yosukehasghosts

[yosukehasghosts]

I disappear sometimes. It’s my thing.

[yosukehasghosts]

R.I.P. Prince (June 7, 1958 – April 21, 2016)

“Cool means being able to hang with yourself. All you have to ask yourself is “Is there anybody I’m afraid of? Is there anybody who if I walked into a room and saw, I’d get nervous?” If not, then you’re cool.”

[yosukehasghosts]

I’m not for everyone. I’m barely for me.

[yosukehasghosts]

You never really completely lose someone. They are always with you. Be it in the crashing waves of an angry ocean that reminds you of their piercing blue eyes, or the way the stranger in line before you ordered their coffee the exact same way. The ones we love become memories etched in our minds long after their physical forms have left us. They are constantly haunting us.

Nicole M. (via wnq-writers)

[yosukehasghosts]

[yosukehasghosts]

-leaves a mini bottle of Jack Daniel's- Happy Valentine's day

He never took to expecting much on today of all days. Most of the time he didn’t even remember the occasion until he heard something on the radio, or scoped out a particularly clingy couple out on the street. Yosuke didn’t quite understand the holiday, couldn’t see why it was any different from the other days. But he never opposed to alcohol.

Especially the free sort, sporadically sprung upon him by a curious blonde. Eyeing the bottle, he was just as quick to curl his fingers around the tiny glass. It’d have to do.

“I’d say I don’t usually take drinks from strangers, but m’trying to keep from lyin’.” 

There was a thanks hidden in there somewhere, but he was never too good at that sort of thing either. So he took to nodding instead, turning the alcohol over in his hands.

@blondbomb

[yosukehasghosts]

“Nah. I’ve seen your imagination at work– can’t say I blame y’for picturin’ me.” He’s all obnoxiousness and nothing much else. Not to say that’s any different from their usual conversations. If anything, it’s too much like the bits and pieces of the last time he’s seen her. If he had the wherewithal to notice, maybe he’d care, but right now all he can do is grin and pretend he’s offended. They both know good and well he’s not, and that’s all that matters. “Discuss ‘em all you want. If I remember correctly, we had a mural to negotiate. M’still willing for the right price.” Yosuke doesn’t care that he’s talking in circles, it’s easy, better yet, it’s superficial and clacks between his teeth with worsening ease. 

“I think you underestimate the power of my imagination,” she’s teetering on her own sanity at this point. But managing a sentence or two and that proves she’s still good and she’s sitting to avoid other indicators. “and that’s—— a mistake.” what’s she pointing at? Nothing? Him? Everything. As if laughing at a joke she has yet to say she smiles through her confusion. “Says something about you that I can even discuss your nudes.” She had a habit of clinging to old habits, old things, old words and it’s why the conversation slips so easily through her. 

[yosukehasghosts]

[yosukehasghosts]

Now he was even less scared and all the more amused. Something told him he didn’t have to say a word though, as the crooked grin parting his mouth probably said as much. The snort that threatened to pass his lips likely helped as well. He couldn’t take her entirely seriously, not with the way her brown fists curled before her, posed as if they were bound for a fair fight. He’d humour though, for the time being anyway. Without a word, he mimed annoyance, mimicking her pose with a fist of his own. If he weren’t holding back the rattle of a laugh, alcohol swimming in his gaze, making his features lax– maybe he’d seem threatening. But they’d already walked over that bridge. He wasn’t much to fear in this state.

Following the arc of the sweetener, he caught the packet between his hands. His grin was all sorts of crooked at this point, and there was no helping the exhale of amusement that escaped his nose. Fiddling with the sweetener, he mindlessly tore the top off, pouring grains on the tabletop for no reason but the hunger was gnawing at the depths of his belly. He needed the addition of another distraction, and if worse came to worst, it would serve as a food alternative. Yosuke was never all that picky.

“Y’got me. I’m a sucker for free shit. I’ll bum off anyone who’ll let me– shit, strange women included.” There was no reason for him to look proud, not with a ridiculous admission like that. But he looked it. Fingers sifting uselessly through the sweetener he’d spread out before them. Delinquent in his gestures, he sent up the brief start of a grin, like that would make him out to seem more reasonable than he actually was. It was new year’s eve, and free beer swam in his belly. The way he saw it, he was on cloud nine, with very little chance of coming down anytime soon. 

