Word Count: 6,189
Published: November 2, 2017
Edited: N/A
Edited By: N/A
Playlist: The Sound Of Silence by Disturbed
Anything written in BOLD are words/sentences said in ENGLISH.
Chapter One: Here and Now
I looked stupid.
The person staring back at me in the mirror wasn't who I imagined her to be when I attempted to apply makeup twenty minutes earlier. The girl who stared back at me cheeks were too gunt, too narrow; her eyes sunken in and rimmed black that no amount of concealer could mask; her lips chapped and dry and set to a fine-line scowl that she couldn't line away with a lip liner; her skin too pale and dry that no amount of cover-up or blush could help lighten them up to a healthy glow and glamor. To put it plainly: she looked dead.
She felt dead, too.
This wasn't me.
Slowly, I filled my lungs with a breath of air, inflating my lungs until I finally, just as slowly, let it out, expelling my fears and doubts in the hot air that left my lungs, and ultimately my mind and body.
Turning the water on in my sink inside my bathroom that was attached to my bedroom, I cupped my hands inside my porcelain filled sink and splashed water on my face, washing away my twenty-minute prep with a simple shrug of the shoulder and an eye-roll.
Oh well. At least I tried, right?
I won't let this get me down, however! I won this contest fair and square and there wasn't anything that would get my spirits down, and I'd be damned if I let it happen because of my own diffidence of my vain thoughts and superficial beliefs. No lousy makeup to cover up things I had no control over or feelings of self-doubts and preservations. I would not allow it. I couldn't allow it. This was me; this was who I was supposed to be.
After all, it isn't every day you get to meet your most favorite Hero of all time, right?
Right.
And I'd be damned if I was going to walk into that studio with a frown on my face! It wasn't going to happen. I would make sure of it.
My name is June Becker, and I was born and raised in a family that believed in staying positive, working hard, and making things happen. So, I was going to make this thing happen. No being shy, no being careless, and proving to myself that I could do anything I set my mind to.
I could do this!
So, putting a smile on my face, I walked out of my small bathroom and grabbed my beanie hat that I carelessly threw on my couch last night that did not match my jean-clad and white blouse outfit and out the door of my studio apartment and down the street to the one place I'd been waiting to arrive for the past week alone.
This was it. I was going to met my Hero!
Take deep breathes, June. You can do this. You can do anything you set your mind to; nerves be damned.
"As a great hero by the name of Leonardo Diederich once said: laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live. With that said folks this next song is dedicated to the lovely Urameshi Youko who recently placed second place for the first years in this year's U.A. sports festival and who just so happens to be Leonardo Diederich's biggest fan! Here's Hands Off My Taco by the Speed Isn't A Choice. We wish you the best of luck future Hero of tomorrow!"
Holy crap! There he was! He was right here. In the same room as me. In the same space.
Breathing the same air . . .
I was going to die . . .
He looked exactly like he did on television and the various photos of him scattered across the web. His hair was magnificently spiked; some even speculating across his fandom network that his hair was naturally held up that way, but I didn't think that was the case. He had to use some hair products to keep it that marvelously spiked, even through combat. He still adorned his signature headphones the had the word "HAGE" written on the headband, despite not using them while in the studio, and, of course, his orange sunglasses that he was still wearing, even indoors. But that was part of his Hero outfit after all. It just wouldn't be complete if he wasn't sporting them. Even now, with just the two of us, I would have been disappointed if he weren't wearing them now that I was meeting him face to face. And I couldn't forget his studded black leather jacket and pants and his large stereo collar that I also heard could play cassette tapes even though it was mainly used to give his Quirk a directional flow.
To say I was thoroughly (geeking out) impressed was an understatement.
Damn it! Pull yourself together, girl! This was a once in a lifetime event, I wasn't going to ruin it fawning over a man that had to deal with rabid fans on a daily basis (And I did mean what I said, I once watched a news clip showing Present Mic almost getting mauled by his fangirls. It wasn't a pretty sight and based on the peeved look he had on when he was pushing back the girls, he didn't appreciate it much, either). I refused to be one of those fans.
Even though, technically, I couldn't see myself being such a fan. To be so pushy wasn't in my nature.
