AN: If you are about to be in an unwanted marriage, I highly suggest you cancel it before you decide to run away on the very day. The probability of such things as what will occur in this piece is highly slim, so don't count on it. :P So, getting that straight...continue on with the reading...

Dedicated to idle, hopelessly romantic dreams, to the strength of friendship and to the surmounting power of love.

I. Leap

"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently."

--Agnes De Mille

Long, cascading white fabric, sparkly with silver stitches lovingly embroidered glittered like unshed tears similar to those in the eyes of the wearer in the highly illuminated room. Lashes unveiled to reveal spring, verdant eyes. There in the full mirror she saw an image of a quintessential wife, wife-to-be, her mind corrected.

But oh how her heart refused to accept the destiny laid before her in the cushioned platter...the ring that would make her someone else's, more specifically.

But, a secret smile slowly formed on her lips; she was going to resist this, fight this arranged marriage that her father had so brilliantly crafted to his advantage, and to what he hoped would be his daughter's as well.

Except, it wasn't.

In precisely one hour, she would no longer be Hitomi Iris Kanzaki, but one bearing a strange, alien name. The soft night was welcoming, tempting even to the young bride. How she wanted to melt into its richness, lose herself in its enveloping arms, become one of the faceless hiding in its curtain. Ever since Hitomi Kanzaki, age twenty-five could remember, she had wanted a romance. A real romance, with all the ribbons and tassels of happiness, euphoria, and a happily-ever-after. Her parents had thought that they had crafted the very thing for her with the entrance of Owen, blond, beaming, and boring. They were captivated by the man's beauty, straw colored hair over a pale, thin aristocratic face, eyes the color of cobalt. But the eyes were empty, and what he was, he showed to everyone on the surface. No, there was nothing deep about this man, something that would make a woman want to dig, want to reach out for to scratch away the hard surfaces with her tenderness; he laid out the banquet of his mind with no surprises.

And women thrilled in pleasant surprises. It made them feel as if they were indeed living in a movie, in pages off of a novel.

Which was the supreme antonym of her life.

She sighed. This was it. There was a stillness in the air, as if it was waiting for a decision. You can do it, you can do it, you c-can't! Her heart cried out at her, cursing her for her stupidity, lack of self-respect and her weakness. She should've bolted, refused the idea of marriage to him, and shaken it off! Heck, she should've convinced him she was paranoid, eccentric and insanity was a rather dominant trait that ran in her blood. Anything to shoo away the persistent moth.

She thought with a depreciating smile; she was, however, no flame. Greater beauties had stood to look at mirrors before her. No, Hitomi Kanzaki's features were, to put it tactfully, quaintly plain. Her hair hadn't decided to be a specific color, being somewhere in between a dark blond or light brown, her height being a wonderful middle of five feet five. Perfectly ordinarily, she snorted, as if something ordinary could be perfect.

She quieted her tumultuous thoughts. Inhaled, then exhaled. The answer seemed clear to her, bright as the glimmering letters on Broadway boards.

A real romance... Her bit her lips, and slowly an idea formed in her rather creative mind, something that was rather unrelenting when she was in desperate times. Oh yes, 'desperate' described Hitomi Kanzaki to a woeful accuracy.

The only thing to do now was to leap.

OOOO

The world was waiting for something. Something dramatic, some elusive change, he could tell.

Stuffing his cold hands into the depths of his pant pockets, he inhaled the mix of liquor and cheap illegal drugs that lingered in the air. A deep melancholic feeling wove into his heart reflected like the mourning black petals of a rose.

His appearance was a contradiction to the shabby streets, a tailored dinner jacket pulled over an exorbitantly priced, crisp white shirt, and legs encased in dark formal pants. He was the embodiment of what would make many a mother squawk after their interested daughters—only after they'd delighted themselves in his company. No, at least these streets didn't lie. The 'polished' society lied, with its façade coated with trickery and hypocrisy.

And Van Fanel had grown up among this harsh truth, in the midst of these types of streets where the blistering truth was accepted and openly flashed for all to see. He'd seen a mother's shuddering cry as she held her newborn to her bosom, doomed to a fate not a cent better than hers, watched the boy grow into someone beautiful, too wonderful for the fragile world that was constantly trying to quench his bubbling spirit. His eyes darkened, he had also watched him die slowly, crying, tears slipping like the merciless rain that had lashed its fury the night, when the world was bleak and helpless.

