Kyoko woke up to golden sunlight through the creamy drapes, limning the beige tones of the room with a surreal lustre. She turned her head drowsily on the pillow, registering a warm hard weight around her.

She stiffened. Glossy raven locks of hair had spilled onto her from where Kuon's head was nestled in the crook of her neck. Her breath hitched, and suddenly she wasn't quite so sleepy anymore; her heart thumped her chest. He was spooning her, his arm wrapped around her slender torso just under her breasts and the weight of his long leg resting over hers. He was so much bigger than her that she felt dazed comparing him to the little boy he'd once been.

They hadn't gone to sleep like this, so he must have rolled over in his sleep.

It wasn't appropriate, she thought, but it felt nice, and even if Kuon woke up, the impropriety of it would probably never occur to him.

She touched his silky dark hair tenderly, studying the chiselled curve of his jawline. Her innocent little boy had grown up too fast, and faced so many hardships as a child. She was the only family he had left, even if they weren't related by blood.

She couldn't let him down.

Kyoko sighed inaudibly. Not too long ago, she'd met Kanae for lunch. She'd voiced her worries about Kuon's lack of romantic relationships, adding what she'd thought now: that he was an innocent little boy who had been forced to grow up too fast. She feared he was still suffering even to this day.

To her annoyance, Kanae had burst out laughing.

"Innocent?" she said scornfully. "Kuon, innocent? Have you forgotten how he was the first time you ever met him? He's a two-faced—"

"That was before," Kyoko argued. "He was still grieving for his mother then."

"Leopards don't change their spots," Kanae declared. "He might be better at covering up now, but he's still the same person he was then. Only now, he's fucking manipulated you into believing he's innocent. Wasn't it like this back when his dad was around? Don't you understand, Kyoko? You're the new Kuu."

The new Kuu? Until now Kyoko was baffled by Kanae's statement. What did that even mean?

"Good morning."

Startled by the deep murmur reverberating down her neck, she looked down into dark tunnels for eyes, hooded by lashes so long they cast sinuous shadows across his milky skin. Peering down at that sculpted face slightly gentled by sleep, his liquid eyes gazing up at her, she felt Kanae's words slip further from her mind.

"Morning, Kuon," Kyoko said warmly.

He didn't respond, just buried his face deeper into her, nuzzling the sensitive skin of her throat, her bright copper hair mingling with his ebony locks.

"Kuon, it's time to get up," Kyoko added firmly. Her skin felt aflame, and now she really worried if this was appropriate. "Come on."

She swatted his head, but he still didn't stir, and she wondered if he was half-asleep.

Sighing, Kyoko reached for her phone on the nightstand with her free hand. To her surprise, it was switched off, and she tried to think if she'd switched it off last night before going to bed.

"I switched it off."

Kyoko looked down at Kuon. He had released her, his arms and legs no longer around her, but his midnight head remained on her shoulder.

"I was worried someone could call or text and disturb you," he said. "You were sleeping so soundly, and you looked tired." He glanced up at her lazily. "I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries."

She smiled at him. "Hey. No need to apologise about that. It's hardly a big deal."

Turning on her phone, Kyoko scanned her screen and noticed a missed call from Kanae earlier this morning at eight. That was an hour ago.

"Hold on," she told Kuon. "It's from Kanae."

He nodded. "Of course. Go ahead."

Smiling at him, she dialled Kanae's number.

Kanae picked up four rings later.

"Hey," she said, without missing a beat. "Let's go for brunch. You can tell me all about your date yesterday too."

"Oh…" Kyoko hesitated. "Kanae, Kuon's back."

There was a brief silence on the other line, and Kanae said incredulously, "What? I thought his tour wasn't due to end for another couple of days."

"He ended it early," Kyoko explained, mock-glaring at her stepson. "Seriously. I can't believe him either."

"Well, that's just great." Kanae was caustic. "Guess I won't see you for a while then."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kyoko, I almost never see you when he's off tour," Kanae bit out. "Haven't you realised that? I only really see you when he's overseas, and that's assuming he didn't somehow get you to go with him too."

