A/N: Chapter 6, folks! I want to thank everyone for their kind words, again! I really appreciate it. There are still about five more installments left in this story.

As always, enjoy! Follow/favorite me for more updates! I plan on plenty more.

Also, shameless plug again: If you like this story, you should check out my other short story, "Drip"! Violence/Horror warning. But still. You should totally check it out.

December 22nd, 7:30 AM, London

(Primary language: English)

Oliver laid in bed staring at his ceiling. Bright light from the morning sun (made even brighter from the fresh snow) peaked through a thin split between the black-out curtains draped over his window. He preferred complete darkness to get his best rest, as he was a very light sleeper.

Not that it mattered last night. It wasn't for a lack of trying, though. He was determined to fall asleep, and he did, just not at a respectable hour. His mind was too busy to allow that. He supposed he got two hours of sleep, at best. Luckily, he was used to functioning with few hours of sleep; his line of work was known for late nights and early mornings. Unlike Gene, who would get needlessly grumpy if he got less than five hours. One of his only faults, Oliver thought.

He sighed, pushing Gene to the back of his mind. He missed Gene, which was difficult enough in and of itself, but now Gene made him think of Mai. And Mai was what prevented him from getting sleep that night. He had spent a solid two hours trying to convince himself that Lin had been wrong and he was indeed not in love with her, but by the time the third hour rolled around, he had run out of arguments. He hated that the only logical explanation for everything—the unfamiliar affection he developed for her, the unprecedented jealousy he felt when he realized that Mai loved Gene, the ache in his chest when he left her, his resistance to reading her letters—boiled down to one catalyst: love.

He loved her.

And given what little he understood, he presumed he loved her a lot.

Nothing made sense anymore, and it scared him. Not that he could admit that.

He wouldn't blame Mai for not wanting to have anything to do with him. He had been a complete prat and he knew it. If there ever was a chance she wanted him over Gene to begin with (and that was a big if), the likelihood was that he was too late now. Maybe that's what was best for her, he thought. He just couldn't compare to his brother. He felt his heart sink. Even if he was on his best behavior, Oliver thought, it wouldn't change anything.

It couldn't.

Could it?

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before throwing his blankets off and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He stood slowly, stretching briefly to loosen his tired muscles. He opened his curtains, blinding himself temporarily from the sudden invasion of light.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and grabbed his sleeping shirt, which he removed before bed, from the back of his desk chair and slipped it on as he exited his room to wander downstairs. He buttoned it as he walked. When he stepped onto the foyer, he heard clanking dishes from the kitchen. His mother, he assumed. He did not wish to associate with anyone this morning, but his desire for tea undercut his desire for isolation. He entered the kitchen with the lowest profile he could manage.

"Good morning, Noll!" Luella chimed from in front of the stove.

Damn it.

"Good morning, mum," he replied politely. He made his way to the cupboard with the teacups.

"Tea, dear?" Luella inquired, holding up a kettle she was about to heat.

Damn it.

"Please, if you don't mind," he answered, conceding defeat and accepting his fate. She nodded, smiling kindly. "Thank you."

"Of course. Here, have a seat and I'll get you something to eat," she said, gesturing to a seat at the breakfast nook built into the granite island.

"Don't trouble yourself, mum,"

"It's no trouble at all!" she returned, placing the kettle on the flames on the stove. She moved about the kitchen, preparing a space at the island to cut fresh fruit from the refrigerator. "Besides," she added, lobbing a ripe pineapple on the cutting board, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something." Oliver sighed. That's what he was afraid of. He knew his mother all too well. He folded his hands and put them on the counter in front of him, watching her closely.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, thrusting the knife through the top of the pineapple in one swift motion.

"Fine," he lied. "And yourself?"

"Well, thank you," she said distractedly, now focusing on her chopping. "Your friends are very pleasant."

"They are," he responded with a sigh. She looked up briefly with a curious look on her face before returning to her work.

"So, may I ask why you stormed off the other night when they arrived? That was very rude, Noll," she lectured.

"I know, I apologize for that," he said sincerely. He reflected briefly upon Lin's words from last night, and then added, "Thank you for inviting them." Luella smiled.

"Of course. I wanted to surprise you…" she stopped chopping and slid the chunks of pineapple into a bowl, catching his eyes for a moment. "I hope you aren't upset with me." She bit her lip.

"I'm not," he assured her. She sighed in relief and began her work on a honeydew melon. 'Not anymore,' he thought. He wasn't lying. He wasn't upset with her; he was upset with himself. He'd done this to himself.

