A/N: Here is the next re-written chapter. I added more details about the interactions between both Seiya and Mamoru. I felt that I didn't include enough of Usagi's struggle with Mamoru, so I thought it was best set up the foundation of their relationship that way. Please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy this journey!
At Midnight
"Hey. Cashier girl," he said, tilting his head to this side. His eyes were wide as they scanned me over. "Are you ok?"
Everything around me quickly went silent: the humming of the coolers, the new song playing over the speakers, the 8-bit melody of the arcade game stashed in the back left corner of the store, and even the words coming from his mouth. All that was audible to me were the forceful beats of my heart calling out thump, thump, thump in a rhythmic pattern. Only the bony protection of my ribcage was keeping it from bursting through my chest and into his hands.
With all my might, I wished for the far edges of the wall to peel up from their moldings and encircle me into a tube so I could roll away. I wanted to just disappear any way I could, even if it was by constant rotating that I will guarantee would make me sick. Anything to get away.
He bent forward. His facial features changed from curiosity to concern. "You don't even look like you're breathing. Are you sure you are all right?"
I swallowed hard, and managed to nod. I couldn't believe I was still against the wall. No matter how much I begged for my legs to move, they stayed still as concrete pillars.
His arm hesitated at first, but he ultimately placed a bottle of water and a bag of snacks on the counter. "Could you please take care of my order? I'm sort of late, and I need to catch the last train of the night."
Ok, Usagi, get a hold of yourself. Take a deep breath, and just do your job. Act like the quasi-adult you are.
I filled my lungs with all of the air I could, and then let it out slowly. Straightening my shirt, I stepped closer to the register. "Sure thing," I said, pretending as if I didn't just make the biggest fool of myself. "Is this everything?"
He nodded, raising a brow. "Yeah, for now."
I didn't need a mirror to confirm how red my face is; I could feel the muscles of my cheeks becoming tight and burning through my flesh. I also would not doubt there were stars in my eyes as I tried my best not to stare at him. But really, could you blame me for wanting to fixate on him? I have never met a celebrity before, so I am embarrassingly inept at the social rules when it comes to interacting with them, other than that they frown upon someone just attacking them with hugs…which is exactly what my arms are begging me to do. Instead, I reached for his items to scan.
As I was ringing him up, I couldn't help but to sneak another peak of him, but when I did, I was startles to see him staring back at me.
His eyes shifted downward to my chest and then back up at me. "Tsukino-san?" he said.
My nametag. He was looking at my nametag…
I nodded. "Yes?"
He smiled, and itched the back of his head. "It's been a while since I've met a fan," he said, and reached for something in his back pocket.
Of all of the moments to be speechless, my mind picked this one. When I was younger, I used to dream about this very moment. I'd meet Seiya at a concert or even in an everyday place like a train car. I would have so much to say—letting him know how much his music means to me, and ask for a billion pictures and autographs. Of course I was younger when I'd dream about those sort of things, so it was always PG-rated and more fangirl-ish in the way that the tone of my voice would leap to a high pitch or how I couldn't help to look at him like he was a wondrous non-human creature. It's sort of embarrassing to think of how obsessed I was, but it comes with the territory of being a young girl and listening to poppy love songs by good looking young men pretending to be years older.
At my age of twenty-five, I can say that I am no longer obsessed with the Three Lights. Honest, I truly mean it. However, as I look into the irises of his eyes, I'll admit that it's easy for me to slip back into a fantasy state of mind like I had when I was just short of sixteen years old. Only now, my thoughts are more adult in that I just want to imagine him as the kind, charming lead singer of the band, and not someone who is going through a difficult time. It's not a secret that they aren't as famous as they once were, and I am sure that transition wasn't easy to handle. Stardom seems so magical when you're on the other side of the lens or in the crowd cheering, so it's natural to forget that they are people too, and that sort of life isn't forever. Then there is also the saying that you should never meet your heroes, in case they disappoint you. I'm not sure if I could handle the guitar-god Seiya becoming anything less than how I always imagined him.
