𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄? (𝗵.𝗮𝗸𝗶) ✓

8

Hanasaki couldn't remember how long she'd been sitting there.

The time period she had spent completely motionless couldn't be described as long or short, or even somewhere in between, simply because she had no idea. Time itself seemed a distant idea in this little room where everything was foreign, where the objects appeared too hazy to belong to reality and the empty space surrounding them pulsed like a living thing.

She was the stillest thing in her office. She couldn't even recollect when was the last time she had breathed, for she had lost feeling of her insides, and the rush of air through her throat was more like wind rattling through a vent than a conscious action.

The first thing that caught her attention was that it was darker outside than it had been before. Her gaze slid from the blankness it had been drawn to for hours on end, and attempted to make out what was through her window rather than staring at the scratches on the pane itself. The sky was black with night's presence, which had set the maze of the city below ablaze with vivid lights. The roads were bathed in striking blues, greens, and pinks, a psychedelic medley of colours that made Hanasaki's head whirl.

She blinked, screwing her eyes shut to ward off the stinging pain that came with staring at the glare for too long. However, the display had already burned itself onto her retinas, embedding itself deeply as a throbbing lacework of ardent starbursts.

She exhaled, chest tight, as if her ribcage had begun to close in on her lungs while she was zoning out. Hanasaki was now aware of the gooseflesh on her arms, under the thin scratchy cloth of her sleeves. How numb the tips of her fingers were as she sluggishly took her blazer off the back of her chair and slipped it on. She felt no warmer with the extra layer, but she didn't care. She'd just have to make it work.

It was no small feat that she could remain steady after suddenly standing up from her rigid, seated position. Her stiffened legs screamed dully in protest as sensation flowed back into them before the blood did. She felt like a corpse trying to right herself, limbs frozen through, no more flexible than a statue's. But Hanasaki didn't have the time to thaw herself out.

Heaving herself down the stairs was another noteworthy achievement. She'd have scolded herself for her own ignorance for not choosing the lift, but it was a bit too late to go back when she had already reached halfway down without even realising what she was doing. It didn't help that her palms had grown slick with sweat, slipping down the handrail on multiple occasions, and she'd had to scramble for a better grip without tumbling down the whole flight.

When she reached the bottom, she'd practically had to will every fibre of her being not to collapse on the spot, knees already buckling in preparation. Jaw gritted as the breath hissed through her teeth, she forced herself to march forwards, out the main entrance and into a world that was too bright and too dark at the same time.

The journey home was taxing, to say the least. Her house was more than a good couple miles away from the urban tangle of Tokyo's commercial area, and Hanasaki had clearly overestimated how responsive she was. Even walking had become an arduous process: in her head, her internal monologue had to clearly dictate each and every action. Lift foot, bring it forward, push foot backward, lift other foot, bring it forward, push foot backward, and so on, in a dreary, endless loop.

But even this provided enough difficulty for her not to be able to focus on anything else apart from it. She was already too concentrated on both this and ignoring the electric brilliance that the streets of the capital were awash with. The surrounding light was too strong, making her head throb, and her vision grew fuzzy around the edges. Hanasaki had not unfurled her fists since she had left headquarters, so they were still clenched together just as tightly as before, knuckles blanched in effort. Perhaps it was both her sense of disconnection and not being able to feel her hands anymore that prevented her from letting her fingers relax.

When she had finally retreated from the overwhelming dazzle of Tokyo's busiest part, she felt her lungs release a sigh she hadn't even realised she was holding. She relaxed her pace slightly, as she'd been darting through the central city at a speed that could only be described as alarming. The sky was clearer here, the light and air pollution of the towering concrete labyrinth she'd just escaped much thinner than before. And it had evolved into something more than an inky void since she had last glimpsed at it.

It was nothing special, at least not to the average person. A few pinpricks of light sprinkled across the vast expanse of black, like a stray spatter of paint on a depthless canvas. Stars, so small an amount she could count them on one hand.  But her frazzled mind was instantly mesmerised, and she found she could not draw her focus from those white specks for the rest of her trip. And as she staggered onwards, dazed, the sky grew brighter and her hope fuller.

Soon, the heavens had been painted a thousand shades of rich navy and deep purple, the absolute darkness of before melting away like it was nothing to begin with. At this point, the road she was ambling alongside was almost completely deserted, with only the occasional car bathing the sidewalk with the yellow glare of its headlights. The buildings had gone from looming apartment blocks and office flats to dwelling places closely packed together. Legs aching from the lengthy, tiring journey, she trudged up the paved path to one of the houses, and rummaged around in her blazer pocket for the key.

Her fingers clamped down tight onto the metal, and she had to squint to make out the keyhole. After a lot of clicking and fiddling as she struggled with unlocking the door, it swung open, and she almost fell onto the doormat in relief.

Home.