A/N: I've always wondered whether there is someone for Haruhiko. I mean, even Isaka has Asahina! So I thought – ah, why the heck not? Just hope my OC character is cut out for it, ne? ^-^

Disclaimer: I do not own Junjo Romantica, so that's that.

Chapter 1

Haruhiko slid into the limo with a sigh. Another hard day at work, one just as long as the other, "Drive." he said shortly. Sensing his employer's irritation, the driver put up the privacy screen and drove without a word.

If anyone could have seen through the tinted windows of the limousine then, they would be shocked to see the cold and ever serious Usami Haruhiko, sprawled gracelessly across the burgundy leather seat, his spectacles dangling precariously from between his fingers, the other in favour of stemming off an incoming headache by pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Honestly, was it too much to ask for competent employees these days?' he thought.

He was jerked out of his musings when his pocket started vibrating. Sighing again, he pulled out his phone and answered without looking at the caller I.D. If it's another call from the company asking him as they did for every little thing, there will be bloodshed. "What?"

"Ooh, so cold...Is that how you talk to your best, and not to mention childhood, friend?"

Haruhiko barely stifled the groan dying to escape his throat. That would be unprofessional, and he's anything but, "Isaka."

"The one and only! So...what got your panties in a knot? Your employees running to you like sheeps again?" Or more like you drove at them like the slave driver you are, Isaka added mentally on the other line.

"I do not see how, or why, they find it absolutely necessary to bother me with every trivial problem when they are paid to do so in the first place."

"Ah, better to seek you out than not bothering to at all though. Remember that one time someone short-circuited the mainframe in your department and didn't dare to speak up and you have to run around the building just to find out where the problem is?"

"...I can see that the memory is still quite vivid in your mind."

"Why, of course. Putting all that aside, I have just the thing to cheer you up!"

"......"

"Don't you raise that sceptical brow at me! I –"

"No."

"Hey, I haven't even finish –"

"It's another awards party, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but –"

"And it's for Akihiko's latest book release."

"...I hate you sometimes."

"I'm glad we arrive to a mutual agreement. My answer would still be a no. I have a project coming up and my schedule does not permit me time off to attend."

A scoff was heard clearly across the line. "Yeah right, you just don't want to go because he –"

Whatever Isaka planned to say was cut off abruptly as Haruhiko hung up on him, switched it off and then flung it away in self-disgust. Oh, he know too well what his friend was about to say. Akihiko, his younger half-brother, the one who ran away and made a name for himself as an author while he had to stay behind and pick up the pieces, the one that Misaki – a simple boy with a big heart, the only person to have encouraged him to pursue his dream – finally chose in the end over him. To attend the party only to see them in each other's arms was enough to make him shoot himself.

His head now throbbing relentlessly with frustration, he knocked on the screen and as soon as it was down barked, "Take me to the church."

Once again, the driver heeded his orders without a word and the limo sped off in another direction, a thunderclap echoing ominously across the cloudy evening sky.

A few good minutes later, Haruhiko was standing within the church's entrance doorway, shaking the water droplets off his umbrella with a few choice words. Propping it in a stand, he stood within the confines of his church – every nook and cranny designed by him with careful intricacy – and let the tranquillity enveloped his very being. He could already feel all the day's frustration trickling away, soothing his nerves like none anywhere else could. This, this was one of the main reasons he prized every building he drawn and created, especially this church in particular; for they provide him the sanctuary that he needed to think, relax and be himself amidst this jungle of a city. Here, he could bask in the peace and listened to the natural music of the rain.

It took Haruhiko a moment to realise that the faint strings of melody he heard was not from the rain. In fact, it came from beyond the archway that leads to the pews and altar. A little miffed at having his privacy cut short by a trespasser, he stepped through the archway with biting words ready on his lips...and promptly swallowed it back.

In the dim corners of the altar, where not even the light from multitudes of candle could totally eradicate, was an upright piano and sitting on its bench was a young man. Pale fingers danced across the keys like butterflies, so light was its touch that it was surprising that such a wondrous tune could be coaxed out of the instrument. The eyes on the intense, attractive elfin face were closed, too lost in the throes of the music to notice his surroundings. Short black hair that curled at the tips swayed back and forth, riding the waves of gentle passion brought forth by its owner.

Haruhiko was barely conscious of the fact that he had moved to sit in the pews, too entranced by the music and the ethereal being playing it. He closed his eyes and was able to imagine the melody in his mind; a series of deep, prolonged notes raced across his mind like lightning flashing through the sky, which then burst into a string if lighter notes that sounded like raindrops falling against the window, and from there the notes just got louder and louder and higher and higher, reaching its peak with an echoing crash, and then slowly dwindled down to soft, low notes that had Haruhiko gasping breathlessly like he had just freefall down the sky.

That must have got the young man's attention, for the music abruptly stopped followed swiftly by thick silence. Haruhiko opened his eyes and found himself staring into another pair of big, wonderful, solemn eyes of greenish grey that shone with surprise and traces of the gentle passion left from the music. Both stared at the other, neither breaking their gazes until Haruhiko shifted slightly from his position. Like a gunshot being fired, the young man stood, grabbed a coat and suitcase that Haruhiko didn't noticed was draped across one of the pews, and dashed out the side door in the space of a minute.

"Wait!" Haruhiko shouted a little too late. He followed immediately after, stubbing his toe and banging his knee in his haste, muttering curses as he limped out into the heavy downpour. He quickly caught sight of the diminishing figure ahead of him. Despite the obvious head start, he made a heroic attempt to catch up, yelling through the rain for the man to wait, his carefully-constructed facade discarded and forgotten. It was only when he lost sight of the other did he stopped, looking for all in the world like a drowned rat.