The wind whipped his dark hair and the arrestingly tall man slowly and surely dissolved into the darkness of the world and his thoughts.

The woman, had been his mother, the boy had been his brother whose grave he'd dug with his own fingers.

OOOO

There was stupid and then there was stupid. Hitomi Kanzaki needed no stroke of genius to conclude that she was indeed the latter. Stupid was what defined her idea of calling Yukari, her best friend since she wore diapers, to confide about her realization that there was absolutely no way to escape from this marriage than—running away. Naturally. Of-course, her father had reasoned that 'Kari and Hitomi would be reaching the great hall together thus needing only one car.

A car that Yukari was driving and was somewhere lost among the streets of the immense city.

She groaned, 'Kari had told her to meet her in the old Anglican Church that was a four blocks from the hotel where she was staying.

It was as if Fate was against her. Like the toppling of dominoes, one-by-one every thing had gone wrong. At first, she realized she had absolutely no spare clothes in the hotel room; all of her suitcases and her possessions had already been shifted to the gorgeous house which she was going to live in, but of-course not anymore, she hastily added to mollify her nerves.

Jesus, running away from your wedding was a big thing.

After trying to convince herself that the dress wasn't that bad to walk into, she had concluded with a smile, it almost made her feel like Cinderella, albeit a Cinderella in dire straits. Then the car problem, which was to her relief, solved rapidly when she hired a taxi.

Ohh, if only Yukari had warned about the Anglican Church. A decent person would only be caught dead in such a place. The driver had adamantly refused to go into the lane much to her ire, who personally probably wondered why a bride would want to go there, though he made no comment. After placing the bills into his palms, she struggled to control the enormous gown that seemed to float all around her like a ghost.

The Anglican Church had to be at the end of the lane, she thought cynically knowing that was probably right.

That was the point of her decline, a decline that could be taken perhaps literally. It had started well enough for someone wearing white stiletto heels and having to walk a quarter mile and trying to manage a wedding gown. Oh, but the men didn't make it better. The first thing she had sighted in the dark street was the light of a cigarette, and the curling smoke. Her stomach instantly tightened and she gulped. The air reeked of all sorts of questionable things that her parents had always advised her against: cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol.

Taking brave steps, she continued her trek through the neighborhood, fervently praying to God and finding herself doing what she hadn't done since she was six—bribing. Harsh, grating laughter sounded like a pistol and her fingers clamped the material of her gown tightly.

The footsteps were behind her, coming closer... "Eh, 'Ron, you ever fucked a bride?"

'Ron chuckled hideously, "No, don't like no brides, too much trouble for a man."

The man agreed, but countered, "But wouldja mind havin' one that's not yours?"

At this, the man called 'Ron heartily laughed, "They are a delicacy 'round here." Taking a look at the phantom in white ahead of them, he added, "And such a morsel too."

Ohh, Yukari, if I survive unscathed, I will lead you to your deathbed. Her throat was clogged and she quickened her steps. It was apparent by the lazy voices of the men that they were clearly drunk and that was helpful. But not helpful enough for a bride wearing stilettos.

They were walking quickly, still not addressing her directly and her heart was just about to ready shoot out of her rib cage. Her lips trembling, she did the only thing that came to her mind.

Rapidly removing her heels, Hitomi Kanzaki, not the most athletic individual, whose only reason to form a truce with running was to keep in considerable shape, ran like she had never run, barefoot.

The streets were cool, the surface lightly abrasive to the tender pad of feet and painfully hard as her feet hit the ground, but she didn't care. She could hear the string of curses behind her as the men hurried, not being too firm on their legs now. The rush of air in her lungs, the dew firmly pressing onto her skin, and an exhilarated joy like the flower that suddenly flung open its petals blossomed in her heart.

She felt free, like the wild, untamed songbird finally released from its confining cage.

But God had His quirks and He decided that perhaps such an emotion was not fitting in her position.

She tripped, falling to the hard ground. The hem of the gown tore with a sickening sound. She, however, disproved the theory of her weakness as she lifted herself up from the position and continued, albeit now in her heart there was anxiety and apprehension.