As I waited near the entrance of the studio, not know what to say or where to even sit, or what to do in general after the receptionist left me at the door with no instructions whatsoever, I just stood there, waiting patiently (internally freaking out) for him, the Present Mic, to notice me. He was scribbling on a piece of paper as the song played on the listener's side, at first not turning or seemingly taking notice of my presence, but when he spoke up, I realized that he did, in fact, knew I was in there. He was a Pro after all.
Was it just me, or did he seem taller in person? Even as he sat there, he looked freakishly tall in his studio chair. And, believe me when I say this, but it wasn't his chair that made him look so tall nor his hair, matter-of-factly.
"Don't be shy now, Becker-san. Don't want ya to waste air time standing there, do you? Come on up and take a seat!" He spun in his chair to give me his full attention, his usual showman smile in place I always saw him wear on television and of pictures taken of him, but despite him being a Pro and coming across natural, and unnatural, disasters as a job requirement, he still did the one thing every person I'd ever came across do when they first lay eyes on me: his eyes easily fell on my flaws, openly staring at my gaunt cheeks, hairless eyebrows, and the colorful beanie that wrapped around my bald head due to the months of chemo my body had undergone. But his smile never ceased, a contrasting difference to most formal greetings I was forced to endure with a smile. Usually, I'd see pity in their eyes and their smiles faltering, even to the tiniest degree. But Present Mic continued to smile his big broad smile and not once did I see it falter even to the smallest of a caliber with pity which made it easier for me to keep my own smile going.
"Oh, right! Sorry! I didn't think you noticed me, Present Mic-san. My apologies." I bowed, showing my sincerity.
"Hey now," Present Mic began, wagging his index finger in front of him with his ever-present smile, "no need to get formal on me, ya dig. We're on FM, not AM, after all." Was that a joke? Because if it was, it went right over my head. "Now come on up temporary co-host. Don't wanna keep the listeners waiting."
OHMIGOSH! He was talking to me! THE Present Mic was talking to me!
I began to walk over without much thought on where I was stepping since I was still undergoing an internal freakout about my most favorite Hero speaking to no other person than myself, that I somehow, someway, almost face planted into the tabletop before I caught myself in the nick of time, resulting in Present Mic, my all-time favorite Hero, asking me if I was alright, arms outstretched like he was going to catch me. All I could get out was a squeaking yes, embarrassing myself even further.
Pretty sure I would have combusted if he did wind up catching me, anyway.
When I finally sat down, back erect and taught and shoulder squared and stiff, I waited for what was to come next, trying my best to bait my flaming red cheeks to the best of my ability. That was so embarrassing! How did I even accomplish that!? I thought tripping on nothing but air only happened in movies or sappy romance novels!?
"We'll be going live in a minute once this song ends," Present Mic started again, speaking right to me, right next to my ear, and I was still too embarrassed to turn my head those tiny weeny centimeters to look him in the eyes, "think you're up to the challenge speaking on air? You were prepped before coming in, right?" he asked, not once faltering as he spoke to me.
It came to him so naturally to speak the way he did. No scripts, no prepping before a mirror intermittent to the main event, and no rehearsing with his director. Everything he said and did was from him improving alone. Of course, he was a Hero. A Hero who spoke to the public on a daily basis, and talk shows, and concerts, and commentary for U.A.'s sports festivals; so for me commenting on his improv is like me trying to go up to a bio-engineer and talking about . . . whatever bio-engineers do for a living.
Yeah . . .
I finally, albeit very stiffly, turned my head to respectfully give my all-time favorite hero my full attention. He was still smiling, thankfully, but his eyebrow was quirked up as he awaited my answer with patience.
He must be used to people being too awestruck to speak at first . . .
"No," I said just as stiffly as I felt, "they didn't."
He finally frowned, making me blink at the sudden contrasting look. I had a sudden sinking fear that I may have done something wrong, but when he started to speak, my nerves fizzled out.
"Now, that ain't cool. How a guy suppose to work with only half an act?" What? Whatever, he was smiling again so it couldn't be that bad, right?