Yosuke liked that her expressions shifted from one moment to the next. She was frowning one second, then the next her cheeks were puffed with excess breath– tiny brown hands constantly gesticulating under the hot diner fluorescents. Suddenly tempted to guess at her age, he squinted, mouth cinched together and brain wracking for a number that made sense. He couldn’t quite pin down how old all of her was, but he could take a gander at the age of her nose, maybe even her shoulder. Adding it all up wouldn’t make any sense, neither did his methods, so it was a train of thought better kept to himself. For one reason or another it looked as if she was ready to pounce– on what, who knew, but she returned to her seat and squawked an answer he hadn’t expected. It took a long beat for him to figure out what she was even talking about. He’d always leaned towards reggae, and the periphery of genres that stemmed out from it, but that wasn’t to say it was all he listened to either. Being in a band through the formative years of high school and after, opened him up to a variety of music in the rock scene. The Lazy Inventions were an amalgamation of all the sorts of music they loved, so it was only inevitable that Yosuke had come to learn of Trapnest. He knew enough to get by, could probably recognize a famous song or two. Ryoko was the bigger fan between the two of them, she’d even attended a concert, tried to get him to come along. He’d come up with some sort of excuse and it felt like a long time since he’d heard the name. He was reminded of high school and the musty stench of Satoshi’s cramped garage where they spent most of their time practicing. 

Yosuke couldn’t tell how all of those thoughts connected but they did. 

Lost in thought, he’d missed most of her rambling. He saw her mouth move, hands moving a mile a minute, but he didn’t hear much of it. Just the tail end as her lips morphed into a self assured grin and her new question came to light. Maybe if inebriation hadn’t made parts of his senses fuzzy, he’d have connected her foreign features to the lead singer of the aforementioned band. But he was decidedly distracted and leaning on both his elbows, head heavy, mouth crooked. 

“That’s easy. I’d break into a recording studio, don’t fuckin’ care which– use all the equipment I never could afford. Prob’ly record a ton of stupid shit, doesn’t matter what, just somethin’ I could play back after everything’s been said and done, y’know.” His answer is strange. More so to him than it is to others, though that isn’t to say it’s the sort of answer most would expect anyway. It has a lot to do with where his thoughts have just been, huddled in nostalgia, and the old sensation of hardened calluses and crackles in his throat from too long a session of fucking around and playing whatever they wanted. It was one of those things he’d always wished they’d gotten around to doing. Pay for a real recording session, whatever rundown studio was closest; instead of the unsteady mic and shoddy speakers they’d recorded their first and only haphazard cd on. His eyes stray though, remembering with a heaviness that a recording now just wouldn’t be the same. He couldn’t sing the same notes, hold the same tunes– his broken voice was like a rust he couldn’t do anything with anymore. 

Teeth briefly clenched, he staved off that old sadness, now wasn’t the time, and now certainly wasn’t the place. Placated, he tried for a half grin and pointed at Lolo like he had something up his sleeves. He didn’t. But that was the point of a facade. “Riddle me this. You’re stuck in the desert, yadda yadda, stranded, yanno’ the fuckin’ drill– would y’drink your own piss? Y’got no water, food’s almost out, moment of truth.” It would be hard to be more ridiculous than he was already, but he’d just about done it. Alcohol had taken it’s toll on his thoughts, better yet, the looseness of his tongue, and questions like ‘what’s your life motto’ and ‘what’re you most scared of’ paled in comparison to the concept of this. Yosuke was effectively amused with himself, and there was nothing to stop his stupid grin from twisting his mouth.

He kept looking like a man who’d gotten an extra drink from a vending machine, even as their young waiter appeared with their orders in hand. Juggling the two meals, he said nothing as he slid Yosuke’s stacked cheeseburger and fries before him, and he could’ve cared less for frivolities. All he saw now was grease and his hands are scrabbling for purchase, fingers pressed into the soft bun as he quickly took the oversized burger to his lips. It took a few large bites before the hunger in his belly was abated, it still shuddered under his skin, but it was less desperate this time. Now he could slow and start in on the mountain of fries, splattering the potatoes with messy lines of ketchup and vinegar. He spared the other an expectant look, so as to reassure he hadn’t forgotten. 

