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Showers late at night

       It's dark in the public bathrooms of my dorms when I walk in, not exactly a surprise due to the late hour. The automatic lights flicker awake when the sensors catch wind of my movement. It's completely silent as I continue to the private shower stalls to the left of the door I walked in. The floors and walls are covered with a pale blue corroded tile, parts of it stained yellow from the bleaching. It looks an awful lot like a hospital bathroom with it's cream stall doors and the unreliable fluorescent lighting. I dump my beach bag full of clothes and clanking soap bottles in a stall. I shut the door and lock it with a satisfying click, then begin to strip out of my clothes. I pull and orange t-shirt over my head swiftly, abandoning the cotton fabric on the floor my jeans and boxers following their descent. I turn on the faucet, lukewarm water spurting out of the shower head above me. Droplets of water cascading down my face and I place my palms on the wall opposite of me and lean forward stretching my ankles and shoulders out from a long day of classes.
    I'm snapped out of my exhausted stupor when a door swings open, and light pitter-patterings lead to the shower opposite me, across the wall that rises up the middle of the tiled room. The wall itself is about seven feet tall and reaches about halfway up to the ceiling. The person swings open the door, and I can hear the soft impact of their clothes on the floor the clanking noise of their own soap bottles, even with the heartbeat of the running water pounding in my ears. They turn on the shower head, and sigh in obvious belief. It suddenly dawned on me that they could be completely unaware that I'm here, thinking that the running water noise if coming from water in the pipes from a person just exiting the showers.
    I do my best to ignore the sudden seizing feeling in my chest, and uncomfortable squeezing of unexpected closeness to another breath being. It's so strange how public showers like this can feel so intimate when it's just two people in such a large room, separated only by some plaster, plastic, glass, cement, and paint. It seems ridiculous that such a simple run in with another person makes me feel so violated, but not in a gross way. In such a simple way, like an unexpected hug from the last person you expected to want to touch you. A pleasant violation almost, it spreads a kind of warmth that you can't exactly ignore. I resurface from my thoughts to hear a soft sultry voice, definitely male with it's rumbling tenor resonating through the room and worming into my ears. Their-he's singing now. Soft words ring in his molten voice,
"You've got a hold on me," He takes a deep breath here, and continues with more confidence, "Don't even know your power. I stand a hundred feet, but I fall when I'm around ya. Show me and open door then you go and slam it on me, I can't take it anymore,"
His voice melts something deep within me, a resistance to the simple joys in life. Like singing in the shower. I feel something rise in my throat like a bubble, and I open my mouth to let the words flow out like water from the weeping faucet above my head,
"I'm saying baby please have mercy on me! Take it easy on my heart, I know you don't mean to hurt me, but you're tearing me apart!" I freeze listening for a response from the other man, hoping and silently praying it doesn't make things awkward. Suddenly I hear him call back to me, with the words of a song,
"Would you please have mercy, have mercy on my heart!,"
We continue to sing the entire song, our words weaving together as we let the words flow relentlessly from our tongues,
"Consuming all the air inside my lungs! Ripping all the skin from off my bones!
I'm prepared to sacrifice my life, I would gladly do it twice. Consuming all the air inside my lungs. Ripping all the skin from off my bones. I'm prepared to sacrifice my life, I would gladly do it twice,"
We finish the song like it started, a soft uttering of words we both know but are scared to be delved into silence after such an interaction. Suddenly, the person across from me shuts off the water and leaves me with a few parting words,
"Not bad dobe. You've got some good pipes," I pause, wondering why his voice and that name he called me sounds so familiar. Then it pops into my head,
"SASUKE?!"