Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice or "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur. I do not know how talent management agencies work. I also do not know what happens in love, but I'm trying my best to learn.

In the distance, the crowd roared. For the thousands (millions?) of fans out there, the lights were dimmed, but in the perfectly well-lit hallway backstage, Mikan Sakura could see quite clearly that Natsume Hyuuga was not where he needed to be.

In fact, he should have been waiting in the dark wings, pumping up his dancers and back-up singers with a little pep talk or even vice versa as he wasn't usually the "pep talk" type of person. More the "dark, brooding, with a pole shoved all the way up his ass so whenever he talked, he spewed out complete and utter bullshit" type.

Well, Mikan growled in her head, he better be ready for another pole to be shoved up…

Her furious train of expletives was cut up by the appearance of a rather flustered intern. Junko was new to the company, temporarily shadowing Mikan as she watched how on earth anybody managed to… well, manage the 23 year-old singing superstar.

Her heels clacked the whole way down the hallway, her hands clutching her clipboard tightly, and the headset a little askew over her messy ponytail.

"Ma'am," the young intern stammered as she saw Mikan's glare. "Mr. Hyuuga is requesting your, ah - your 'services.'" She looked away, red-faced, mortified to have even said those words to her boss.

Mikan sighed angrily, her hands running through her hair. "Did you already send Amane in there?" Amane was recently employed to Hotaru's payroll with an unspecified job, but looked so nearly identical to Mikan that most everyone knew why she had been hired.

Junko nodded. "He refused her like usual. I think he's really angry. He says he wants you. Otherwise, and he said this, he'll walk out and won't do the concert."

Mikan's jaw dropped at Natsume Hyuuga's dastardly blackmail. That bastard knew how important this concert was! It was his first official show in that city and they had promised that 85% of the proceeds would go to charity (the other 15% to pay for the venue and the workers, of course). If the concert was canceled, the tickets would be refunded, leaving them less money than if they hadn't held the concert at all with no money to donate!

Half of her wanted to call his bluff (he wouldn't, not if the lives of children depended on this revenue), but the other half knew that the last time he had made this demand, the show had been delayed for 40 minutes until she had fulfilled his request.

"Call Hotaru and tell her about this," she barked to Junko before stomping away to find that insolent brat.

She didn't even bother to knock. As soon as she entered his dressing room, she felt his hands on her shoulders and him placing kisses down her neck.

"Mikan," he murmured into her hair, and before she knew it, they were both undressed and kissing on the couch.

"This is completely unprofessional," she grumbled, fixing her hair and rearranging her clothes.

"But oh so very right," Natsume chuckled as he redressed as well. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he grinned at her saucily.

"Go out there and make us some money." She nearly wanted to give his ass a slap to hurry him up. About two seconds later, she did just that.

Natsume winked at her. "For the children." Then he left before he could see Mikan's face soften, but, of course, knowing her so very intimately, he knew she would be pleased he remembered.

"Natsume!" called one of his dancers, a pink-haired one with a sweet personality. "You're almost late."

"Hn," was the reply as he joined the huddle of bodies, already starting to twist and chant, ready for their next show.

It all started when Mikan's best friend, Hotaru Imai, decided to break away from the family business and establish her own talent management agency, Amanatsu Stars. She didn't have a lot of seed money, but she had a charming best friend with a knack for persuasion and well-formed connections to a few important names.

Her first client had been the risky, undiscovered, scruffy 19 year-old Natsume Hyuuga, coming from a small town with a guitar, a notebook full of songs, and a whole lot of potential. With his success came their success. Apparently, a lot of girls appreciated his rumbly, deep singing and, even Hotaru had to admit, the bad boy look he had going for him.

The last four years had been a struggle, for Mikan especially as Natsume's manager, but it all paid off as their agency had branched out and managed about one third of the talent on Japan's televisions, big screens, and stages. They hired more people, they took on more clients, and they very rarely had to break contracts, but one thing had never changed through the years.

Mikan was always Natsume's.

It was simply Hotaru's policy, the agency's secret for success, really. Each manager took on only one client so as to devote complete attention and effort to guaranteeing happiness and fame. Only one client to be at beck and call for.

And unfortunately for poor Mikan, Natsume was a very needy client. For four years ("Four years!" Mikan exclaimed to Hotaru over a bowl of ramen. "I deserve a raise!"), she had answered Natsume's every call (including the drunk ones, including the early morning ones, including the crying ones), scheduled every single flight ("I told you, I can't sleep on a plane without at least four manga on me," Natsume hissed), went to every single concert ("Lucky for you, always getting a backstage pass," he said cockily), and fulfilled every one of Natsume's requests with a smile, forced or unforced.

When Natsume had explained with exasperation, "I need a hot water bottle and a bowl of cherries with the pits taken out after every concert!" Mikan had said, "No problem!"

When Natsume had demanded, "Cook me breakfast! I don't want to go to a restaurant I don't know. And I don't trust any hotel's room service!" while they were touring, Mikan had gritted her teeth and reminded herself that she loved to cook so it shouldn't be any trouble...right?

When Natsume had begged with those eyes of his, "Stay the night. I don't want to be alone," Mikan had repeated in her head that it didn't mean anything for her or for him and told herself it was only because of his past.

