A/N: I dusted off this WIP chapter that's been burning a hole in my doc folder for 6 years

Don't expect me to come back tho. Tbh I don't want to write stories anymore, I just want to write scenes with no intent to string them together.

I don't own PoT or coffeelatte's Suzuki Nanao, who is actually now the main character in my story apparently. Jk but I did quite like writing from her POV.

~x~

Within the infant rind of this small flower

Poison hath residence and medicine power.

For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;

Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart.

~x~

As they walked into one of the many high-end boutiques in the Ginza district, Suzuki Nanao was aware of how quickly her heart was beating. Frankly, the idea of going shopping with Shigohara Minako was something that filled her with excitement. Or dread. She wasn't too sure. The two emotions were startlingly similar.

Nanao couldn't remember the last time she'd gone shopping for herself. And she'd certainly never shopped like this before: presently, she and Minako were sitting on a sofa in the boutique, sipping on champagne while salesgirls wheeled racks upon racks of dresses in front of them.

Minako immediately took the lead. Nanao watched with awe as she easily discerned the loveliest dresses from the bunch, and ordered the staff on what designers and styles to pull.

She was more than a lady of luxury, Nanao found herself thinking for the fifth or sixth time. Shigohara Minako was a queen. A queen, in her element.

"See anything you like?" Minako asked her, lazily trailing a hand through the colorful fabrics.

"Um…" Nanao said, hesitating. The sensation in the pit of her stomach suddenly felt a lot more like dread than excitement.

Ever since Nanao had been dating Atobe Keigo, he'd taken charge of dressing her for black-tie events. She'd grown quite accustomed to receiving a ribbon-wrapped box before every event, one containing a classy and tasteful gown. The last time she had to pick her own dress… well it'd made Keigo balk in disgust, hadn't it?

Nanao swallowed, feeling sweat beads break out on her forehead. What if Minako also thought her taste in fashion was just awful?

Minako was clearly someone who had a firm grasp on style, as she was always impeccably dressed, (but then again, Nanao thought to herself, Minako was so stunning that she could put on a trash bag and still be more beautiful than half the people on the street.)

Her mind was spinning as she looked at the rack of clothes. Ruffles were in this season, right? Or was it v-necks? Or v-backs? Or straps? And there were fabrics to consider too, she thought with a twinge of panic. What should she choose? Chiffon? Lace? Tulle? Organza? The theme for this party was "masquerade," which basically meant the sky was the limit. And she had to pick out something pretty enough impress Keigo, too...

"Nanao," Minako said sharply, and Nanao jumped. The taller girl was looking down at her sternly. "It's not rocket science."

"I - sorry," she fumbled, blushing. "I'm just… I was just thinking about what you said about picking a dress at brunch the other day…"

She blinked, frowning slightly. "What? What did I say?"

"Um… to pick something that will make Keigo "hate himself for not having me, or make him want me back?'" She blushed even harder.

Her expression didn't change. "What about it?"

"I… don't know where to start," Nanao finally admitted. "I'm not really well-versed in the trends right now."

To her surprise, Minako gave a dismissive wave. "Trends aren't important," she said. "Just figure out what you like." She tilted her head matter-of-factly, and added, "What looks good on you will always look good on you, even as trends come and go."

"But… How will I know what looks good?"

"Nanao," Minako responded crisply, giving her a who-do-you-think-I-am look. "Do you think I'd let you out of this shop with anything less than absolutely fetching?"

"Fetching?" Nanao repeated, slightly bewildered at her word choice.

The faintest rosy red crept into Minako's cheeks. She gave a roll of her eyes, and said, "Clearly I've been reading too much Shakespeare." She waved another hand at the gowns. "It's something you can figure out as you go. Just start trying stuff on."

Feeling much more settled, Nanao began perusing the rack. Deep v-necks were far too risque for her taste, but a softer neckline could be quite nice. And she wasn't a huge fan of dramatic ruffles, but she found that she did like a little bit a flounce in her style. Nanao proceeded to pick out a few dresses, and the salesgirl helped take them to a fitting room.

For the next half an hour or so, Nanao shimmied in and out of an array of soft silk gowns and beaded dresses, occasionally popping out of the room to consult Minako on her opinion.

