Futari De Ikou!

telepathy

Being a college student among the daily chaos that is working for Reigen Arataka at Spirits and such is not for the faint of heart; in addition to the hours I spend on campus, slaving over a too small desk and sprinting to get to my next class. It's not like I don't have fun there; I have had plenty of experience at bars, sour seltzers and many sake shots burning my throat, making it extremely obvious that I have little tolerance for the stuff. Without fail, my friends point out the flush on the apples of my cheeks, my glassy eyes and the constant hiccups that involuntarily slip past my lips.

On top of all of that, I go to Spirits and Such after school everyday, bending over the keyboard of the faulty PC, having to hit the computer itself with the heel of my hand all the while grumbling about how Reigen should use his money on new appliances instead of cheap lemon sours at the shady bar down the street. Or the perplexing amount of salt he keeps tucked in his pockets.

I step off my bike, kicking the stand down with the side of my shoe and crouch down to tie the lock on it. My knees scuff the concrete below me, and even through my jeans I can feel the bitter chill that laces itself on the ground, in the air, even present on the corners of the old building in front of me, curling itself into the windowsills and the railings next to the steps. Even though it's nearing the end of the cold season, I still feel the need to bite out any chill that threatens to attack. I fumble a bit with the bike lock, cursing under my breath as my hand slips on the slick metal of my bike, nearly cracking my head against the handle in the process.

I hear a short, nearly muffled snicker behind me. I furrow my brows, not completely sure it's directed towards me. After all, students swarm the campus constantly. It's not rare to be able to hear a conversation next to you, and I assume that's what I heard. The timing however, is impeccable.

I go back to tying my bike lock around the forefront of the wheel, struggling to finally click it in place I pause as I hear a sigh behind me, and I finally turn my head to glance behind my shoulder. I pause, seeing the person standing there.

It's one of the guys that I share the first class I have, calculus, and I raise my eyebrows in question as he rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets. He peers down at me, the corners of his lips quirked up, as if he was trying to stunt his amusement. He starts at my sudden attention, and his brows flicker upwards, eyes going slightly wide.

"Oh, ah-" He begins, his voice surprisingly deep. He raises a hand to scratch the back of his neck, and he looks away as heat rises up his neck. It's impossible to ignore, making it all the more confusing as to why he was observing me. "Sorry, I just noticed that you were, uh, struggling with your bike lock." He offers, looking back at me, as if he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be.

Eyebrows still raised, I tilt my head at him. "Oh," I answer simply, glancing away, an air of awkwardness thick between us. "Yeah. It does this sometimes- it gets stuck, especially in this type of weather." I explain, trying my best to sedate the atmosphere. I gesture towards my bike, tugging at the lock futilely.

This time, however, he lets out a soft laugh. He steps forward, almost hesitantly, before he stands directly in front of where I'm crouched. He looks down at me for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before, evidently, making the decision to lower himself next to me. "It happens to my bike lock too," he says, shucking off his gloves and laying them bunched next to him. "I can help. It's even harder doing it in gloves," he points to my gloves, and I instinctively tuck my fingers into my palms.

I smile at him, appreciating his offer. "Please. I'd appreciate that."

He stares at me for a second before rubbing the back of his neck again and turning towards my bike lock. He tugs at it a few times, and fiddles with the metal wire.