Ahh...the contest ends on 14th, so I really don't have long til I need to get to the ending :'D

But I'm also tempted to continue it beyond that...

Anyhow, hope you enjoy :) Please review ~

The door clicked closed as it was leaned against. The lights were snapped into working, flickering reluctantly until all could be seen. Stray items were strewn in both obvious and hidden places. It was a comfortable, unmanageable, disorientating mess of a home. The atmosphere inside was stuffy and still, yet let off a lazy warmth. The décor, hidden by overbearingly packed basic furniture, was probably in fashion ten or more years ago, but at this moment in time merely showed, much like the rest of the place, that it was well lived-in by someone with little time on their hands.

"I'm home." It was the same usual murmured utterance spoken here almost every day, as well-worn leather work shoes were slid off. The saying merely a reminder of politeness and nothing more, seeking a response only from the space around him. The ordinary reply was given from the cheap whir of the lights, the sight of clearly untouched furniture, and the welcoming sensation of soft slippers on exhausted feet, padding gently across the shabby carpet.

If this were like any other day, the customary thing that he'd do was go straight to either the kitchen or sofa. But something was still on Mikoto's mind, and he rushed straight to the coffee table. Or rather, the mountain of papers in the middle of the room that hid a coffee table underneath.

He knelt hurriedly beside it, pulling a few month-old letters from the top of the pile and tossing them aside. He slid another pile away, the mountain expanding across onto nearby carpet territory. Mikoto didn't have to glance at all these month-late bills, junk mail, and whatever else he received in the post. He was looking for a shade of pink amongst white and manila.

Tired hands waded their way deeper through the papers, his nerves his only drive. How could Tooru have gotten the wrong idea? Did he get the details wrong? His own invitation said the same thing surely?

But what if he was wrong? What if Tooru's letter was different somehow? Mikoto's rose-pink eyebrows twitched in uncertainty and doubt. If it was different…then he'd only wasted his time and embarrassed himself in front of an old friend.

He began searching in a blind panic, the mountain turning into an erupting volcano of scattering letters. After what felt like an eternity, the flash of pink he was looking for finally appeared.

Ignoring his now even messier surroundings, Mikoto hastily re-opened his dog-eared envelope. He swiftly grasped the A4 card he'd clumsily folded the first time he read it, the crease in the centre breaking up its contents.

Dear Kouno Tooru,

It is with great joy that I invite you, as a friend/understudy/colleague/associate of Kaoru Natashou, CEO of our well-established fashion company, to a special event!

"Bluebird Fantasies" are about to open an exquisite new store specialising in the most beautiful Classical Lolita clothes around!

We'd love to welcome you with open arms to our official Opening Party!

Please come on Friday 7th September at 7.30 pm at our new premises! Bring along this letter as proof of invitation at the door.

Refreshments will be served and an itinerary for the evening will be provided on the night.

There will be exclusive discounts to our new catalogue of clothing for our party guests!

If you are in need of more details, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Hope to see you there!

From,

"Bluebird Fantasies" Store Manager.

This was it. An invitation…to a store opening night.

Tooru couldn't help but sigh as he read it on a rather packed train ride back home that evening. This was all Mikoto wanted to talk about after such a long time?

Granted, it was still a somewhat interesting invitation. The card equally as exquisitely decorated as the envelope. The thought that one of his former seniors was doing very well was also a little intriguing. But to have been contacted out of the blue solely for that? Something had to be amiss.

Not that this was the time or space to think any further about it. A stranger knocked passed him, another sardine in the moving steel tin making its way to the door. The train let out a familiar groan as it came to a stop. He was used to traveling various places, and this wasn't a particularly unpleasant journey compared to some others. In fact, when he first heard from Mikoto, he was a little surprised that he was based somewhere so close. Well, close by his standards these days. He didn't realise before, but everything and everyone he knew had become so dispersed. But it was still a good hour and a half train ride home.

All he could do for now was to think. He'd completely misunderstood what the invitation was about. But it wasn't as if Mikoto gave him any precise indication. If he was anything like he remembered him, he would have anxiously ripped open the letter there and then and protested in his stubborn, despairing way. No – if he was anything at all like his past self, Mikoto wouldn't even have given Tooru such an invite in the first place. He was, after all, the one in control of distributing it. If he had no intention of accepting the invite himself, and still despised such things, why had he gone to the effort of not only finding his contact details – but getting in touch and even meeting with him just to give him it?

Tooru worked with enough people to understand fairly well that there must've been another motive for him to get back in touch, handing over an invitation may just have been an excuse. However, he was still aware that he was capable of jumping the gun. A quick memory of his thoughts in the coffee shop re-emerged. But the way Mikoto had left their lunch meeting, and the mere reason for them to meet up again in the first place left Tooru, once again, unsure.

His brow left noticeable marks of concern on his forehead. Pushing his azure hair out of his face, he reached for his phone and began to draft out an email, urging himself to be more direct this time.

If his suspicions were correct, Mikoto was only using this as an opportunity for something else. For what other reason would he get back in touch for? Was he hoping to rekindle friendship? Or was this a desperate cry for help to the first person he had an excuse to meet?

Perhaps it was none of those. But the situation was still dubious.

But for now, with his head hung low over a device, Tooru was just another passenger, waiting to get off and find answers to the questions on his mind.