And when Natsume had pinned her against his hotel bed, ravished her lips, and whispered all those naughty things in her ear, Mikan had only hesitated for a second before pushing him away with a stern warning.

Only for him to ask again. And again. And again.

Mikan wasn't sure when she gave in. If she had pick an exact moment, she would either pin it down as the time he had come to her apartment on the anniversary of his sister's death, inconsolable and desperate, or the time he had somehow managed to convince her to skinny-dip in a hotel's pool, only for them to be ambushed by the paparazzi ("And you two are the reason why we now have a 'No intimate relations' clause in our contracts for all our clients," Hotaru muttered at 2 AM, hurriedly going through her address book for the head of the top gossip magazine in Japan, fixing their problems as always).

But Mikan had few, if any, regrets; her friendship with Natsume definitely not being one of them. She was actually pretty happy with her life, especially the part where she got to travel, see new sights, and spend time with someone who had grown to be very important in her life.

He could be sweet when he wanted to. He had been there for her when her grandfather died (cancelled his show against her protests and took her to the beach), when she fought with Hotaru about how to run the agency (brought her fluff puffs, listened patiently to her ranting, and watched those stupid romantic comedies until she laughed), and when her favorite senpais had gotten married (as her date, he was obligated to bring the tissues and hide her ugly bawling face from everyone).

And he had always remembered her in his thank-you speeches when he won an award, which happened frequently, and he never forgot to bring her along so she could watch with her own eyes, with the rest of his cheering fans, as he pointed her out especially (which Mikan almost hated since he forced her to watch the footage of all the awards shows so he could pause at the exact moment the camera zoomed in on her red, blotchy yet smiling face and tease her about how ridiculous she looked).

Despite his sometimes outrageous demands, he always managed to make her feel appreciated for what she did, and that had been enough.

"You know," she mumbled sleepily into his chest. "I was a virgin before I met you. Now look at what you've done, you pervert. I should really make you take responsibility." She accused him lightly, jokingly, with her eyes.

He chuckled, making a very pleasant rumble against her ear. "I'm looking. And I like what I see." He nipped at her lips. "What about you, perverted old woman? I was one, too, before I met you. You should take responsibility for me."

Her eyes closed as she snorted in disbelief, letting him lull her to sleep with his steady breathing.

He strolled confidently into Hotaru Imai's office. It was most likely time for his quarterly review, the only time he heard from the head honcho, "I don't know why the girls like you so much, but you're bringing in the sales. Keep it up."

And Natsume would make his cheeky quarterly reminder, with that arrogant little smirk, that he worked best only with Mikan by his side and that she should not interfere with what he did, no matter how much Mikan complained to her, no matter how unprofessional it seemed, no matter what gossip was whispered.

This time, though, Hotaru didn't have her usual presentation, full of graphs and charts that showed profit.

Instead, when he walked in, he had to walk right back out. Hotaru stated simply, "Mikan is no longer your manager," and dismissed him, leaving him dumbfounded and confused.

She sat in the corner of the couch as she watched the crew prepare for Natsume to start recording. Ever since Hotaru had founded Amanatsu Stars, they had never changed studios since everyone in the business knew Narumi was a master at finding just the right sound.

Narumi gave Natsume the thumbs up, and Natsume nodded.

It was so different from Natsume's first songs, which were loud and full of teenage angst. Sometime throughout the years, he had transitioned from rough, raw emotion to smooth, almost romantic affection. These songs still had emotion, but a much different kind than before. No wonder he had so many fangirls.

As Mikan heard the lyrics, she vaguely recalled waking up at an unholy time of night to her phone's ringtone set for him and his silky voice crooning those words before groggily hanging up on him.

Closing her eyes, Mikan let herself get lost in Natsume's voice.

Even if he were isolated in the recording booth, trapped behind a glass wall where others watched him like a caged animal, Natsume didn't feel alone as he kept his eyes glued to the sight of her.

He sung to her, for her only now. She had closed her eyes so she couldn't see how intensely he stared, though the rest of the crew could see how obviously in love he was with her. The connection between them was palpable, and Narumi smiled knowingly, listening to Natsume through the headphones. He knew every line, every dirty verse, every sweet song Natsume sung was for Mikan.

If only she could see that.

Kaname Sono was his name - that filthy, manager-stealing bastard. He was a pianist (Natsume had scoffed) and was eager to share his music and make a name for himself. He wanted to be known and known fast; that was why he requested only the very best management.

And everyone, especially Natsume, knew Mikan was the very best.

That was why, within a day of Sono unofficially agreeing to be managed by Amanatsu Stars, Mikan Sakura was currently treating him out to a dinner at Umenomiya's, one of the most classy and most expensive restaurants in town that belonged to a friend of Imai, and was wooing him with her charm, making him laugh and attracting him with her beguiling smile.

That should be me, snarled a very irate Natsume who was murdering his dinner with his fork. He made no effort to hide his animosity toward that stupid blonde, Mikan-snatching son of a bitch. Who the fuck does he think he is anyway? Probably even isn't that talented. He's just a wannabe who somehow convinced that fucking Imai to let Mikan go to him. Fuck you, Imai.

"Um, Mr. Hyuuga, sir. Is there something I can get you?" whimpered his new manager, Hayate Matsudaira.

Natsume closed his eyes in annoyance and took a deep breath before he opened them again.