"What do you think of this one?" She did a little twirl in a pale pink dress with a swooshy skirt, feeling giddy and just a bit like a girl playing princess dress-up.

"Better than the blue Armani," Minako commented, looking her up and down critically. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, then paused. "Do you like it?"

Nanao swiveled to face the mirror, tugging at the straps of the dress. She certainly felt pretty in it, but so far none of the dresses had sparked the same joy as the ones Keigo had dressed her in. "I think I like it… but I think there might be a better one out there. It's not quite right."

Minako gave it another sweep with her eyes. "It is a tad Barbie meets Valentino circa 2004, and nobody needs to be reminded of that era." She pursed her lips.

Nanao had no idea what that even meant, but she took her word for it.

"How about a rose-gold dress?" A curly-haired staff member asked, holding up a sparkly number. "The color is very in right now."

"Rose gold?" Minako raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the salesgirl, who visibly deflated. "She's not an iPhone."

"Actually… I do think that one is kind of pretty," Nanao admitted.

For a moment, Minako looked mildly offended, almost like she was going to reprimand Nanao for disagreeing with her. But instead, the tall girl gave a shrug. "Fine. Try it."

A tumble in tulle fabric and a finicky zipper later, Nanao reappeared in the sequined rose-gold number. The skirt was flouncy and full, and the dress hung off her shoulders, showing her decolletage in the most flattering way. As she turned in front of the mirror, the beading caught the light and reflected it onto the wall in a shower of little stars.

Nanao couldn't help but smile, her chest filled with childlike joy. She felt like a princess.

From behind her left shoulder, Minako gave a nod. "It's nice." There was another look in her eyes that Nanao couldn't quite place — surely it wasn't fondness or admiration, was it? — A second later, her gaze snapped back to normal. "You'll have to wear your hair up, to show it off properly."

Hearing her approval, Nanao beamed with the glow of an angel. "Minako-san, have you found a dress yet?"

"Not yet," she murmured, absentmindedly fingering the lacy neckline of a red gown.

"I thought the light green one looked pretty on you!" Nanao supplied helpfully, following her among the racks.

Minako pulled out another gown, holding it against her impassively. "It is pretty, but it's too similar to something I wore a couple months ago," she responded.

The store manager approached. "Miss Shigohara, perhaps you'd like to see some of the new Dior pieces?"

"No thanks," Minako said crisply. "Their collection was subpar at best this season." She turned back to the dresses she'd picked out previously that were hanging on the rack. "I think I'll just choose between these three."

"Well, they are all exquisite pieces," the salesgirl said helpfully.

Minako gave her a look that said - 'of course, you numbskull, that's why I picked them.' The salesgirl retreated back to her corner meekly.

A vibrant red gown, a one-shouldered dress in emerald velvet, and finally, a dress in wispy purple fabric. Minako paused on the last one.

There was an ethereal, fairy-like quality to it. The skirt was cascading chiffon with a raw hem that would normally look unfinished ('Romantically shipwrecked,' she thought to herself.) The designer had paired it with an elaborate corset with exquisite boning. The fabric, skillfully draped around the bust, left cutouts in the side for a sensual peek of skin. The effect was nothing short of enchanting.

This was a dress with a story.

"Yuushi would like this one," Minako murmured very softly, as if she wasn't quite aware of what she was saying.

From behind her, Nanao hid a smile.

~x~

The two of them spent a little bit longer in the store, carefully selecting accessories that would go with their gowns. The theme of the Kurosawa party was 'masquerade ball.' The salespeople brought out glass trays of glittering masks for them to choose from. At Minako's suggestion, Nanao also decided to purchase a small lacy fan.

The store clerks applauded their choices, and promised to have the gowns steam-cleaned and delivered to their homes by that afternoon.

Nanao strolled to the register, wallet in hand, but was stopped by the clerk. "There's no charge. It's an honor to have our pieces worn by Miss Shigohara and her friends."

"Nanao." Minako was already waiting by the door, an impatient hand on the doorknob. "Come on. We have lunch reservations in 10 minutes."

~x~

Precisely 10 minutes later, the two of them were seated at brunch at a lovely French-style restaurant.