I do my best to be mature, but I'm guilty of falling victim to my past. Once a fangirl, always a fangirl. A quick PG-13 thought crossed my mind as I looked him over that made my cheeks even redder. I wondered what it would be like if he charged over to me, pressed his hands on my shoulders, keeping me against the wall. And without a word, he kissed me.
"How much do I owe you," he asked, now with a wallet in his hand.
I snapped out of my trance, feeling embarrassed as if he could tell that I thought about his lips on mine in that moment, and looked at the register. "It'll be 800 yen."
He took out a couple of coins and placed them gently in the dish beside the register. He gave me one last long look, and grabbed the plastic bag that I didn't realize I subconsciously put on the counter.
"Thanks for rocking out, Tsukino-san," he said with a wink.
The doors to the store slid open, and he was gone before I could tell him that the song that was playing is my favorite, or even say a simple "You're welcome." An instant is all it took to miss my chance to saying more than five words to Seiya Kou. As a consolation prize, though, I, Tsukino Usagi, exchanged a few breaths of air with him. We may not have had an in depth conversation, but at least we recycled each other's air supply.
It took a few minutes for me to fully grasp what had just happened. I needed to tell someone, so I quickly reached my phone that was in my pocket. I unlocked the screen and began to text Minako.
"Usagi. It's already after midnight. Are you sure you didn't bump your head and dream all of that?" she texted back after reading my excited, typo-filled version of my encounter with Seiya.
"I didn't bump my head. I swear he came into the store. If I could break into the security camera, I'd show you it."
"Why would he come into your store so late without a disguise?"
"Maybe he thought he didn't need one because it is late at night? Look, I don't know, Minako, but he definitely came in here!"
"Usagi, it's late, you can tell me about it tomorrow after you've recovered from your head injury."
The rest of the night went on as normal, and at the end of the shift, I could probably count the number of customers I had on both hands. It was boring to say the least after Seiya left the store, but it gave me enough time to replay it over in my head a couple of times. In spite of being caught singing and dancing, I couldn't help to laugh and giggle over it. Of all of the convenience stores in Tokyo, he happened to walk into the one where I was an employee. I am not sure if you would call that fate or just plain, dumb luck. Personally, it didn't matter. The only thing I care about is that this is the first time in a very long time where I felt thankful to be working my minimum wage job in the middle of the night.
I was able to meet Kou Seiya while the rest of the city was asleep.
After working the night shift, I usually slept in until noon or so. It took me some time to get used to waking up as everyone was already in the middle of their day and I was just beginning mine. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but for me, I only got five hours of sun, and I rarely got a chance to spend a night with my friends eating dinner at a restaurant or going to a bar for fruity drinks.
It was about an hour or so before I had to start my shift, so I reached into a cupboard for some instant ramen. I pulled back the paper lid of the cup, and poured hot water from a kettle into it. The steaming liquid cascaded through the brick of noodles, gradually softening them from their hardened state. I placed the lid back on top to let the noodles relax even further.
It was quiet in my apartment, a vast difference from when I lived at home. My father was rarely ever home, in fact, I couldn't tell you when I had last seen him home during the day, except for the occasional weekend. Growing up, it was mostly my mom, brother, Shingo, and me, who shared the modest two-story home. My brother and I never got along. Even though he is younger than me, he had a keen way to pick on me. It also didn't help that his grades doubled mine…so of course he'd hold that over my head. My mom tried her best to referee our verbal arguments, but most of the time she'd sit in the middle of us with her arms crossed, not saying a thing. Sometimes it was effective, and others, well, we'd only get louder.
As we both got older, he still received Ivy League-worthy grades, but he stopped picking on me. And I did the same. Brothers and sisters aren't always supposed to get along. It's science, or something like that. Either way, our relationship became more agreeable, much to my mom's relief. I am not sure if she needed any more grey hairs because of us.
