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Coffee Shops and Cameras

CHAPTER 1

1 Week Earlier...

"Haruhi!" My father's voice screamed through the apartment, "Haruhi! Wake up!"

"Okay, okay"! I yawned from my room, stirring awake from my deep sleep. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. 7.15am. So early...far too early for a Saturday morning.

"You need to get up, we'll be late!" Dad cried again, panic evident in his voice. My bedroom door flew open suddenly, and there stood my father – dressed to the nines in a long white jumpsuit, belted at the waist with a braided gold cord. His long red hair was curled in whisps around his face, and his make up practically airbrushed him. Not many people could pull off the red lip and red hair combo, but Dad seemed to do it flawlessly.

"We don't have to be there until 10" I grumbled, burying my face into my pillow.

"But you haven't chosen anything to wear yet! We need to get you ready, you can't roll out of bed and throw on jeans like always! Not today!"

"Calm down Dad" I replied, my voice muffled by the pillow case. I noted the 'near tears' in his tone and sighed to myself. To give my father credit where credit was due, he usually left me to my own devices. Rarely did he burst into my room at the crack of dawn on my days off and scream to the heavens that we needed to talk clothes. But today wasn't an average day in the world of Ryoji Fujioka. Today was the day his adult dreams came true. "Put the coffee on Dad, I'll jump in the shower" I groaned.

He let out a sigh of relief and beamed, then uttered a speedy 'of course!' and ran out of the room. I allowed myself one more moment to drop my head onto my pillow, and savoured the last few moments of comfort I had before pulling myself up into the sitting position with a tired groan. I was not prepared for the day ahead of me. Not even a little bit.

About a month ago, my father was flicking through the pages of the newest issue of CAST magazine, when he came across a competition to win an exclusive VIP backstage ticket to Yuzuha Hitachiin's runway show in Bunkyo, where you would win front seat tickets to the runway show, followed by a tour backstage with the one and only Yuzuha Hitachiin. My father just about broke his fingers filling in the competition form, and had the thing mailed within 15 minutes of discovering it. After that, he checked the mail religiously, practically praying to the post office to deliver him a winning ticket. Well, the praying must have worked, because 3 weeks ago I heard a scream from the kitchen that practically shredded my insides, and found my father crying on the tiled floor clutching at the letter that told him he had won. Fantastic news for him, not so great news for me, as I was his plus one.

Anyone who knew me would tell you that fashion and Haruhi weren't words you would hear in the same sentence. My idea of dressing up was wearing my 'good pair of jeans' the ones that didn't have a mustard stain on the thigh and a rip in the knee. Dad always told me I would be the most beautiful woman in Bunkyo if I just put in a little effort into my appearance, but beauty was something I saw no value in. Beauty was expensive, time consuming, and shallow. And even though I could admire a well crafted dress with a bespoke design slapped on the front. I struggled to see what the fuss was about. If I could choose between a catwalk show and a quiet day in with a glass of whiskey and a Stephen King book, I wouldn't need to get out of bed at that moment.

I yawned again and ran a hand through my short messy bed hair – knowing for a fact that Dad already had reference photos lined up to tranform my brunette tangles into something hairsprayed and heavy.

I took a quick shower, using the lavender scented soap Dad had set out for me that morning, then wrapped myself in a warm robe before making my way out into the kitchen where Dad stood stirring two cups of coffee. I wondered how long he'd been awake for, or if he'd even been calm enough to sleep at all. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd gotten ready the night before in preparation. He took his outward appearance very seriously when it came to his feminine persona. Dad had been perfecting Ranka over the years of working in the bar, she was practically her own person now. It felt like I had both a Dad and a Mom, and it was always fun guessing which one I'd meet in the kitchen each morning.

"2 sugars?" Dad confirmed as he handed me my 'I Hate Mondays' mug.

I nodded and took at seat at the breakfast table. My hair was still dripping wet, and I could feel trails of water dribbling down my neck from inside my towel. I stifled another yawn and dipped my face into my palms.

"Don't fall asleep! We have too much to do!" Dad shrieked, taking the seat opposite me, "I've already chosen you a dress for the day"

"You know I don't wear dresses" I grumbled.

"Well you are today"

"I'll pass"

Dad sighed, "We're meeting Yuzuha Hitachiin. The Yuzuha Hitachiin. I won't allow you to meet her wearing ripped jeans paired with a band shirt that smells like mistakes from the 80s"

"Pearl Jam was a 90s band" I mumbled.