And double fuck you, Imai, for giving me this piece of shit manager instead.

Hayate was new to the company, and Natsume was his first "real" client that he took on by himself. He was useless, spineless, and completely incapable of fulfilling any of Natsume's requests. When he had asked his new manager for dinner, it took Hayate two hours just to find a place to eat, only to figure out that every manager ate at Umenomiya's with their clients because Imai got a heavy discount for being a friend. It had taken Hayate half an hour to get Natsume a seat, and it wasn't even at his favorite table! Mikan had always been able to accomplish this without fail every single time very efficiently. Hayate was simply very ineffective. Natsume was sure Imai kept Hayate around because he had this hopeless crush on her, always obeying her every demand and hanging around her like a lovesick fool.

"You can get Mikan back," he said tersely. Hayate mumbled some bullshit nonsense about, "But Ms. Imai said I was your new manager now, and she's the boss."

He continued to glare at the two of them, only a little at Mikan for agreeing to be Sono's manager and especially at Sono for being a bastard, when he saw Sono place his hand on Mikan's arm and give her a smile.

Natsume wanted to flip over the table and maybe throw something at Sono's stupid, ugly face. Instead he clenched his fork so hard, it bent. He knew that smile, he knew what it meant; he had given that smile to Mikan many times when he wanted something only she could give.

"If anyone's getting into Mikan's panties tonight," he whispered viciously. "It's me."

"Did you say something, Natsume?"

That was it. God, he was already sick of Hayate.

Natsume abruptly stood up and stalked over to Mikan and Sono, his heart beating fast and his blood thrumming with angry adrenaline. He roughly pulled a chair from some other table and unceremoniously plopped himself down next to a startled Mikan.

"Natsume," Mikan started angrily.

He inclined his head toward her, instantly feeling so much better and a lot calmer now that he was next to her. "Mikan," he greeted before turning to the other person with a much meaner face, "and Sono."

The blonde fool smiled, either completely oblivious to Natsume's harsh tone or playing along. "Hyuuga. I've heard a lot about you."

Natsume shrugged nonchalantly. "Sounds about right."

"Natsume," she warned, one foot jabbing its heel hard into his own foot.

Natsume ignored her.

"Is there something wrong?" the pianist inquired politely.

"You know, now that you mention it," Natsume said to Sono casually, glancing around, "you chose the wrong table."

"Is that so?" Sono said with intrigue, leaning forward.

With a mischievous smirk, Natsume said maliciously, "Of course. See that one in the back? Perfect for getting sucked off under the table."

He kept his eyes on Mikan as she spluttered and choked on her words before settling on glaring murderously at him.

"I didn't realize that was an option," said Sono smoothly, turning to a very red-faced Mikan with a raised eyebrow. She tried to ignore the problem by taking a sip of her drink.

"Because it isn't," Natsume snarled, his rage spiking again, drawing Sono's eyes away from his Mikan, but that bastard had other ideas and looked at Mikan expectantly.

Sono said, quite unctuously, in Natsume's opinion, like the slimeball he was, "I heard you were the best manager in Amanatsu Stars, who always managed to get her clients what they wanted."

Before Natsume could say something rude to her client, Mikan smoothly cut in, "I can arrange for something later in the evening if you'd like. Do you have a preference for type?"

Sono flashed his eyes at Natsume, and for the first time that night, Natsume then realized what Sono truly wanted that night.

Whoops. He picked up Mikan's drink, earning a light smack on the hand, and took a sip coolly, quenching the embarrassment inside of him.

"Someone like him would be quite lovely," Sono informed Mikan bluntly. She turned to Natsume with a teasing look and made a thoughtful sound, as though she were actually considering the idea. Natsume looked back at her desperately. She wouldn't.

Then Mikan faced Sono with a more professional face, "Someone like him sounds doable. Unfortunately for you, Natsume here doesn't quite swing that way, Kaname." She placed her hand on Natsume's arm with a gentle touch.

"What a shame," he hummed amusedly, making one last sweep of Natsume's body. He didn't know if he should have felt flattered or not.

"Why doesn't Natsume skedaddle out of here now?" she suggested lightly to Kaname, but Natsume could hear the implied order in her tone. "And we can get back to talking about what you need from me as your manager."

Natsume nodded obediently. He had already made a fool of himself in front of the woman he loved.

"Ciao, Natsume," said Sono suavely, winking. Mikan dismissed him with a tight smile and a glare that said, "I'll deal with you later."

"Bye," he mumbled, slinking away. Why did he have to act this way?

And in front of his stupid new manager, Natsume grumbled as he saw Hayate's shit-eating grin when he came back to their table.

"Wow, you must really love Mikan a lot, Natsume," teased Hayate, somehow thinking they were now friendly enough to be on informal terms.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, Mr. Cool Blue Sky?" he taunted mockingly.

"Ah," Hayate sighed, unaffected by Natsume's roughness now that he had seen how affectionate he was with Mikan, "unlike you, I happily embrace and am not embarrassed by my all-consuming love for Ms. Imai."

Hayate said her name with such reverence that Natsume wondered if that was what he sounded like whenever he said, "Mikan." Maybe he'd have to revert to calling her by one of her nicknames like "Polka Dots," though he knew for sure she no longer owned any polka-dotted lingerie.

