... Hikaru is loves. You know. xP This is the last part of Kaoru angsting; the next parts build up to Hikaru's angst. If you notice. ;P Otherwise, I said nothin'.

Warning and Disclaimer: I don't want to post this part. It's always annoying and I'm running out of things to say. Dx -whines-


Moment Ten-

Sketch-

I don't like it, Kao-kun. You have to believe that.


I don't understand Hikaru anymore. As simple as he might be, he's too complicated.

"Hikaru," I say sternly and he turns to me, smiling again- waiting for me to say something, "I'm… having a job interview at two o'clock sharp," I watch him, my words slow, my hazel eyes on his depressed face- and he reads the guilt painted on my face-

"Ah! That's okay, Kao-kun! I'll go and play with Neko-kun and Ri-kun!" he chirped, standing quickly from the floor, picking up his pile of crayons and papers quickly, some wax colors hitting the black marble-

"Wait, Hikaru-" I almost want to jump over my desk and grab his wrist- and he looks at me, expectantly, small tears on the edge of his eyes.

And I really, really don't have the heart of leaving him alone with people who- who-

"Hikaru, I'll… I'll let you stay," and he blinks- and if he had cat ears, I swear they could've perked up, and a large smile spread on his face. I sit myself back into my seat, as he drops everything, and gives me a bone-crushing hug. I try to struggle out of his tight grasp, only managing to choke out, "On… on a few conditions!"

And then, he lets go of me, his eyes wondering-

"Okay, first, no interruptions," I say, and he nods slowly, "And then, don't clutter the space. Don't distract me either, okay?"

He nods, a few times, before squatting onto the floor, pushing everything towards the emptier side of the room, the pile just as messy as it was before.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair, deadpanning his eager smile as he sits onto the floor, a crayon outlining on the rough yellowing paper. I prop my head on my hand- why is he still drawing on those old sketch papers? I mull, there's tons of high quality papers in the house, not even including the company. Yet…

If Hikaru was given the proper education… hell, if he already had a proper education, he could do what I could do, and that's what I don't understand. Even most of the fashion critiques thought his first sketches were good- although they were submitted under my name.

I watch him, intently, as the door creaks open-

Hikaru's… hiding something.

She paced restlessly in front of me, as I sipped on my long-gone cold tea quietly, my book pressed towards my chest. She was angry, and I knew it. She had guests over, and I knew that they made her angry. But obaasan was always angry at me.

"Why can't you be good, Kaoru-kun?" she fumed, crossing her arms, glaring at me, "I take you under my wing and this is how you turn out?"

I lowered my eyes to the calm cup of the tea, the liquid shaking slightly from my unsure grip.

"Honestly, I have no idea why I even raised you! You have to be better-"

-better than who? I thought subconsciously, my eyes sliding closed-

"I don't know what to do with you at all!" she screeched, "You're always at school, or crying over something stupid-"

I closed my eyes- ignore her, ignore her, ignore her- after all these years, how long was it going to take to get away from her?

"Or you're sulking at home, indulging in that stupid sketchbook of yours! I don't know what you see in that annoying piece of junk anyway!" she yelled, pointing fingers at me, but I simply grip the fading book closer to me, my eyes blurring a bit.

That sketchbook was worn and yellowed, most of it's page corners were crinkled, and old. But it was the only one of my mother's possessions that I still had that obaasan had kept until I found it on my ninth birthday. I opened it quietly, my eyes scanning over my mother's unknown works, the designs always awing me since-

"And you always draw in it! Why wouldn't you do anything properly and actually submit it for your class, Kaoru?!"

Because sensei would take it away and never give it back to me.

"Give me that!" she snatched the book out of my hand before I could protest and she raked her eyes over the designs, spitting out hatefully, "Like mother, like son. Both love to waste time of frivolities like this."

It wasn't frivolities, I almost wanted to say, but kept back, my hand gripping at the book, but she pulled it away from me-

"No, unless you actually do something worthwhile, I'll won't give it back," she said sternly, and I only look at her weakly-

"Obaasan…" And I cursed myself for sounding so pitiful- but that sketchbook had my mother's last memories in it- I needed it- "That's Mother's last words, please-"

She scoffed, and pulled it away from me, like a finality, and her frown was deep.

"Just like your mother. Always believing in the ridiculous thing called love."

"Hitachiin-san?"

I avert my eyes from him- ten minutes already passed?- and I look into the eyes of a young girl, probably, maybe at least as old as we are-

"Ayame-san, I believe," I nod, pulling out her application form, my eyes roaming on her college course works. I wave to the seat in front of me, "Take a seat."

