A/N: Okay, I will be writing 'Fallen', as well as 'Run'. I'm trying to do that…I can do three stories at a time thing… lol I think it'll work…

Chapter One

The painter leaned over and sighed. It's terrible! He thought, glaring at the mesh of colors upon the canvas. The man looked aside, showing his further disgust as he slipped the paint brush into the jar, picked up the painting then tossed into the reject pile with his other failed attempts. He then lumbered over to his small kitchen in his huge loft and pulled out a can of beer from the fridge. Why had he EVER thought he could be an artist like this was beyond his imagination. The disgruntled artist cracked the top on the can and sat down on the black wooden stool, staring at one particular piece. It was a large canvas, splashed with blue and greens. His work was what many called abstract, probably because people had to think hard to abstract something from the artist's work. He snorted after thinking this taking a swig of his beer.

He eyed it wryly.

Garbage. It was pure garbage.

He walked over to the heap of canvases, looked at the one on the top for awhile then began to flip through. No matter how hard he seemed to try, stretching out his talent he never seemed to reach his own expectancy with the paintings. He sighed and walked back over to the kitchen counter and slammed the can back on to it. The man was about to reach for a pack of alpha menthols when his cell phone rang. He groaned inwardly and cursed. Damn it! That can only be one person! He thought angrily, checking the clock on the wall. He snatched up the phone, punched the button and snapped, "Yeah! What is it?" "Ohayo, to you as well, Eiri-san..." a soft voice spoke on the other end of the line. It was his cursed brother-in-law, Seguchi.

"Do you know what time it is?"

There was a moment's pause. "Nine forty five."

"Yeah, and I told you I didn't want you or Mika or Tatsuha calling me between the hours of nine and five. Those are my work hours. You know, nine to five."

"Yes, I know, but..."

"No buts, Tohma...I'm hanging up now...Just to give you a warning this time."

CLICK!

He grinned, setting the phone back on the counter. Seguchi wouldn't like being hung up on but he was probably used to it by now. Ever since he had been old enough not to be coddled like a newborn baby or a toddler, the artist had considered it a thrill to hang up on the nosey president of NG. He tapped the pack of cigarettes, extracting one from the soft box and placed it between his lips, feeling the warm sun beat down upon him from the sky light. He basked in it for a moment longer then went back to work again; this time on a different piece. He didn't personally believe in painting things that actually meant anything, he didn't believe in meaning….Which was fine by him, that's why abstract suited him perfectly. It never truly had meaning as whole. It was never meant to represent anything as far as he was concerned.

Sometimes though Eiri Uesugi wondered why he would paint something that had no meaning. Why would he waste his efforts creating the perfect NOTHINGNESS, why did any other abstract artist?

He would perhaps have to find out the meaning somebody.

Perhaps.