His grin was shiny with burger grease.

”Fight me.” Her little fists all balled up and ready to go was comical at best. Reira couldn’t fight herself out of a wet paper bag. There was something about him that made her want to poke, and prod, and press his buttons. What triggered him? What made him tick? What this? What that? A myriad of questions had invaded her mind, like mice to a cheese buffet. An overactive mind sought to figure out a perfect stranger, and the more logical part of herself of course told her to snap out of it, or be snapped out of it. She was doing it again, albeit unknowingly. “I’m starving and wasting away.” A complain uttered just under her breath as her jaw came to rest against her knuckles. Her nails tapped out some half-assed tune in an annoying kind of way. You know, that stupid thing chicks would do after they’d gotten a manicure? The ‘Look at my new nails!’ tap, except hers was more of a ‘I don’t know what to say’ tap. He seemed so cool, and call her juvenile if you must, but he had bad boy written all over him—even if he wasn’t—and her mind began to roam. She suddenly wanted to get into trouble, but she knew better than to tempt her demons, or the police for that matter. Layla had to stay squeaky clean, but if she were really Lola, she’d pictured her as a badass chick that thought nothing through, and just went for it in her purist of an adrenaline rush. “You refer to yourself as a dick, yet you’ve failed to do anything of that nature yet. Besides, tough guy, we both know that you only followed me around because I offered to fill your stomach, and your morning with things that aren’t necessarily good for either of us.” Finally a snort from her, accompanied by the childish act of her plucking a Sweet’n Low packet from the sugar holder, and flicking the papered object in his direction with a hum. She was such an expressive speaker, as in her head would teasingly sway for emphasis, her chin would often be up turned, or in extreme cases, her tongue would loll out of her mouth stupidly after having puffed her cheeks. By the time he’d gotten to his questioning, her eyes were fixed on a stacked swiss and mushroom beef-burger. The guy at the table adjacent to them was taking the biggest bite out of it, savoring every morsel. In awe, she watched the ketchup and oils roll down his fingers and onto the plate. She pined for the tart pickle spear wedged between the fries and cup of mayo. When she got her plat, she was dousing those deep-fried suckers in pepper and ketchup; maybe some sriracha if she was feeling like kicking it up just the tiniest bit. Speaking of which, where the hell was their bottle? Every other table had a bottle but theirs, and let me tell you, it wasn’t often that she saw things in shades of green, but even she had to admit that she was jealous. Just beginning to rise from her spot, his question halted her actions, giving her reason to slowly ease her way to into seat, leveling herself with him. She’d forgotten all about their little game, but s’long as they were still playing, she was still most willing. In case he hadn’t realized by now, she enjoyed talking about herself, so he could prod away, and she’d be as happy as a clam. Come to think of it, the more excited she became, the more she forgot to put up her front about being somebody else. “Back on stage with Trapnest!” her answer was short, sweet and to the point. It was also a big mistake, and she visibly bit her tongue just milliseconds before her hands both clasped over her mouth as though to hold in some big clandestine secret. Did she really think he was stupid enough to not know who she was though? “I mean at their concert… I mean… I went to a concert maybe once or twice.” She tried her hand at nonchalant behavior, but her now crossed arms, and avoidance of eye contact were dead giveaways. “I’m a fan, you know.” Now keep in mind that she could have just came clean! She could have let this come to a natural end, but god was she bad at covering her ass. That was in part because people often covered it for her. “Enough about boring old me. The real question is if nothing were illegal for just one day, and there would be no consequences at all, what would you spend your time doing, and why?” Ha! She was positive that she’d gotten him back. She was smooth like a baby’s bottom, and he still hadn’t caught on. She was grinning and slowly nodding to herself as those very thoughts crossed her mind. Pat on the back, Rei! Damn good diversion.

[yosukehasghosts]

@semblanc

The female couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the man’s inward conversation. After all, the patrons of her preferred liqueur library usually kept their mouths busy with wine tastings rather than trivial chatter—much less complaints. Her father had assigned her with the task of purchasing a ‘present’ for a potential business partner of his. The choice of liqueur was at her discretion,no less, a discipline she was mildly cultured in. Though her top choices were never short of high-priced.