"Haruhiko-sama! Haruhiko-sama!" called his driver, running up to the soaked businessman with an umbrella in hand. "Haruhiko-sama, is everything alright? Why did you run out like that? Did something happen?"

The same question ran into Haruhiko's head. What did happen? Why did he run out after the stranger like that? 'It's not like he particularly want to get to know him.' he thought, or did he? Disregarding the fact the cold, the rain and his ruined suit, Haruhiko reflected. He recalled how unspeakably thrilling it was when he listened to the other play, how each musical note thrummed and resonated through his very core. Fingers of the palest tan played the piece with elegant precision, skills as apparent as day itself that Haruhiko recognise and could appreciate. And those eyes, such a fascinating shade of green and grey...

"...Haruhiko-sama?" The driver asked tentatively. In all his years working as the Usami's family driver, he had come to know the eldest son of the Usami family as a cold, apathetic man with a no-nonsense nature. Yet, here he was; hair plastered wetly onto his face, his business suit sagging uncomfortably against his body, gazing into the distance with a dazed look of a lost man. Clearing his throat, he called to his employer again, "Haruhiko-sama, I think it's best that we return."

"...Ah," The businessman agreed, his mask back on again. Solemn greenish grey eyes flashed across his mind's eye again, stirring something within him that made him tingle. "Let's go."

Misaki glanced up for the umpteenth time at the ticking clock, looking anxious and worried, and then went back to stirring dinner in a pot. This cycle was repeated many times until two familiar arms wrapped around his waist and a faint smell of expensive cologne reached his nose, "Usagi-san, not now. I'm making dinner."

Usagi nuzzled the crook of Misaki's neck, smirking when the smaller shivered in response. "It doesn't seem like you're making any progress, not with the way you keep looking at the clock like it might explode."

"I can't help it!" Misaki exclaimed, suddenly brandishing the ladle around like a weapon, which might as well have been when it nearly took Usagi's eye out but Misaki didn't noticed. "It's just like Nii-san to suddenly call me out of the blue and asked me whether I could house a cousin that I do not know I have from America until now!"

"Which you agreed to without my permission, seeing as it is my apartment."

"I can't just say no when someone's in trouble, especially a relative. Besides," Misaki gave a scowl at the author behind him. "It's not like you didn't received 'compensation' from me, did you?"

Usagi smirk grew, hands slyly moving downwards and under his lover's apron. "Yes, and I enjoyed every minute of it." he said huskily, which turned into a grunt when the very same ladle that posed a threat to his well-being smacked his wandering hands away.

Misaki gave a triumphant smirk and went back to his cooking. "I expect you to behave in the duration that my cousin is staying here, which means no doing...that just because you feel like it, or leave your BL novels lying around."

"Hn."

Misaki paused and glance over his shoulder at the man now seated on the couch with narrowed, emerald eyes. "Usagi-san..."

"I'm not entitled to restrict myself in my own home." was the casual retort, which infuriated the young college student.

"BAKA-USAGI! PRACTICE SOME SENSE OF DECENCY, YOU PERVERTED RABBIT!" After a bout of ranting at Usagi's lack of courtesy, Misaki sighed and looked down at his stocking feet. "Could you at least do it when he's not around?"

Large, gentle hands cupped his cheeks and before he knew it he was pulled into a kiss, which he reciprocated shyly but eagerly with a blush, already weak in the knees. Tongues battled to a repeated dance of dominance which Usagi won hands down and proceeded to ravished him. Soon, they pulled away when air became an issue, both breathing heavily at the kiss they shared. Usagi then pecked Misaki's forehead affectionately, his striking violet eyes warm and kind. "I love you, Misaki. I won't intentionally do something you're not comfortable with."

"...stop saying such embarrassing things." Misaki muttered, though there was no heat in his words. Usagi smiled and kissed him again before returning to his place on the couch.

"Misaki, why don't you tell me about this cousin of yours, hm? You never got around to telling me."

The young teen had the decency to look sheepish. "Eh heh heh, right, forgot about that. Well, according to Nii-san, my cousin is an orphan like us. My aunt (on my mother's side) died giving birth to him and my uncle passed away in a hit-and-run accident two years before...before my parents died. They never did got around to tell us..."

"Then, how did Takahiro got into contact with him if neither of you know that you have relatives?"

"My cousin found some letters written by my mum to my aunt and there were mentions of our names in it. It didn't take him long to search it up and get Nii-san's phone number. He's now 26 years old, majored in music back in America and is currently transferred to my uni as an associate professor in the Music department. He would be staying with us temporarily until he could find an apartment of his own."

"Did you get his name?"

"It's –"

The doorbell rang at that moment, cutting off Misaki's reply, much to Usagi's displeasure. Misaki walked towards the door with a shout of "Coming!" when the doorbell rang for the second time. Opening the door, he gasped at the sight before him and wasted no time in ushering him in. "You're soaking wet! Come in, you can just put your bag down. Here, hang your coat, I'll get you a towel. Be right back!"

Misaki rushed off and got a fresh towel, returning to the living room (more like a foyer) to see his cousin standing awkwardly at the same spot, occasionally glancing curiously at the author who returned it with equal curiosity. Smiling, and a little relieved that his lover didn't put his cousin off like he usually did with anyone else, he approached his cousin and handed him the towel, who took it gratefully. He clearly had no intention to move any further, however, if his quick look between the puddle of water forming underneath him and the polished floors were any indication.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll just mop it up later." Misaki reassured. A cough from behind made him realise that an introduction was way overdue. "Oh, right. Sorry, this is Usag – I mean, Usami Akihiko, my...landlord."

Solemn green-grey eyes were soft as the young man bowed politely and answered, "Konnichiwa, my name is Fuji Kiyoshi. Please take good care of me."

Okay, is it...well, okay? Please leave a review.