English is still not my first language, so whatever this is - I tried my best.

This is not proofread. So, if you find mistakes (what kind soever) or something confusing then please tell me. I will try my best to fix it.

Have fun :3

"Say, did that author reply to you already?"

"Hmm."

"What did he say?"

"I should read the books and if I still have questions, I'm free to contact him again at any time."

"That doesn't sound helpful."

"No. It's not."

"I will get them for you later."

"No need. The director had sent them to me yesterday."

"Good. I try to make some room in your schedule for you to read."

"No. It's fine. I can read in my breaks or in make-up."

A stern look directing at the driver, Yashiro can't hold it in anymore. "And when are you going to learn your scripts? And eat? And actually rest a bit?" He sighs heavily. "Ren, I don't know what's wrong with you lately, but if you go on like this any longer, you will break down. Even your body won't be able to withstand that much stress forever."

"It's not stress, Yashiro-san. It's the career I have chosen and want to do. Just a little hectic at the moment."

"Hectic?" He retorts. "You are working 18 hours nearly every day for the past," he scans his planner, "three and a half weeks. And the next two weeks are just as tightly packed."

The actor took a second to answer. "I need to get as much done as possible now, so I can fully concentrate on the movie later."

Yashiro had to sigh again - what ever that was, it was the stupidest thing his charge had said in a while. "Showbiz doesn't work that way, Ren. It's not a list you can work through. The more you do, the more they want you to do and you know it."

He doesn't get a response, it's not like he expects one.

Not being able to ignore it any longer, he finally asks what burns on his mind ever since.
"What happened four weeks ago, Ren?"
What ever it is or was, something had changed a month ago. It had changed Ren. And not for the better.

Tsuruga Ren always had been a reserved, shielded person, but since that day there was not one single unscripted smile. Not one glare or stern look. He is always friendly and gentlemanly, smiles when he has to and laugh at appropriate moments. But there is not one speck of emotion if it isn't for work. As if he is a walking and talking muppet, existing only to do his job.

His face carefully blank, Ren concentrates on the traffic. He can't answer that question, even if he knew what had happened that time. To her. To him.

But he doesn't know. And so he won't answer.

Something had changed that day. Had made him change. He doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to remember. But the more he is trying to forget, the more details he can recall.

What a paradox.

That girl is a paradox.

If he would be alone at this moment, he would have stopped on the side and let his head drop on the steering wheel - he could still recall every single
moment he had seen her that day.

It had been a wonderful day - sunny, but not too hot. He had had slept fine for once, woken up in a good mood and even had a little appetite. The amount of work was just right, with the right people and enough, but not too many breaks. He even had seen her sitting in a cafe, typing on a phone near one of his on-location shoots right in the city. Who knows, with his good mood and the day being so perfect, he maybe would have had the courage to talk to her. But he had work to do and there was a growing crowd of people around, screaming his name and the names of the other celebrities - this had probably been the only bad thing so far. And even though his sometimes super annoying boss had called him, it was just to give him good news - he had gotten the role in that movie he wanted so badly. His last job had went so well he could go home early and with a little luck, maybe even see her dance.

That day had been good. Really good. You could say he had felt somewhat happy.

Until he had seen her dance.

He came home, got a bottle of water from the fridge and went to the window. The window.

Opening the huge glass panel, he stepped onto the balcony and looked down, he saw her windows being open - they are never open. Not as far as he knew, at least.

She was crouching in front of her computer, strangely enough still in jeans and a light blue shirt - starting some upbeat song. Taking a few steps back, she stood there for a few seconds before she started to move to the beat, but it didn't even take 10 seconds until she stopped and stomped over to the device, changing the song.
The next thing she did was pulling her jeans off and throwing them away angrily, before she again started to dance - this time ballet to something classical he didn't even try to remember the name of. She danced a little longer, but again stopped in the middle of a move and marched back to the laptop.
This time it took a while until the piano reached his ears and even longer for her to stir. She moved slowly, a lot on the floor with a few jumps and turns.

