Thank you for all your reviews! I'm so touched! T-T Group hug! This is for all of my readers! (Forbiddenist LOVES to sound like a rock star.) Happy Lunar New Year! P.S I know this is a badly written chapter...but HELL have I been busy! I wanted to get this chapter done before the Lunar New Year...and I DID! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (ok, so Forbiddenist is becoming psychotic. SOMEONE CALL A MENTAL ASYLUM!)
"Fuuma?" A very surprised blonde stood at the door, staring from her brother's tousled hair and messy shirt that was barely buttoned to her husband who sat on the floor who was not much better off than her brother.
She stepped inside the house, inspecting the two men again.
"Were you mobbed?"
There was a curious silence for the rest of the night.
"I'm so happy, Onii-chan!" Kotori was wearing a pink apron, her hands occupied with the task of making breakfast. Fuuma played a small smile, one tainted with slight guilt. Kotori set the plates on the table, humming a nice little tune Kamui had wrote. Her blonde hair was pulled back, her face robust and a bit tanned from the trip to Egypt.
"I was looking for you ever since I heard you dropped out of X Inc., but I couldn't get any news of you other than that you were still in the country..." Kotori sighed and looked at her brother wearily. Kamui looked at Fuuma in an awkward manner.
"We were in the same company?" Fuuma smiled.
"Who do you think helped you write hits like 'White Chrysanthemums' and 'Hello Stranger'?" Kamui's gaze shifted to his wife.
"You KNEW THIS?" Kotori didn't even look at him but answered in a nonchalant manner,
"OF COURSE, Didn't I tell you?" She set the eggs on the plates, taking the orange juice out of the fridge; she joined the two men at the table.
Kamui just stared at the blonde for about a minute.
Kamui slumped into his chair, his hair stylist complaining that he should just 'sit straight and don't move'. He was having his hair gelled up into spikes, his make-up artist stood beside him holding his chin almost painfully as she carefully applied mascara and eye-liner to his already dark eyes. He just couldn't stop fidgeting. His legs were falling asleep.
"Are you done?" Annoyed and bored, Kamui started to glare at both women attending to him, reveling in the fact that they looked at him in fear, reminding himself he would complain and complain well to his manager about this.
It was a Thursday.
Kamui hated Thursdays. Hated as in despised, detested, condemned, loathed. Hated.
But life did have to go on.
When the two women were finally done and had scooted off to HOPEFULLY find another job, his manager came up to him and had put his hands on his shoulders.
"Kamui-chan, we've got a change of plans..." Kamui stared at his manager in the mirror. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.
Damn that shitty little bugger managing God forsaken X Inc.! What in bloody hell was the damned woman thinking?
He had just done his solo photo shoot, practically ripping off the seams that held the fabric together while wiping his make-up on the torn clothing. (I would not want to be it now...XP) He was pulling on his jeans now, Subaru being AWFULLY HELPFUL standing at the doorway ranting about how late he was and holding out his hard-rock café shirt as he watched his best friend struggle with his jeans.
Kamui hopped toward the other man, finally slipping on his jeans and grabbed the shirt from the arm that held it (not without glaring, of course.)
Yuuto was pissed. The man was TEN MINUTES LATE. Five minutes, he can understand, but TEN MINUTES? Yuuto took a sip of tea, looking around the restaurant, he saw everybody minding their own business, not caring about the famous 'Waterworks' president sitting in their midst.
THEN KAMUI CAME ALONG.
The rock star stepped into the restaurant, in all his j-rock glory and status. Jewels, shades, great style... He was like a god. (I hate myself. I'm Christian. T-) The shortie turned more heads than he had. Ye Gods, was he
As the rocker sat down, Yuuto looked around once more. Almost EVERYONE in the restaurant was watching them. (Or should I say 'him'?) The man was dressed in a simple black hard-rock café tee, his slender legs covered in denim with all his silver and crosses around his neck, fingers and wrists. But he had to give it to the younger man. He was good looking. (Way beyond that, Yuu-chan...) The man looked young, so young he almost seemed childish.
He regarded the vocalist silently, just as the vocalist regarded him silently. The younger man sat across him, sitting in a rock-starish style, just slumping on the chair, the black denim was cut quite loose, and his black and white sneakers were stainless. His face was pretty enough, high cheek bones, perfect skin, beautiful eyes... he seemed to be the perfect mould of a woman. Just that he was a man...and all. Finally, he spoke.
"Kamui-san," Yuuto's voice came out smoothly, just as he expected it would. He was confident, yes, even after the little insult to his ego, he was confident about himself. He once again, regarded the shorter man before him. This 'kid' won't even stand a chance!
Kamui looked up at him; the rocker had ignored the presence of the waitress who stood beside him, eagerly waiting to take his order. The man seemed perfectly at ease.
"What?" The ebony haired man tilted his head to the right a bit, earning a small squeal from the waitress.
Yuuto's veins nearly burst. HOW COULD FUUMA LOVE SUCH A PERSON?
(NOTE: When people address you, it's only polite to address them too before beginning a conversation.xP)
Yuuto's breathing was faster now; he was trying to keep calm, trying to understand what Fuuma was thinking. He took a deep breath and continued.
"I understand you know Mr. Fuuma Monou."
"Yes, I do."
"Are you very close to him?"
There was hesitance.
"I see. How may I know are you related to Fuuma?"
"Do YOU know Fuuma? How can you just address him like that?" Kamui's tone was a bit annoyed. Jealousy? Oh this was fun.
"Of course I know him. He belongs to me."
If that wasn't the lie of the millennium, Yuuto did not know what was.