Natsume decided not to let Hayate bother him anymore, even though he desperately wanted to punch that smug look off his face, as though he were better than Natsume, which, of course, nobody was.

"Get me dessert," he ordered, pushing his half-eaten plate away. If Mikan wasn't around, he craved something else sweet to fill in for her absence.

"Sure, what do you want?" Hayate answered, effectively no longer intimidated by Natsume.

"Isn't it supposed to be in my folder or something? Aren't you supposed to know everything about me?" he snapped.

Hayate didn't even quiver. "I mean no disrespect to Mikan, but honestly, she did a shit job updating your folder. At first it was creepily going into detail about the small things you do like the fact that you purposefully push girls over to peek at their underwear," Natsume smirked at the memory, "and that you tend to have nightmares when you sleep alone in the springtime, but I guess after a year or so, she just stopped writing everything down." He paused as admiration flickered across his face. "That's pretty impressive actually because that means it's all in her head. Wow, I wonder what it's like to memorize - Oh my God, she's coming over here."

Immediately Natsume hunched down in his seat before he remembered who he was. "How?" he hissed. "They weren't even done with their entrees when I went over there."

"I don't know! So what? Are we acting cool or are we - "

"Play it cool!"

It was clear by Hayate's panicked face that he would have to lead by example. He pulled himself upright and smoothed over his face, picking up the dessert menu, only to drop it a second later to face the cross brunette looming over their table.

"So how has your evening been?" Natsume asked as though he weren't in deep shit.

Thankfully, her anger wasn't directed at Natsume first. "Hayate," she scolded, "you're supposed to be taking care of your client, not letting him wander off to disturb other people's peaceful dinners."

"I'm so sorry, Mik - Ms. Sakura! Please don't tell Ms. Imai!" he groveled, completely abandoning the pretend facade. Natsume rolled his eyes; Hayate just didn't know how to act cool. "I love this job!"

"Well, Hayate," she said angrily, shifting her weight to one leg so she could put a hand on her hip, "I expect you to practice having some integrity and admit to Hotaru herself your mistake."

Hayate nodded his obedience and his appreciation. "Thank you, thank you!"

"And you," she bellowed, swinging her gaze to the unabashed Natsume, her lips set in a tight line.

Natsume braced himself for the thorough chewing out he was about to endure as she stared him down. He grew uneasy with her silence, seconds ticking by with not one sound from her. Even her heavy breathing had gone quiet, the intense glare and belligerent body language the only indications she was still furious. Her eyes pierced into him and not in the way he preferred, and he suddenly felt as guilty as a boy being caught by his mother in the middle of an atrocious deed like stealing from her purse.

This wasn't any Mikan he knew. He held her gaze, even as he felt Hayate look back and forth between the two of them, wondering who would break first.

He did.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he demanded flatly. But instead of cracking, Mikan continued her scathing stare for seconds longer before promptly turning around and walking away, leaving Natsume feeling completely gutted and hollow.

"You know why we're here."

Mikan looked at her best friend with a blank face, the kind Hotaru usually wore. Hotaru carefully flipped through the pages that were splayed out in front of her.

"16 different managers," Hotaru continued, "and those were only the ones who were willing. The rest have heard the horror stories and absolutely refuse to take him on, including Miyuki, and you know how much she admires him."

Mikan still didn't react. This wasn't any news to her; after all, Natsume took a perverse pleasure in calling her every day to gloat about his successful pranks to scare off anyone else, which Mikan responded to with silence. It was only when he started using his soft voice, the haunting voice of a younger, more scared Natsume, the voice that had asked her to stay, pleading for her to come back to him did she grace him with a terse reply before hanging up. Recently, she had found the guts to simply let his calls go straight to voicemail. There were 38 of those waiting for her to listen. If she ever would.

Hotaru looked at Mikan expectantly, who merely raised her eyebrows. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"We're going to have to make a decision. Hyuuga's an obvious money-maker, has been for years, but Sono has gained much popularity since he's signed on, and it's predicted it will simply continue to skyrocket with each performance," said Hotaru pensively. "And they both want you as their manager."

"Kaname and I have built a rapport. He trusts me and has divulged to me confidential information, the kind we handle with discretion," said Mikan pointedly. Hotaru understood the message.

"But Hyuuga insists on being a whiny little kid, begging for his mommy's attention," countered Hotaru.

"Kaname signed with us on the condition that he would have the best manager, who is me."

"Hyuuga refuses to do anything productive with his career. In fact, he hasn't since he's so busy chasing off his managers."

"Kaname has just as much potential as Natsume and deserves rightful treatment. We can't just break our word because some other spoiled brat didn't get what he wanted."

"I'm sure Sono can budge with some persuasion, and he will receive the same amount of attention regardless of who is his manager is, but Hyuuga is adamant."

Mikan's eyebrows knit together in confusion tinged with anger. "It sounds like you've already decided what we're going to do. Why are you even asking me?"

"Because you're my best friend and I care about you," stated Hotaru simply. Mikan nearly leapt for joy and hugged her since it was a momentous occasion to hear Hotaru admit such feelings. She restrained herself. "I want you to make the decision and be okay with it, but I also want you to consider both sides. As well, you must have had some reason for agreeing to leaving Hyuuga as his manager. Care to share?"