But it wasn't as perfect as every other time he had watched her. It seemed injudiciously and emotional, messy even and still the movements fit the music to a tee. He couldn't understand the lyrics - it was sung too slow and soft, except that one line. That line that would haunt him still one month later.

'Ouch I have lost myself again'

And only a few seconds after that she fell and for a moment he thought she would stop again, but she just resumed with a different move. She was crawling, arching, pushing herself up, bending, turning, jumping, letting herself fall, punching the floor and ended up curled into a ball as the song finished.

It was awfully quiet as he watched her lying there. His heart beating in a strange rhythm. It hurt. He didn't know what hurt, but it did and he couldn't do anything about it.
She was lying there, trying to curl up even smaller, as quiet sobs drifted up to him. She was crying, making herself as small as she could with her arms wrapped around her - trying to hold herself together.

He remembered the burn in his eyes, the tickle down his cheek, that tight knot in his chest. He wanted to help. To go over to her and wrap her in his arms, holding her until she couldn't cry anymore. To tell her everything and nothing. But he couldn't. He could do nothing for her.

It was all so wrong.

He didn't know a thing about her and still felt like he knew her forever. He knew it was wrong to watch her like this, to watch her in such a private moment, but he couldn't look away. He just couldn't.

How could he feel with her, when he didn't even know what had happened? He wasn't an emotional person and even less perceptive like that.

It wasn't right.

She was breaking, and he felt himself break with her.

He couldn't do this anymore. Not after seeing her like that. Not after seeing her fall into pieces with no chance for him to help her in any way. He had to stop. Stop watching her. Stop running to the window as soon as he closed the door after him. Stop being happy when he got a glimpse of her.

And still he watched her. The whole time until it was too dark for him to see anymore.

She had fallen asleep. Crying. Alone on the floor of an empty room. Clutching herself.

And he couldn't remember what had happened after this. Did he eat? Did he go to bed? When had he closed the window? Did he sleep at all? How did he get to work?

It had been nearly four weeks since then. Nearly four weeks since he started to take on more jobs. To spend as less time at home as he could. To work himself so tired, he wouldn't have the energy to think about it anymore and would fall asleep as soon as his head touched his pillow.

It doesn't always work. Sometimes he recalls that day without him even trying to. He remembers everything and sometimes it even triggers that burn behind his eyes, giving him dreams of imperfect perfect movements and a song he hated and couldn't hate at all.

He sighs and his manager hears him. Ren knows it isn't fair to him. He has more work since then, too. Is tired as well and doesn't even know why.
But he can't tell him. Can't tell him what happened. To him. That day.

So he concentrates on the traffic, trying not to remember and doesn't give an answer.

Hello guys :3

Well isn't it fun?

No... honestly, I have no idea what happened.
I put that "first chapter" out after 1 1/2 years of lying around, just because I liked it and thought why not. And then?
I got reviews. Why? I don't know. BUT... I got inspired... heavily.
I always knew what that "story" was about, but never got to actually work anything out. Until two weeks ago. I read your reviews and then POW! Bits and pieces popped into my head and made sense. I could work with them. Could put them into order.
And now?
I proudly announce: This thing can happen!
I have nearly the whole story line down. I have an end! (That's something totally new for me) There are only a few thingy-things I have to flesh out and then I could actually write this :D

I'm so excited! You have no idea :D

Enough with the rant. And now...

Give Me Reviews! Come on! Criticism or just a Thanks - doesn't matter. Just do it! (Where is Shia LaBeouf when you need him?)

Honestly, they help so much. I never understood when an author wrote this (they're nice to get, encouraging and all, but nothing more I thought), but they do. They really help, inspire and get a writers ass moving (Sorry for my language. There was just no other way of saying it... ;)

So... I think I'm going to write a little more now - even if it is just some plot.

I love when I know what I do XD It's so fun to write, when you know where you're going.

BTW she is doing a contemporary dance to 'Breathe Me' by Sia. Sadly I couldn't find a video with a fitting routine, so just imagine something you like ;3

Ok. I'm out now :3

A big Thank You to everyone who followed, faved and reviewed :D I love you guys xxx

Thank you for reading (especially, if you read all of this A/N too XD)

Have a nice day.

Ja ne

Kia