Chapter Text
a quiet sigh of contentment escapes hiori as he steps out onto the mejiro platform, the cool breeze caressing his skin.
today had been especially rough on him. turns out that attending two lengthy classes in a row, followed up by a busy shift at the café, take quite the toll on the body.
this is what he signed up for when he gave his parents the ultimate refusal of the life they'd thrust upon him, he supposes. running away to regain his independence can only result in so much free time left to rest and recuperate at the end of the day, when he's too busy trying to make ends meet while balancing his studies alongside it.
(it's far sweeter a thing, he finds, than the copious amounts of money and resources they would shower him in purely for the sake of bringing their dream to life through him. none of it meant anything to him, and he'd much rather work day in and day out until he breaks down from exhaustion than receive a single yen of theirs ever again.
… and honestly, he quite likes making coffee for people. the act itself is rather therapeutic, and he finds great satisfaction in the open gratitude that he receives after he serves his creations, whether in the form of words or his customers' bright facial expressions.)
despite it all, he always finds a bit of relief in the evening wind, by the time he gets off at his station. the peak of summer is long gone, and has recently been replaced with a refreshing coolness that manages to bring back a bit of wakefulness to him, even with how tired he is.
his apartment isn't that far from the station, but the walk back is still long enough to provide him a bit of peace and quiet. he always appreciates this part of the day the most; he returns home just as the sun winds down towards the horizon, barely a soul left trailing behind him by the time he takes that first turn in the direction where he lives. most others are going the other way at this time of day, towards the few restaurants and bars near the station—if not there, they enter the station instead to head towards the ever-bustling shinjuku, or even ikebukuro, eager to be a part of the vibrant nightlife that tokyo has to offer. the few that do head this way with him tend to break off early, disappearing into the wealthy area or onto other residential streets.
so, he finds that it's rather unusual for someone to be literally walking side-by-side with him, like the person next to him right now.
hiori mentally sweat-drops, taking a discreet glance at them out of the corner of his eye. all he can really catch from this angle, with them ever-so-slightly lagging behind him, is a rather interesting dark plum shade to their hair. he doesn't really see that colour often—would it be strange to turn a little, just to get a better look at them?
no, he… probably shouldn't do that. he might be lacking in social skills, but he still knows that people don't usually enjoy being stared at unprompted.
in fact, considering his steadily growing discomfort at the lack of distance between them, maybe he should be trying to get away from them more than anything. he knows that the street is rather narrow and that the person would have to walk beside him if they wanted to overtake him, but if that were to be the case, why are they not making any effort to speed up at all?
he starts walking just a little faster in an effort to regain some personal space. he's never been that much of a fan of people crowding near him, especially when it comes to strangers. not to say that this person is doing it intentionally, of course, but it still makes him tense up far too much for comfort nonetheless.
after he thinks he's put enough distance between them—he really isn't too sure, and he's not going to turn around to check—hiori slows down a bit and attempts to redirect his attention to his surroundings, not wishing to dwell on the matter any longer.
he glances over to his right instead, making eye contact with the fluffy black cat that's always napping on this particular gate pillar, and gives it a soft smile. usually, he'd stop to try and pet it, but he's never had any success until now, and he doesn't think he's going to magically start having any. he feels too-aware of the person behind him, even now—the thought of embarrassing himself if they see the cat run away from him as it usually does forces him to act normal and just keep walking.
he decides to try that again another time, though. surely one day, that cat will warm up to him.
he takes his usual right turn at the end of this street, and half expects the person to keep walking straight ahead instead of turning onto this street with him, except they do turn. a renewed feeling of discomfort (and, partially, fear) courses through him. he swallows quietly, shoulders tensing.
could it be that this person is tailing him? should he start running? is… is that a good idea? there's no one around outside right now, and he doesn't see anyone peeking outside their open windows at the moment, so despite technically being in public, he is well and truly alone with this person.
the realization makes him start sweating, despite the fair weather. his eyes flit left and right, trying to find a random street to go down to try and lose him. he knows it isn't a good idea to run straight to his apartment building—he saw online many years ago to never let anyone stalking you find out where you live, and he's taken that to heart—so if he goes another direction, he might be able to get him off his tail.