She seemed to sense his apprehension.

"I don't want to overstep any boundaries, Noll, I just…" she sighed, scooping the seeds out of each half of the melon. "I just want you to be happy again…" she finished in nearly a whisper.

"What makes you think I'm unhappy?" he inquired, crossing his arms.

"You have not been yourself since—" she cut herself off abruptly, swallowing a lump that formed in her throat. He raised a hand to spare her the pain.

"I assure you, I'm fine. Like I have been telling you for months," his voice faltered a bit at the end of his sentence.

"Oh, come off it, Noll," Luella said, voice tetchy. He raised an eyebrow. Luella was not easily angered. She seemed to have surprised herself, too, as she immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, I'm just at my wit's end with you." She set her knife down on the cutting board to begin rinsing an assortment of berries in the sink next to her. "I don't care what you say, you have not been yourself, and I want to know why."

"I don't know what to tell you, mum," he replied, voice flat to conceal his guilt. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to say it. It would only make her upset, and that's just one more set of emotions he was not prepared to deal with.

"Then tell me one thing," she demanded. She threw all the fruit in a bowl, tossing it violently, not looking at him. "Who is that little brown haired girl, Mai?" Oliver's eyes widened, confused. What did she know?

"I am not sure what you mean," he blinked. His heart rate quickened. "You already know her name."

"I mean," she started, scooping out some of the fruit mixture into two bowls. "Who is she to you?" She stuck a fork in one of the bowls and slid it over to him.

"No one," he answered a little too quickly. She raised an eyebrow, grabbing a fork for herself.

"Oh really? You have an awful lot of feelings for someone who is no one." She took a bit of pineapple indignantly, leaning against the counter now to stare him down. Oliver narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, keeping the straightest face he could manage.

"Perhaps," he retorted. There was no use lying; she was not going to relent.

"She's one of the one who has been writing you letters, right?" He nodded. "And have you answered any of those?" Silence. "Noll," she chastised.

"I know, I get it, I realize that I was rude," he countered, "But what do you expect? I'm not Gene." He finished bitterly. Luella's face softened.

"No, you're not Gene," she repeated, her voice quivering a bit. "But you're also not a rude person..."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I seem to do that to a lot of people."

The tea kettle whistled, jostling Luella out of her stupor. She moved to turn off the stove and prepare two cups of tea.

"No one expects you to be Gene, Oliver," she said while pouring the water into the cups. She dropped in little silver tea steepers and clipped them to the sides. She took both cups over to him, set them down, and pulled him into an warm, firm embrace. "You don't give yourself nearly enough credit." She squeezed him gently. He said nothing. "Your father and I are so proud of who you are, who you have become. And I know Gene would be, too." He tensed in her arms. "I don't want you to be Gene," her eyes welled with tears. "I want you to be Oliver, because I love Oliver." She pulled away. "Believe me."

"Okay," he supplied. She may have loved him and Gene the same, but the rest of the world evidently did not. But he was not about to explain that to her.

"You be nice to that girl; you hear me?" He blinked in response. She put her hands on her hips. "You love her, don't you?"

"I suppose you could say that," he murmured. She grinned impossibly wide.

"And she is your friend, right?" He pondered for a moment.

"If she doesn't hate me already," he shrugged. The thought discouraged him. Even if she didn't love him, he didn't want her to hate him.

For some reason he was incapable of imagining his life without the loud, annoying, and stupid girl.

"Oh, I'm sure she doesn't hate you. She wouldn't be here if she hated you," she reasoned. He hoped she was right. He took his tea cup and held the steaming liquid to his lips, taking a long sip. "So, be nice. You will be spending quite a bit of time with her the next few days." She kissed him on his forehead, grabbed her bowl and cup, and bumped the kitchen door open to go sit in the parlor to finish her breakfast in peace.

Now what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to magically know how to make things right when he didn't even fully understand what made them wrong in the first place?

Unrealistic.

But he could always do some research, he thought.

5:20 PM

(Primary Language: Japanese)

"An…opera?" Mai repeated.

"Yes!" Ayako cried, beaming. "The Davises have arranged for all of us to attend an opera at Her Majesty's Theatre," she stressed. "How fantastic is that?!"

"Uh… Well…" Mai began, glancing around at all her friends in the lush parlor. Luella sat next to Ayako on one of the velvety couches with a nervous smile, waiting.

"That sounds wonderful, Luella!" John answered genuinely. "I haven't been to the theatre in ages." Luella sighed in relief.

