#this project will be passed down to tellers hopefully for as long as the story exists. so i need a good preface

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [9] [END]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint

↳  Word count: 2,857

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | You Are Here!

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TUESDAY - 9

Day by day, things got steadily worse. Your body was constantly giving out, you had trouble breathing, and whenever you ate something, you always managed to throw it back up. The weight loss and iron deficiency you had developed after the last periods you’ve had led to four clinic visits and one hospital scare. You tried to play it off to your boss, but enough was enough and you knew you were going to be let go.

It took a lot of thinking, but you had finally decided to do what you had to. So, there you stood, taping the last box closed. You had sold your final possession besides your bed and your oldest camera, handing the sealed box to the buyer who had been standing in your kitchen. “Thank you,” he said, smiling gently at you. “This is gonna make my daughter really happy. I…” he cleared his throat awkwardly; “I hope that you get better soon.” 

You nodded, holding your breath for a moment to avoid coughing in his direction. “Of course. I hope she uses that camera well, it helped me a lot when I started college.” 

After he left, you looked over the bare-boned atmosphere of your apartment. Your coffee table was gone, your bookshelf, your easel. Your little television, table and chair, and nearly all of your glassware and cutlery had been sold as well. Walking into your room, the only things that were left were your tote of movies with all of Mark’s cards and letters tucked inside, and a backpack with a second outfit, toiletries and your camera stuffed in it. Even your bed was stripped just to the bottom sheet, the summer hot enough and your fever high enough that you didn’t need blankets anyway. Today was finally the day you had finally procured enough money for a plane ticket, a one-way trip that hopefully would relieve the pain in your heart and the crushing pressure in your head. 

While you lay in your bed, waiting for the night to pass, your phone, one of the last things you had to keep with you, buzzed. Rhiannon: How are you doing

You: I can never tell anymore

Rhiannon: Johnny, Hyuckie and I are going to meet you at the airport tomorrow. Mark’s getting pretty bad

Worry filled your chest, and you frowned at your screen.

You: Is he going to be okay? Rhiannon: we don’t know. He’s completely bedridden, I just hope that you don’t end up that way before your flight. I’m worried that they might not even let you on. 

You: I have to try

Rhiannon: I know…  

Rhiannon: I’ll see you soon, okay? I miss you

You: I miss you too. 

At this point, getting onto your flight was the least of your worries. After putting down your phone, you mad managed to get about ten minutes of rest before you had to run to your bathroom to throw up the measly dinner you had put together with the small food budget you had set for yourself. Once you were sure your stomach had settled, you went back into your backpack and pulled out your toothbrush, returning to the bathroom to clean out your mouth.

Looking into the mirror above your sink, you noticed how bad you had really gotten. Your cheeks were hollow, your skin pale and underneath your sunken eyes were the works dark circles you’ve ever had. You brushed as slowly as you could, hoping that you wouldn’t start to feel nauseous again. After spitting and rinsing out the sink, you decided that maybe it would be better to just get up and go to the airport now. 

You left your house key for the landlord on your kitchen counter with a note about where the spare was, stepping outside and locking the house with the spare, hiding it under your doormat before heading toward the elevator and beginning your journey. 

Occasionally you’d lose your footing, your balance off and your legs weak. You would grab onto the wall to steady yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t pass out. About an hour of subway and streetcar riding, you finally made it to the airport. It was chilling to see so many eyes on you. You knew that coming in this condition would get you multiple looks and passing disgusted faces, but you felt like you were passed feeling embarrassed. The teller looked at you sympathetically when you asked for the Delta non-stop flight to Incheon.

“Soulmate?” She asked, tilting her head curiously when you slid her your ID and your debit card, all of the money you had from selling your things on it. Just enough to pay for your ticket. 

“Yeah. Almost two years since I’ve seen him.” “My God,” she gasped, typing away on her keyboard. “It’s good you’re going now, I could never survive being away from my soulmate for that long. I was away from mine for a month when he was on a business trip and I was hospitalized!” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you rasp, watching her smile sadly in your direction. “I hope things go well for you. Have a safe flight to South Korea.” She slid your ticket, debit card, ID and itinerary over her desk, watching you slowly reach out to grab it. “Get lots of rest when you land.” “Thank you, I’ll try.” Feeling a little more pleasant after being wished well, you continued on your way. Through customs, the security check and the passport check, you did your best to keep back any coughing and the creeping feeling of nausea that was beginning to overwhelm you. Finally, you arrived in the boarding area, taking a seat with your bag on the floor, in between your knees. It was still a while before your plane would even arrive, so you plugged in your phone and decided to watch a movie. 

