Despite the abrupt stop to their little bicycle adventure, it was not long before they finally reached Mikey's house. The house itself looked average, not different from the houses around it, albeit bigger than Takemichi's. A key mention, however, that Mikey seemingly just forgot to share, was how his room is completely separate from the rest of the house. It was a medium-sized storage room originally meant to be a workspace, but as Takemichi entered and looked around, he could see how it had been decorated to make it feel homier.
The air inside the room was a bit stale due to the closed window and lack of an air conditioner. A hint of cologne permeated through the room instead, most likely the one Mikey regularly uses.
He would not be able to decipher just how that cologne smelled. It was truly, uniquely Mikey's. To the point, it instantly relaxed his tense shoulders. Maybe a small hint of lemon and a tint of spiciness from the ginger. It awakened his nerves just as it numbed down his brain.
What an odd, uniquely Mikey scent.
(A part of him, compared it to Sanzu.
Sanzu, who would not leave his brain.
Sanzu, whose scent was equally unforgettable as him.
Copra and white bergamot infested themselves in his brain like a parasite.
A cologne of hibiscus, ginger, and jasmine.
Sugarcane and white rum haunted his waking day in every step he took.)
Despite the mess that decorated the floor (clothes, random magazines, what appeared to be motorcycle parts, objects he'd rather not look too closely at) and the numerous posters stuck aimlessly to the walls, there was one singular thing that got Takemichi's attention.
Numerous vinyl, all proudly displayed on one of the shelves. That sort of collection was not only insanely cool for a fifteen-year-old to have, but it also displayed some of Takemichi's favorite artists. Those sorts of musicians he did not expect Mikey to listen to.
"I had no idea you listened to The Smiths." Takemichi sort of chuckled, slowly inspecting each vinyl, knowing that in the present all of these would cost a fortune.
That got Mikey's attention, who had taken off his shoes to lounge on his sofa. He gave the vinyl a bored stared and huffed.
"I only own the bed. Most of the stuff was from my brother." Mikey said. He did not seem tired but the energy from before was gone. From where he sat he simply observed how Takemichi wandered throughout his room, not looking particularly bothered by the mess of objects scattered on the floor and all around.
The room was not exactly small, hell, it was probably larger than Takemichi's future crappy apartment, but the number of things occupying every shelf and surface made it feel somewhat cramped. Soon enough, Takemichi noticed a pattern within the room, a habit of Mikey that sort of reminded him of a cat, or a crow. The leader of Toman seemed to have an affinity for collecting things, and his collections were in no way small. His eyes landed on the massive pile of mangas and comic books piled on the table. How nostalgic.
"I've never seen a collection that big." Takemichi chuckled, wanting to take a closer look but not wanting to cross Mikey's boundaries. Mikey then stood up straight, patting the seat beside him to tell Takemichi to sit down.
The blue-eyed blond unintentionally landed himself in an hour-long rambling explaining the history of every single manga and comic. They all seemed to have a story to tell, about how Mikey found or bought them. The majority belonged to his brother, and out of respect he wanted to finish the collection but ended up getting invested as well.