Chapters Of Ampersand Et No 1. She had decided upon the rare, artistic bottle of cognac, one she had tasted thrice before, finding the flavor to be quite smoother and sweeter than other spirits of the type. She proceeded to call over a retailer when the man next to her caused her to momentarily lose her train of thought.

“I take it you’re not a frequent patron of luxury spirits…?” Seul murmured, subtly scrutinizing the unkempt male’s vexed visage. “Have you a budget to worry about? If not, then I may be able to recommend you some of my choice liqueurs.”

"I haven't done this since fuckin' god knows when..." The husked admission unfurled from the back of his teeth where it settled on the end of his tongue.

Yosuke felt like a fish out of water. 

Never mind the fact he was relatively confident that he drank more alcohol than he ever did water. But that meant nothing in the face of the shelves surrounding him, colourful bottles and glasses alike making him all the more aware that he shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t a particularly special occasion either. No, his return to the city had been spontaneous at best, and it only seemed right that he supplement his visit with a hand of alcohol and food. His roommate wasn’t a particularly picky person when it came to what they drank, soju and whatever beer came cheapest usually did the trick. But for one reason or another, he’d been lured in, whether it was the free samples or the long legged women offering them in the doorway. He knew with an immediacy the store wasn’t meant for folks like him, and it was reconfirmed the longer he lingered.

So the moment he was spotted, more or less, overhead; he didn’t have the gall to look sheepish. Instead he trained his perplexed look to the well dressed woman suddenly at his side. Her appearance was likely not sudden but he’d only just noticed her now. Whatever the case, his half shaven stubble and strewn beanie atop his head felt like a neon sign. Bedraggled, only a few hours off his return flight, jet lag threatened the back of his head. 

“That obvious, huh? The cheaper the better..” Sarcasm coloured in hush, he set the bottle of wine back in its place. The glass was delicate, the liquid dark, and more importantly, the price ridiculous. It was nearly a month’s worth of his salary, and as eager as he was to see his roommate in the flesh, spending so much on a drink was beyond frivolous. “Y’think there’s anything ‘ere that won’t empty out all my pockets?” 

If nothing else, she looked the type to frequent a place such as this. She was made up entirely of the sort of airs he expected patrons of the establishment to carry around with them. At this point in his life, he was used to playing the part of downtrodden, and it stopped bothering him a long time ago.

[yosukehasghosts]

He couldn’t help but snort at her question. It wasn’t in disrespect, no, merely surprise that it would be the first thing to leave her parted lips. He supposed it shouldn’t have caught him entirely off guard. Thoughtlessly fisting his hands into the depths of his pockets, he mustered up a shuffle of a shrug, and looked between the stranger’s blonde hair and the railing. “Somethin’ like that. Tried jumping myself one time.” Yosuke’s sense of humour was dark to say the least, and yet it took effort to keep his grin at bay. Unwilling to reveal that he was teasing, he did his best attempt at nonchalance, features stern despite the amusement that threatened to shake in the back of his throat. If anyone asked, he meant no harm. It was just one of those nights and he couldn’t help but try his hand at a misguided joke. 

{ ♔ — The girl stood quietly for a moment, waiting for the male’s reaction. Minsun looks up before blinking at his words, stepping farther away from the railing. She had completely forgotten about the people who come here and take their own life. It was rather sad. Her blond hair moved against the wind as she turned to face him, pushing it out of her face. She didn’t blame him for thinking that, at least he cared.  ❝Ah, true.❞ She nods before saying something else.  ❝Have you ever seen someone jump?❞

[yosukehasghosts]

Surprise slid across the backs of his shoulders. 

If anyone were counting, Yosuke may have managed a nightly record. He didn’t usually make a habit of resorting to begging– though he preferred the word propositioning, he’d stretch so far as compromise– so to say the bills presented to him now were unexpected, would be putting it lightly.