Night crept over the lounge, the windows displaying a slowly setting sun. After your movie ended you kept yourself occupied by watching the planes come and go until the tarmac was lit up with guiding lights that looked like stars. 

‘Flight from Toronto to Incheon nonstop now boarding.’

Finally.

You stumbled along and waited in your line, looking at your seat number. It was near the back of the plane, which would be loud, but at least it was close to the bathroom. The boarding attendant gave you a look with squinted eyes, but he still scanned your ticket, looked at your passport and let you go through.

Down the hallway, your legs gave out and your body clattered to the floor. “Hey, are you alright!?” Someone behind you came running up, gently taking your arm and helping you off the floor. “Jeez, you just toppled over!” She observed you, holding you steady. “You’re nothing but skin and bones…” “Sorry,” you apologize, hoping that you’d stay upright when she let your arm go. “I haven’t been doing the best lately.” “That’s okay,” she assured you. “Don’t you worry one bit.” Cautiously, she began walking with you, holding out her hands as if she was expecting you to fall again. “Why are you here and not at home, resting?” 

“I, well... this is soulmate sickness,” you explain cautiously. “My soulmate is doing worse than I am, and I decided to sell everything I own to buy a one-way ticket. I’m going to see him.” 

“Man,” she breathed, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

You let out a small, hollow laugh. “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” “What seat are you?” “39-A.” 

“Oh,” she smiled at you, just as the plane entrance was coming into view. “I’m 39-B! I’ll help you put your backpack up, okay?”

“Thank you,” 

She smiled at you. “My pleasure.”

The hostess greeted you both when your new friend helped you board, watching with stunned eyes as you passed her. You both made your way to the back of the plane. You slipped off your backpack and she put both hers and your carry on into the compartment above you. “Do you want the window seat, or will that make you nauseous?” She asked, tilting her head to the side with an empathetic smile. “Would you be okay with switching? I’m supposed to have the window, but..” 

“Yeah, I’m totally fine with it! Here, sit down with me.” Once you both were seated, she held your hand. “So, what’s your name?” 

“It’s (Y/N),” you answer slowly, giving her a smile when you feel her hand take yours. It had been so long since someone had given you any physical affection. “I’m Nia,” she grinned. “It’s nice to meet you!” 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

After the plane took off, Nia did everything she could for you. She made sure you had a blanket, water, and she even had wipes in her purse that she kept on your forehead to make sure your fever stayed down. Nia talked with you about her boyfriend, showing you part of her scar that was on the back of her neck. She told the story about the last time she was in Korea, lost and out of her depth. Wonseo, her soulmate, had bumped into her, not paying enough attention to avoid her when she stopped to try and read a street sign. She, in turn, had a scar on her back and on her scalp, while his, funnily enough, was on the top part of his chest and his nose.

When you told her about meeting Mark and your own scar, her happy grin only seemed to grow wider. “I’m a fan,” she admitted, “and I’m guessing you haven’t been keeping up with media because before he stopped his activities, he started wearing that Star Wars sweater everywhere. Everyone knew it was from you since the first time he ever had it with him was in Pearson two years ago. I knew I recognized you, but dang, girl. You look terrible compared to then.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I tend to stay away from it all now, it just stresses me out.” She nodded understandingly. “Have you thought about the Gold Ceremony? Wonseo and I are actually in the process of planning ours, and I’m on my way home from meeting a bridesmaid that still lives in Canada.” 

“I haven’t really thought about that yet,” you answer honestly. “It’s all so nerve-wracking, don’t you think?” 

Nia shrugged. “I suppose your situation is a little different from everyone else’s, so I understand the aversion. I love the romance of it all, you know? Gold coating your scars so that everyone can see it as a sign of your commitment? Ah, it’s so exciting!”

“Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to ask him,” you say quietly, smiling at Nia. 

“Only if you’re comfortable, girl. Having your entire chest exposed to everyone around you may be a little weird even if you are getting married, y’know?” 