"Haruhi..."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine. I'll wear a dress. But I get to choose it"

"Awww but-"

"I already know which one you chose, and I can tell you now - I would rather wear a chicken costume"

Once again, Dad sighed, then gave me a sad look that instantly made my body fill up with nothing but guilt. I dropped my hands down to the table and cupped my mug inbetween my palms.

"I know you don't like these sorts of things, but I'm sensing it's more than just our day out that's bothering you" Dad breathed.

I bit my lip, "It's nothing Dad, I'm just tired"

"I told you not to work a double shift"

I shrugged, "I can't afford to say no. I still haven't heard back about that job, it might be some time before I see any decent money coming in"

"Give it time little one" Dad offered me a sweet smile.

I took a sip from my coffee and leaned back in my chair. I wasn't convinced by his reassurance.

"Okay okay..." Dad breathed, "You can wear what you want today...but, I have to pre-approve it. And no...Pearl Jam"

I chuckled lightly, "I'm sorry I've been a moody bitch this morning"

He rolled his eyes and smiled, "And watch your language today"

After a grueling hour of dressing and re-dressing, Dad finally accepted my choice of plain jeans and a long sleeved white top. Shoes however, he would not sway on, and so - I was stumbling out of the car in scarlet red stilettos as we made our way across the parking lot of the event venue. Vans, SUVs, sportscars and trailers surrounded us from every direction, and people dressed in the strangest of outfits weaved in and out of the side doors and inbetween parked vehicles. I had that unsettled feeling in my stomach you get when you felt undoubtedly out of place and indescribably awkward. I hoped Dad knew which direction we were going in, because I hadn't a clue.

"Over there" Dad beamed. He pointed across the lot to an open set of main doors, with 2 men stood at either side of the opening. They wore black shirts, black suits and ear pieces. They looked like your typical club bouncers.

"They look almost as excited as I am..." I said sarcastically under my breath.

"Grouch" Dad smirked, "And stop pouting, you'll ruin your lipstick"

I smacked my lips at him and chuckled as he rolled his eyes. I hated lipstick, and I just knew that in a few minutes my teeth would be coated with a sticky red colour. Just pretend it's lip balm – I thought to myself.

We reached the doorway, and stood adjacent to the two men who shared the same depressed expression. I noticed the one on the right was holding a lit cigarette in his hand. My fingers twitched towards my bag.

"Don't even think about it" Dad warned.

"I'm only having one" I replied.

"You're wearing Chanel perfume, I'm not having you smell like an ash tray. Anyway, I thought you were quitting?"

I shrugged, "I'll stop Monday"

"You said that last week"

"I had a stressful week"

"You always have a stressful week"

"Can I help you ladies?" A gruff voice interrupted our exchange. The man with the cigarette tilted his head towards us, wearing an expression that said – I'd rather do anything right now than help you.

"Yes" Dad smiled brightly, he handed the man the tickets and VIP passes from his purse.

The guy stared at them for a few moments before sighing and waving us inside, "Follow the yellow markers, your seats will be labelled as they are on the passes. Someone will be there to meet you" he said.

"Thank you" Dad grinned, he linked his arm through mine and began pulling me towards the doors.

I glanced at the guard, "Hey, could I borrow a light?" I asked smiling my biggest smile.

"Haruhi!" Dad scolded.

I smirked, "Kidding"

Stepping inside the building felt like we were entering another world. The bright summer sunshine of the parking lot turned off like a switch, as we wandered down a thick, dark corridor only dimly lit by over head bulbs. Our eyes had to squint to see the yellow markers the man had referred to. There were only a couple of other people in front of us – two stunning women with long curled hair, dressed in floor-length gowns and tall jeweled heels. Even in darkness, they seemed to know their way inside with no assistance needed. I raked my hand through my hair, feeling unbelievably out of place. More so than I had ever done in my life. It almost reminded me of back in high school, wandering past the gym where the cheerleaders practiced. I'd glance through the door window and see this group of slim, beautiful girls twirling and dancing together, as the football players watched from the bleachers with shit-eating grins on their faces. I was the short, awkward girl. I wasn't even the nerdy one, or the weird one. I was just someone people walked past without a second look. And that's exactly how it felt now, only far more uncomfortable.

"Mr Fujioka?" A woman beamed as we reached the end of the corridor. She was tall and slender, and her straight brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a white pantsuit with a red blouse underneath, making her look like the first lady or something equally as important.

I blinked, surprised by her sudden appearance.

"Yes, that's me" Dad smiled back, "And this is my daughter Haruhi"

The woman seemed surprised as her eyes trailed down the length of my father's jumpsuit to his tall scarlet heels. After a moment or so, she met our eyes and plastered on a wide – almost manic – smile.