“Shit, man, ‘ppreciate the thought–– ain’t this too much?” Despite his words, fingertips still brushed the fine edges, searching for a wrinkle, he nearly grasped. His eyes shifted between the folded stack of won and the owner’s own hands, stalling on hesitant features that likely betrayed. Yosuke couldn’t tell if he was entirely willing to sift through the other man’s features, yet, at the same time, he couldn’t quite muster up the courage to take everything that had been offered. There were better places, hell, better people an amount of this nature could aid. Whether it was tonight of all nights or in the light of day when guilt would make itself another appearance. So instead he had the gall to count through what he could, carefully pulling a 10,000 won bill apart from the fine edges. He stared at it almost like he’d won, partially like he’d stolen, but he shrugged, managing a half grin as if to explain.

“S’all I need. Keep the rest, m’sure y’got a chick or somethin’.” Yosuke didn’t care that he was making assumptions, not with the prospect of a four pack shimmering in the horizon. For good measure, he neatly folded the bill and slid it into the secure depths of his back pocket. With his wallet at home, it was all he had, and it was a safer place than his palms. “Most folks’ve been avoidin’ me. Thanks.” 

Honesty was the last thing Keisuke expected to leave the mouth of an alcoholic, lest of all an alcoholic stranger; the transparent request unknowingly increased the odds of Yosuke stumbling home inebriated by the end of the night. Alcoholics didn’t tell the truth. Victims of any addiction didn’t tell the truth. The lied, they stole, they fooled nobody but themselves, reeked of self-pity to the extent that their unbearable woe often rubbed off on others. The poorly thought out ‘promise’ made him linger (‘Promise I ain’t sketchy’ was something only sketchy people said) but in the interests of getting home as soon as possible, and potentially making someone’s night that little bit better, he slid out his wallet. Odd how he felt more like the archetypal self-sacrificing martyr almost every single time he stepped out on to the streets, in comparison to the self-hating white-collar mess he became cooped up in that charity office six days a week, attempting to shift impermeable walls of paperwork. 

“Sure.” 

The transaction cost Keisuke 60,000 won and a jolt of regret. On the flip side, 60,000 won worth of alcohol would be enough to make anyone belligerent and unintelligible for the next passerby to safely ignore. The silence felt substantial enough for him to comment –– say something futile about drinking responsibly, wish the fellow a prosperous New Year, or something, anything, to change his mind. If Keisuke had less inhibitions as a foreigner in a strange and new land, he’d pose a question about future plans, not because he cared, but because he wanted them to have a deeper connection than future-drunkard and supplier of funds. Instead, he nodded, both hesitant and self-assured. 

[yosukehasghosts]

痛是會改變人的。 Pain changes people.

thoughts. we all do.

[yosukehasghosts]

"Y’don’t scare me.” 

It was easy enough to sense the change of expressions that vividly took over her pretty features. What was once a minute grin had turned itself into a smirk, tight and scrunched at the corners of her lips. She hung over the table separating them, vinyl squeaking beneath her crossed legs– something he couldn’t help but notice but mention nothing of. Everyone had their habits. Hers seemed much less harmless than the sort he usually partook in. Despite the shift of their conversation, and what hung like a threat on the precipice of her tongue, he returned the favour with a long pressed smirk of his own. Nonchalance flooded his brief words, letting the start of a shrug lift his shoulders as well. To be fair, he wasn’t scared, but he was intrigued by the prospect of her words. If nothing else he was amused, and it took genuine effort to keep his smirk from spreading wide into an entertained grin.

“M’just your average dick, drunk off regret and salivatin’ for anything like the burgers behind you.” Simple in his explanation, there was more to it than that, but on a night such as this, where all he could taste was the stale aftertaste of beer and phantom grilled meat sizzling behind his teeth– he figured it would do the trick for now. Scratching his cheek, something closer to a laugh rattled in the back of his throat, and he took to relaxing back against the booth. There was nothing like waiting for your food when hunger scrabbled at the base of your stomach. “I ain’t going t’hurt you. ‘less you give me a reason.” Lowering the end of his words, he hoped to sound mildly threatening, but whatever sincerity had shielded his gaze just as quickly dissipated behind a set of snorts. He couldn’t take himself seriously. 