"Um… I'll have the trout almondine, please. And some water for the table, if you don't mind," Nanao said to the waiter. "How about you, Minako-san?"

"I'll have the Niçoise salad, and an ice tea with lemon," Minako said, thoughtfully trailing a finger down the menu. Nanao noticed that their waiter had scurried over to her side. He seemed to be extra attentive, leaning forward eagerly and hanging on her every word.

The waiter nodded, jotting down the order. "Understood. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Minako examined a fingernail. "Just make sure the service is as sharp as my expectations." She glanced up, eyes narrowed. "I don't tolerate mistakes."

"O-of-course," the waiter muttered with a flush, before retreating.

'Must be nice,' Nanao thought to herself wistfully. No matter where they went, Minako seemed to wield an invisible power. Her every word carried an unspoken authority, and her presence had a magnetic pull that drew others into her orbit.

Nanao yearned for that sort of confidence. If she'd been honest with Keigo about her desire to go to Barcelona, if she'd been more driven or more assured of herself in the beginning… maybe she wouldn't be in this situation.

"Everyone has insecurities," Megumi, her older sister, had once assured her with a small smile. "Everyone has doubts. Everyone has things that make them feel small."

Nanao didn't think such rules applied to Shigohara Minako, and less so to the larger-than-life Atobe Keigo.

"Nanao." Minako's stern voice pulled her back into focus. "Nanao."

"Sorry!"

"You've been staring into space." Minako took a delicate sip of her ice tea, and sat back to survey her. "Unless you're trying to do a goldfish impression, in which case - it's very good, and you can stop now."

She laughed, blushing slightly. "It must be my secret talent…" she mumbled, fiddling with her hands.

"Something is clearly going on."

Everything is going on - no, everything was going wrong, Nanao thought miserably. For a moment she thought about spilling everything; Spain, her current situation with Keigo, her worries about never achieving success like her siblings, her desperation to carve out a life for herself… but Minako wasn't exactly the kind of person you told those things to.

Finally, she sighed. "I just wish… I could be more like you, Minako-san."

Minako raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Why? What's stopping you?"

Nanao shifted uncomfortably, her words hesitant. "You always seem so sure of yourself, like you know exactly what to say and do. It's like you command the room effortlessly. I wish I had that kind of confidence."

Minako leaned back, considering her for a brief moment. "Confidence isn't something you wish for, Nanao," she finally said, her tone cutting. "It's something you take. Once you take control, people will follow." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "People can't help being drawn to confidence."

"I suppose you're right." Nanao fingered her cellphone strap, admitting shyly, "I did always find Keigo's confidence charming."

Minako made a face of disgust. "That's not confidence – that's arrogance."

"Well… I thought he was charismatic." Nanao's mind filled with wistful memories of spotlights and rose petals and ice sculptures. She exhaled. "I guess it's quite easy to be dazzled by all his flair."

"He's like a peacock," Minako said dismissively. "All flair and no substance."

Nanao tried to suppress a giggle and failed.

Minako paused. "You can do better than him, you know."

"Better?" Nanao squeaked. Better? Than Atobe Keigo?

The tall girl let out an exhale. "Look, we both know that Atobe isn't my favorite person—"

"Understatement of the year," Nanao thought to herself with a light chuckle. Although she suspected that Minako rather liked the idea of hating Atobe more than she actually hated him.

"But I know this much." She fixed Nanao with a hard look. "You deserve someone who isn't going to make you question your future every time you get into a fight."

Nanao's lips parted slightly.

"If I were you, I'd keep my options open at the Kurosawa ball tomorrow." Minako shrugged, and added with a twinkle, "With how you look in that dress, they will be lining up at your feet."

~x~

It was late in the afternoon when Yuushi invited himself over to Atobe Keigo's manor for a spontaneous tea time. He'd hoped to encourage Keigo to talk to Nanao, and possibly mend things between them, but Keigo seemed to be in a rather irate mood already. It was no wonder why — The stunt Minako had pulled earlier, whisking Nanao away in Elizabeth The 3rd right in front of their noses, had been a well-aimed barb in Keigo's pride.