Oh God, oh God...please get me out of this!

The shell of his ear twitched, and he concentrated on the sound that rose in volume by each second. Footsteps, no, he corrected himself, several footsteps. What was happenin—

His train of thought had been sliced like a wire removed from a circuit because before him, not at such a great distance was an angel, a spirit, a ghost running like the way a woman ran to a beloved when seeing him after years. He smirked; somehow he had a feeling that it wasn't just that.

His eyes widened. Bloody hell. The woman was dressed full fledged like a bride.

She was charging towards him and when his eyes traveled to the figures looming behind her, a swift curse elicited from his lips that would put a sailor to shame. It was rapid, a shock to him, what he realized should not have been since he was in the shade, not liking the glare of the light and it was his fault.

Her eyes widened, dazed, as she deciphered the figure of a man before her inches away.

Her palms first touched the expanse of his chest, then her body collided into him, chest to chest, legs intermingling, and together, they fell.

His reflexes were rapid, and before they touched the ground, he made sure she would land atop him, while he took bulk of the inevitable pain. A thud sounded and for moments, Hitomi Kanzaki swore, everything was inordinately motionless. Slowly, his arm crossed her back and held her tight while his eyes were sealed trying to wait till the pain subsided.

"Let go of me, please, oh God, please," she pleaded. Oh great, she'd made herself most accessible to another pervert trying to run away from two, and this one was apparently not drunk in the least.

His face was still shielded by the dark and she shook because of a startle when he spoke, his voice possessing an odd husky, scratchy note, "Don't move." Softness. Fire. Her hair smelled like roses in June, the cheek pressed onto the side of his face like smooth, warm marble. An uninvited, harsh groan sounded from his lips, one that the bride mistook for pain. His hands as if having a mind of their own, gradually traveled upwards to the bare flesh of her neck, making circular patterns causing the woman to gasp.

"Please," she whimpered. If he hadn't known before that she wanted nothing to do with him, he would've almost taken it as an invitation to continue. Her voice, he realized stunningly, was melodic, supple like honey and milk, something a man could get intoxicated on. It was a temptresses' voice, a temptress playing innocent.

"Don't go anywhere," he spoke again, and once more it startled her. God, Hitomi Kanzaki, would you stop shaking like some damned weakling. It was with great unwillingness that he slowly unlatched the steel bars of his arm from her waist, and gave her a gentle push upwards. Momentarily, she sat on his chest, a very misleading position, and as if recognizing its potential connotations, she blushed quickly standing up with a stumble.

He lifted himself effortlessly, and she watched the man borne from the darkness, at least his movements, as he straightened his jacket, raked a hand through his hair which was helplessly disheveled. He nodded curtly to her and she noticed that his voice was also cultured, "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes," she mumbled.

"Good." The men were a yard away, now coming with leisure steps, almost gloatingly. "Do any of these two bastards happen to be holding your affection?"

A mad desire to smile raged on her lips, the mannerisms of the man, the easy, composed drawl so ironic to the urgent situation that it had a tangy flavor of humor. "No."

"Good, very good," the voice was low and shadowy.

"Met up with yo' wife?" the mustached man asked. "What a hot chick—"

It was at that moment when Van Fanel stepped away from the shadows and stood under the glaring light. The men stopped dead in their tracks, one open-mouthed gaping while an odd sort of transformation writhed over their faces.

With an unhurried deliberately deadly voice, he spoke. "Fuck. Off." Speechlessly, Hitomi Kanzaki watched as the two men wavered for a moment, then ran like the way a man would run for his life.

There was a moment of silence, this vine-like creepy silence in which Hitomi Kanzaki felt she had stumbled into some movie set, or worse, into someone else's dream. This was not happening, no man could make such vandals react like this, any moment she waited for the sound of her alarm, the knock on the door, her mother's voice—

"What in hell possessed you to come here? If the little fool of your husband called you at this time, then he should be hanged," the voice was harsh, unforgiving, totally male

...and a most pleasant waking so much so that she would have embraced him. He however annoyingly thought, had meant 'little' in every sense.

She was struck dumb, gaping, and incoherent when her eyes hit his lambent form.

Jesus, he was beautiful.