“Y’got nothing t’worry about, Lolo. Y’seem alright– I mean, you’re keepin’ me fed. More than I can say ‘bout most folks.” If some of his words slurred, he didn’t notice. Half his attention was on her, the other taking in the orders that were propped on the tables around them. To say he was envious would be putting it lightly. A normally impatient man, he clenched long fingers around the edge of the table, restraining himself from bounding from his place and stealing a bite from a stacked burger that appeared to be calling his name. The smells were doing him no good, even with his senses fuzzy around the edges as inebriation chased at his back. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” he didn’t, “bet you’d wanna’ be somewhere else. Say y’had the choice, where would y’rather be? Right now. Any fuckin’ where.” Yosuke didn’t care for the fact he was prodding, and making assumptions someone like him was ill adjusted at doing. He just needed an excuse to keep distracted, and she’d suggested this game of questions to begin with. It kept him on his toes, forced him to keep at attention, even if he’d prefer to slouch in his place, or ask around for a light.

Caution was a concept a little too foreign to somebody like her. It was without caution that she’d fisted over money to this guy, before retracting the gesture, in favor of roping him into her own early-morning antics. As pathetic as it may have been, she was in a way taking advantage of him whether she’d realized it or not. Had he even realized it yet? His question ignited something of a fire within her. She could have gone on forever and a day about why she could be scared, but wasn’t, but none of the answers she’d had sounded like anything an intelligent being would have thought up.  She could have lied to him, and he’d believe it, right? Oh, well Lola isn’t afraid of what he might do because Lola is a people-person, and no harm ever came to her. Yeah, that could be the story. Yeah! She was going to go for that. Hands lazily clasped together on the tabletop, Reira was all but bounding with excitement in her seat. She had this God-awful habit of sitting Indian-style wherever she went; even at fancier places. It always gave her pins and needles in the feet, and then she’d go on to complain about it to whichever sucker was within earshot. Yet here she sat, just as comfortably as ever, setting herself up for the inevitable. Her eyes were naturally large, and reflected her happiness at the moment. She hoped he didn’t think too much of it, because it really had just been moments ago that she seemed so broken up about something. There no time for that though because she had an answer to give. Change of plans; the waiter had appeared, and he seemed to be a new kid, which was reason enough for her to thank the heavens above. Her cover wouldn’t be blown just yet! They ordered, and she took note of his voracious appetite. He’d ordered just as much as she had, and so wordlessly, she ruled out the possibility of him being a junkie. Well that was unless weed was the poison he’d picked; then this’d all make sense to her.  One problem though, she forgot the damn mushrooms. The teen was walking away, orders in his possession this thrusting the spotlight back on her.  In a way she’d come to regret this twenty-one questions thing, but she started it, and wasn’t about to chicken out. A sigh escaped her as she found comfort against the wall of the booth, head resting against the wooden frame of it. Her expression was relaxed, even maintaining a smile for the occasion. She watched him closely, almost as if her intention was to creep him out, but it was nothing of the sort. She just liked to stare at people. “Why should it trouble me?” she finally responded.  “You could do this, and you could do that. What you don’t take into consideration is that I could also be a danger to you.” Her body lurched forward over the table just a little, now locking her focus with his. The smirk tugging at her lips was telling, but she was a creature that used her words to paint the entire picture. “Here you are, somewhat inebriated, and being hauled around the city by some tall blonde woman. You don’t know her name, intentions, history, or if she’s a threat, yet you ask her why she’s not bothered by a guy like you. Maybe ‘round my way there are nothing but guys like you. The real question is what kind of guy are you, and why would you be out to do anything bad to me? Do you feel secure?”

[yosukehasghosts]

@leexsun

{ ♔ — Minsun looks over the bridge, peering over to see the bottom. She was holding on to the railing rather tightly so she wouldn’t fall over. Curiosity got the best of her when she leaned a little farther over the railing. She froze when she heard a deep voice from behind. Minsun slowly stepped off and back to the ground. ❝Ah.. Sorry sir.❞ She didn’t understand why he cared so much, but she didn’t want to upset him.

Yosuke saw no real reason as to why she should apologize. Part of him even wondered why he’d spoken out in the first place. It was out of character for him really, but maybe he recognized the hunch in her shoulders, reminded of his own too far leanings that inevitably came with more questions than they ever did answers. Clearing his throat of his previously unannounced husk, he shrugged, hands shoved deep in his pockets where he stood on the sidewalk. The evening air brought with it a chill that accompanied a night like this. “Folks report any strange behaviour ‘round ‘ere. Lots of jumpers.” Explanation low and brief, he figured if nothing else she’d want to avoid the hassle of a misunderstanding such as that. Yosuke didn’t think she looked the type, but who was he to know what went on in a young woman’s head.