You chuckle. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

You kept little conversations going, occasionally stopping to take small naps. The two of you also exchanged numbers, and you felt happy that you had made a new friend. Eventually, daylight began to peek through the windows of the plane, signalling the time change and that you would soon arrive in Korea. 

Truthfully, no matter what Nia did for you, you only felt worse. You smiled and held back your nausea, but you could feel that as every moment passed, you declined further and further into your sickness. When the flight landed, you were happy that the sense of vertigo was gone, but you weren’t sure how long you would last without passing out. “Want me to help you through customs?” Nia asked once the seatbelt sign was turned off. She helped you stand, taking down your backpack for you and securing it on your shoulders. “I don’t want to be a burden on you,” you said quickly, grasping the seats as you made your way up to exit the plane.

“You’re far from that,” Nia reassured. “I won’t be able to stay with you the whole time, I just want to make sure that you make it to the people waiting for you okay. You said three of your friends were coming to meet you?” “Yeah,” you nod, thanking the hostess quietly as you pass her. “Thank you, Nia.” “Anything for a friend.” Slowly but surely, Nia helped you through the check-in and declaration stations, leading you through each step. Once you both got your passports checked, she turned and smiled at you. “I have to go get my suitcase now. Be safe and keep in touch, okay?” Nia hugged you ever so gently, before waving and taking her lead in the opposite direction you were to go, making her way to grab her suitcase off the conveyer. 

“See you,” you called behind her, steeling your nerve. You could make it. While you could barely read the directions with your now blurring vision, you managed to make it to the meeting area. Just barely in your line of sight were Rhiannon, Donghyuck and Johnny, holding up a rainbow sign with your name on it. You felt your chest flare-up, and if it was due to your sickness or your happiness you couldn’t tell, but you still began making your way toward them, smiling and waving.

That was until your body finally gave in. ~ “(Y/N)!” Rhiannon immediately dropped the sign and made a beeline for you as you toppled to the ground, Johnny and Donghyuck not far behind. She grit her teeth, doing her best to turn you over and hold you.

Donghyuck reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, ready to call an emergency number if Rhiannon couldn’t determine that you were breathing. He sighed with relief, luckily the airport was mostly empty and nobody would crowd you. “Is she okay?” Johnny knelt down beside her, looking on with worry. Rhiannon quickly checked your pulse and held her hand above your mouth. “Seems like she just passed out, she’s still breathing.” She breathed a sigh of relief, placing a hand over her chest. 

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. “We should get her home, then. I’ll carry her, you grab her backpack.” 

Rhiannon nodded and slowly took your backpack off while Johnny picked you up. “Let’s go.” 

~

Everyone was waiting in the living room for Johnny and Rhiannon to return with you, after hearing them explain what happened when Taeyong called to check-in. They knew they couldn’t tell Mark about what happened since his condition was not much better. He was in his room, nearly unaware of everyone sitting and waiting with bated breath. Yuta and Jungwoo stood up quickly when the door handle turned and opened, revealing Rhiannon and Donghuck. Johnny followed in close behind, you in his arms, barely conscious.

“Hi, everyone,” you rasped, smiling as best you could, with lidded eyes. 

“(Y/N),” Doyoung stood. “We’ve all missed you.” 

“Yeah,” Jungwoo agreed. “We’re glad you’re home.” 

“Thank you,” your words were soft, laboured. “Where’s Mark?” You looked up at Johnny tiredly. Johnny smiled gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take you to him. Let’s go.” 

You did your best to stay awake, suddenly beginning to feel a little better. Soon you both came across a door, the door slightly ajar. Johnny pushed it open gently with his foot.

“Guess who’s here?” He called into the room, and as soon as you lay eyes on Mark, you felt both simultaneously happy and guilty. Mark was skin and bones like you were, hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He was shivering as he struggled to sit up, large and thick blankets slowly shifting as he moved. “(Y/N),” he said, his lips forming the most endearing smile. “(Y/N), you’re here,” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Johnny carried you to Mark’s bed, gently placing you down next to him in the spot where he had just barely pulled back the blankets. You had your head laying on Mark’s chest as soon as Johnny put you down, Mark’s arm immediately wrapping around you. You both breathed in a deep sigh of relief, and you felt your nose beginning to clear up. “You could probably use some water. I’ll be back.” Johnny quietly left the room, and as soon as the door shut, you couldn’t think of anything to say. 