Sinewy, lean muscles made up his tanned body. His face had a kind of rough beauty, like that of nature's. No, this was a man in every sense. His features did not possess any attributes of a female, carved lips that of a cynic, face stamped with pride, and eyes, eyes of a wild, hungry animal's, soul-searching, delving. His hair was softly black like that of the night in which he seemingly appeared from, his face having a light glow of honey-golden. Hitomi Kanzaki knew as surely as she knew she was doomed, that this man was dangerous, fatal, even, and unfortunately exactly the type that appealed to her senses.

A dark sardonic brow indicated that he had been waiting. "Oh uh, I," she bit her lip, clenched her hands into fists, "my husband, husband-to-be, really, wasn't who I wanted, not that he wasn't nice." She knew she was blabbing, not making a stitch of sense. "And Yukari was supposed to help and pick me up and save me, and the bloody girl took the car so I—"

To her horror, which quickly melted into fascination, his lips twitched, he smiled, and then as if a knot of tension had been released, laughter, deep and satisfying erupted from his lips.

And the change was amazing. He was breathtaking, and she realized, tall, very tall as she craned her neck up to look into his eyes. "Do not," he shook his ahead in amazement, "tell me that you, you are running away from your very own wedding?"

Sheepishly, she nodded. "I am."

He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and grew serious, "And out of all bloody streets in this city, you happened to find this one?! Did you even comprehend what could have happened to you while your husband was waiting for you? Your parents are probably worried--"

"Husband-to-be," she snapped.

"Huh?" he lost his thought for a second and then looked at her as if she was not only stupid, but apparently insane.

"He's not my husband," she hissed, her face flushing with anger, moving closer to.

"Alright. Answer this then: why are you here, specifically?" He smirked, "A sentence under ten words would be excellent right about now."

Frowning deeply at the man, she informed him as haughtily as she could, "Yukari was to meet me at the Anglican Church." She gave a jaunty smile, "Nine words."

"Fine," his lips were in a grim line, though his eyes could not hide his amusement. "I'll deliver you to her." She opened her mouth to argue and hold on to the last vestiges of dignity, but he interrupted her, "And you will firmly close that sweet mouth of yours and I won't hear a word of complaint." For some reason, at that moment, Van Fanel became extremely curious about the mysterious, cloaked runaway bride's mouth, the texture, silkiness, the taste, the shape, the color—His voice was gruff, "I am not about to let you land in their arms again."

She wanted to point out that the only man's arms she'd landed were his, but a gasp of surprise escaped her lips when his strong hand grasped her wrist and pulled her into the gloomy street.

He'd already made the initiative, out of his own will. At the touch of his hand onto her wrist, Van Fanel got the distinct feeling that he'd stepped into something larger, something important.

There was no escape now. It was inevitable, the hands of God working the thread of Fate into an intricate loom, producing their very own life-story.

OOOO

The minutes ticked as she sat in the pew, the church lit by dim candles. It was battered from inside, needing obvious repair, but it still possessed that grace and awe that came with age.

"It's been twenty minutes," he said quietly. "Are you sure she's coming?"

She raised her head from her arms and turned around to meet him, the soft glow of candles behind her. "Yes."

The air went out of his lungs. Roses, summer nights, warmth. This was the first time he truly saw her. She'd always been in the shadows, letting him see hints of her face, but they were vague images that flirted with the darkness.

A man could not only get drunk on her voice, he thought, he could get drunk by the air around her as he watched her. Her skin was shimmering pale, her heavy, thick hair lit like the dark sun, and her body was magnificent. The curling lashes were like feathery fans that cast shadows on her soft cheek. Melting, effortlessly graceful curves filled the dress wonderfully that made him want to groan again at the memory of her atop him. God, he had to control himself. He hastily shoved his hand into his pocket to stop them from trembling. Trembling? He thought with disgust; he was getting soft (though with proven with evidence, not in body, the nether region to be specific being solid proof). He felt distinctly heathenish as his thoughts continued somehow seeming blasphemous in the church. She was made for a man, for a man's hands, lips, mouth, eyes, teeth—everything.

His curiosity of her mouth did not end with its sighting. They were the color of coral, tempting, as she licked it to keep from drying and cracking—an unconscious act of seduction.

