Rock My World - DabiHawks

Suburban Home

THIRD PERSON

Begrudgingly, Rumi stuffs her wallet in the back pocket of her jeans, picking up her keys from the rack in the Employee's Only room. Three days have passed since the LOV's drummer was publicly arrested, and in that time business at Present Mic's Bar & Grill has stuttered to a stop. As nice as it is to have a break and some extra time to breathe, Rumi's concerns for her precious paycheck only grow as the hours tick by.

At around noon, Mic lets her have the rest of the day off since business is slow and Keigo didn't show up. The night of Twice's arrest, Keigo had called Rumi to let her know he'd be busy for a while, taking care of the LOV's lead singer while the rest of the band handled the legal stuff. Rumi couldn't argue with him because at the end of the day, what Keigo wants to do with his life is his decision. If that means taking care of his douchebag boyfriend's non-biological kid sister, then so be it.

So Rumi takes her time driving home. She tries to think of something besides Keigo's entanglement in this whole shitshow, but it's a lot easier said than done. She plays music and taps the steering wheel to the beat of the baseline, imagining the thick metal strings of the bass under her calloused fingertips. The smoothness of the deep notes on the bass always does the trick to soothe her mind.

Because she doesn't have much else to do, Rumi stops by the small coffee shop downtown. She doesn't drink coffee (always been more of a shot-of-liquor-to-start-the-day type of woman) but she likes the smell and the atmosphere. It's very different from Present Mic's, with softer colors and sweeter smiles. Here, everyone seems to mind their business and know everything all at the same time. Like a cozy neighborhood, not that Rumi had any experience with that sort of community.

Rumi immediately eyes a chocolate cake pop in the display window as she enters, completely missing sight of the only customer softly crying in one of the booths. It's not until her two cake pops are paid for that she realizes how empty the place is- besides the crying woman.

Rumi furrows her eyebrows as she turns toward the muffled sound. She sees a woman with white hair, flecked with a few noticeable traces of crimson red, with her face hidden in her hands. Her framed glasses are off to the side next to a half-empty iced coffee, probably to avoid the steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Excuse me?" Rumi says, gently sliding into the seat across from the woman. "Mind if I join you?"

The woman sputters out her response, furiously wiping her face to hide any evidence of her obvious mental breakdown. "I- I can't leave," she says. "Gosh, I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, chill out, it's fine," Rumi says with a gentle laugh. She offers her second cake pop and doesn't waver until the woman accepts it. The woman takes it hesitantly, putting it beside her on a napkin. "What's your name? I'm Rumi."

"Fuyumi," the woman says. "I'm sorry for disturbing the atmosphere. I've just been pretty stressed out recently."

"I noticed," Rumi teases. "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us. Wanna talk about it?"

"Oh, thanks for the offer, but you really don't have to," Fuyumi says softly. "I don't want to bombard a stranger with my problems. You probably have enough going on."

Rumi shrugs, chewing off the last of her cake pop. "I've got nothing better to do," she says. "My boss let me go home early 'cause business is slow. Plus, I work at a bar so you can only imagine what kinda stuff I hear about. Tell me, what's on your mind, love?"

More flustered than before, Fuyumi covers her now-rosy red tear-streaked face. "Gosh, you're quite the smooth talker," she mutters. Realizing she said that out loud, Fuyumi clears her throat and reaches for her glasses, adjusting them properly on her face. She rests her hands in her lap, maybe trying to appear at least a bit more composed.