[yosukehasghosts]

It seemed like she was cheating with an answer like that. Or so Yosuke thought, but who was he to really think too hard on the subject when he was no better himself. To be quite honest, his question was less probing and more a disobedient way at filling in the punctuated silences that intermittently strung itself between the two strangers. Silence was stretching it too, since they were hollowed out by the sound of the night’s festivities. He liked that he could scuff by her side in comfortable hush– there was no pressure to talk between the unlit cigarette tucked at the side of his mouth unless he chose to. Standoffish in the way in which he interacted with others, intoxication always wrestled him out of his guarded veneer, made him easier to the touch.

Yosuke couldn’t tell if he’d heard the rumble of her stomach first, or the sudden bout of excitement streaming past her lips. It probably didn’t matter much after all was said and done, as he grinned to himself all the same. Quickly amused by the plight of her hunger and the fluorescent salvation that was the diner up ahead. Just about anything was a better alternative to languishing in the tail end of his sullen nostalgia. There were only so many times he could second guess himself, call seoul like he didn’t know work should come first. Following her growing pace, his teeth bit into the filter, thinking how the smoke had drawn itself up into a waste in a matter of minutes on the end of his tongue. Rolling his eyes, he husked after her, fingers tight in his pocket. “What’s t’rush? Food ain’t going anywhere.” A funny thing to say considering he could feel the hum of hunger grow in his stomach as well. Beer only filled a certain part of his stomach, leaving the rest of him to shake in anticipation at the thought of a greasy meal that would no doubt clog his arteries one of these days.

“Not quite the answer I was goin’ for...” Brow raised as he slowed at her back, hushed derision coloured some of his words. He thought her reaction was a bit much, but knew just as well how that sort of exaggeration felt. He wasn’t quite there yet, not when it came to what waited for them beyond the glass doors– but he supposed he could be sympathetic. Silently anyway. Shaking his head with the beginnings of a snort stuttering past his lips, he held the door open, as well as he could in his state, gesturing her in first before following through. The smells were inescapable and a person with a weaker stomach would have vomited by now. Yosuke was proud of his iron innards, and he took in the aroma with a long pull of breath, vividly reminded of the burger joints that littered his hometown, teeming with natives and foreigners alike. Part of him almost expected to see his sister hunched in a booth with one of the underdressed american navy men she made a habit of befriending. Not this time though. Instead he was met with the sight of strangers, people who looked like old acquaintances until he squinted hard enough and realized he was just imagining things.

Her question was as good a distraction as any, as he took to finding a recently emptied booth and crawling over the vinyl seat where he plopped himself in a heap. “B’lieve it or not, I actually had a plan– even thought I had some money. That part is a bit of a fuck up on my end. I wanted a lot of beer, was hopin’ to bring it back to a friend’s place.. y’can see how that worked out.” It felt like he was rambling, and he rolled his jaw, as if that would quiet him down. Removing the cigarette from his teeth, he slid it between the hem of his beanie and ear, tucking it away for safe keeping. By the end of the night he’d procure a working lighter, someway somehow. A haphazard grin made itself a place on his mouth, and he propped both elbows on the table, balancing himself precariously, gaze moving between her face and their surroundings. Rightfully distracted by all the smells and sounds. “Now riddle me this. Aren’t you worried? I could be out to do bad things t’you– that shit don’t trouble you?” Genuine curiousity rimmed his rasp, and he eyed her inquisitively. In retrospect he’d regret a question like that, but under the hot lights of the americanized diner, it seemed fair. Any answer on her part though was halted by the appearance of a server, a young man with acne on his neck who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Yosuke couldn’t say he blamed him. He hemmed and hawed before deciding on a stacked cheeseburger and their largest set of fries. He ordered partly knowing he didn’t have the money for it on him, but mostly drawn in by the large order placed a couple of tables away.

He was always a sucker for the greasy stuff.  