"But something tells me you're good at improv"-what gave him that idea!?-"so, I'm not too concerned." Was he warning me in some way? Telling me subliminally that I needed to be good and he wouldn't be "concerned"? That was when he looked over the rim of his glasses at something on the table where our mics and dashboard lie, and when I followed his line of sight, I noticed a timer on the table with only ten seconds ticking down.
"We're almost on, baby"-BABY!? And why did he have to say it in English?-"just follow my lead and you'll be golden."
The lights on both our microphones turned on and I held my breath while Present Mic drilled on forward without hesitation, his hands twirling around as he spoke into the mic, "And that, ladies and gents, was Hands Off My Taco by Speed Isn't A choice. A favorite cult classic if I do say so myself. Five o'clock is here and now baby, and you know what that means? We have a special guest in the house! Let us hear it for Becker June! Our lucky winner of last week drawing for A Day With Mic, sponsored by Helens Coffee shop who believes that coffee should be black as hell, strong as death and sweet like love." He finally turned toward me and flexed his index finger toward the mic, indicating he was going to address me and to sit closer to the mic. When I obliged and leaned forward similar to him, he gave me a thumbs up and I easily returned it with a small smile.
"Now, Becker-san, why don't you give us a big ol' heartfelt hello to this listeners!"
When he spoke his last line before he finished, I took in a steady breath, and when he finished, I let it out just as comfortable as it went in.
Didn't I promise myself I wasn't going to be my shy self-today?
"Hello, everyone! And hello to you Present Mic, super excited to be here today."
Nailed it.
Present Mic must have thought so too with both thumbs twitching at me. His flamboyant attitude was rubbing off on me. He was just as eccentric in person as he was on the radio; someone you could fall in with easily when introductions were in order.
"Glad to hear it! I'm honored to have such a loyal listener here in the studio such as yourself. Now, tell me Becker-san, if you don't mind me skipping most of the intro to our duet and instead head straight to the chorus, and I'm also dying to know myself: who's you're favorite Pro Hero?"
There was no hesitation when I answered him, still riding my flow of confidence that I exhaled earlier.
"Why, you are Present Mic. I've been a fan since your debut as a Pro Hero seven years ago when you took down The Electron Wasp." Of course, any average Jane or Joe could research such an event with a flip of a computer screen or cell before coming to the studio in hopes of impressing him . . .
However, I wasn't average in regards to my loyalty.
This one event I knew a lot of people didn't know about since it was only broadcasted on the radio but not on live TV at the time it happened due to All Might's fight with Professor Aggressor had everyone on the edge of their seats, so any other newsworthy stories were set aside or forgotten.
This single event truly devoted my admiration for the profession of being a true Pro Hero. Present Mic was a true Pro Hero, in my eyes, and he was the first to open my eyes in regards to the dedication and devotion it took to be such a Hero. And because he was the first to do such a thing for me, he was, and always will be, my favorite.
But I didn't need to go that in-depth with my explanation, not if I wanted to embarrass myself further.
"And how two months later you talked down a rehabbed former Villain"-I wasn't going to reveal their names since they were doing much better and living a relatively normal, civilian life outside of the eyes of the media-"from jumping off a ten-story building. Not too many people put their lives on the line for someone who was relatively known in the Villain industry, but you didn't care. You helped him when he needed someone most, regardless of his past." I smiled at his shocked expression.
"I'm speechless! Truly speechless, Becker-san. I wasn't expecting that at all!" He opened his mouth to possibly say more but closed it just as suddenly, remembering that he was still on the air, most likely. "Now I'm truly blessed to have such a devoted fan here with us today. I wish I could ask you more questions about this hot topic but our time is running short for this session so I have no choice but to hit the fast-forward to the outro of our duet. Do you have a song recommendation for our little intermission?"
My smile grew to mischevious levels, my comfort level normalized for the time being. "Barbie Girl by Aqua, please."
Total silence.
"Joking." I laughed at his overly exaggerated grimace. "How about The Sound Of Silence by Disturbed, or by Simon and Garfunkel. Either works, I'm a fan of both."