however… there are no other side-streets on this one besides his own up ahead, and the continuous stretch of the current street in front of him. even if he keeps walking straight, there's no real guarantee that he'll be able to get away from them.
his breath hitches in his throat when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees (feels, even!) the person suddenly start walking much faster than before. his mind races from thought to petrified thought, realizing belatedly that surely, surely this is where he messed up by not just breaking into a run sooner, surely this is the part where he'll feel a hand being placed atop his mouth and an arm squeezing around his waist to restrain him, and then, and then—
they simply walk past him.
hiori releases the heaviest breath he's ever held and immediately slows his walking pace, more than relieved to see them go by.
it did, in fact, turn out to be nothing but irrational paranoia. he thinks that maybe he's been hanging around rin too much. he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should find some non-horror suggestions for their next movie night, as they're clearly not very good for his heart.
(he's gonna receive the most judgemental stare of all time when hiori tells him what happened that made him want to put the horror on pause, he knows that for sure. he can basically hear rin calling him lukewarm and telling him to get his shit together. the thought amuses him quite a bit, even while still recovering from the sudden stress.)
a quiet, shaky exhale escapes him. at least he can finally get a proper view of the person, this way.
he now sees clearly that it's a man around his age, potentially a little older. from what hiori is able to glimpse of his face as he walks by, he has relatively sharp features that are still very pleasant on the eyes, leaving hiori wishing that he truly did turn around at some point earlier to have gotten a better look at him. he's dressed sharply, with a clean, semi-formal dressiness that makes him look effortlessly put-together, and gives the instant impression that he'd been someplace important today. hiori even catches a whiff of some expensive-smelling perfume, trailing behind in his wake.
however, what's most remarkable is certainly, without a doubt… the sharp, precise spike his hair forms at the top.
for a moment, he finds himself amazed that the man is even able to achieve that kind of shape to begin with, and for it to hold presumably all day? it's nothing short of a wonder. what hair product does he even use…? and how much of it?!
his awestruck inner musings are interrupted once again with the realization that the man, once again, takes a turn to the left. onto hiori's street.
for a brief, horrifying moment, the thought crosses his mind that the man might end up going to the very end of the street, where his apartment building is. he immediately dismisses the thought because, well, what would be the chances? there are several apartment buildings on his street alone, so just thinking about the probability of it, there's a much bigger chance that he'll pass through one of the earlier gates. right?
… right? because if he doesn't, then hiori is going to look very, very much like a stalker, isn't he?
suddenly, he feels a little too conscious of his distance to the man, which still doesn't feel far enough. his heart starts racing a little, unable to gauge if this man would be the type to freak out if he thought he was being followed, but wanting to err on the side of caution just in case. hiori starts walking slower, and then slower as he turns the corner, in a last-ditch effort to create as much space as possible between the two of them.
he'll just let him go on way ahead, and then when he inevitably enters one of the buildings towards the start of the street, he won't have to think about this awkward situation ever again. a fine plan.
except, the man shows no sign of doing such a thing. he keeps walking further and further down the street, until he comes to a stop in front of—sure enough—hiori's apartment building.
hiori goes completely still, holding his breath as he watches the man rustle around in his bag, likely trying to locate his apartment keys. he pushes the building gate open, then disappears around the corner, where the open-air hallways are.
to make matters worse, hiori is far enough where he cannot even get a glimpse of where exactly the man went. whether he'd gone upstairs or downstairs, he has no idea from all the way over here.
hiori sighs, forcing himself to speed-walk the rest of the way. he's too wound up after this entire situation, and now that the other man is hopefully long-gone inside of his own apartment, hiori is particularly eager to make it back to his own.
when he finally rushes up those stairs and finishes fumbling with the keys to apartment 203, he swings the door open and quickly locks it behind himself, thankfully remembering to toe his shoes off before collapsing face-first onto his bed in the middle of the studio, his body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. a deep exhale escapes him slowly, muffled by the soft duvet.
… ah, what a day…