Kyoko's forehead crimped. "Kanae, I really don't get what you're saying…"

"Because he's toxic," Kanae snapped. "Now that he's home, you'll never be apart from him. He'll see to that. It's a miracle he even let you be apart from him for four months; it's probably why he ended early."

"Kanae!" Kyoko was really exasperated now. Her friend had always been hostile about Kuon, and she was getting tired of it. Maybe Kuon had deserved Kanae's anger back then, but it wasn't the case anymore. "You're being ridiculous."

"Fine," Kanae said abruptly. "Then let's meet for brunch. At half past ten. I'll meet you at the Seashell Café."

"Okay." Kyoko had been hoping to spend some time with Kuon since he'd just returned home, but she needed to placate Kanae and disabuse her of her ridiculous notions. "I'll see you then."

She hung up and exhaled. She felt extremely uncomfortable that Kanae had spewed all that vitriol about Kuon with him present, but at least he hadn't heard anything from Kanae's side of the conversation.

"Are you meeting Kanae?" His deep voice was placid—almost bored, even.

"Yup. For brunch," Kyoko said. "Seashell Café."

"I see," he answered, not missing a beat. "I'll drive you, then."

She blinked in surprise. "Kuon, there's no need. You just got back, and you should get some rest."

"I slept well last night." Kuon enveloped both arms—honed with lean muscle from his work-out regime and dance choreography—around her from behind and pressed his cheek to her mussed hair. "I'll drive you. This way we get to spend more time together."

Kyoko fought back a smile, and decided not to argue. Back then, Kuon would sooner have his nails pried than admit he wanted company from anyone, especially from her, and she wouldn't let him down now.

She would never let him be alone again if she could help it.

"All right," she conceded. Just as she'd thought, Kanae was being silly. Kuon didn't appear to have any problems with her meeting her friend at all—not that she had expected him to. "Let me go shower first."

He nodded, and after a moment, let her go.

She got out of bed and hurried into her bathroom before untangling the knotted tie around her waist. As her dressing gown, nightie and panties fell in a pile to the porcelain floor, she rushed into the shower, turning the spray to a hot misty blast. She shampooed her hair thoroughly, feeling refreshed. Kuon wasn't the only one that had slept well last night. She'd always hated sleeping alone, which was why she'd gone out with Kijima in the first place.

But her stepson was not an appropriate solution to that problem.

Moments later she had brushed her teeth and changed into a plain grey tee and jeans, then exited her now empty room after blow-drying her hair and applying a smidge of lipstick. Guessing Kuon was in his study, she ventured down the corridor and found her assumption correct as she peered through the open door.

Wearing his reading glasses, he sat by his grand oak desk, typing swiftly on his laptop. He'd changed into a loose turtleneck sweater and coal-black dress pants, his glossy raven hair—damp from a shower too, she assumed—slicked back. His penchant for tidiness and order had never changed since his childhood.

The study smelled like old paper and books, which wasn't surprising since the plywood shelves were stacked with paperback novels. His preference for paperbacks to eBooks meant he purchased books in bulk, and he'd donate the ones he'd read and didn't like to libraries. As far as Kuon was concerned, he'd read anything from non-fiction to fiction, but he also had no qualms discarding what he didn't want.

"Kuon," Kyoko said, feeling sorry for disturbing him when he appeared so engrossed in his work. She presumed he was sifting through his business emails with his manager and publicist. "I'm ready. I can go by myself—it's really fine."

He looked up at her, then took off his glasses.

"It's no problem." He shut his laptop lid after a few seconds, fastened his Rolex onto his wrist, and rose gracefully from his wingback chair, picking up his iPhone. "Let's go."

The fluid, catlike grace with which he moved never failed to fascinate her, and she hoped one day that she could watch him dance again. The dance choreography he'd composed for his music was incorporated sparsely into his live performances, and she knew he wasn't keen to share it publicly because contemporary dance was so very personal to him.