Present Mic visibly perked up, laughing at my joke and taking it in stride. "Ah, a woman after my own heart." I blushed at that. "Did you know that when Simon and Garfunkel's album first dropped, it flopped, only selling two-thousand copies? It wasn't until Tom Wilson, Simon and Garfunkel's producer remixed the track overdubbing electric instrumentation that it picked up speed with fans around the world. And it wasn't until David Draiman - Disturbed lead singer and writer - picked it up and made their heavy metal version that hit number one on the Billboard Hard Rock Digital Sons and Mainstream Rock charts that the song made a comeback in the mainstream industry."
Wow, did he recite that off the top of his head? With that said, I couldn't help the enthusiastic smile seep onto my lips.
"And David Draiman sings the entire song almost two octaves lower than the original and then jumped up an octave the last three verses. I know that isn't something most people care about, but putting into account David Draiman's usual raspy way of singing, he did a remarkable job that his voice just glides over the soft notes of the piano, the weeping of the acoustic guitar, and the inclusion of the orchestral setting with the string section and light percussion that came into play with each succeeding verse. It's rather haunting in a beautiful way compared to the original more upbeat version."
"Did you know it was Dan Donegan - the lead guitarist - who urged everyone in the band to depart from their signature sound in favor of something gentler?" Present Mic added, leaning forward with the same enthused energy as my own that had me momentarily forgetting where and what I was doing. It would seem I wasn't the only one, however.
"But to compare the two is like"-he paused when a light began flashing on his dashboard. He shook his head and gave me a rather apologetic look-"But it looks like we'll have to save this conversation on a later date. Here's Disturbed's latest hit, The Sound Of Silence."
Present Mic clicked a few buttons on his dashboard and then the mics lights turned off, signifying that a song was playing on the listener's side.
"So tell me," Present Mic started, crossing his arms in front of him as he leaned in closer with his ever growing smile, "did you know about Simon and Garfunkal The Sound Of Silence before or after Disturbed debuted their verse?"
"I knew about them through the American movie The Graduate. Best choice of song for the best dramatic twist of an ending. Had to look them up after that scene."
His smile grew, his arms extending out in front of him in a dramatic show of encouragement.
"Still after my heart, I see. Keep it up and you'll have me strummed up faster than a twelve-bar guitar solo!"
What?
Besides not understanding the phrase, I still got the meaning of what he was trying to convey, and his words alone had my blushing profusely.
Was he flirting? He probably flirted with every girl in the studio; I shouldn't have been blushing so much.
But it was nice that he took the effort to do so, despite the way I looked.
Present Mic began messing with the dashboard, and after scrolling through a couple more songs on the touchscreen, he selected a few and forwarded them to the lineup. "This should give us a couple more minutes. I'm surprised Zashi didn't debrief you before sending you in here. He's usually strung up tighter than tuned guitar strings when it comes to order in the studio."
I blinked. Twice. "Who's Zashi?"
He suddenly turned his head sharply, regarding me with a raised eyebrow with green eyes locking onto my hazels. "Wait, you don't mean - who brought you in here!?"
"A girl named Keiko."
"And you didn't meet anyone else before coming in!?"
"Nope. Walked in through the front door and was brought back here after signing a waiver real quick."
Present Mic cracked an exasperated smile before chuckling. "Well, that explains a lot. Zashi should have briefed you before coming in. Keiko should have brought you to him as soon as you arrived. She must not have had her third cup of coffee yet," he added as an afterthought before he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, contemplating.
"Can't be helped. Besides, you're doing a rad job as you are now, so he shouldn't be freaking out as much as he usually does."
"Freaking out about what?"
His smile grew cynical. "Zashi tends to freak out over the smallest of details. Miss a note within a well-versed script and he'll screech louder than a cockatoo going through its first hormonal tantrum."
I laughed at that statement, fully understanding this one. "That's extreme. Can't see a human out doing the exaggerated screams of a hormonal cockatoo. His face must get really red."
"He does! Remember that blinking light that flashed in the middle of our on-air conversation? That was him."
"Is he listening in right now?"
"Nope. Can't hear us unless we're live. Why?" His face suddenly sharpened devilishly, his green eyes narrowing in on me with a mischievous, yet playful light that had me blushing from how handsome he looked. Not like he ever stopped being handsome at any point in this conversation. "Wanna confess your undying love to your most favorite Hero of all time? Now's the time to do it! Lay it on me, Sista! No one can hear ya! I'm all ears!" He liked to speak at random moments in English, huh?
