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“Goto, there's someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?” Goto asks as he ticks the final box on the form. Totsuka, when he looks up, has the expression of a man who doesn't know quite how to put it delicately but will try his best.
“It's your partner.” For a second he thinks it's his girlfriend. Then he remembers she would never bother him at work like this, and Totsuka would call her his girlfriend. She always introduces herself as such. Not “partner”, all vague and undefined.
With a frown he gets up from his desk and heads to the open door of the police box. There is someone waiting there, a young man who's so handsome that he could be a model. Well, maybe if he fretted less.
As soon as he spots Goto, his face lights up. His blue eyes sparkle, like he's been waiting for Goto all his life, and his smile is so wide that it hurts Goto's face to see it.
“Goto-san! I, um, was in the area for work, so I thought…these are for you!” He draws out a bouquet of roses from behind him and shoves it towards him.
Goto stares at the bouquet and asks, “is this a prank?” The man wilts, but doesn't take the flowers away.
“Oh, I thought you would like them. I know that you said we were together, so…”
“Wait, wait, wait. I've never met you before in my life, so how could I say–” Goto freezes. It hits him like a hammer. The mini reunion for his high school weeks ago, hosted in Tokyo so he couldn't make his excuses. One of his former classmates had turned to him, after a couple of drinks, and asked, as he wanted to flee the room, the question he'd been dreading.
“So, Goto, are you seeing anyone?”
“Yes,” he replied and drained his glass. “They're really special. They're bubbly, caring, optimistic and never give up. They're too stubborn to ever quit. Short hair,” he gestured to his own head to show it, but misjudged it, too high for his girlfriend. “They're so good looking that they could be a model. Sometimes they're a space cadet, but that's part of their charm.” About to describe the colour of her eyes, he changed track. He had to hide who it really was. These people would know. These people would judge him. “Their eyes are as blue as the sky.”
“A foreigner?”
“Part. Their grandmother was from…” where was she from? “Spain.”
Goto looks at the drunken lie that he appears to have accidentally brought to life and thinks, oh, shit.
The illusion smiles back at him, more beautiful than the flowers, damn it, and says, “please take care of me from now on!”