Responses
I reported this
Oh, why did you? Does it break any guideline I'm unaware of?
Well I dunno anything about breaking any guidelines or why they reported it but I personally think it's wonderful! I loved your drabble, thank you for writing it, it was a pleasant surprise (=・ω・=)
The light chatter of frivolous summer winds, a grandfather-clock ticking meekly in a corner of the shop, and the occasional horn of a passing car; at the ungodly hour of twelve in the night, these sounds were all that kept Kouichi company.
Hidden past tall book shelves and colorful CD displays, alone yet again, Kouichi absently wipes the disk covers, and once again wonders why no one was ever willing to take the midnight shift before he came along.
Personally, he loves this time of the day. It's peaceful, in the way nothing else quite is; the empty silence trickling into his veins like the clear waterfalls back in the village.
Maybe it was the lazy hedonist in him speaking, or perhaps the brat within had never really matured, but the soothing calm, the odd stability of it all anchored him to his reality more than he should admit.
It never got boring either.
The night came with its own set of unconventional characters, from delinquents draped in black and teenagers on late-night dates, to the shivering seventy-something grandpa across the street levelling him with the quintessential stern glare. Again.
He only smiles in response, genuine and hesitant.
(Well, people-watching never got old.)
There was also another man, a little different from the rest, though Kouichi couldn't exactly pin point what was so unique about him, if asked.
Could it be the ten thousand yen bill he'd slap on the counter for a soda bottle worth less than a hundreth of it everyday? Or, maybe - it was the mane atop his head, locks shining gold like the midday sun, sticking straight across his forehead.
(Kouichi almost wonders if it would feel as soft against his fingers, as it looked. Just what kind of premium shampoo does this guy use, anyway?)
Or maybe, it was something about his eyes, bright and cautious, wood and amber, catching his own for a brief moment, escaping in a careful sort of concern, brushing past him like the exchange never happened.
The man was unpleasant, at best, leaving his stomach with a heavy, unsure feeling everytime he came by.
The bells above the exit would chime, and Kouichi would once again be left with his happy lonesome, eyes stuck on the empty door way and mind somewhere far away.
(Among Daffodil yellows and elusive gazes)
He doesn't think much of it, afterwards, doesn't let the curious sensation linger. The stranger is just that - a stranger. Like any other customer. Mr. Soda, as he internally calls him.
And that's just how it is.
Except, when a fateful night of summer storms, cool rain, an adorably illegal black cat, and a familiar man drenched in nothing Kouichi ever expected, change everything.
- fin -
Should i continue?