Chapter Four: Mourvedre
Two coffee cups tapped the desks like a robin gracing its perch upon the first bloom of spring. Soft colors swirled behind the blond's creme cheeks, obscured only by the dot of some freckles. His warm lashes, dashed by the beginnings of mist, shivered above them, so soft and careful. His plump lips were left open in wanting for a feather-light embrace that promised of new beginnings, of happy endings, and a lifetime more of quivering kisses. Nagisa was caught in a fantasy, so much that he barely saw the bewildered glance shared by Gou and Hana and the perplexed stare of Ms. Amakata, but so long as he could feel the echo of Rei's lingering hand upon the curve of his shoulder, he felt he could disregard his friends entirely. Sweet words that had never been uttered teased Nagisa's ears as he flitted into his chair, fingers teasing the top of his laptop as all reason flew away until -
Ms. Amakata?
The blond snapped up rigidly and like a slap in the face, he absorbed the mystified gazes of his coworkers, save Gou, who at this point in time was accustomed to it. His boss was leaning beside Hana, perhaps having been checking some of her work, mouth half-open as though she'd been speaking when he floated in. Hana's gaze held a certain amount of concern for his mental health, most likely due to the fact that he hadn't even acknowledged the editor. The redhead, however, had swung herself in front of her computer, sipping at the coffee Nagisa delivered.
"This coffee is cold," she criticized absently, setting it off to the side while she typed a few words of her assignment. Ms. Amakata blinked the daze away and shifted closer to Nagisa.
"Should I be worried about you?" she inquired comically. Hana leaned back in her chair and swiveled around, one brow arched impeccably above the other.
"No. This is about a man, isn't it?" When Nagisa confirmed her analysis with a nod, their boss laughed, patted him on the head affectionately and informed him,
"I wish you the best of luck then. Dress him well." She wrapped up a comment to Hana and then made her leave to her ice office, faintly smiling for her love-struck subordinate. Naturally, Nagisa faced no such mercy from his friends, for as soon as their boss was out of earshot, they had him pinned to the ground with a harsh interrogation, pairing up good-cop, bad-cop style to squeeze the information out.
"It was the same guy wasn't it?" Gou asked blithely, color raising enthusiastically to her cheeks. "If it was the guy from before, then you were totally wearing his favorite color. Did you see how black his hair was? It was like, practically blue. God, that coat would be perfect for his favorite color. Plus, like, that makes the primary colors for you."
"You think this was a good coat?" Nagisa demanded apprehensively. "I like, wasn't sure if he would've liked it." Gou nodded as the other woman picked up the trail of investigation.
"What did you find out? Job? Name? Store of preference?" Hana demanded, almond eyes boring into her victim.
"Rei Ryugazaki, attorney at law. He does, like, prosecution for criminal cases. He probably gets his clothing tailored and it's like, all grey." If he got to know the man any better, he was well aware he'd need to take Ms. Amakata's advice to heart, certainly. The color didn't suit him at all. "But like," he proceeded, "I asked him if he ever wondered about the people he put away, right, like what if they were innocent? And he was all, 'I dunno, never thought about it', so I was all, 'then think about it' without thinking, and I think I might've made him feel awkward! Like, what if I ruined my chances?" The majority of the story was directed at the photographer, who analyzed each and every word with extreme caution. Gou excitedly glanced between them, offense at the coffee completely forgotten.
"I think," she began carefully, her lips slightly pursed, "that you asked the right question. A good man will keep it on his mind and, by default, you as well." Gou clapped her hands delightedly as the tension leaked out of Nagisa's body.
"Rei," Gou commented lightly. "What a great name. So like, what else did you say?" Nagisa informed them of the crosswords, to which they rolled their eyes, the conversation of dupioni, at which they giggled, and the story of his exit. Gou gave her approval at the latter, citing his excellence in charisma. "Flawless," she remarked admiringly. "You're such a tease." He snickered and replied, "Yes, we sluts are well versed in flirtatious behavior." The redhead colored and apologized sheepishly for her earlier words, but the blond waved it off with a grin, and instead said, "Everyone's a slut sometimes. Well. At least among us, anyways." Gou laughed and offered up the remainder of her commentary on his behavior.
"But seriously, what a good move. This way, you'll totally be on his mind, you sexy little beast." Nagisa soaked up the praise, but over Hana's shoulder caught the amused expression of his boss, who apparently had been watching them for a bit. She tapped her computer screen and the blond waved abashedly in acknowledgement. The friends giggled happily together and then, now peaceful, returned to their work. Goodwill for their friend stirred in the hearts of the ladies and the young man focused his tender feelings into his writing.