Mikan bit her lip; she had been harboring this secret, hiding her feelings, for so long. Saying it out loud would make it so...real. But she saw Hotaru waiting patiently, eyes not at all pushy, like the very best friend she was.

"For the past four years, my entire life has been consumed by him," she began dramatically, and Hotaru could hear in her voice that she was ready to pour out some serious heart. "I gave up everything for him; my life, my time, my virginity. You know, I have never had a single boyfriend, and how could I? He always needed me to be with him every single second of every single day. He would be calling during the night, walking into my apartment whenever he wanted, inviting me to places. I don't think I've ever had a break from him. Whenever I went on vacation, he always tagged along. I didn't mind, of course, because I'd learned to love him so much, and I thought I could be happy, I thought I could live like this and just pretend we were together when it was just the two of us. But no matter how hard I tried to ignore reality, I knew he could never be truly mine, not when our contract forbids it, and especially with all those fangirls and models and actresses he has to see. And it just hurt, it just hurt too much to know so much about a person, and for a person to know so much about you, but still not be together.

"So I decided," she declared with a deep breath, "that when Kaname requested me as his manager, I could finally get him out of my system. You know, wash my hands clean of him and forget about him." She closed her eyes in pain. "But then he kept calling and showing up and reminding everyone about the relationship we had, about what I gave him as his manager, and it hurts because I can't stop thinking about us and I can't stop wishing we could be together."

There was a long silence as Mikan's heartfelt confession and outpouring of feelings settled into the air. She felt much lighter having finally said that out loud after all these years, having really articulated her emotions. She felt… more mature somehow, as though she had grown up in the time it took to admit her true feelings about Natsume.

"Mikan, are you serious right now?"

She nodded forlornly. "I'm so pathetic," she whimpered.

"You're so stupid, that's what you are," Hotaru said in a clipped tone. Mikan's head snapped up; where was her considerate best friend!? She had just put everything in her heart out for display, and this is how Hotaru responded?

"Hotaru! I - "

"Idiot," spat Hotaru with so much emotion, eyes blazing with anger, "In the four years you were his manager, who said you couldn't have Hyuuga as your boy toy?"

Mikan blinked, suddenly feeling uncertain and unsteady. "I thought clients and managers weren't supposed to have intimate relations or romantic relationships, you know, since that one skinny-dipping incident. Isn't it in our contracts?"

"Our new contracts. Hyuuga's contract was never updated because you, as his manager, were in charge of that. Also, I know for a fact that you and Hyuuga have had plenty of intimate relations since you call me every time he requests your 'services' to complain about him. Do you really think I would let you violate a contract like that if those were the terms?" she asked drily. She honestly could not believe what she was hearing right now. She should have asked Mikan about her feelings years ago, but instead she had opted to let Mikan come to her when she was ready instead of pushing her. Now, though, Hotaru clearly saw she had needed a push.

"Mikan, are you seriously telling me right now that you've been in love with Hyuuga all this time but you thought you couldn't be together because of your fucking contract that we wrote together?"

Mikan smiled sheepishly and laughed breathily. "Um. Yes."

Hotaru shook her head in blatant disbelief.

"And even if that were true, the contract states that it cannot happen between a manager and his or her one client. As soon as you stopped being his manager, he no longer would have been your client so you two would have had all the freedom in the world to fool around together."

Mikan ruminated over all these points in her head, her mouth opening occasionally as though to argue back, but she always closed it quickly as she found her counterargument. Then emotion came back to her face.

"Even so," she lamented, "Natsume doesn't want to be in a relationship with me." Hotaru actually had to close her eyes and resist the urge to bang her head on her desk at the sheer stupidity of that statement. "He's probably slept with a ton of girls," she continued bitterly, "like that model Luna. I could never compare."

Hotaru was still stunned speechless by Mikan's apparent ignorance and inability to recognize the fact that Hyuuga only had eyes for her so she decided she no longer wanted to see her best friend's stupid face anymore at that moment. "Why don't you just ask Hyuuga?"

"I can't just do that! Besides, he would never tell me the truth," Mikan grumbled. "It'd be so silly, and I'd be so embarrassed."

"So I guess that means you're too chicken to do so," she taunted. Mikan's head snapped toward her so fast, Hotaru knew she had found the right button to push.

"Okay, then I will!" exclaimed Mikan defiantly before she stomped out of the room. Hotaru knew her stubbornness would never let her back down from a challenge.

She could feel a headache coming on. Dealing with the two of them was such a pain. She didn't even bother informing Mikan that Hyuuga had been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her.

Fuck that. Let Hyuuga do that. Hotaru had already done enough. She was officially giving herself a vacation.

Mikan pulled into Natsume's driveway, turning off the ignition. She took a deep breath, clenching her steering wheel tightly, before she found the strength to get out of her car.

I'll just go in and go straight for a heart-to-heart conversation. Just ask him straightly. Or maybe I should lead in with some small talk? Make the atmosphere friendly and light so when I get embarrassed, I can just laugh it off and run away and be alone. Mikan continued this debate in her head as she approached his house.

Curiously, the front door was already ajar, momentarily causing Mikan to panic over Natsume's safety before two giggling girls pushed past Mikan, their clothes and hair still mussed from whatever depravity they engaged in last night. Mikan's heart clenched painfully as she imagined and assumed all the scenarios that would have rumpled girls leaving Natsume's house late in the morning. Her heart nearly deflated, her confidence plummeting, and she nearly turned around before she remembered Hotaru's jeering face.