He'd grown up watching his beautiful mother dance it, after all.

But boy could he dance, Kyoko thought wistfully. He had certainly lived up to his mother's prowess; he had arguably even surpassed her, but that, she wagered, could be her bias speaking.

"You're not wearing the earrings."

She started. "Oh. Well, I'm not dressed up or anything. There's no need."

Shrugging on his deep russet overcoat over his broad shoulders, Kuon considered her words for a moment. "I see."

She worried instantly that she'd wounded him, though his visage was impassive.

"I'll wear it tonight at the party," Kyoko assured him. "Speaking of which, where is it going to be held?"

It was unlike Kuon to initiate a party though, she mused. She knew firsthand that he didn't actually enjoy them.

"I informed Murasame, and we've arranged for it to take place in the villa," he responded, accompanying her past the door of his study and towards the elevator. The 'villa' was one of Kuon's residences downtown—the splendid three-storey estate had its own garden and pool and was situated by an idyllic beachfront. "Have you asked your date yet?"

"Oh, right." Kyoko had completely forgotten. "I'll text Kijima in the car."

"Kijima?" Kuon echoed, tilting his dark head as they stepped into the private lift. "That's his name?"

"Yup," she laughed. "Why? You don't like it?"

He shrugged.

"I don't have an opinion," he said. "I couldn't care less."

She thought she heard something cold in his rich voice, but when she looked at him, startled, he looked as detached as always.

Had she imagined it?

It didn't take long before they arrived at the private garage, Kuon studying his multitude of luxury sports cars, and she stood beside him, waiting for him to make his choice for the day.

In the end, he chose his Jaguar, and she smiled as he held the gleaming black car door open for her. "Thank you, honey."

He smiled back at her, his dark eyes taking on a curious smoky quality at the endearment, and then shut the door once she eased onto the expensive leather seat.

Kyoko fished out her iPhone from her Louis Vuitton purse and went to her conversation thread with Kijima. Beside her, the car door to the driver's seat opened softly, but her attention was on the text he'd sent her when she had been in the shower.

"I miss you, baby. Meet again soon?"

Giggling under her breath, Kyoko typed:

"Me too. You remember my stepson I told you about? He says he wants to meet you tonight :) They're throwing a party. Can you come?"

Kyoko straightened. Lowering her phone, she almost jumped when she saw Kuon, now seated by the wheel, gazing down at her phone screen.

Embarrassed that he'd read their intimate texts, Kyoko turned off her phone screen.

"Don't look," she said, but regretted her words almost immediately. It sounded as if she had something to hide, and she never wanted him to feel that there was a barrier between them.

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I was merely curious."

She managed a sheepish smile and lightly ruffled his hair.

"I asked him," she said unnecessarily. "Just waiting for his reply now."

Slowly looking up at her, Kuon gave her a gorgeous smile that showed off all of his perfect white teeth.

"Yes," he said. "See to it that he comes."

With that, he started the engine of the Jaguar, which purred at his command.

"He's gonna have a heart attack when he sees my stepson is Tsuruga Ren," Kyoko replied lightly, wondering if she was misreading the inexplicable tension in the air.

"It'll be fine," Kuon said carelessly, easing the automobile out of its parking spot with practised dexterity. The garage door lifted, and the tyres glided smoothly out onto the road. "I want to meet him. He's your first boyfriend in a while, isn't he? Other than him and the accountant last year, you haven't been with anyone."

Not since Kuu, was what was implied.

"Well… Yes," she acknowledged. "I guess Kijima is the first in a while. He's really sweet, though."

"You met both of them while I was away on tour," he observed.

Kyoko flushed. She didn't know why, but she felt there was something accusatory in that statement, even though his tone was totally mild.

"Well, I get lonely sometimes, when you're gone," she laughed.

"I'll stay, from now on."

Kyoko turned still. "What?"

Kuon shrugged. "I've been releasing albums back-to-back each year," he remarked. "It's time to take a break. I don't plan on embarking on another tour any time soon. I'll stay just with you." His voice grew soft. "I've waited long enough."