Her eyes, impossibly verdant, reminded him of summer meadows of lazy pleasure days, of memories he had never created, never lived in.

Not recognizing his own voice, coming from such an obscure place, he spoke. "Yukari won't come."

Her eyes were distressed, her mouth slightly agape, her rigid pose speaking for herself. It was not that she didn't believe him, she didn't want to.

"You can come with me and I'll drop you off wherever. I'll help you." Goddamn, Fanel, would you stop this monstrosity! His eyes flickered for a second, "It's going to be awfully cold tonight, and," he looked at her meaningfully, "discard your ideas about spending the night here because I can guarantee it you'll be spending it with unwanted company." He had no idea why he burned at the thought of some man touching her, laying a finger on her. This woman was full of contradictions, one moment making him laugh, the other making him mad with a thoroughly odd possessive anger, then desire to pull her into his arms, lay her atop him...

In short, he couldn't leave her even if he wanted to. Which, contrary to his body's reactions, he really did.

"C'mon," he said gruffly and when she didn't follow, he raised a brow waiting for an explanation.

"I am thinking."

"Thinking?"

"Of where to go," she added with a small frown of concentration.

"Anywhere in particular?" he asked, somehow his voice softening, not bothering to wonder why.

She smiled up at him, a slow, beautiful smile that stretched across her face, "Anywhere sounds good right about now."

A crooked grin curved on his lips, "That I can provide for." He prolonged his hand, and with an uncertain smile, their eyes colliding, she took his hand firmly in his.

"Van Fanel, pleased to meet you."

"Hitomi Kanzaki, relieved to meet you."

They simultaneously smiled.

Trust. One step away from...what?

OOOO

Brilliant. Blindingly brilliant was the light that shone at the glitzy Madison Hotel, a coveted corner in the city where only the most affluent could attend, and whose membership was exclusive and sought after by all.

"Van," she bit her lip apprehensively, looking at him inquiringly, "Are you sure this is the right place to be in?"

His face was emotionless with a composure that was on the border of being dangerous. It was as if they had stepped into a palace, not a hotel, the décor rich with murals, historical pieces of comfortable furniture, which somehow was still elegant. Large, glittering chandeliers were spread across the ceiling and the milieu was most definitely classy.

With just a mere gaze, one of the employees came scuttling to him as if him walking with a bride with a dress torn in several places and spotted with dirt whose hair looked like it had been attacked, was perfectly normal. She thought wonderingly, perhaps this was what they were paid for. To never be surprised.

With a crisp, commanding voice, he ordered, "Make sure you have dinner ordered upstairs for two, and," glancing at her and leaning towards the man for more privacy and making sure he was out of ear-shot of the uncertain bride, "some clean night clothes."

"Very well, Mr. Fanel. It will be delivered shortly."

"Thank-you, Evan." He visibly relaxed.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously.

His answer was only a grin as she took in the beautiful setting and he ushered her into the elevator.

OOOO

She gaped. His suite being extremely lavish was an understatement. Deep, dark golden brocade curtains glimmered, a large bed raised on dais while stylish chaises, easy chairs and sofas lounged around the room.

"I take it you like it," he smiled ironically.

"Yes," the word came out with a rush of breath, "It's absolutely glamorous."

He didn't reply, just stepped in and beckoned her inside with his eyes.

"First things first, Hitomi, you need to call your parents or family members."

She nodded, a tangled knot in her stomach, making her wish to wretch out the contents of her lunch. Sitting carefully on a sofa, with dainty feet tucked under, she dialed the number of her brother, hoping against hope that he would pick up, and not her parents.

"Hello?" an irrigated, harassed man's voice rang in clear tones.

"Mamoru, it's me! I'm—"

"Hitomi Kanzaki, I am going to throttle if you don't get your butt down here in the next," he probably looked at his watch for he paused, "ten seconds. Damn it, tell me you're in the building and you're late because your hairdo screwed up!"

She paused, he did too. There was a gaping silence. From the corner, where Van leaned casually, he watched the emotions painting her expressions.

"I am not going to show up," she spoke softly and slowly.

