Doll (MikaYuu)

♦34♦ - Rush Hour

"Yuu!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted nearly out of breath. It was impossible not to break a sweat or completely collapse over in exhaustion. I hurriedly slid on the pants and shirt before he barged in with his notebook in hand.

He sighed, helping me off with the finishing buttons and zippers. "Odd stitching anywhere?" he quickly asked, jotting down the size and fabric. He was restless.

"I mean, my butt nearly broke the fabric at the back," I admitted through a fatigued exhale. I noticed I was missing a sock.

Rush hour.

"Great... Adjustment on rear..." he hummed out as he wrote. He clicked his pen shut and slid the next box to me. "Alright, couple more, come on."

I whined, earning an eye roll from him. "But I just changed..."

"Yuu, you aren't the only one exhausted at the moment. Come on! There's women busting out the records on garters faster than this, you have it easier." I hated his lectures. He was gone again, answering the phone back in the office.

It's like the swooning nights before were just hallucinations. I know he thought about them, though. Mika was just serious about his work, although everything we've ever done became truly clear and reflective in the vulnerable hours. I smiled at the thought, finally getting an urge to go on.

I took another chug of water from the bottle, sliding on the jeans and messily buttoned up the shirt in the box, actually feeling kinda sexy in it. Would've worn it if it weren't a damn prototype. At least there was no coffee around this time. Or any of the times.

He was in and out for the hour, jotting the sizes and mishaps and good-to-go's. I wasn't getting the usual rewards of kisses. In fact, I wasn't even getting any rewards of any kind, not even a common phrase. Mika's new stance was serious. He was always busy around the clock on the days he needed to work. I hated it and loved it. He looked sexy as hell when he was all flustered up with work and determined with his business calls, but he was safe. But we got no time together on days like these where I was finally called into work and we wound up on the same day.

Like today. On rush hour. Worst work day on the planet.

The floor was hysterical, workers in and out of rooms and offices like madmen, bumping into each other and things as they delivered paperwork and clothes to rooms and rode up and down elevators. At least paparazzi weren't allowed this far up. It would've been literal hell.

My legs were slightly raw from constantly sliding in and out of materials, and I swore one of them was giving me a rash. I nicked myself at least twice on over-the-top zippers and embroideries that drove me nuts. I didn't know how the hell Mika made a living out of this. But he loved it, and I respected it. My hair was a tangled mess and the morning shower had made me sleepy.

I had to restrain Mika from destroying his insides from too much coffee. He was almost going on his fourth cup.

Then, Mika and I got the hellish news to deliver our sets downstairs. I could hear Mika screaming internally as he held the phone.

I was barely in pants as he shoved me in the elevator with loads of boxes in hand as he hauled the rack. He was already on another phone call as he pressed the floor number on the wall. I would've fallen asleep in the elevator if he wasn't nudging me out. I held back my complaint, following him around the corner to the large closet. There were others there, busying about and zooming through the millions of rows of clothes that were like cornfields to me. I could've died in there.

"The twenty-three are all done and delivered," he rambled into the phone, taking my hand to drag me back to the elevator. "Should I run to your office now?"