You felt life coming back to you, but the long flight and the months of hardship still weighed heavy on you. You knew that this was your condition because you were struggling, and you had just sacrificed everything to be here. Now, on top of being sick, you were dirt poor. But, at least you were with your soulmate, and at least you were with all of your friends. At least you finally felt like you weren’t dying. “You can sleep,” you hear Mark whisper as he moved his other arm to touch your face. “I can tell you’re tired.” 

You smiled weakly. “Okay, as long as you sleep too.” Mark laughed softly. “Agreed.”

Not long after, the door creaked open once again. Johnny had come back with a glass of water, followed by Rhiannon. Johnny placed the glass of water on the nightstand next to your bed, while Rhiannon watched you and Mark sleep for a moment, holding the small framed photo in her hands, the one that started it all. She placed it next to the glass of water, adjusting it so you would see it when you woke up.

“Sleep well.”

[satorisa]

Lift the Veil - Chapter 2

Lift the Veil - Chapter 2: Ocean Eyes

Rating: PG

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Read On: FanFiction.Net, Archive of Our Own

I’m about more than a month late in updating this. I’m terrible at writing and keeping track of things. Please enjoy this extremely late update. 

Chapter 2 – Ocean Eyes

I’m scared; you really know how to make me cry.

My first day back in Azumano, as eventful as it was, couldn’t soften the blow of having to go back to work so soon. After leaving the NHK less than a week ago, I found myself at the Azumano news station the morning after my return home, watching the seniors lackadaisically droop in their respective offices and cubicles.

“Not much of a welcome, huh?” Saehara asked as we passed by a neat table of documents. “Pretty sure you had more fun working in Tokyo. After all, not much happens here anymore, so we’ve resorted to reporting on all these lame stories.” He sighed. “Oh, how I wish Dark Mousy was still around. Pretty sure you do too, deep down inside.”

He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but cringe. Sure, my adolescent self had fallen head over heels for him and yes, somewhere in my head he still fit the image of my ideal man, but bringing him up in that context after ten years?

Saehara, you damage whatever shred of dignity I had left after crawling back here.

We stopped in front of a neat workspace wedged in the middle of messily occupied ones. “This is your cubicle. Make yourself at home and settle in, but don’t sit until your butt leaves an imprint in your chair. We’re headed over to Chief’s to get the deets on anything and everything.”

He winked again, leaving me to my relatively private space. Putting down my box of office supplies, I examined my cubicle once more and smiled. On the shelf, I placed a fake potted flower and a couple of parting gifts from friends back in Tokyo. I hung a couple of photos of me, Riku, Daisuke, and Ritsuko on the wall before arranging the rest of my office supplies. I stood back when I finished, pleased at my personalized touches.

“Oh! That’s nice Harada-imouto,” Saehara complimented, slightly shocking me from his unannounced return. “More plain that I expected it to be, though.”

“Thanks…” I mumbled, grabbing my leather tote and following Saehara out of the dismal news station.

“The police station’s not too far, unless, of course, you’re wearing heels.” He glanced down at my shoes, and I reveled in his expression when he saw the tennis shoes I donned. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Saehara, it would be nice if you didn’t project your condescending opinions about me; it’s childish. And everyone knows working at the police station is fieldwork no matter how far it is from the news station.”

I rendered him speechless from my criticism probably because he expected me to run my infamous tantrums until I ran out of energy. Somehow, I had gotten away with them back in high school but, after being displaced in Tokyo, I quickly learned that they wouldn’t fly in the adult world I had, unfortunately, grown into.

He coughed. “So, you’ve done fieldwork before?”

“It was brutal. Try training in Tokyo and get back to me.” It was my turn to wink, and I couldn’t help but chuckle when Saehara’s face blanched.

“Harada-imouto, I think Tokyo’s made you a force to be reckoned with.”

With my signature hair flip, I shot him the smile that once charmed the entire male population at Azumano High. “Well, I had to toughen up for the big leagues, after all.”

Saehara starting barking and hooting, either trying to pump me up or compliment my change from the delicate flower I was in high school. I kept him going, entertained by his energy, until we walked into the police station and was greeted by a blank-faced Hiwatari holding a cup of coffee.