"I have always wanted to go to Her Majesty's Theatre; it looks so beautiful in pictures. The opera… So cultured!" Ayako sighed nostalgically. Mai didn't need to understand English to know she was being dramatic. Luella did not seem to mind. In fact, she was drinking it up, clearly thrilled that her guests were excited for the plans she had made prior to their arrival.

"Excellent!" she gushed. "We will leave around 7:30. The show begins at 8:05, so that gives us plenty of time to get there and find our seats." She scurried off. For preparation, Mai assumed.

"The opera? Really? Isn't that just a bunch of fat ladies screaming at each other?" Mai asked incredulously. Ayako gasped.

"Have you lived under a rock your entire life, Mai? The opera is art. It tells a story!"

"Is it as dramatic as you? Because then I'll probably hate it." Bou-san jeered.

"Shut it!" Ayako snapped.

"Hey now, I was just messing around with you. I actually want to go to the opera. It sounds interesting. What do you think, Yasu?" He was met with silence. Yasu had fallen asleep next to Bou-san on the couch for the third time that day. He had stayed up into the early hours of the morning reading the first half of Naru's thesis. "Hey, Yasu!" Bou-san shouted, swatting him up the back of the head. He lurched forward.

"Ow! Hey! Watch it!" He rubbed the back of his head, grimacing.

"Next time you're jet lagged, don't go to bed at 4:00 in the morning, idiot," Bou-san retorted. Yasu sighed.

"It was worth it," he shrugged. "I would do it again."

"Anyways," Ayako interjected. "I talked to our hostess a lot today while some people," she glanced at Bou-san and Yasu, "Were busy napping." The two of them exchanged a high five. "She has a lot planned for us the next few days. She's very excited."

"What else does she have planned?" Inquired Mai.

"Tomorrow she wants to take us around the city."

"That sounds fun!" Mai replied. John nodded in agreement.

"London is a beautiful city. There is a lot to do," he mused.

"Hey Mai, sounds like a great opportunity for some good old alone time with Naru," Bou-san jested, nudging her with his elbow.

"Bou-san!" Mai flushed.

"Actually, I agree with Takigawa for once," Ayako said.

"Are you serious?!" Mai shrieked. "Whose side are you on?" She folded her arms.

"Yours, of course!" Ayako waved a hand at her. "That's why you should definitely make a move." Mai harrumphed.

"Forget it!" she shouted. "I mean, even if I wanted to spend time with him—and I'm not saying I do! —he has made it quite clear he doesn't want to spend time with me, so," Mai shrugged. Ayako gave her an incredulous look. "What? He's avoided me all day! He barely even looks at me!"

It was true; ever since their run-in last night Naru had made it a point to exit the room whenever she entered.

"He might be self-conscious," suggested John.

"Naru? Self-conscious? Yeah right!" Mai laughed resentfully. "That's a funny joke."

"John might be on to something," Yasu noted. "Naru may be hard-headed, but even he is not immune to the hell that is regret. Maybe seeing you makes him feel guilty." Mai hadn't considered that. What if Naru did actually feel bad about how he acted? He was very self-aware, so there was a high probability this was the case. Mai sighed.

"Fine, I'll give him a chance," she conceded. "But he's about out of chances, let me tell you."

"Don't worry Mai, we've got your back," Bou-san cracked his knuckles. Everyone laughed. "But really, this will work out somehow. I can feel it in my bones." Mai was not entirely convinced, but she appreciated her friends' kindness. Ayako stood up suddenly, hands on her hips.

"The opera is a formal affair, so dress nicely, please. I don't want to be seen with a bunch of immature heathens," she asserted. "And I'm not talking about John or Mai." Yasu clutched his heart and Bou-san sat forward suddenly.

"I can't believe you would think so lowly of my fashion choices," Yasu bemoaned, at least half joking.

"And who are you calling immature?!" Bou-san accused. Ayako smirked.

"Monk," she said simply. Bou-san cackled. "I rest my case." She strolled out of the parlor towards the main foyer.

"Hey, that's not fair! That word is funny and you know it!" he called after her.

"Ayako, wait!" Mai jumped up to run after her. She caught her at the bottom of the stairs. Her face looked rather sheepish. "You said the opera is fancy, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I…" she gripped one of her arms, staring at her toes. "I don't have anything with me that would be considered formal…" she looked up, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I'm not really sure I have any formal clothes at all… They're expensive, and, well…" Ayako laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling gently.