"My name is Isobel" She said, "Would you like to follow me to your seats?"

Dad graciously agreed and almost tore my arm out of it's socket as he pulled my hand to drag me through the doorway behind the beautiful woman. As we passed through the threshold, the space opened up and we were greeted by a huge room that was filled with chairs, people, photographers, all gathered around a long white stage. The lights beamed down on us like UV rays, heating up my skin and causing my brow to moisten with sweat. And that wasn't the only cause for the sudden heat. There must have been over 100 people in here. Varying in age from old to young, all wearing the most glamorous and breathtaking outfits – they looked like they had been torn straight from the pages of vogue.

We passed the audience of high fashioned models and designers, earning curious glances as we trailed behind Isobel towards the front row on the right hand side of the stage. Two unoccupied seats, surrounded by people so beautiful they didn't even appear human, greeted us as we stepped through the crowd.

"Champagne?" A man dressed in a crisp white shirt and bow tie offered as we settled down. He danced a tray of crystal flutes in front of us with a beaming smile on his handsome face. I felt Dad swoon at my side. I smiled politely and took one for Dad and another for me – resisting the urge to just ask for the bottle and be done with it. Isobel bowed before excusing herself, leaving my father and I sat there looking like two homeless people just walked into a presidential gala. 'Out of place' now seemed like the most understated description in the world. I may as well have had a sign around my neck saying 'I do not belong here' complete with flashing lights and a fanfair blasting from speakers.

"This is amazing!" Dad chirped.

"That's one word for it..." I mumbled.

"Did you see Ando Figs when we walked in? I'm wearing his earrings right now! Do you think he noticed?"

"Who's Ando Figs?" And what kind of name is that?

"He designed that necklace I got you for your 26th Birthday? Don't you remember?"

"The one you got me last year with all those huge purple stones?"

"That's the one!"

I shook my head, "Doesn't ring a bell"

"Grumpy guts" Dad laughed, "Do you think Yuzuha Hitachiin knows we're here yet?"

"I don't know Dad" I shrugged, "I expect she's a little busy at the moment"

"That's true" Dad sighed, "She's probably getting her sons ready"

"Her sons?" I questioned.

"Kaoru and Hikaru" Dad nudged me with his elbow, "I showed you a picture of them when you were 14, you said they were Yummy"

"Pretty sure I was eating Funyuns at the time..."

"I tell you, if I were 10 years younger-"

"Dad. No. Just no"

"What?"

"Just...no"

He chuckled at my side and took a sip from his champagne flute, I copied him. I could instantly tell by the potent fruity taste and the sparkle of crisp cool bubbles that this champagne had never been on sale at Supersale Mart. I knew then that if there was an emergency evacuation, I'd be taking a detour for the refreshment table before the exit. One bottle of this liquid gold could pay my rent for the next year. I threw back the rest of my glass and caught the eye of the waiter wandering around, signalling politely for another. Dad shot me a look.

"What?" I questioned innocently, "I may never taste this again"

I took my new glass and sat back in my seat, allowing my eyes to pan across the huge room filled with people. If I were the kind of person who followed fashion magazines, I would probably have recognized so many faces. I could tell who the famous ones were by the way they were dressed and poised in their chairs. One man in particular held himself like he owned the room. He tilted his head high, looking down his nose at each person around him. He wore a dark suit with a silver scarf wrapped around his neck, and his hair matched in colour and hung down to his shoulders. Even the pale blue of his eyes gave a sinister burn. He must have felt me staring, as slowly he turned his head to meet my gaze. I kept my composure and took another sip of my drink, I wasn't one to back out of a staring contest with a stranger.

"Stop it" Dad grumbled in my ear.

"Huh?"

"That's Frederick Carlyle"

"Who?"

"Stop staring!"

"But he's about to crack, I know it"

"Stop" He clapped his hands in front of my face, forcing me to recoil and look away. I heard a deep chuckle from across the room that made me scowl. Dad sighed, "One day. Just one day. I'm begging you, please, don't be yourself"

"That's just bad parenting" I grumbled.

"You're 26 years old, trust me, I've done all I can. Just please, don't do anything to get us thrown out. Not again"

I scoffed, "It was one time! And that was ages ago!"