I'll ask, and I'll prove to Hotaru that she's wrong, and I can finally move on with my life.

She took a breath to steady herself, though she couldn't shake the nervous uncertainty resting heavily on her chest.

Mikan entered his house like she had done so many other times before, but never had she seen the house in such disarray. Natsume hated parties, and it was clear something wild had taken place last night with plastic cups scattered all over the floor, pillows thrown into random corners, his entire collection of trophies that usually resided in a cabinet somewhere upstairs was out for display.

Knowing Natsume wouldn't participate in any of this (would he?), she concluded he was most likely in the one place he felt most relaxed in: his special treehouse.

When she had teased him about how immature ("Like you?" he snorted) it was to build a treehouse for himself, he had told her simply that it was the one good thing from his childhood he wanted to remember, the only place he had felt truly safe, and that was all he needed to say.

Sure enough, when she climbed up the cherry-blossom tree and peeked inside, there he was, curled up uncomfortably on the hard wooden slats with his old blanket barely covering his grown form.

She sighed. She knew he had called her last night; she had rejected six of his calls outright and then set her phone to silent for the rest of the night. No doubt, if there was a party happening in his house, he had just wanted a friend to talk to.

Poor Natsume. She crawled over to his sleeping form. She loved to watch him sleep (not in a creepy way!). Very rarely did Natsume let his guard down for other people, but when he did, it was breathtaking; she wanted the rest of the world to see how beautiful he was when he smiled. He wasn't smiling at the moment, but his grumpy face wasn't on, and the worry had washed off his face so he looked so angelically like a carefree child. She reached out to brush away his bangs, which she had already scolded him for letting them get so long.

His hand lazily swatted at the air. "Go away, Yumi," Natsume mumbled sleepily. "I said no."

Mikan froze. Yumi? She had often thought she wasn't the only woman in his life, but this was only the second time she had heard a name, the name of a real, concrete person. Had Yumi been up here before? Had Natsume let her? The possibilities made Mikan's head spin.

Before she could dwell anymore, she decided to go make some breakfast to let off some of her excess energy, calm her jittery nerves. But not before giving him a kick and a ferocious, "Wake up, lazy bones."

He hated parties. He hated his friend Koko, who insisted Natsume needed some "cheering up" before irrationally inviting strangers Natsume didn't know over to his place to dance to the worst, mindless music he had ever heard, to drink alcohol they spilled over his nice, clean floors, and, basically, to invade Natsume's privacy.

He had glared at his friend from the corner he had taken refuge in, surrounded by fawning fans and by his trusted best friend, who had disagreed with Koko ("You just need to lock your relationship done," he advised sagely. "Let Mikan know how much she means to you in the romantic sense and define what you guys have.") about what Natsume needed and so was trying his best to fend off admirers and give him the space he needed.

What he really needed was Mikan.

Seeking solace in the treehouse, he had called Mikan 17 times last night, and he hated the fact that each time he dialed, his heart would hope that maybe this time, she would answer, only to be severely disappointed again and again. She wouldn't even have had to come, he had thought to himself, if only he got to talk to her for a little while or maybe, preferably, a long while.

God, he was so pathetic, he knew that. There he was, spending the entire night pining after the only woman who'd ever shown him real affection and who'd ever paid actual attention to him and his needs (because it was her fucking job), and there she was, wherever she was, probably happily laughing it up with some new beau, tossing him to the side so carelessly, not talking to him, like he didn't matter in her life. He knew it was wrong to be badgering her so intently, but after four years of depending on her, he just couldn't sit there passively and accept letting her go.

Didn't it mean anything to her? He thought it was obvious that their relationship went past just a manager and a client (they'd had sex, for heaven's sake; he knew Amanatsu managers were somewhat responsible for handling their clients' sexual partners, to avoid scandal, but Mikan had been thorough), and he had never cared what title they carried, just as long as he got to be with her, but as soon as she stopped being his manager, she wanted to stop being everything; and for Natsume, she was his everything.

And it hurt. It hurt him, but he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her, thinking about what they had, and wishing they were together. God, he was so desperate for any attention she gave him, any measly scrap of fondness, he was sure if she so much as smiled at him again (if only she would! His heart soared at the thought), he'd instantly melt into a blissful puddle of Natsume Hyuuga, former cool superstar.

In the meantime, he supposed, as he lay there so very alone in his treehouse, absolutely not crying, pictures would have to do. And so, as he scrolled through photo after photo of them, Mikan with that wonderful smile and him looking happier and happier as the photos became more recent, he had fallen asleep.

Only to wake up with an unwelcome kick to his ass and an angry voice calling him "lazy bones." For a while, he had reorient himself as his mind replayed the events of the night. He missed her so much that he could have sworn that voice was Mikan's, but he knew it was his imaginative heart tricking him. It was probably his new stupid manager, whoever it was. No matter, he'd soon be rid of whoever it was.

He tapped on his phone so he could see a picture of him and Mikan at the beach, sharing a cone of ice cream, set as his background.

Good morning, love of my life, sun of my world, he thought glumly. Another day without you.

He sighed hopelessly, rolling over. Already the day sucked.

"Well," his small optimistic side told him, "the sooner you get rid of this manager, the sooner you can call Mikan and tell her all about what you did."

