HANDS OF TIME | rantaro kiyama

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - sᴛʀᴀᴡʙᴇʀʀʏ ʟᴏʟʟɪ .༄

DECEMBER 17, 2012
8:45 AM
Rainy clouds trying their best to not rain.

       "STRAWBERRY LOLLIPOPS..." Y/N groaned to themselves, slumping out of bed with a flop.  First their feet brushed the floor, then their legs, then their stomach, and then their half-asleep face. "It's too early in the morning to do anything. Ugh..."

'Maybe I should write them an email about why I'm doing this—despite the fact that they didn't answer my previous fifty-nine a day ago.'

       "Alas...better get going—at least it isn't snowing today."

  Y/N's eyes roamed all around the candy shop until they unveiled the row of strawberry lollipops. The bell on the door rang at the entrance, shortly following up with an opening more creaky than a sound effect from a haunted house in an old video game.

Y/N stared at the individual. There was just something lingering in the back of their head—this person faintly resembles the one that pushed them aside yesterday.

A long caramel trench coat that only showed the bottom tips of their black leather shoes, a suspiciously black fedora-like hat sitting on the man's head, hiding his hair. Black gloves were adorned, though their hands were stuffed into the side pockets of the trench coat. Dark, pitch-black sunglasses in the early morning as well as a black mouth mask—he was covered head to toe.

'I better get the strawberry lollipops and go before this thing buys out the entire stocks again...'

       As they walked up to the counter though, passing, Y/N stole a curt glimpse of his eyes from the side view beneath his sunglasses.

They held the most copper-colored pupils which they had ever seen. It reminded them of the hot chocolate they would receive in kindergarten during the frozen winters; deep, dark, and rich with a milky sort of chocolate.

However, a dull cover hovered over, shadowing away the glow and dimming the light. Sullen bags hung under his eyes as well as a tired look.

"Two bags please, thank you." Y/N said to the cashier.

"Your total is $6.36."

'Maybe he's had a rough night...?' Y/N thought, handing the money over to the smiley cashier.

It's certainly possible, but other theories soon welcomed themselves into their mind.

        'What if...it's someone from the future?'

       "Oh...Y/N."

       The corner of their mouth tugged a bit, soon relaxing after a pathetic attempt of a comforting smile.  Y/N advanced leisurely to the gloomy one, wary to not shatter the delicate melancholy circling the sun-hidden air.

       "I heard what happened...well, saw." they began.

Rantaro sat on a stone step in the park, a bey arena underneath a circular roof behind him.  His knees were bent with his elbows resting on it as he held his head with another hand holding his bey, staring down at it with a sigh.