He groaned, knowing full well Hitomi was not in some dire medical condition that would hinder her from attending her own damn wedding, but she was blantantly refusing. "Hitomi," he tried the calm approach, "you're my little sister and I've always cared for you. I know you well. You're being spontaneous, impulsive and this isn't the time. I'm sure perhaps Father will forgive you for attending the wedding late, but you have—"

"I said, I am not going to attend! Damn you, Mamoru, I don't want to marry Owen!" Her chest rose, and the sting in her eyes was blinding her. She wasn't crying because of dwelling in her own woes, but for her father's reputation; he was going to be forever scarred and in the lawyer community, always to be laughed at. Brokenly, she added, "you knew I was never happy."

There was silence on the other line, then the voice came out gruff, "'Tomi, for God's sake, do not come here until day after tomorrow, when things are smoothed over. Dad just won't be able to—"

"I know," she interjected helplessly.

"Is this what you want?" Mamoru finally asked softly. "You sure you won't ever regret this?"

Hitomi Kanzaki had never been surer about anything in her life, "Yes."

In a clipped tone, in which he was most likely pursing his lips, he added, "I'll take care of this mess."

"I love you, Mamoru. Thank-you for being there, brother." She swallowed the lump of emotion. Mamoru was going to have a hell of a time cooling her father. With that, there was a click and she put away the phone.

The honest gaze asked her the questions, not needing words. She wove her fingers into her hair and sighed, "My brother feels I should stay away from Dad for a day or two," her chest swelling with pride and love for her brother, "he'll take care of the mess as much as he can."

He came to sit beside her on the sofa, and she relaxed. So quickly he became someone she was used to, she smiled slightly. "Tell me what happened," he inquired softly.

And then the whole tale was spilled, Hitomi not realizing that when Van had offered his arm for her to rest her head upon, she reached for his whole body and embraced him, her arms wrapping around his neck. It was awkward, and Van Fanel found himself not sure what to do, knowing he couldn't push her away (Gods, not even if he wanted to!). So, he carefully, as she continued with the tale, he stroked her soft, silk-like hair, gently caressing her scalp, calming her back with the stroke of his long fingers making patterns.

Her flesh tingled wherever he touched, the kneading of her scalp seductive and when his fingers accidentally brushed the skin of her shoulder, she froze.

Realizing, she was practically sprawled over him wantonly, that her regret and thoughts had completely made her oblivious to her actions. As if sensing her discomfort, he disentangled his hands from her hair, moved it away from the small of her back.

She wrenched away, flustered, "I don't know what I am doing— You probably go the wrong idea." She sprung up from the chaise, "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Fanel, but I can check into another hotel." Right as she was able to leave, he caught her wrist and pinned her to the wall, so perilously close that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek, like an airy kiss.

"You are not going anywhere, you hear me, Kanzaki? You are absolutely not leaving," he was gruff in his tone. "I am not going to hurt you and you can continue on with your life once this matter is smoothed. You wanted my intervention," he bit out harshly; "well you got it. You're stuck with me."

He released her when he realized she was holding her breath because of the intense nature of his proximity.

Turning around as to not face her, he calmly spoke, "Take the bed, you'll sleep here. If you're hungry there'll be dinner ready and some night clothes."

"Where will you sleep?" she demanded stubbornly.

"In the adjoining sitting room," he turned around and looked at her earnestly. "Do not ever trust another man who offers to take you to a hotel room."

Her green eyes widened, her cheeks pinkening.

He continued, unfazed, "Do not enter my sitting room or venture out of here, got it?" Or I might be someone to fear...

She could only numbly nod.

"Good night," he said in a cool, detached voice.

Pulling the curtains over the glass door to hide the sitting room from view, Van Fanel's shoulders shook and he decided a very cold shower was in order.

A/N: This was unexpected, like a pleasant kick in the stomach. XDD I owe my great, great thanks te Aina-lass. XDD "Everlast" was born after a conversation I had with her and it grew in my mind like fungus (XD) so much so that I had to put it down on paper since I was grinning like a maniac and my mother became highly concerned!!! Also, I had to go on with my life and not slip into some scene from this story. XD This will be either a two-shot or three-shot, I am still not sure. (wink)

So, yes, another update from yours truly. Now, before my mom decides te betray her composure and burst into a volcano because my constant computer use, I must make my departure. Thanks for reading!!! Pleeease review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!