He waggled his eyebrows at me, the mischievous glint in his eyes unwavering over his antics.
Wow, was he ever enthusiastic? I laughed, however, when he started to wag his eyebrows at me with more vigor; he was so playful.
"No, no, that's not it at all," I finally got out after I calmed down from my rampant giggling at his goofiness. "I was just curious since you did compare him to a screeching hormonal cockatoo just moments ago. Pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate hearing you say that about him."
"You're right; he doesn't like being called that"-he winked at me which had me chuckling again-"but it doesn't stop me from saying it to his face."
I laughed, again. "Are you not afraid to lose your job?"
He gave me a knowing look over the rim of his glasses. "I am the job, baby. Can't run a show without the main act. And if you haven't noticed, I'm that main act."
"But don't they 'run the show' without you Monday through Thursday?" I teasingly asked.
"They do," he admitted, but his grin was still ever present, "but the nights I host bring in the most listeners. Friday night alone brings in more than Monday through Thursday combined. It's all because of me, sweetheart. No one can get enough of the Present Mic."
Again, with the English endearment that had me blushing like a ripe strawberry under a hot summer day.
"Is that so? Don't know if I believe you, for all I know you could be lying to me."
Present Mic actually made a show of looking offended, grabbing his heart and swiping his left forearm across his forehead in a theatrical show of feigned hurt. "No faith in me at all! And here I thought I was your favorite Hero! That hurts Becker-san, never knew you had it in ya to be so mean!"
I downright laughed. "You never denied it! And you call yourself a Hero!"
"But I am a Hero!" He continued his theatrics of being hurt, now add a pouting lip to his display.
"A Hero who whines a lot. How do you ever get anything done?" I made a show to ponder on something, my finger sticking to my chin as I stared up at the ceiling in thought. "Well, I guess you could cry and make the Villains ears bleed that way, so I guess it would all work out in the end."
"I don't cry all the time! Only sometimes. Like every other Sunday or American leap day. Any other day I fight Villains, I just scream at them really loudly to stop. Reallllly loudly. I mean it, really, really, loudly. Usually works."
"Oh, I don't doubt the realliness of your really loudly screams, but it only works usually, huh?"
"When yelling at them to stop doesn't work, I'll resort to crying at them. That works every time."
"Then wouldn't you resort to crying first if it supposedly wins every time?"
This was actually really fun.
"I already told you those are only every other Sunday and on American leap year," he whined, smiling through the whole conversation. "Crying while using my Quirk puts too much strain on the vocal cords. Try using my Quirk when you have little to no voice? Doesn't work, babe."
Every time he called me babe, it had me blushing from head to toe. Especially how he said it in English.
When I opened my mouth to reply back to our banter, a different light began flashing on his dashboard, bringing us both out of our little bubble of a friendly banter we somehow created.
"Ready to go back on the air in a minute?" he asked, leaning toward his mic again. I did the same, giving him a nod. "I'll admit I'm actually quite impressed with everything so far. Usually, the girls who end up winning these competitions aren't as . . . knowledgeable - as you are. When I saw your name, thought for sure you'd be like the others."
"What were you expecting?"
"Wannabe raving fangirl."
I laughed. "And I'm not?"
"Wannabe? No. Raving? Sure. Why not."
Again, I found myself laughing for the umpteenth time that evening.
Before I knew it I ended up staying longer than what the competitions manuscript had proposed. I was suppose to leave at eight at night but ended up staying till Present Mic's session ended for the night around ten. The time flew by and now that I was finally standing up and stretching my stiff limbs, I was on the cusps to feel my fatigue settle in.
This was one of those moments where I really felt my sickness taking its toll on me.
Can't I just have this one night, this one night where I was able to enjoy myself, this once in a lifetime opportunity?
Mic was speaking to someone on his desk phone, and when he hung up, he quickly rounded on me and clasped my shoulders while suddenly standing from his seat, making me jump slightly where I was still sitting. "You did great! Couldn't ask for a better co-host, Becker-san! Even Zashi thought so, too, and he never compliments anyone. At least, I don't think he ever does." He paused momentarily, finally letting me go as he pondered his thoughts while crossing his arms. "Now that I think about it, he never congratulates me. Ever."