"Don't worry about it Mai. I'm sure I have something we can make work for you." Mai's face lit up.

"Really? You'll help me?"

"Of course, Mai. Besides," she added throwing her hand up pretentiously, "If your goal is to capture Naru's attention, you're going to need to learn a thing or two."

7:27 PM

(Primary language: Japanese)

After Ayako was done getting ready herself, she helped Mai select out an outfit for herself out of her wardrobe. The results were spectacular. Mai barely recognized herself, looking in the mirror.

"I don't think I've ever looked so… Expensive!" Mai opined. She turned around in a circle, trying to get a complete view of herself.

"I do have the magic touch, don't I?" Ayako boasted. "You're lucky I always pack extra."

Mai wasn't listening; she was too busy turning for herself in the mirror.

"Wow…" she whispered. She hadn't been that excited to go to the opera at first; going to watch a bunch of people scream at each other in a language she already has trouble understanding was not exactly her idea of fun. But now, she thought it was worth it just to get to see herself so dressed up. The money she saved—which wasn't a lot to begin with, especially after losing her job at SPR—went primarily towards rent and food, so dressy clothes were not exactly a priority. "Thank you so much, Ayako."

"Don't mention it," she replied, slipping a clip adorned with what looked like small diamonds into Mai's hair, clipping it gracefully off to the side. "Don't worry, they are cubic zirconia," she added, noting Mai's alarm.

Mai selected a plain, formfitting, dark royal blue dress with short off-the-shoulder sleeves. It was thigh-length on Ayako, so it fell elegantly just below Mai's knees. The dress was a few sizes too big for her due to her petite stature, so Ayako had bunched the dress in the back until it hugged Mai's waist and used a safety pin to hold it in place. To cover it up, she wore a gossamer black shawl over her shoulders (no one would even notice if she just didn't take it off all night, Ayako assured her). To compliment the simplicity of the dress, Ayako suggested a strand of white pearls that hung just below her throat with a matching bracelet and dangly pearl earrings. The only flaw in her ensemble was her shoes: Ayako's feet were significantly bigger than Mai's, so she was stuck wearing a pair of old, white sandals she had packed. Mai didn't mind, though. She didn't think anyone would notice her feet considering her transformation from the knees up.

"Are you ready?" Ayako asked, sliding her own white shawl over her shoulders. It contrasted beautifully with her long, red dress.

"Mm, yeah," Mai nodded. The two women made their way down the stairs. Bou-san, Yasu, and John were already waiting. Bou-san and John were wearing solid black suits and white ties (though John's was a bowtie), and Yasu wore and obnoxiously white suit with a red rose pinned to his lapel.

"Wow, you guys cleaned up really well. I'm surprised!" Ayako remarked, looking them all up and down. She raised an eyebrow at Yasu. "Did you just happen to have a white suit packed?"

"Actually, yes," he answered, adjusting his glasses. "I'm always prepared."

"He's lying, that's the only other suit we could find at the thrift store!" Bou-san shouted.

"Thrift store?" Mai questioned.

"Yeah, we had to go shopping because Ayako wouldn't have approved of the dress pants and button ups we had. Not fancy enough. Not mature enough," he said in a mocking tone that Mai guessed was supposed to sound like Ayako. She stifled a laugh. Ayako rolled her eyes.

"I still got my way, so who is the loser here?" Ayako huffed. Bou-san went silent, a sour look taking over his face. "Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"Don't worry guys, I think you all look handsome," Mai promised. "Especially considering you only had a few hours…"

"Not too shabby yourself, kid!" Bou-san went to ruffle her hair, but then stopped. "Man, you're too fancy to ruffle right now." He laughed.

A few moments later, Luella marched through the kitchen door, putting in one of her earrings as she walked.

"Perfect, right on time. Martin rang for three lifts; they should be here any moment!" she chimed excitedly. "You all look lovely!"

Martin emerged from the kitchen, straightening his tie. He opened the front door, letting in a cold breeze. Mai's bare legs got goosebumps.

"It's time to go, they are coming up the drive now," Martin called back to everyone. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be fun, Mai felt very on edge; their punctuality would take some getting used to.

Everyone began filing out the front door into the falling snow.

"Noll! It's time to go!" Luella shouted up the stairs. "Lock the door on your way out, would you dear?"

7:29 PM

Yasu, Bou-san, and John seated themselves in the first cab as Martin gave instructions to the driver through the open passenger door. As Luella passed Mai to go outside, she stopped next to her.