"It was a year ago, and it was your cousin's wedding"

"You can't blame me for that"

"You threw your apple crumble on her dress"

"I dropped it" I clarified, "It was hot"

Dad rolled his eyes as the lights above began to dim. All sound in the room died to silence, and a smooth soundtrack started singing through the space. I held my breath as Dad grasped my arm and grinned in my ear. His excitement made me chuckle. Regardless of whether or not I enjoyed being there, seeing Dad so excited over something made the day worth it. I knew I had a habit of acting out like a bored child, but we both knew it was just a silly facade I'd had since I was a teenager. He was used to it by now, and he knew I never meant anything bad by it. He often said he wouldn't have me any other way. Headstrong and independent were the words he described me as.

As the music got louder, an overhead speaker announced the event, earning an applause of approval from the audience who cheered in delight. I clapped along with everyone else, glancing around at everything but the stage. I'd never seen such shared elation in one room before, it was mesmerizing.

Perhaps I should go to events more often...

It was then that the music got louder and bouncier, and the stage began to illuminate with coloured LED lights and strobes. Suddenly, a line of women began making their way down the long platform, wearing the full works of Yuzuha Hitachiin's portfolio on their 6ft, slim forms. Oohs and Ahhs erupted around me, and more applause continued as the models posed and floated across the catwalk, showing off the billowing chiffon of their skirts and blouses. Minutes passed and I realised I hadn't blinked in a while. Even though I had no idea what good fashion was, I could still admire works of art. And these clothes were sensational. The colours, the patterns, the cuts and shapes, were beautiful. It was like watching a literal picasso dance before your eyes. Of course I wouldn't wear any of the outfits, but they were lovely to look at.

The show went on, more models strutting down the catwalk in more colours, more patterns, with the same melancholic expressions on their perfectly made up faces. The music beat on, encouraging more cheers and claps with every thump. Until the speaker called out, announcing the men's wear. Dad squeezed my arm tighter.

"Oh my goodness!" He squealed, giggling in my ear over the noise surrounding us.

With a change in music, the lights dimmed further, and the atmosphere around us grew tense and expectant. Every eye was fixated on the corners of the stage, waiting for someone to appear. Moments passed and finally, two men emerged from backstage. I tried to stifle my gasp, but found myself unable to contain it.

The men were identical. Both tall and broad at the shoulders, with hard chiseled chests hidden beneath form fitting dress shirts. Their necks were thick and toned, meeting the corners of squared masculine jawlines, dusted with grey stubble. And their hair was a deep burnt red, purposely mused like bed hair – giving them a sexy bad boy look. I guess it wasn't the funyuns I was referring to. As Yummy was definitely one word I would use to describe these men. It hardly seemed possible for even one man to look this perfect, let alone two! I stared wide eyed as they glided down the catwalk, walking right past me in my seat. I lifted my eyes up their long athletic legs, to their hips and all the way up to their chests and faces that looked like they had been carved out of marble by the Greeks themselves. I could only make out one small difference between the two, as one twin couldn't seem to control the small smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth, and the other seemed to be taking the moody melancholic look to a whole new level of grump.

As they reached the end of the catwalk, camera flashes blasted them, haloing them in multiple beams of bright light. The smiley twin stayed at the end, posing gracefully, as the moody twin turned and analysed the audience casually, still keeping his model composure. I stared at his face for the longest time, taking in every sharp angle, deep curve and hair on his chin. His hazel eyes glanced down at me for the swiftest of moments, catching my fascination. His thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he held my gaze, and I felt all air catch in my throat. Then the moment passed, and his eyes moved on to the next person, and the next, before he and his brother began to make their way back down the stage to the back. Deafening cheers filled the room, and people rose to their feet. With one last pose, the men turned away, then disappeared back behind the stage, leaving the audience stood calling out in approval.

I slammed my jaw shut, noticing that it had been hanging open for the entire set. The last group of models made their way down the catwalk, before the announcer introduced Yuzuha Hitachiin to the stage. She bowed appreciatively and thanked everyone for coming, and left the room with a skip in her step.

When the show officially ended, and the lights brightened up. I finally turned to my father, whose eyes were glazed with the happiest of tears.

"That was amazing" He grinned from ear to ear.

I nodded, eyes wide.

"What did you think of the twins?" He asked giddily.

I blinked, then gulped down my entire glass of champagne. I hesitated for a long moment, clearing my head. I cleared my throat,"Yummy" I replied.

Now wasn't that the understatement of the decade.

Hey everyone! I had a ball writing this one for you! Thank you for all the support so far, even though I've only posted the prologue I've gotten so many amazing messages of support and I love you all for the ongoing love!

I hope you love this chapter just as much as I loved writing it! I'm experimenting with a new type of Haruhi, she may not be everyone's cup of tea but I am loving writing her in this way.

Please remember to Review/Favourite/Follow!

Yuli xxxx