Within the following hours, he offered perhaps some of his best work. His assignment was to write a column on autumn's latest fashion trends, and ever practical and fashionable, he chose to write on scarves. It was a rather safe topic as well, though who could blame him? It was his first column, after all. In his article, he noted the unique combination of cherry blossom pink and sunflower yellow designers strayed towards this year. As no normal person could afford to buy themselves an entirely new wardrobe for fall, he advised that a well-placed colorful pop could draw a beautiful amount of attention to an otherwise dull outfit and make it stand out as trendy and fun. He sourced reasonably priced stores known for their accessories that he'd earlier photographed, though they hadn't yet been fitted in his spread properly since, as a favor to him, Hana had offered fix them in photoshop. She hadn't finished, but she was to correct colors and erase backgrounds in exchange for microwaved coffees and the money he'd "borrowed" earlier.
When the photos were finished and he had received via email from Hana, Nagisa printed off his final draft. Ms. Amakata checked it as the day dimmed and deemed it worthy to be sent to the formatting department for publication. At this time, Gou bade him and Hana goodbye and left the building for home. He waved at Hana, who was wrapping up her work and preparing to leave herself. Noting the late hour, Nagisa prayed he hadn't missed his chance to give the article and pictures to the formatting department. He hurried off to the lab in which they did their work, and dropped the files off with a friendly face. On his way back to his desk, however, his phone buzzed once, then twice. He illuminated his phone screen to check his texts. Both were from the same unknown number, but Nagisa automatically knew it had to be Rei.
From: Unknown Number
Nagisa is a beautiful name.
From: Unknown Number
I apologize for the lateness of the request, but I have a dinner reservation for two at 8:30 and my colleague cancelled. Would you care to join me?
The polite, awkward phrasing caused a laugh to tickle its way out of the blond and he replied, 'Sure thing! where?'. His cheeks reddened pleasantly with the thought that he must really have made an impression on the straight-laced attorney to be invited out so soon, however he nearly choked on the air in his windpipe when the text he received in return was 'Amber Alley'.
Amber Alley was a world-famous restaurant in an unquestionably high-class neighborhood meant for incredibly successful businessmen, editors, stage and movie actors, and about everything Nagisa would never amount to. Often when he was young and enjoyed flipping through celebrity gossip magazines, the backdrop would be that restaurant. He could've sworn that the rich and famous just crawled out from a hole in that restaurant. Wealthy and celebrated aside, however, it was renowned for its incredible food, with items from all around the world blended to create fantastic dishes with unbelievable contrast and originality. Once, when he was young, his father promised to take him, but it was a foolish thing to say: a family like the Hazukis could never afford it.
Of course, at this point he had worked up quite a panic and flipped his head wildly from side to side, searching for an ally of any sort. Luck struck like lightning. He spotted Hana in the process of stepping into an overcrowded elevator and positively screeched,
"Hana! Fashion emergency!" She snapped her neck around so quickly he would be amazed if she didn't get whiplash, hopped away from the elevator like it was hot and was immediately shut out. She glanced back sorely before striding over to Nagisa with swiftness and furious grace.
"You'd better have meant that," she snapped, crossing her arms, her brows taking a deep dive and the corners of her mouth sagging.
"The guy, Rei," the blond frantically explained to his fuming friend, "he invited me to eat at Amber Alley, I only have two hours, I can't afford to buy something new, please, please, please help me!" She regarded her friend, her disposition easing from miffed to mindful as she mused over his options. A moment later, she sighed decisively and waggled her finger.
"Come here," she beckoned seriously, swiveling around and stalking off down a hall that Nagisa knew led to the studios in which the photographers worked with their models. And, he realized as Hana pulled out a set of keys to unlock a door to the right of the studio, the dressing rooms for the models. The lofty woman flicked a light on in the spacious area and forewarned him, "If you ruin one of these suits or dresses, I'll lose my job, then kill you." He didn't doubt it in the least. Breathless, he pivoted and dumbfoundedly asked in a small voice,
"Should I wear a suit or a dress?" Hana lost her severe scowl and snickered with affection over scorn. She knew as well as he that the blond never had been faced with an opportunity to look as fine as she or Gou, for as the youngest in a large, poor family, he wore mostly hand-me-downs throughout most of his life. While he was proud of how far he'd made it into a business that was known to be unkind to newcomers, he seldom imagined yet always desired that he would look like one of models upon the glossy cover. Like most, however, he contented himself as one of the many working behind the scenes. Hana and Gou both could have had what he never could attain and they knew it. It had been their choice as opposed to their fate to join him there and they were well aware of the fact. Sympathy daunted them at times like these, where their hearts would don the guilt of certain privilege that he had not yet been able to reach. But at times like these, they shook off their pity and instead thrust their aching hearts into helping him accomplish all he could. And so, Hana smiled kindly at him - a rare sight indeed.
"You like dresses. If he doesn't, then it's too damn bad." Those words were all the permission he needed from the photographer. Headfirst he dove into the racks, ransacking them for the absolute perfect fit. Though he may have been trying a little too hard for what was allegedly a first date, there was never a time when he didn't want to look his best for himself. A shill, zealous shriek came from the hangers as they were pushed from side to side. He mindlessly grabbed pieces he enjoyed and Hana frantically scurried to catch whatever he threw at her. It took him next to no time to separate out things that he'd wear from the ones he'd rather not. The second step, however, was trying them on. With a certain practiced fluidity, he slipped out of his blue coat, fine jeans, and button up, shedding what little jewelry he wore along with it. And so it began - the first dress.
