A Song For Another Time - A Hikaru Hitachiin Story

Chapter Thirty Nine - Soft Hearts, Electric Souls

Standing while studying wasn't exactly ideal. If Rose were asked to conjure up an ideal image of preparing for her upcoming finals it would look something like a brightly lit corner of a heated library, where the chair was slightly over-stuffed and the windows overlooked greenery and let the sun in without letting it shine directly into her face. Standing in the middle of the Hitachiin living room on a pedestal, holding her notebook in front of her face while Kaoru buzzed around her, measuring tape around his neck and needle between his lips, wasn't even an option she knew was available and it wasn't particularly comfortable. But, there was something comforting and almost mesmerizing in watching the ginger twin work.

The apartment was unusually quiet as Kaoru worked, the stillness of the moment only muddled briefly by the fluttering of fabric and small curses whispered when he caught himself with the needle. With his brows creased in concentration, and his mouth occupied with anything his hands couldn't hold, Rose could see the resemblance between the twins better than ever before and she had to stop herself from wanting to reach out with her purposefully still arm and push his brows apart. But, well, it just didn't feel quite right.

Kaoru's grumpier half was surprisingly absent that afternoon, despite Hikaru's every effort to take part in the creation of Rose's prom look. The ginger twins' patience with his brother was wavering dangerously thin, after he had insisted "the Princess Diana" look was coming back into style, and had made sure his elder brother would be out of the apartment for this fitting.

The atmosphere was calmer and hushed without Hikaru around and, though it was a great atmosphere for studying, the feeling of something missing was hard to shake. It wasn't that Rose didn't enjoy Kaoru's company. In fact, she'd been spending so much time talking to and working with him that she could say with confidence that he wasn't half bad — for a scheming little devil — but it was off-putting how different he was from his brother while somehow giving off the same overly-invested and overbearing energy.

It had taken the pair of them days of back and forth between text messages before they had come to any kind of consensus on the dress. Kaoru had bombarded her with ideas, sending image after image of dresses in fashion magazines, old patterns from the fabric store and links to pieces online.

Kaoru wanted to go all out with the dress in any way she would let him: colors, cut outs, skirt lengths, you name it. His original vision was a dramatic, crimson, floor-length mermaid that was quickly vetoed with a sarcastic comment about Jessica Rabbit and him over-estimating her confidence. With hesitation he moved on to a full-length, off the shoulder, champagne satin ball gown fit for royalty, only to take a day's worth of silence as a clue to suggest his next idea: a spaghetti strapped, starry, two-layered tulle A-line with a plunging v neckline. Rose asked if the boobs required to pull it off were included in the design and he responded by offering a backless pink empire with several layers on the tulle skirt and a second choice of a two piece taffeta gown, with a daring leg slit in a royal blue.

Compromise seemed impossible. The only thing Rose wanted out of this dress was to not stand out, while Kaoru wanted to give her a night where she was the brightest star. (That's what he did best after all — make girls feel like the center of the universe.) In the end, her comfort zone won and, while he was still excited about the design, Kaoru couldn't stop the snide comments about not knowing he had been asked to style a practical nun.

Rose had never been one to much ponder the ins and outs of the fashion industry. Sure she'd been vaguely aware of the dark cloud surrounding manufacturing, and knew well enough how not to stand out in a crowd, but she'd given very little thought to just how much work goes into a single item of clothing. She wasn't aware quite how much time she'd signed away when giving into the Hitachiins' plan, because the debates over style were just the tip of the iceberg. There were the initial sketches and redesigns on the fly, followed quickly by the crafting of the pattern and the sizing of the very first muslin. (A word she would have never learned had she not been the personal victim of a crazed son of a designer.) After they had settled on the cut and fit of her gown — a floor-length A-line skirt accompanied by a sleeved and fitted top with a scalloped, V-neckline.