A/N: Hi, all.

So. Yes. I'm alive. I am still writing IAG (I literally have the document for the latest chapter open as we speak) – its just that writing comes to me a lot slower than it used to before I took the hiatus from hell, so I apologize for the eons of silence I've put you all through ; A ; But I promise, it's coming – slowly, but surely.

I also post (slightly) more frequent updates and sneak previews at the chapters I'm writing on my tumblr (xcoffeelatte AT tumblr), so if you ever fear I've died and been buried six feet under, sometimes tumblr might give a better update LOL.

I want to thank everyone so, so much for all of your support thus far, and just to tell you guys I really, truly appreciate all your reviews. Even if all you get is radio silence, I actually have been reading each and every one, and I'm so grateful you've all decided to keep reading despite my shortcomings and prolonged absence – it's humbling in the most exquisite way. And for all of you who have waited, and have said they would still continue to do so – words cannot describe how thankful I am and how undeserving I feel of your willingness to put up with this hot mess I am.

For now, here's a preview at the next chapter I've been writing (and there's another preview on tumblr, for those of you who haven't seen it yet):

"Okay," she murmurs, just as hushed.

That was another thing about her.

She acquiesced.

And as mundane as that may seem, it's a refreshing - a godsend of a relief - change of pace. Atobe Keigo always got what he wanted, in the end, but in their society, victory never came without a war, first. The corporate darlings of the world had never learned to accept 'no' for an answer, no matter what the question at hand, and for someone like him - someone who craved control in way only a young adult bearing far more weight upon his shoulders than his years warranted would - the constant bloodbath to establish that control was exhausting in a way that he hadn't even noticed until….until, well, Nanao.

Nanao, who didn't have the same burning need to win and have her way; Nanao, who was willing to say "okay," and "alright," and who didn't demand a fight from him every time they came to an impasse.

Nanao, who was content to relinquish control and give in, even when she didn't quite agree or even understand with all of Keigo's temperaments and decisions. Not on the important things, of course, because Nanao could also have the all the stubbornness of a raging bull, but- on everything else, on the little day-to-day decisions that make up their intertwined lives - where to eat, where to go, small things that build up over time - she's perfectly happy going along at whatever pace he sets for them, and it's something he finds an inordinate degree of relief in.

He brings up a hand to gently grasp at the back of her head, fingers tangling softly in her hair (damp and smelling of rainwater, cold in a way that worries him in the back of his mind), and presses his lips into the top of her forehead. He doesn't quite know how to express in words all the gratitude he feels for these small moments, for the fact that she provides him momentary reprieve from the constant power-tug-of-war the rest of his life is, so he doesn't. Instead, he pulls her a bit tighter to himself, keeps his lower face pressed against the top of her head, wondering if she knows of the kind of expansive, warm endearment he holds for her.

Probably not, and the thought of her unawareness makes his lips quirk up into a half-smile, half-smirk.