"You look lovely, darling," she said with a small smile. Mai blushed.

"Th-thank you, Loo-ella. You, too," she responded with an awkward smile, swallowing her anxiety. She wondered if she would ever stop getting nervous to speak English. She tilted her head a bit, confused by Luella's new expression. It looked like she was fighting the urge to full out grin, Mai thought.

"Martin and I will be sharing a lift with Miss Matsuzaki. I hope it's alright that you will be sharing with Noll," she said. Mai's heart skipped a beat, piecing together the words 'share' and "Noll.' She opened her mouth to say something, but could not think of a reasonable protest. Her palms started to sweat.

"O-okay…" she stuttered.

"Excellent," she chimed. "He'll be down in a moment, I'm sure." And with that she left Mai alone in the foyer, her shawl fluttering in the breeze from the open door.

The sudden sound of footsteps caught her attention. She looked up to find Naru descending the stairs. She felt her face redden even more. He looked absolutely dashing. He wore a well-tailored black suit with white cuffs. Under his suit jacket he wore a white shirt, accented by a tie with different shades of dark blue and black. She knew she was staring, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Her body refused to cooperate with her mind.

Halfway down the stairs, he noticed Mai waiting on the foyer. He stopped with his feet on two different stairs, gripping the garland-covered banister lightly. He blinked slowly, taking a moment to take in her appearance. It took Mai a few moments to register that he was staring back.

A few moments later, he cleared his throat and continued his descent, still not breaking their gaze. Once he reached the bottom, he approached her with great poise. He stopped an arm's length in front of her.

"Good evening," he greeted her calmly. She detected a hint of color on his cheeks. Perhaps it was the cold.

Yeah, that had to be it.

"Evening," she returned. "You…look really nice," she finished lamely, really unsure of what to say.

"Thank you," he acknowledged. "You look…different."

Different?! What was that supposed to mean?! Her bemusement must've been evident on her face, because he appeared to rethink his words.

"I mean, you look… very elegant," he amended. She smiled a bit. Better.

"Thank you," she nodded. "Are you ready to go? The taxi is waiting," she informed him, turning towards the door.

"No, but I suppose that doesn't matter," he shrugged, taking a few steps in front of her to march out onto the steps first. He jostled his key into the door. She stepped past him cautiously, taking care not to slip down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom, he shut the door, and turned the key.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't really want to go, either," she said with a weak laugh. He walked down the stairs, shoving the key in his breast pocket.

"Opera has never interested me; it was more of Gene's thing," he shrugged.

"Well, then, I suppose we can go be miserable together," she suggested. To her astonishment, he actually cracked a small smile. Almost indiscernible, but a smile nonetheless. Her entire body shuddered. She hated that he still had this kind of effect on her.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he agreed. He raised his arm gracefully, offering it to her. She did not move for a moment. "If you haven't noticed, I am being nice."

Mai shook her head to snap out of it.

"You know," she began, carefully placing her arm in his, "the niceness becomes pretentious when you talk about how nice you're being."

"Duly noted," he answered, sounding surprisingly sincere. When they reached the cab, he opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she nodded at him, sliding onto the seat. Instead of taking the front seat like she expected, he walked around to the other side and climbed in next to her. She felt woozy, but he didn't seem to notice.

He was too busy reveling in the results of his research: she did not appear to hate him.

9:05 PM

It was an hour into the opera, which Mai liked much more than she expected. She did not need to understand the singers (who sounded beautiful and not earsplitting) to appreciate the story they told. They had an extraordinary view from a loge suite on the third floor. On her right side, Yasu had passed out, his head drooped over the back of his chair. Luckily he wasn't snoring. To her left sat Naru, legs crossed and leaning on the left armrest. As much as she was enjoying the show, she still found herself incredibly puzzled by his behavior earlier. Her mind replayed the moments several times, but she just couldn't figure him out.

What a change he had made since the night before. Not that she was complaining. At least he wasn't ignoring her. She shrugged to herself and placed her arm on her left armrest, deciding to not look too much into it right now. There were too many unanswered question and she still had unsatisfied fury. No way she was letting him off that easy.

She heard Naru shift his weight in his seat. She felt a clad arm brush against her bare skin, causing her to shiver. She looked over, finding Naru's arm sharing the arm rest with her.

"Sorry, I'll move," she whispered. He shook his head.

"Don't, it's fine," he murmured. She promised herself not to look too far into that, either.

She had to fight the urge to grab his hand.

That struggle ended when he casually slipped his hand over hers.