My laugh only came out as a light huff of air, my exhaustion getting the better of me. "If I was called a screeching Hormonal Cockatoo I wouldn't compliment you on anything, either. Like, ever."
"Like, never ever?"
"Never ever and forever."
"I only said it, what, five times? Max? Whatever doesn't matter." He was looking at me again, his hands in both of his pockets as he regarded me with a kind smile, reminding me that I was still sitting down in the studio chair while he stood. I made to stand up and when he noticed, he offered me his hand. Blushing, I took it, giving my thanks when I let his hand go after standing at my full height.
He cocked his head to the side as his eyes rounded in a kind smile. "The group here, excluding Zashi, usually go out for drinks after our session. You're welcomed to join us if you feel up to it. In fact, I insist. Wait"-his arms flew up, his eyes blowing out in a comical fashion that had me smiling at his overly enthusiastic fashion that didn't entirely make sense for the situation at hand-"I want you to come! Does that sound weird? Of course not, what am I even saying? But only if you want to," he rambled, adding in the last sentence quickly to make amends.
That was really kind of him to ask.
"I can't," I told him truthfully and with great regret. "Honestly, I'm a little"-a lot-"exhausted. My bedtime is usually around nine. Plus, I have work in the morning. But please don't think I don't want to go!" I tried to reassure him when it looked like his smile slackened ever so slightly. "I do, I'm just exhausted."
Because of my sickness, but I hated voicing that excuse to people. It also made them feel uncomfortable and I hated doing that to anyone, and I definitely would never subject THE Present Mic to such unintentional torment.
"I understand. No need to feel bad about it. How 'bout I walk you home? It's the least I can do for being such a good co-host. Come on, what'ja say? Is that a yes or is that a yes?"
"Don't you want to go out with your coworkers? I don't want to be-"
"Don't worry about it," he interrupted with a wave of a hand and a knowing grin. "I want to do this. Besides, what sort of gentleman would I be if I let a beautiful woman walk home alone? Not a very good one and that's a fact." He stared down at me over his glasses, watching my cheeks light up from his compliment. They burned even brighter when I noticed that he noticed. "So, yes, right?"
Beautiful? Now I knew he was just feeling sorry for me, but I still appreciated the thought, even if that was the case.
It was nice being called beautiful even when I knew he didn't mean it any more than a platonic compliment for my unfortunate state, being sick and all. Regardless, it still made me blush when he said it.
My favorite Hero called me beautiful - in a totally platonic way - but he still said it!
"If you insist then I guess I can't say no to that." I smiled and he returned the gesture tenfold.
"Great! Let me go talk to someone real quick and I'll be back to walk you home, sound good? Make sure you sign out with the girl who brought you here this morning, okay?"
It wasn't long before Present Mic made good on his word, meeting me at the front entrance of the studio with a wide and happy grin. It was infectious, making me grin in return.
"Ready, babe?"
Again, I blushed.
"Of course."
Babe. It was such a cliche name to use; endearment if you want to go that far but that, obviously and for a lack of a better word, did not apply to this scenario. Personally, I never gave affection slang word much thought when/if used in the context of referring to myself. Truthfully, the supposed endearment sounded rather demeaning, even a little disparaging, but hearing Present Mic saying it, and no less directing to no one else other than myself, it was rather pleasant.
All the way to my apartment Present Mic engaged me in conversation, asking me how I liked it in the studio, what I disliked, what genre of music I listened to, and when I answered I didn't have a preference, he then followed the question with what genre I listened to the most during rainy days, hot days, cold days, etcetera, and so on and so forth, until finally, and rather reluctantly on my part since I was enjoying our time together again, we arrived at my apartment complex.
Preparing myself for an awkward farewell because I didn't know how I was supposed to say bye-and-that-I-had-a-great-time and thanks-for-walking-me-home to my all-time favorite Hero without sounding awkward and out of place that I didn't expect what came next at all.
When I turned around in front of the door to my apartment complex, I was startled, to put it mildly, when my shoulders were suddenly in his clutches again . . .
