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#that scene with ther on the pool table. TINY.
bimsha · 2 years
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Challenge - Post
Fandom - Tokyo Revengers
Day - 1
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MAY 01 - Meeting Someone At The Dead Of Night ft Sano Manjiro
Tags : food, jokes, strangers, night shopping, cup noodles
Word count : 969
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The grocery bags weighed down your arms as you walked down the isolated roads down the neighbourhood. You glanced around, noticing the lights inside the houses, families laughing behind closed windows. Dinner steamed on the table. You reluctantly thought about the packs of cup noodles in the bags. It’s been a while since you ate homemade food. You missed your mom’s food. Those nights back at home when you all would gather around the table. After starting college, after moving to this lonely place, rented that small apartment with the faded rag and broken shades, life had been going in monotone. 
The sky above you was littered with stars, tiny pools of light in the far distance showering the world in whimsical beauty. You gazed across the road at the river, making quiet ripples against the sandy patch that glowed in eerie white in the night. And then you glimpsed him. A figure sitting cross-legged by the river, his back turned to you. 
You frowned, squinting. You’ve heard all about the rumours. The ghosts that are said to lurk around the river. You weren’t much of a fan of the paranormal explanations of life, but his hunched back and slumped shoulders made you reluctant. At the same time, you didn’t want to go talk to a random stranger by the river when there was no one around. You decided to walk away. Maybe he was someone from one of these houses, coming out to breathe some fresh air. 
When he suddenly turned, you were startled. Underneath all the justification of mind, you have been secretly expecting him to be a ghost — only pupils for eyes, drained pale face and the rest of the package that comes with being a ghost. You two held the gaze for a solid second before he stood. You tightened the grip on your bags when he walked over. Not a man, just a boy who must be around the same age as you. His blonde hair shifting to the faint breeze in the air, eyes dark like the night itself. “You want something?”
You shook your head, “I was just walking home” You said, unsure how to reply. Have you been staring too long? “I spotted you and was just surprised, I guess”
He eyed the grocery bags on your hands. “What’s a girl doing out at the dead of the night anyway?”
“I’m a ghost hunter” You said, sarcasm dripping, lips stretched to a sweet smile before you huffed, annoyed. 
The guy smiled, amused. “Right.” You watched as his eyes shifted to the same scene you’d been watching with nostalgic sorrow, the family dinner. The muted laughter behind that window, protected by this chilly breeze. 
“Must be nice” You found yourself murmuring. 
“Yeah” He said and you thought maybe you were wrong. Maybe he’s not from this cosy, picturesque house. A stranger lurking in the streets looking for comfort envying the warmth they were missing. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
You frowned, “What are you? A Cop?”
“Far from that”
You smiled, “A delinquent?” Your voice was light. You were joking. There’s no way this below average height, kind faced smiling stranger is a- 
“Yeah”
You thought you’d hear a chuckle following the answer. A sarcastic comment. Just something other than his serious face, impressed that you’ve guessed. Well, fuck. You looked around, there was no one except you two. Is this how it all ends? “Do I get a last wish?”
The guy appeared confused at first but then realisation dawned; he chuckled. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“That’s what they all say” You muttered. You should go before he changes his mind. “Okay then, I’m-” A rumble interrupted you. You turned to see him blinking. “Oh you are a hungry delinquent” 
Pink tinted his cheeks. He jutted out his bottom lip mumbling something under his breath. You pressed your lips together, it was your turn to be amused. The bags in your arms were filled with cup noodles, there’s this stranger in front of you saying he’s a delinquent. His cheeks puffed in embarrassment as he tried to fight it off with pride. He’s hungry. You pushed the grocery bags to one hand, tearing off the clear bags to fish out one cup. You offered it to him, “Here”
He frowned, “Is that ramen?”
“Yeah” You shrugged, “That’s all I’ve got. You’d have to find some hot water though”
He hesitated before accepting your little gift. “Thank you” He sounded surprised. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, “Never leave a man hungry. Hunger can do wonders to the human brain. I’m not leaving a hungry delinquents out in the streets without anything”
He laughed at your statement. “You’re smart”
“Why there, thank you” You said, looking at your imaginary watch. “I better go. It’s getting late”
He nodded, “See ya.”
You smiled back at him, “Right. Have a nice meal, gangster”
“Will do” It was refreshing to see his smile. His genuine happiness at your display of kindness. You knew he was just hungry, not starving. He didn’t look like a gangster, nor like a person who went without a meal. But sometimes it was the kindness that mattered. The person in the bus offered you the seat because you looked tired. The friend who stays with you extra five minutes because you need company. The stranger giving you cup noodles because your stomach rumbled and you were hungry. 
It was the little things that mattered. 
You opened the door to your apartment and stepped in. Turning on the yellow light that sizzled like oil on a pan, you boiled some water. You fished out the packages and set the broken package of noodles on your coffee table. One missing. You smiled. You didn’t even ask his name.
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And I said I didn't have time sniff
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