Remove her shoes? In the dead of the winter, and while strolling down glass shard littered back alleys? As tempting as his idea had been, bloodied and cold feet weren’t her thing, unless it was metaphorically. Well the cold feet at least.  The woman spared him a questioning gaze that lasted perhaps a few moments longer than socially acceptable, and then shook her head dismissively. “Unless you want to end up in the hospital with me tonight, hearing me whine like the big baby that I am, about glass being embedded in my feet, then I think I’ll pass. Hell, I think you’d pass too.” Watching him struggle to light the cigarette that he so desperately desired was a sight that she’s enjoyed, albeit in secret. Had she smoked, she would have offered help, but alas… There they were surrounded by buildings, neon lights, the occasional passerby, people carrying on about the New Year, and he had it in him to smoke? That wasn’t so outlandish though, now was it? Jesus Christ, he was almost exactly like Takumi just moments before, but his actions just now were all Ren. Stopping to eye her shoes and make a deduction that only male-logic could make. Making her pathetic excuses for pandemonium seem like trivial matters. Purely Ren, and while she could with ease, snap back like a taut rubber band from the subject of Takumi, Ren was an entirely different matter. A sullen expression was the first thing to mark its presence on her face; try as she may to stave it off. The cheerful Reira was slowly but surely losing the battle against the one that remembered everything. That was indeed the funny thing about her drinking—the reason she’d even left her house that night had been to forget, and yet now more than ever, this guy was reminding her of him. Three years ago in March, he would have been dead, and a day after, she’d be the one standing by his side, with a soul laden with regrets. ‘It’s all my fault.’ she’d told herself, and not to be rude, but yeah, yeah, it was all her fault. In vivid detail she remembered a battered body, but pristine hands, neatly folded over his abdomen just as they had when he slept. She remembered that those hands would never strum the strings a bass ever again, and that she would never sing in concert again, out of respect for him. That was the consequence of yet another one of her selfish, childish decisions. Running from her issues—like she’d been this New Year’s—often resulted in catastrophe, and if you didn’t pay, somebody else would in your place. That somebody was Ren. Wait, backpedal. She wasn’t Reira tonight, remember? No, she was Lola; spontaneous, full of moxie, generous, out to have a good time, and never having been involved in such a clichéd tragedy. A breath of fresh air, and all smiles. Bubblegum and obnoxious. Cloud of sadness to the side, to give way to an air of confidence and a smirk at the thought of pulling a past one on the fella. Leaving him stranded out here, all boozed up and on his own. She was sure he’d fare well though, and so that took the humor out of it. Was it right or left? No no, maybe it was straight… Right? Her stroll had slowed remarkably, eventually coming to a full stop as her eyes darted left, right, and then back left again. Her stomach rumbled audibly, sending a hand to rest upon it as though it’d settle things inside, then she gave him a look. The stupid ‘I’m sorry’ look that most people hated, but whenever she did it, pity was more the route they’d choose. Instead of admitting it, she suddenly perked up, a few times with a finger impolitely pointed out ahead of them at a red and purple sign that should have came with an epilepsy warning. “Oo-oo-oo!” an accidental squeal escaped her as she bolted, yelling back at him “That’s totally cheating, and you know it!” Laughter followed, and so did an answer as she slowed down just a little for him to catch up with his unlit cig, and sneakers. “Something I can’t say no to is a double bacon burger with grilled onions, ketchup, mayo, pickles, a sesame seed bun, and a good ol’ Coca-Cola to wash that sucker down.” Her tongue clicked, not even noticing that she’d fully stopped walking, stopping just in front of their destination. Her head was tossed back, and arms spread wide, as if she were home, and announcing herself with a relieved expression of “Ahhh, welcome to paradise.” It looked just as it always had on the outside, and she frequented the joint enough, so she was just banking on there being new staff that didn’t know her name… That was highly unlikely though, because whenever she’d come here, it was like she was thrown back in time, and into an episode of ‘Cheers’; where everybody knew her freakin’ name. Should have thought this one through, really. “So are you gonna go in, or stand out here and starve?” she asked, pulling at the door, as it opened with a wheeze of onions, beef, cheese, and fries, as well as heat and a relaxing atmosphere. The bells on the door jingled, signaling their arrival, and it was at the moment that she knew she was going for the gold tonight; she was getting mushrooms. “Get in there, c’mon, c’mon! Plus I’ve got another question to ask you. A question like what would lead you to wandering out tonight with no money and no plan?”