And, just as suddenly, was pulled into a full-blown bear hug . . .
Present Mic, THE Present Mic, was hugging me.
PRESENT MIC WAS HUGGING ME!
The greatest moment so far this week - no - past month - no - past year!
. . . would it have been weird if I ran my hands up his arms while periodically squeezing the muscle as I go up?
Too bad I didn't have the sense to hug him back, my mind too flustered with the actual fact that I was being hugged by THE Present Mic!
"You did great today. Pretty sure I already told you that but it doesn't hurt to repeat some hard-earned praise, right?" he said after letting my stiff body go from his hug. He wasn't touching me anymore, but he didn't take a step back to give me space.
And that warranted a hug? Present Mic was most definitely a hands-on type of person, wasn't he? Anyone else hugging me out of nowhere would have had creeped me out, but on him - I knew he didn't mean it any more than what it had presented at face value. I could feel it in my gut and my gut was usually right.
"Thank you," I said for probably the fifteenth time that night. "I appreciate the compliment." I returned his wide grin with my small one. "And I appreciate you walking me home so late at night."
I appreciate more than he knew.
"It was my pleasure, Becker-san. Besides, what sort of Hero would I be if I let a beautiful young girl walk home alone at night? A terrible one. I like to think myself a decent gentleman, at the very least."
"And a gentleman you are, Present Mic-san. I appreciate the thought."
He lifted his hand up to wave something off and closed his eyes in a somber look before opening them again. "Please, call me Hizashi. Present Mic is too formal for my tastes if I'm not on Hero duty."
I blushed at his forwardness, but smiled through it, regardless. "A little too informal for my own tastes. How about Yamada-san?"
He smiled, and for a split second, something flashed through his eyes that I didn't quite catch the meaning behind it. Regardless, his ever-present smile never faltered. "A traditionalist, eh?" He brought both arms up and waved them palms up near his head while shacking said head back and forth. "You're a dying breed, Becker-san. In that case, next Saturday after classes I'll be hosting a live charity event downtown, I wouldn't mind if you tagged along. It's not too often I find someone who sings the same duet as me with rhythm and flow to match. Most people I talk to either nod their head at everything I say without following a note of my tune or simply mute me out altogether. Ain't not one able to keep up with me and it's all depressing!" He was actually pouting, his lip jutting out and his arms crossed in a showman fashion reminiscent of a child not getting his share of a cookie. It was kind of adorable.
"Besides," he continued, sounding more like his usual cheerful self, "I'm sure the listeners adored you today. I know I did! You did great today! More than expected! Better than expected!"
I couldn't help but giggle at his antics, but I definitely had to let him know where we stood in that regard. "I'll admit there were some things you mentioned earlier that I didn't understand, like when you said something about a twelve-bar guitar solo? Yeah, that went right over my head."
"But you got the gist of it, right?"
"I guess?"
"See? We're in sync. A perfect fit."
Huh? That sounded like he meant . . .
"So, will you come?"
He sounded so hopeful, so childlike.
It was too adorable.
"Okay."
"Right on! I'll pick you up at six Saturday night if that's okay with you?"
"Okay."
That twinkle in his eye was adorable, too, and that crooked smile only added to his charm.
"Don't have to wear anything special, wear whatever makes you feel comfortable, sound good to you?"
"Okay."
He smiled sweetly. "I'll see you next week then! I'll take my leave and let you sleep." He finally turned to leave, leaving my little bubble with a little hop in his step. "Looking forward to our date Saturday, June-san!" he called from down the block now.
I never knew how adorable Present Mic actually was in person . . .
Wait . . .
Did he say date!?
Author's Note: I really need to stop writing stories while I'm having massive brain fog. When I go to edit it, I find my writing lacking and editing takes FOREVER.
This is a story I'll write on the side when I need to take a break for Marionette, my main story I'm working on now.
Hopefully I kept Mic in character! So, what do you think? Yes? No? Maybe so?
Story title may change . . .
Did you guys know Present Mic has a 5/5 intelligence will Eraserhead only has ⅘. I find fanfics that make him dumber than what he actually is quite hilarious to read.