"Maybe she'll actually pick up this time," said his masochistic side, painfully reminding every part of him that she hadn't last night.

Groaning, he picked himself off the floor and made his way into his house. Sliding open the back door, he heard the scrape of a spatula and smelled pancakes in the air. Curious, he entered the kitchen.

For a second, his heart stuttered as he thought there Mikan was, even though her back was toward him, standing in the kitchen, making him breakfast as he always pictured she would when they got married, only to come crashing down to the conclusion that it was probably another brunette lookalike, a weak attempt to placate him and his desires.

As if anyone could ever compare to Mikan, he scoffed.

Time to make this manager disappear. He reasoned that he was probably wearing out the supply of managers and soon Imai and Mikan would realize he was serious about Mikan being the only manager for him. He would force their hand if need be.

"Four chocolate chip pancakes, a shit ton of syrup, two bananas, and strawberries and whipped cream on top," he ordered haughtily, propping his feet on the small dining table.

"No," said Mikan fiercely, turning around in time to see Natsume startle. "You know damn well you want plain pancakes with no syrup, no bananas, and only berries on top."

She slid him a plate of just that, keenly aware of his eyes on her, and sat down beside him with her own plate in a huff. She gave him her most scathing glare, daring him to contradict her in this one petty issue, hoping the words would easily come out if she got riled up enough, before absentmindedly picking at the raspberries at the top of her stack of pancakes as if the pancakes would somehow help her find the determination she had lost along the way.

What was she supposed to ask him anyway? Hey, how many people have you slept with? Maybe throw out a casual, What do you think about being my boyfriend? No? The idea disgusts you? Ugh!

"Mikan," he said. His hand touched her thigh. She looked at him witheringly. A soft grin appeared on his face, so entirely loving she had to look away. "I missed you."

She forcefully removed his hand and put it on the table. So caught up in her thoughts, she missed the wounded look on his face. She didn't need him to mess her up right now; she didn't need this distraction, she need to focus.

"Did you really miss me?" Damn it, that sounded so passive-aggressive and bitter. It was already off to a bad start.

"Of course I missed you! More than you missed me," he muttered sourly, incensed by her tone. He had wanted to hug her, kiss her, carry her off to his bedroom, tell her about how miserable he was without her, but for some reason, anger brewed. It was like she was accusing him of betraying him as though he hadn't been suffering all this time!

"Sure," she said, completely disregarding his feelings, and he wanted to scream at something. "Good thing you had Yumi to take care of that for you."

"Yumi?" He flashbacked to the night before. "That girl Koko tried to set me up with? Ugh, she was a creep! I kept telling her no, but she kept following me around. I had to go to the the treehouse just to escape her."

The admittance that the treehouse was still a sacred place pacified her a little. A little. "Right. Of course you have thousands of girls at your feet so you probably had your choice of them. You probably picked someone like Luna."

There it was. He knew what the problem was. She was jealous, just as she had been when she had discovered a stupid, leeching model in his hotel bathroom, waiting for him in the hot tub with nothing on. She had assumed the worst of both of them and thrown that bitch out so quickly, he was proud of her. Not to mention, his ego got a little boost, knowing she was just as crazy about him as he was about her, or so he thought. It had taken him weeks to seduce her all over again, coaxing her to open up for him. Time to do the same thing all over again.

"Mikan, look at me." She did, with loathing. "I never," he said with fervor, eyes blazing, "slept with anyone but you. I've never been with anyone else, not with Luna, not with Yumi, not with anyone whose name isn't Mikan Sakura. And I know you tried to distract me, hiring that Amane girl, introducing me to other brunettes. But I've only ever wanted you and only you."

Gazing into his sincere eyes, she almost believed his words if it weren't for that little nagging voice, and she couldn't deny that his words sparked a hope inside her so strong, it gave her strength.

Before she lost the nerve, she blurted out, "What do you think about being my boyfriend?" except she was so nervous and everything was in such a rush that it ended up sounding like, "Do you think about my boyfriend?"

Her boyfriend?! His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. She already had one?! Here he was, pouring out his soul for her, which was hard when it wasn't in the form of a song, and she'd been playing him all along?! Making him think he had a chance?

Mikan saw his expression, so full of fury and hatred and pain, that her heart broke at that moment. She knew it. He hated the idea; it even pained him to think about it.

"What do I think?" he repeated, on the edge of furious hysteria. "I think your boyfriend doesn't deserve you. Because no matter what you do, you are so goddamn wonderful that I hope he appreciates the hell out of you! I think if your boyfriend ever dares to treat you with anything less than the best, then he definitely deserves to lose you, and I think I would -"

Okay, wait. "What, Natsume, what are you talking about?" Never mind the other emotions rolling around inside of her. She hated being confused and not knowing what people were talking about. Sadly, it happened often.

"You asked me what I think about your boyfriend," he spat the word with revulsion, "and I told you. Now you tell me, who is it?! Is it Tonouchi? Oh that bastard. I knew he wasn't looking at you with -"

"No, no, Natsume," she interrupted, feeling even more perplexed. She steadied herself. "I asked, what do you think about being my boyfriend?"

He blinked at her. "Is that really what you asked?"

She nodded shyly, anxious for his answer.

"Oh."