'Was that all?' he wondered. Yuushi, as a tensai, was observant by nature. The recycling bin by the ornate wood desk was suspiciously full. A quick glance inside revealed two newspapers and a magazine that had Minako on the cover or mentioned in a headline.

Yuushi couldn't help but grin. He deliberately plucked the magazine out of the bin and made a big pretense of settling comfortably in an armchair, holding the magazine open so the cover was facing Keigo.

Keigo's face nearly turned purple. "Put that filth away."

"Oh, but I can't." Yuushi insisted dramatically, "I'm simply dying to learn all 27 new ways to lose belly fat for summer."

"Put it away," Keigo hissed. "And drink your goddamned tea."

After a lingering moment, Yuushi acquiesced, slipping the magazine into his bag. To be fair, from what he skimmed, the article about Minako seemed to be very boring. It was all about her estimated wealth and status as one of Japan's young heiresses. The article had little to no details of her personal life. He wasn't even mentioned anywhere.

(Neither was Keigo, for that matter. Maybe that's why he was extra upset.)

The tea swirled into his cup, dark and fragrant. He could sense Keigo's scowl from across the room, but chose to ignore it and focus instead on his tea. Quite lovely tea, possibly of the Pu-er variety in China; he really ought to ask Keigo for his supplier—

"Arata's daughter is single again."

Yuushi didn't even bother looking up at Keigo's scowling face. "Your point being?"

"Well, she's your type, isn't she? Sophisticated, slender, ninety-percent legs…" Keigo counted off his fingers. "Completely dead on the inside with no morals…"

Yuushi choked down a laugh.

"And if she's available," Keigo continued with a sniff, "You can dump that demon of a woman you're dating."

"Tempting," Yuushi said dryly. "But I'm not interested."

He could see Keigo curl his lip, fighting the urge to argue more. But the captain just sighed and grumbled, "Suit yourself. But don't come crying to me when she turns into a full-fledged succubus."

"A succubus, you say?" Yuushi drawled, a seductive glint in his eye. "Oh trust me, that's something I'd quite enjoy." In fact, he was going to file that fantasy away in his mind for future use.

Keigo threw him a disgusted look. "You're unbelievable, you know that? You think everything's a joke."

He stretched out his arms, draping himself in the velvet armchair. "Life's more enjoyable with a little humor, don't you think?"

"No," Keigo said petulantly. "I don't."

~x~

Yuushi poured himself another cup of tea. "You know," he mused, setting the teapot down delicately. "Your hatred of Minako is completely unfounded."

"Unfounded?" Keigo repeated, affronted. "Elizabeth the third—"

"No one forced you to wager your beloved Elizabeth."

"She manipulated it out of me."

He sighed, shaking his head at Keigo's stubbornness. "Keigo, you're the master of your own decisions. You can't blame Minako for that."

Keigo scowled, clenching his jaw. "She's a master manipulator. That's what she does."

Yuushi leaned back, crossing his arms. "Or maybe, Keigo, you just can't resist a good challenge. You willingly played into her hands."

Keigo's eyes narrowed, a mixture of irritation and realization in his gaze. "That's absurd. I don't play games."

"Elizabeth the Third would beg to differ."

It may have sounded like their usual banter, but something in the air had changed, thickened. The aftermath of the bet was an unpleasant taste that had lingered more than they let on. Things were forgiven, yes, but perhaps not so easily forgotten.

"Speaking of playing games," Keigo suddenly said, his voice colder. "How long do you plan on continuing yours?"

"What ever do you mean?" Yuushi asked lightheartedly, even though Keigo knew that he knew exactly what he meant.

"Haven't you…" He pursed his lips in distaste. "…satisfied yourself enough already?"

He met his gaze evenly. "It's not like that."

Yuushi's fuse was shorter now, and Keigo couldn't resist the urge to strike a match.

"Isn't it? That's what you've led me to believe." Keigo responded, an edge in his voice. "You've been waxing poetic about her legs for the last three years." He mimicked Yuushi's low drawl, " 'Oh, it's just for fun. It doesn't mean anything.' "

His posture stiffened. "Well. Things have changed. It's different, now."

"To you," he countered. "Is it to her?"