“So, who let the dogs out so damn early in the morning?” he grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee as his cold eyes bore into Saehara.

“Sorry, Chief. I got caught up in the…spirit?”

“Of annoying me? This station was peaceful until I let you camp out here. Let me remind you that I can kick you out as easily as I let you in.”

“Chief, please, humble my presence for I am a lowly plebian that was allowed to beg for stories by your divine grace.” Saehara bowed and then stood up with a giant smile. Hiwatari returned it as best as he could, and the two of them laughed.

“Anyways, good morning, Harada-san. If you need anything, feel free to ask anyone for assistance.” He waved goodbye before disappearing behind empty cubicles into an office wedged in the far corner of the room. After he slammed his door shut, silence filled the air as I attempted to comprehend what I had just witnessed.

“You two get along?” I asked, awestruck at how Saehara managed to get on Hiwatari’s good side.

“Yeah. We’ve been ever since I started working here. I didn’t realize he was such a swell guy until we went out to drink after work. Even since then, we’ve gotten along.” He smirked. “What? Are you jealous?”

“Of that? Please. Get over yourself.”

While Saehara guffawed, I sat down and opened my laptop, starting to review a couple of stories prepared for today’s broadcast. In the middle of a piece about the health benefits of an Okinawan diet, Saehara slinked away only to come back with two cups of hot drinks, yogurt container, and a bowl of fruit.

“Here.” He handed me one of the drinks. “Chai latté, freshly brewed from your premade, neighborhood coffee machine. And some yogurt and fruit á la fridge de la breakroom. I already had my fair share of donuts during my visit there, so don’t worry about me.”

I blinked. “How did you—”

“I bumped into Chief refilling his mug of coffee. He told me you liked chai lattés and couldn’t eat anything heavy in the morning.” He shifted his seating positing, resting his elbows on his knees while cradling his drink in his hands. “Seems like nothing has changed from high school; even now, he’s still looking after you.”

A frown settled on my face as I mixed my yogurt and fruit together. “He’s just being courteous to the newcomer; that’s all,”

“Huh.” He didn’t say anymore, downing his drink before I could express concern over whether his mouth and throat were okay from chugging something that hot that quickly, and hopped up from his seat with his trusty steno pad and pen in his hands. Walking away, he talked to himself about plans to pester the squad until he squeezed every last story, interesting or not, out of them.

I shook my head, astonished that Saehara was still his busy-body self that dotted my high school experience. Taking a spoonful of yogurt, I returned to proofread the files piling up inside my inbox.

“Here.”

On the coffee table in front of me, Saehara placed a paper bag that smelled oddly like Italian. He took out a small container, handing it to me along with a plastic utensil set.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, removing the container’s lid and seeing a huge serving of carbonara nestled in its plastic abode. As much as I loved this dish, anything smothered in cream-based sauces was too heavy for me. Funny, since I loved them as a high schooler, but living by myself and becoming gravely conscious of my health (and my already slowing metabolism, much to my dismay) changed my preferences in food.

“Your first day on the job. It’s about as good as a welcome as you’re going to get.” He slurped his spaghetti as if he hasn’t eaten in a week, and I felt my face instinctively distort in disgust.

“Thanks, but I feel less welcome after watching you eat like that.” I swirled some of the pasta before enjoying this nostalgic taste. “You’re not going to get a woman with those table manners.”

He smirked, continuing to scarf down his food probably to spite me. “Just because you don’t like the way I eat doesn’t mean my honey agrees with you.”

Too preoccupied with my food, I didn’t pay much attention to his gloating tone and the words that accompanied it. They finally hit me after I polished off my carbonara. Astonished that Saehara, of all people, managed to find and keep a girlfriend, I returned to my laptop and edited the day away, keeping an eye out for the man so that I could grill him for more information. (Hopefully, that conversation doesn’t last long enough for Saehara to pry into my dry well of a love life.)

He returned maybe an hour or two later, tearing a piece of paper from his steno pad, placing it next to my laptop plopping onto the couch and sighing.

“Missing your honey?”

“I’m always missing her.” He sighed again. “Chief’s only got petty crimes to report. They’re not much of a story unless you want to cover bullying in our local schools.”