"I know," Kyoko said earnestly. "You must be exhausted from working yourself so hard these past few years. You deserve this break, Kuon."

He turned and pinned her with those bottomless dark eyes for a long heartbeat, and she wondered if she'd said something wrong.

Before she could ask, he directed his gaze to the open traffic again.

"Yes," he said simply. "But first—I'll need to take care of a few roadblocks."

It had been weeks since he had recovered from his fever and last trashed her room, and yet, despite that, she could tell Kuon still hated her with every fibre of his being.

He never looked at her, even when she spoke to him. Every morning was the same: dressed elegantly in his smooth, well-kept school uniform, his silken golden hair neatly brushed, he'd grab the money she left for him on the kitchen table, then walk out without touching breakfast. But she didn't give up; she continued making breakfast all the same, though she ended up finishing it by herself everyday. It was evident that Kuon was pretending his breakdown had never happened, and she decided to oblige.

She'd been working overtime for weeks to cover their expenses as well as to try to pay for Kuon's expensive piano lessons. She refused to let Kuu's death take away the remaining thing that was dearly important to him. Kuu must have felt the same way. Even though the Italian restaurant he had worked for had been on the verge of bankruptcy, he had never once considered stopping Kuon's piano lessons.

Then one day, she'd ended early from work because there hadn't been anything that required her to stay overtime, and she'd found the apartment empty at 7 PM.

Kyoko had freaked out. School was long over by now, so where was he? She'd fished out her cell from her threadbare old purse and called him.

It rang for two rings before Kuon hung up on her.

Relief and anger hit her in spades—relief, because he ought to be fine if he could hang up on her, and anger, because he hadn't even notified her of where he was going. She wondered how often he'd left the apartment while she'd worked late.

She texted, "Where are you?"

He didn't reply. Not that she had been really expecting him to, but she was frustrated nonetheless. She dropped herself onto the couch, sighing. He was fine. He had to be, right?

Kuon was a prodigy who'd scored first place in his grade at school, and his teachers had recommended him to study a grade above his current one, which Kuu had been hesitant to agree to.

But Kuon had said he wanted to.

His studies mattered to him, and he had a great deal of ambition for a twelve-year old. Kyoko knew he took pride in being special—in being the best in any field he was involved in. He had big plans for his future, and vindictive as he might be, he would never do anything that would get himself in trouble and tarnish whatever prospects he had in mind.

So he wouldn't be irresponsible enough to be out doing anything dangerous. What was odd, though, was that he was out at all. She knew he liked staying in his room with his books and notes.

But then again, that was when his house had been a sanctuary to him before Kuu's death.

Kyoko didn't know how long she sat on the couch, still in her crumpled work clothes—a worn blouse and skirt—but she abruptly snapped awake when the door to the apartment opened with a creak. She hadn't even realised she'd nodded off, and she wiped the drool off her mouth at the sight of Kuon in the doorway, carrying his school bag over his shoulder. He was still in his uniform, which remained freakishly immaculate, the burnished amber curls of his hair haloing his head like that of an angel.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, jumping off the couch. "The least you could do was tell me where you were!"

Cold emerald irises razed her face.

"Why should I?" he said emotionlessly.

Her honey eyes widened, and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Do you know how worried I was?" Kyoko ground out.

"I wasn't aware that I had to report everything to you," Kuon said sarcastically. "You're hardly my mother. You're just the whore my father left behind, and I don't owe you anything... Kyoko."

She flinched. She'd been foolish to think that some form of truce or understanding had settled between them when he'd been sick. He hadn't stopped trashing her room because he'd forgiven her—he'd only stopped because he didn't want to be sent to an orphanage.

If anything, he probably hated her more now because of how much he had to rely on his father's whore for his survival.

"Kuon—" Kyoko began, but suddenly, the sneer on his porcelain face faded, displaced by insouciance.

The fact that he'd wiped his ugly sneer meant...

"Kyoko!" a male voice called, and she swung around to see a familiar unshaven man standing in the doorway. He wore a scruffy tee and long striped sweatpants.