It was an off-white silk chiffon dress with a round, strapless neck. The skirt dropped into a charming, billowy A-line and was tied at the waist with a champagne sash. The hem barely brushed his knee and he gave Hana a twirl around. She nodded in a considerate show of approval, though her brow furrowed.
"I can't wear this," Nagisa declared. "It's too bridal. I look like a 12 year old flower girl." This time, her nod was vigorous. The next dress had a sweetheart neckline covered with a sheer fabric that lent it long sleeves in the form of an illusion. Jewels were sewn and studded all over it and while certainly expensive-looking, it was concluded that the body-hugging form and extreme shortness would make him look like a desperate tramp among the rich. It would draw too many eyes - and not in a positive way. Were he clubbing, perhaps the situation would be different. After that, he tried out a flirtatiously strapless piece in turquoise but Hana shot it down with no hesitation.
"You don't have the boobs for that." A moment later, she amended, "You don't have boobs at all, in fact." They laughed and proceeded.
The next dress flared out at the hips, but his were too thin to fit in it, and the following one hung on him like a sack. After that, one was too casual, another like a teenager's first prom dress, another an entirely heinous color with skin and hair, and another just down right slutty. There were bell-skirts, full skirts, long and short ones, and the necklines ranged from square to sweetheart. None of them fit Nagisa's more masculine form and he felt his hope sliding away like a raindrop. And so dripped into a padded chair, two-thirds of the way though the rack, eyes drooping with the weight of water.
"I should've guessed. Nothing fits," he stated dejectedly. Permanently he felt he was caught between a far too feminine form to be masculine yet nothing designed for women fit him either. And while he could design things to be gorgeous, he himself simply wasn't created to be beautiful. Hana sat on the arm beside him.
"There are still some left," she informed him, though he only rolled his eyes. Gou was much better at consoling him than she. "We could just use the first," Hana attempted again. Nagisa shook his head and the first few tears fell over the edge. The woman at his side grated her teeth. "Just try one more," she urged, glancing over the next one. Another floor-length one hung on the rack next - they hadn't even used it in the shoot as the model had been too tall to fit. Dejectedly, he dragged himself to it, but what was the point? In the end, it would just hang off of him - but the one behind it... That one was of an appropriate cocktail length, off-the-shoulder, and bathed in a rosy shade. Hana caught the spark of interest and tapped at the floor-length one. "Nu-uh, we have an order. This one first." Nagisa shook his head.
"God, what are you, my mum?" He swiped at his eyes, drying them with the back of his hand. There wasn't time to be upset, anyhow - he would be late if he didn't hurry! And so, he dropped one more dress, stepped into it, and hauled it up his body. He backed into Hana and she obligingly zipped him before sending him off to the mirror.
He should have felt an inkling of it when the silken fabric embraced the curve of his waist or perhaps when the lace graced over his shoulders, right where Rei Ryugazaki had touched him, that he wouldn't need the next dress on the rack. He was bathed in wine violet, a radiance that was not quite shine emulating from every fold in the fabric. The skirt was gathered on one side, not quite at a fixed point, but in a manner that brought attention to what shape his hips did have. It flared out ever so slightly at the ankle, providing him with ample space to walk. It was high-waisted and the round neckline was hidden underneath lace that widely circled his collarbone and just teased at slipping away from his shoulders, wrapping around his arms as three-quarter sleeves. The back dipped to a V just between his shoulder blades in a delicate suggestion of sensuality. The wine of the dress and gold of his hair cultivated an exquisitely luxurious image, not unlike the sharp and soft lines of a regency painting. Nagisa was pretty sure he had to sit down.
Both he and Hana stumbled back into their chair and gave apprehensive giggles.
"God," Hana whispered at him. He bit his lip to keep a smile from spreading too far. "It's the color of a young Syrah. Or a Mourvedre," she remarked, admiration deep in her voice. Nagisa nodded - it wasn't red enough to be like a Pinot Noir, but the two wines she suggested were rich in color and almost plum in tone. She stood and fished around a desk surface for a minute before returning to the blond with a hairbrush and some makeup. As a photographer, she had a particularly steady hand and as such, she was able to fix his makeup with relative ease. His hair she swept off to the side, creating a style reminiscent of the 1920's, finishing with an ornamental hair clip on the offside of his hair. It depicted a roseate butterfly caressing a lotus encrusted in gold. His reflection in the mirror was remarkably androgynous, containing all the dignity and strength of an unbreakable woman in the finesse of the fabric along his hips, yet balanced with the opulent endurance of a man in the line of his jaw and the eager shine in his delicate eyes. Both he and Hana knew in that moment that he was ready for everything this opportunity - and all that were to come - had to provide.
Nagisa collected his clothing and folded it neatly his bag, catching a glimpse of his phone as he did so. His breath hitched in his throat and the woman shot him a questioning glance.
"Oh God," he groaned sickly. "It's 8:42!"