Then the happiest grin broke across his face, and Mikan wanted to sob with relief, the answer clear in his overjoyed eyes. And also she wanted to take a picture because of all the smiles he had shown her through the years, he had never looked happier than at that moment, and he was so beautiful. "I think that's a great idea."

He stepped closer to her, hands going for her waist like they belonged there, and she was almost lost in the sensation of having him so close again, especially with that wide, bursting smile and sparkling eyes. "Do you really mean it? I can be your boyfriend?" he eagerly asked like a kid asking for a new toy and getting it. He was practically bouncing on his feet!

"I - I think so," was her less than enthusiastic reply, and the grin slipped right off Natsume's face (nearly making her cry again for its loss before she could capture it forever), replaced instead with worry and confusion.

"Why? What's wrong?" Was she taking back her offer?

"I -" she choked on her words. She had never had any trouble expressing her emotions, but for reason, having to dig in so deep inside of her, having to lay out all of her innermost personal thoughts, scared her so much. She was afraid.

"You can tell me," he coaxed, seeing her face change. "I won't tell anyone."

He leaned in closer, pulling her into the first hug they had shared in days. "You can tell me."

And so she told him, whispered in his ear, how her insecurities nagged her, how she had never felt enough for him, how she wasn't beautiful enough to be by his side, how she was scared he'd grow tired of her once he realized he had made a mistake and toss her aside for one of the prettier women he saw every day, how she was scared of losing him.

When she finished, they stood there in that embrace, him slowly coming to understand why she had never said anything the past four years.

And then he whispered in her ear about all those sleepless nights he spent staring at his phone, about wishing she were with him every minute they were apart, about writing all those love songs for her, about being so insanely needy because he was scared her eyes would stray from him, about the burning love she ignited inside him, about being so completely and thoroughly taken by her that she would never lose him for as long as they lived.

From that moment on, from the moment they finally laid out their feelings, from the moment they truly understood each other, they were together. They cried together, they kissed together, they ate breakfast together, they cleaned his house together, they cuddled together, they called all their friends together, they laughed together, they were happy together.

"Hey, who's going to be your manager now?"

Natsume smiled down at her. "I don't care. As long as you're my girlfriend."

Several months later, she would become something different, when, during the tour for his new album dedicated to her, Natsume dragged Mikan out of the shadows and into the limelight. He sat her down on a stool as he pulled out another stool and that old guitar he had brought with him from his small town when he was still a nobody. The audience held its breath collectively in suspense, the occasional whoop splitting the air and nearly ruining the moment. She looked at him curiously as he grinned back. They sat face to face, turned to only see each other on the stage. He gave a nod to someone behind him, and she looked to see a mischievous Kaname smiling at her.

Strumming his guitar, Natsume then proceeded to serenade her, with Sono's accompaniment on the piano, with the sweetest song Mikan had ever heard him write: a song about how she had changed his life, about their silly moments together, how he knew he loved her from the start, about how beautiful she was to him, how he wanted to spend the rest of eternity together with her, imagining a happy life with kids and tender moments, vowing to love her forever if she would never let go. From the very first verse, Mikan had started to cry, and she smiled hard through the happy tears.

Hours later, wrapped tightly in Natsume's arms, surrounded by congratulations and love, she would watch the video Hotaru had thankfully recorded and see everything her tears had made her miss: the raw unconcealed emotion on Natsume's face, the happiness in his eyes, the slideshow on the screen behind them showing the entire world their cherished photos together, Youichi taking the guitar from Natsume so he could pull out the small velvet box and kneel in front of the only woman he'd ever love on bended knee, her face when she had barely let Natsume finish his proposal before throwing her arms around him and kissing him passionately, and Natsume lifting her up in his arms and twirling her.

Mikan became more than Natsume's girlfriend; she was Natsume's forever after. For eternity, he promised her, he was hers, and she was his.

"Congratulations, Mr. Hyuuga," said the raven-haired female, who looked like she was barely older than him, looking as uncertain and hopeful as he was, though they both hid it well. "You are officially Amanatsu Stars' first client. Welcome to the business."

He nodded curtly, one hand tight on the neck of his guitar, the other having just finished signing the contract that he hoped would lead him to fame and happiness. He had desperately promised his sister during those long, grueling nights when he watched her wither away in front of him that he would follow his dream, that he would share his voice with the world, that he would find a place to belong where he didn't need to be so closed off. His notebook sat innocently in his lap where it held all of his songs, all of his thoughts, all of his anger.

"The first thing to get in order," she continued, all business, "is who your manager will be, who you want with you for support and to be with you as you become a star. Either of us would happily take the role of being your manager so it's really your choice of who you prefer to have with you." The brunette by her side smiled and nodded in agreement.

From her emotionless voice and her impassive face, Natsume knew Hotaru Imai and he would get along nicely in a mutual stoic understanding of solitude, appreciation of quiet, and tendency to be taciturn.

But that didn't even cross his mind when he considered the decision, which really was an easy one, considering his only thought was of the heartfelt smile the brunette had given him earlier, welcoming him to his new home, without a care about what he looked like or what his past was, only that she was happy he was there.

"I want her," he announced, indicating with a nod of his head Mikan Sakura, the girl who smiled at him like he was the best thing in her life, the girl who made him feel like he was worth something as though he were enough for her, the girl who looked like his future.

The End.