“Maybe we could do a small story about rampant bullying in our education system? It’s not much of a report, but it’s at least some type of filler.”

Saehara groaned. “Maybe. But I don’t want to be in charge of something as lame as that! I need something with more pizzazz!”

“You could always sensationalize it.”

“And ruin my credibility? Harada-imouto, I’ve told the truth and nothing but the truth ever since I started down this path.”

I stopped typing, raising my eyebrow at him. He shot me a displeased expression and, wholly amused, I returned to my work with a smile on my face. To think that I would not only work with Saehara but also enjoy his company was something my younger self could never bring herself to imagine.

“So, ‘truth-teller,’ tell me about this girlfriend of yours.”

He shook his head at the sarcasm dripping from my tone, but I saw his expression lighten and his eyes glimmer once he got over my sass. God, the poor boy was smitten.

“Akane Himawari: the happy sunflower of my life. I met her at a café I frequented back in college, and she always had her nose in a book. We became friends when I grew the balls to actually talk to her. Didn’t have the guts to move any further than that, so we graduated, and I was no closer to her than I was when I first chatted her up…”

To think that the obnoxious Saehara would actually give a girl he was courting her space was unbelievable. He paused his story and shot me a puzzled expression.

“What are you judging me for now?”

“You did get closer to her, you idiot. You two became friends.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you had waited for me to finish like any respectable human being would’ve, I was going to tack ‘romantically’ after that. Anyways, once I became friends with Chief, we met up at that same café once, and I saw her furiously typing at her computer.

“According to Chief, I wouldn’t shut up about her, so he gave me that look—you know, the one where he’s fed up with your idiocy—before telling me that I was in love with this girl, and that I needed to carpe diem, or I may never get the chance to ever ask her out again. Needless to say, we’ve been dating ever since.”

“Cute,” I grumbled, trying to hide my disdain at Hiwatari’s mention.

“What? Jealous you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Howling with laughter, he got up with gumption, bouncing away in search of some hidden gem. I shook my head, both entertained and disgusted at the sight of such a love-sick person before returning back to my laptop and escaping from my reality.

“I’ll be heading off now!”

“See you tomorrow.”

He waved goodbye, walking out with his messenger bag slung over his slouched shoulders. Outside, the sun started setting, hiding behind the trees and buildings in my line of sight. Knowing how still Azumano became once darkness settled in, the sunset would turn the police station into a ghost town. I still had some stories I had to skim through before the broadcast, so I decided to stay put until Captain said they were ready. I also needed to type up Saehara’s list and see what we could squeeze from it but, after glancing at it earlier, it was terribly dry. At least the station was quiet enough to let me focus.

I didn’t notice that night had fallen until Hiwatari snapped me away from my laptop. “You’re still here?”

Looking up, I saw him, with this trademark poker face, holding a suitcase. My eyes quickly darted from Hiwatari to the night-shift behind him, silently cooped up in their tiny cubicles with their eyes void of energy or happiness. I couldn’t blame them; if I were in their position, I’d probably die a little each time I had to stay up all night watching the clock flit by as I did nothing.

“Work.”

He nodded, and I expected him to leave with a simple farewell. But he sat next to me on the couch, pulling out a novel (Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami: the book that kept me afloat during my first two years at college) and casually reading. If I had to deal with his conspicuous presence any longer than I had to, it would drive me insane. Pulling out my headphones, I turned on my music to distract myself from his slender fingers gingerly flipping through pages that held words dear to me.

When I finally finished, I started packing my stuff quickly, trying to flee before Hiwatari said something or tried to stop me.

“Done?” he asked, looking up from the book.

I silently nodded, hating how courteous I was towards him. He closed the novel, placing it in his bag before standing up, his face as empty as ever.

“Are you hungry, Harada-san?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

I was about to head for the door when I felt a warm hand gently touch my arm. Whipping my head around, I saw Hiwatari’s face. His concern screamed with the slant of his eyebrows, the shine in his eyes and the outline of his lips—

“Risa, please, I insist.”

Taking a deep breath, I brushed his hand off me. “Hiwatari-san, please call me Harada-san.”

I rushed out the door, hoping that the cool night air would calm me down. But I spent the walk home hearing the heavy pounding of my heart, trying not to let my swirling emotions prevent me from enjoying my evening.