locks, "it's you. Everything I've ever wanted – it's you."

Futaba had two choices. To run so far away so the darkness that consumed her couldn't keep up, or – to face it – and perhaps let love be light as it once was. Like when she met her friends, and they became her family. Like when she first met Tyrell and took pleasure in his company as a colleague and friend. Not a lover.

Like when Yusuke first told her he loved her. No strings attached. No expectations. Simply – love. As friends. As soulmates.

Tears reeled down her cheeks. She couldn't say words. She couldn't answer. But she turned to him and cried in his chest. That was the only answer Yusuke needed.