As I sit at my tiny table waiting for my ramen to be ready to eat, I can't help but to miss the noise—laughter and arguing included. I never thought I would need to have all of that in my life again. I used to say that I couldn't wait to leave my family home and be on my own. And now that I have it, the reality is difficult to accept. It's not as great as I thought it would be.
The ringing of my phone stole my attention. I looked at the screen, and the pounding of my heart brought me back from my quiet realm of loneliness.
"Usako." Even his voice over the phone could make my whole body feel warm and just—happy. It's funny that a nickname he gave me so long ago, still has the power to do that to me. I guess it really doesn't take much for me to transition from a solid to a liquid oozing at his fingertips.
"Mamo-chan," I said. I hoped he couldn't hear the eagerness of my voice. "When do I get to see you?"
It's hard for me to not ask him that. It may seem a little needy to start out a phone conversation with that question, but I've learned that if I don't ask, he won't mention it. I don't try to analyze over why he doesn't talk about it without being prompted. It makes it easier to be oblivious rather than inspecting every sentence, every word. Trust me, I've spent too long doing that, and it only made me blame myself somehow.
I could hear his breath get sucked back into his mouth. "I am not sure, but I do know that I will have a week off next month. So maybe then I can make it back to Tokyo for a few days?"
There are a couple of responses Mamoru could have given me, since he tends to respond almost the same way each time. As I have mentioned, I stopped trying to look for the underlying excuse, and look at it in black and white. I know he is unable to see me when I want. His work obligations come first…all of the time, and I understand, no matter how much it hurts to be knocked down a number of pegs to second, maybe third place.
He graduated from a prestigious university, and as expected, he secured a top position at an electronics company. I'm not entirely sure of the work he does, but it must be important, because he is continuously a candidate for promotions, which would allow him to climb higher on the corporate ladder.
The only negatives about the job are the ones that affect me. He is constantly traveling throughout Japan, city to city, but somehow, never to the point on the map where we both could exist together. He is usually gone for months at a time, and it is disheartening that it seems to only bother me. Like I said, I try not to think about it too much, yet, I would be lying if I said I didn't wonder if it was true.
The trick to not thinking about him being away, I've found, is not to have much downtime: I balance working three jobs and sometimes, I get to hang out with the first loves of my life, my friends.
No matter how many minutes, hours, days I try to occupy, it still doesn't hurt any less. Loneliness still finds its way into my heart. That is the main problem.
"How is everything else going?" he asked. "How is the job hunt?"
"I'm trying." My answer fit both questions, but I'm sure he only took it as a response to the latter. Looking for a 9-5 job was a goal for me that he had set, and to be quite candid, I haven't looked or applied to one in about a month. Not to make it a habit of giving excuses, but I've been too busy to have any time to sit in front of the computer to search the classified. Also, I don't think I could conjure the motivation that is required. I've applied to countless jobs, and never received a single call, either to reject me or ask for me to come in for an interview. I feel nothing but discouraged.
I'm starting to wonder if I really have nothing to offer.
"Waiting for a few call backs," I said, breaking the silence.
Asking about jobs in every phone call has gradually been getting on my nerves. I know he is coming from a good place, and that he worries about me, but when I can't give him a positive answer, I sort of feel like I let him down. I wish he would stop, and go back to telling me that he misses and wants to see me. Tell me that he wants to be with me…wants to kiss me and feel my body. Anything. Any sort of prayer of affection would satisfy me.
"You'll be fine, Usako. I know the opportunities will appear for you soon," he said.
I closed my eyes. Warm tears bulged from beneath my eyelashes and found their way down my cheeks. I'm not sure what I was upset with more: Mamoru not saying what I want to hear or me for not being honest about it with him. It really isn't a conversation I want to have over the phone; however at this point, I am not sure when we will have the chance to be one and one, and even then, would I have the courage to speak my mind?
"Well, I have to get back to work," he said. "I will call you another time, Usako."
"Ok, Mamo-chan. Good bye," I said. "I lo—" An audible beep followed by static on the other line stopped me from finishing.
Was there a bad connection? There had to be. Why else would he hang up without saying 'I love you'?