Yuushi's gaze hardened, his eyes betraying a flicker of frustration. "Keigo, you're making this into something it's not."

"Am I?" Keigo leaned forward, a smirk on his lips. "Seems to me like the game is changing. Are you finally caught up in your own web, Yuushi?"

From the look in his eyes, it was clear that he struck a nerve. "Keigo," Yuushi said, his tone soft and dark, like a storm about to break.

Keigo met his stare, matched it eye for eye, conviction for condemnation.

Yuushi spoke again, and he did not raise his voice, but it carried an unmistakable tone of finality. "We agreed not to talk about this."

"We never agreed—"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Gone were the playful quips, the lighthearted remarks about being strung up and played like a harp. This Yuushi was serious, Keigo realized. Serious, and for all the wrong reasons.

God, he was falling for her, wasn't he - he realized in horror.

"No," Keigo suddenly said, and he was surprised to hear his voice throb slightly. "We need to talk about this. We need to talk about this because..." His hands balled into fists. "If it was another girl with me…" He saw Yuushi's expression change then, his eyes turning steely and his jaw stubborn, but he pressed forward anyways. "If it was another girl, using me like that, you wouldn't stand for it."

"I'm not like you—"

"The hell you aren't," Keigo all but snapped.

~x~

As Yuushi sat there, his anger simmered below his icy composure like lava under a dormant volcano. How dare Keigo lecture him about his relationship, as if he has some moral superiority over the matter? Keigo couldn't even keep his own relationship together.

"I don't owe you an explanation." Yuushi said vehemently.

"Yes, you do." Keigo's voice was firm, absolute. "I see the way that you look at her, Yuushi. It's still fun and games to her, but you've stopped playing a long time ago, haven't you?"

Anger coursed through his veins, molten lava.

"You care about her, Yuushi. Deeply." Atobe took an accusatory breath, stared him down like he was sizing up an opponent across the net. "Don't act like it isn't true."

"So what if it's not?" Yuushi seethed, his voice laced with venom. "What's it to you?"

"What's it to me?" Keigo repeated angrily, his jaw locked. "It's everything to me, Yuushi! Because you…" He pointed a trembling finger in his direction, "You're everything to me."

Yuushi stared numbly, jaw slack in shock.

A tense silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging like a heavy cloak. Yuushi's resolve wavered, his mask slipping as he exhaled softly.

"Minako…" he finally said, his voice barely audible. "She makes me... feel."

"Feel what?" Keigo said disbelievingly. "Happy?"

"No," Yuushi said quietly. Then he said bitterly, "I don't expect you to understand."

Keigo would never admit it, but he craved warmth, needed security. He got too little of it elsewhere. Suzuki Nanao was perfect for him, a sanctuary in the cold, a beacon in their dark and twisted reality.

But Yuushi, on the other hand…

He needed more. He was a glutton for adventure, for chaos, for thrill. The kind that would fill his heart and light a fire in his soul. Should he burn too, then so be it.

He'd felt it the minute their eyes had met. It'd felt like the first time he'd swum as far as he could in open water – exhilarated, breathless, terrified.

She was an ocean, and he could, he would drown.

Keigo was being fiercely protective, Yuushi could tell. He was trying to save him the pain of a heartbreak. He would never understand.

Yuushi wanted all of it. The slow-suffering. The kind of pain that prompted alcoholics to flood their veins with liquor and addicts to pierce their skin with needles. Like artists and musicians, he would indulge in melancholy.

Keigo had once called her toxic – and she was. She'd filled his lungs, left him gasping for air.

The heartbreak would come inevitably, and he would savor it slowly, like a sip of fine wine.

Break me, burn me, hurt me. He'd make art with the pieces, beauty out of the ashes. Write poetry with the tears.

Keigo would call it a twisted fantasy, chalk it up to his fondness for "tragic love stories." He would criticize him for romanticizing the hurt. He may even call him a masochist.

Who else would put pain through rose-colored lenses and call it 'beauty?'

Perhaps only those who were most afraid of it.

And that, he wasn't ready to admit to anyone.

~x~

End Chapter 11

A/N: Hi guys. Um. Yeah. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.