"Mr. Takarada?" she said, surprised. He was the owner of the contemporary dance studio Kuon danced at, and he'd employed Hizuri Juliena as one of its dance instructors before her passing. His nephew, Murasame, who was the same age as Kuon, also danced at the studio.

And then it hit her. Of course. There was only one place Kuon would go if he wasn't at home or in the library studying.

The studio his mother had worked at.

"I just dropped Kuon off myself because it was getting late," Mr. Takarada said. He gave an apologetic little bow. "I'm sorry I brought him back so late—they were all rehearsing the new choreography."

Kyoko smiled back at him despite the tightness in her chest. She'd never seen Kuon dance before, and not for the first time she wished she could see it.

She knew, however, that he would not take lightly to her intruding upon his remaining sanctuary.

"There's no need to apologise," Kyoko said warmly. "Thank you so much for sending him back. Would you like to come in for some tea?"

"It's all right, I've got some stuff to take care of," Takarada assured her. "See you, Kyoko. And you—" He wagged a finger emphatically at Kuon. "Your floorwork is fantastic and you know it, so make sure you help the other students too, got it?"

Kuon inclined his head politely. "I will, sir. Thank you for saying so."

Takarada waved in farewell.

The moment he left, Kuon's mask dissipated, and he cast a contemptuous glance in Kyoko's direction before striding back to his room, his school bag still over his shoulder. She figured he must've changed back to his uniform after his dance practice.

She picked up a carrier she had brought home and hastened after him as he entered his room.

"Kuon, wait," Kyoko beseeched. "I got this for you." She reached into her carrier, and lifted a brand new messenger bag that was a close replica of his school bag, only hers was dark cinnamon brown instead of black. "I noticed your school bag has holes in it."

He stopped, and looked at her.

She stooped, placing the new bag onto the floor by his door. "Also…" Straightening up, she locked eyes with him. "Happy thirteenth birthday, Kuon."

He stiffened, his icy cat-green eyes narrowing, and she knew he hadn't expected her to remember it was his birthday. He'd never told her the date, and he hadn't given her any inkling that it was his birthday today.

Kyoko held out a chocolate muffin packaged in clear plastic. "Sorry it's a bit pathetic for a cake, but I figured—well... "

He didn't really like sweets and didn't seem a huge fan of pastries, so she hadn't wanted to push it by buying a huge cake.

"It's dark chocolate, so it's not that sweet," she coaxed. When he made no move to take it, she placed it on his desk.

He strode forward and in a singular motion flung the cake out of his room, almost narrowly hitting her shoulder. Her gift sailed past her and bounced off the wall behind her, rolling weakly back to her heeled feet.

Without saying a word, Kyoko knelt down and picked up the fallen cake, dusting any dirt off its plastic packaging with her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

And she was. Sorry that he'd lost his mother shortly before his eleventh birthday. And sorry that he'd lost his father not long before his thirteenth.

Sorry that he had to spend his birthday with her instead of his parents.

Not looking at his face, she lowered the slightly dented muffin on the floor by the door, next to the new bag.

Then she closed his room door.

"Kyoko?"

Kyoko's eyes flew open, and she found herself staring up into warm obsidian eyes.

"Oh God," she said, rubbing her eyes, suddenly conscious of the leather car seat she was slumped on. "Sorry. Did I doze off?"

"Yes." He reached over and brushed a wayward strand of copper hair from her cheek. "We have a bit of a situation."

"Situation?" Yet as soon as Kyoko sat up straight, she saw what Kuon meant. A rambunctious mob of people were crowding the front door of the Seashell Café further down the street, clamouring at the top of their lungs and clutching cameras that went off in blinding white flashes.

"Shit," she swore. "Someone must have alerted the paps you were coming. Kuon, hurry and drive off before they see the car."

"You should inform Kanae." He hit reverse, the automobile rolling back, then deftly spun the wheel to make a sharp turn. Kyoko couldn't be sure if anyone had noticed the Jaguar, which was conspicuous enough, but she didn't have time to check.