She looks awkwardly around, and I notice that her eyes drift towards the quietly drawing Hikaru, but she turns back to me as I say, "So, you are applying for a fashion designing position under my company?" I ask, looking at her in the eye, "It's not that often that someone does it."

And I half-expect Hikaru to interrupt. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and he's still quietly drawing, her reply snapping me out of my daze, "Yes, my… sensei had recommended me here… She said that my style fitted the small section that the Hitachiin company needs consolidation on."

I nod, humming in affirmation, my eyes trailing to her college papers, flipping through her rough sketches, and her more professional ones. I finger them as she sits silently in front of me, fidgeting every so often.

"They are exceptional," I say quietly, and I risk a look at her; she has a nervous smile plastered on her face, as if she's waiting for me to say something else.

"Kao-kun, it's okay-" and I blink, looking up at him- when did he come to my desk? He has a hand on the back of my chair and one flat on the desktop, and the girl's looking at both of us until, he smiles at her. He points to something in her sketches, "See, Kao-kun, a lot of people don't use this kind of cut. It's… different. It's doesn't have lace and it's very good if she wants to work for the little kiddies."

And he smiles at me innocently, as I stare-

"You don't use frilly stuff either, so it's okay!" he chirps, glancing at the both of us.

"Um… Hikaru…" I say tentatively, and then he flops back onto the floor, as if he didn't just disturb me. I clear my throat, attracting her attention away from him, "Well, like he said, it does have a unique style, and right now, I'm trying to loosen up on the amount of lace. So, you can start working next week Monday," I write up a little note, before giving it to her, "Fourth floor, down the hall, third door. You can start there."

She looks at me and looks at him, before giving me a delighted smile, bowing deeply, "Arigatoo, Hitachiin-san!" And he walks excitedly to the door, opening it, and giving another smile at me.

I simply brush my hair down, my eyes moving from the glass doors slowly to Hikaru.

"Hikaru…" He perks up slightly, turning towards me. I watch my words, "How much do you know about fashion?"

He thinks in one of those cute gestures of his before he smiles, "Oneesan wanted me to make clothes, but-" he paused, and I notice that his voice was a little strained, "But I didn't really liked it, so I made trouble."

"But you like it," I comment nonchalantly, and he flinches a bit-

"No, you don't get it, Kao-kun," he pouts cutely, blowing at my face stubbornly, frowning, his hazel eyes not meeting mine, "I don't like it. I don't like doing Kao-kun's work."

I furrow my brows- Hikaru's lying again, and I stand from my desk, pacing slowly over to his pile of sketch papers, picking up one- one that could pass off as a design- "But why do you draw it every day if you don't like it?"

He frowns, and it's the first time I saw him frown and I feel slightly guilty for asking that- "I don't like it, Kao-kun!" he closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head fiercely, "I don't like it! I don't like it! I don't like it!"

And then I blink as he ducks under my desk, and I wander towards it, watching as he curls up into a small fetal position- I frown, did I really make him sad?

"Okay, Hikaru… I get it… you don't like it…" I conclude slowly, to see him look up at me, his face full of tears, and I feel something pierce my heart as he looks away quickly-

"I don't like it, Kao-kun. You have to believe that," he mumbles quietly, "I don't like it."

"Okay, you don't like it, I believe you," I say, hoping my voice covers my skeptical tone.

"I really, really, really don't like it," he says quickly, not attempting to move out from under my desk. I sigh, standing up, looking around for something, spotting his clump of papers off to the side, I pick a clean one, and a dark orange crayon, looking at it interestingly-

It's the only crayon that he hasn't ever used-

And I crawl back over to where he's sulking, and I place the paper flatly onto the floor-

"Okay, Hikaru," I show him the orange wax, but he shakes his head. I raise my brow at him, "Draw."

He shakes his head again, his teary eyes looking at me stubbornly, "Orange is Kao-kun's color. You draw."

I frown lopsidedly, staring critically at the sheet of paper, wondering what to draw.

"When did you decide that orange is my color?" I ask, slightly curious, as I think about what to do with the yellowing paper.

"… I don't know… But I remember when I was really, really little, I always liked your color to be orange," he says quietly, his eyes set on the paper.

"Hmm? Really?" I use my crayon aimlessly, drawing something random that even I couldn't decipher, "Why?"

"Orange… is a happy color," he mumbles quietly, "I want Kao-kun to be happy."

And I nod, not saying anymore as I notice that the drawing turned into a oddly-shaped heart.