He was right. She needed to call Kanae pronto. Hurriedly, she plucked her phone off her lap.

Her friend picked up after two rings. "Hey, I should be there in ten—"

"Kanae, don't come," Kyoko urged. "The place is swarming with paps. They must have found out Kuon was around."

There was a pause, and then—

"What?" Kanae said incredulously. "Why would Kuon be around?"

"He drove me here," Kyoko explained.

"Oh. Oh." Kanae expelled an acerbic laugh. "Well, that explains it. He offered, didn't he?"

"Kanae," Kyoko said warningly.

"Whatever. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting something to happen to stop me from seeing you," Kanae scoffed. "Today's score: Kanae, zero. Kuon, one. As always."

"Kanae, stop it," Kyoko said exasperatedly. She wanted to say more, but Kuon was beside her listening, and she didn't want him to hear any of it. What was Kanae trying to suggest anyway, that Kuon had called the paps? "Look, let's meet another time. What if—" She paused, then said, "Give me a second."

Putting down the phone, she addressed Kuon in a lowered voice. "Can Kanae come to the party tonight?"

She thought she saw something flicker in those dark depths of his eyes, but his answer was prompt and unhesitant. "Of course. If she'd like."

Kyoko beamed gratefully at him, and went back to her phone. "Kanae, there's a party downtown tonight at Kuon's villa. It's to celebrate the end of his tour. Do you wanna come?"

"Huh." Kanae sounded sceptical. "And Kuon is okay with that?"

"Absolutely." Kyoko tried her best to keep the pointedness from her tone. "So, you in?"

"Can I bring Hiou?" Kanae wanted to know.

"Hold on." Kyoko glanced at Kuon. "Can Hiou come? You remember him, he's—"

"Her husband," Kuon acknowledged. "Yes, of course. They're both welcome."

Kyoko beamed at him again before returning to the call. "Kuon says sure! I'll text you the deets later, okay?"

"Okay, then," Kanae assented. She sounded terse for some reason, and Kyoko wondered if she was still annoyed with Kuon. "I'll see you later, Kyoko. And..."

"Yeah?" Kyoko questioned warily.

"I'll talk to you then," Kanae said. "Bye. Love you."

"Love you, too," Kyoko said to her friend of nearly twenty years, and hung up the call.

She turned to regard her companion. "Thank you for that. I know Kanae and Hiou weren't planned, but I felt bad and wanted to make up for what happened at the café."

"And rightly so," he said graciously. "I feel bad too, about the paparazzi. I hope she's not too angry with me."

Kyoko could feel her heart melting. For all of Kanae's belligerence towards Kuon, he had never indicated any ill will towards her.

Unable to help herself, she wrapped her arms around his hard bicep, the impressive swell of it discernible even under his coat and turtleneck, and laid her bronze head on his shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you, Kuon," Kyoko declared. And she was—he'd grown and matured so much, even if for some reason, Kanae couldn't see it. "I love you, honey."

She could sense the heat of his lingering gaze even without looking at him.

"Really?" he said quietly.

"Of course," Kyoko said seriously. "Please don't ever doubt that, Kuon."

"Then say it again." There was something unexpectedly eager and hungry in his usually calm, silky deep voice, and for a second, she thought he sounded like the child he had once been. "Tell me you love me again, Kyoko."

"I love you," she repeated, wondering why her heart was speeding up at her own declaration.

Kuon's bigger hand enveloped hers, his long calloused fingers lacing through her fine ones, and she was struck once again by how much larger he was than her now.

"Let's go for brunch together," he said.

"Where to?"

"I know a bakery." He was already driving down a new intersection with his other hand on the steering wheel, his watch face gleaming at her. "I think I'd like a chocolate muffin."

Kyoko laughed. "How many dark chocolate muffins have you had this week?"

"I've had them throughout the tour," Kuon responded frankly. The corner of his sensuous mouth rose.

"You know they're my favourite."

:tbc: