Phew. I only have one day left before the contest is judged and I'm still nowhere near where I was after :'D

Oh well, writing this is a little fun XD

Please read, review and enjoy? Idk?

Subject: RE: This Invitation…

Hi Mikoto!

It was nice seeing you today. You seemed to be doing well?

I've just opened the invitation. It's interesting news, but I'm kinda wondering why we got an invite? And how did you get across them? I'm sorry for misunderstanding it earlier. I've forgotten what you said about it. Were you interested in going?

I apologise if I offended you in any way, you took off pretty suddenly. I guess half an hour wasn't quite enough time to talk with you properly. I know you said you only wanted to meet to pass something onto me but…was that invite all you wanted to talk about?

Lol, I know you used to pass on responsibility and stuff a while back, I'm sure you're not doing that with this right now.

Don't know if you'd like to, but do you want a proper chat sometime? :)

Speak soon ~

Hunching over a desk at 8.40 am was usually the only way to check personal emails in a big office such as the one Mikoto worked at. Arriving early to work had its benefits. It was quiet, all there was to deal with was yesterday's workload, and it also meant he got to leave early as well. All of which were a bonus to Mikoto. He'd been working as a sales administrator for as long as he could remember. He was well aware by now of the strict policies that were in place. Should he fail to achieve set targets, or if anything were remotely wrong, he knew full well that he'd be discharged in an instant. He was just a small, easily replaced cog in the system. It wasn't what he wanted, yet he was employed here for a reason, he earned a living from doing this, there was no escaping it.

But he was smart enough to know that if he left early, and looked busy throughout the day, he could avoid his boss at the very least. His boss was the cheery over-friendly type, and Mikoto's avoidance only seemed to make the situation worse than it could've been. These days his boss would border-on harass him if he caught sight of Mikoto. It was no use.

In such a nerve-grinding atmosphere, and amongst endless lists of official correspondences, Tooru's email was like a breath of fresh air. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder to check no one of significance was in the office, before proceeding to respond.

Subject: RE: RE: This Invitation…

Hi.

I guess I'm okay.

I'm not sure why we got an invite either, but they were delivered to me, so I passed yours on. I guess I was more easily found on resident/work directories and such. It was a little hard to find your contact information I'll admit.

Anyway, about that invite…I'm not sure if I want to go or not, there doesn't seem much point. But at least I've managed to deliver yours, so no one can blame me for anything…right?

I wouldn't mind another chat I suppose. Can't talk much during work hours though.

Mikoto Yutaka

Sales Administrator

Xery Distribution Limited.

Checking his personal emails during the day wasn't one of Tooru's practises. It was unprofessional, and he hadn't much chance to check anyway, his work meant he wasn't confined to a desk. His work was part-time, and based solely on dealing with people face-to-face.

The only opportunity he had during that day to check his inbox was during a short break on his phone. He squinted as he looked at the screen; the email was hard to read. It was clear and large enough of course, but it was just a vague response. There was a hint of hesitation in it, and that's all he had to go by. Compared to openly helping many people in his work, Mikoto was proving more difficult to interpret than anyone he'd met before. Stranger still was the fact that he already knew Mikoto, why was this proving so difficult?

He only had time to draft a short reply back.

"So what are your work hours like? When are you free?" was all that was swiftly typed and sent, his mind wanting to focus on the tasks ahead of him, he could deal with Mikoto later.

The air in the city centre could only be described as stale. It was bad on weekdays, worse still on a bustling Saturday morning.

Standing on a cramped bus only served as a catalyst. Complete strangers were forced to practically pile on top of each other, others sat uncomfortably on cheap seats that felt no better than if they'd sat on the floor; it was the very definition of stale and over-bearing.

A hand loosened amongst the rows of ringed grips. There was no point in fighting it, Mikoto knew that. He just had to look away and get on with it, such was city life. He let himself relax a little, knowing his stop was close, allowing his slender frame to rock slightly with the bus. His hand comfortably gripping the rail, he was just about tall enough for it not to be a strain to reach. Although he usually relished early mornings, he loathed them on weekends. If this were any other Saturday, he'd still be in bed enjoying a well-deserved lie-in. It was with slight reluctance that he'd made his way into the city once again after a week of working in it. He yawned, allowing his mind to wander, staring off at penned graffiti on the bus wall for a split second. This arrangement was done by choice, and normally he'd be completely unwilling in such a situation. There was something different about the change of pace that he seemed to almost be enjoying. Going out on a Saturday just for fun was something he hadn't done in a long while.

The feeling of someone brushing past on a bus broke Mikoto away from his thoughts. He gazed at the window for a brief moment, taking in familiar surroundings. There was a small court near the city centre, surrounded by busy shops and restaurants, scattered with benches, bins and people. It was more interesting to look at during the weekend; it became a place where everybody casually met in more colourful attire, a stark contrast to the gloomy shades of smart-wear and boring lunch meetings during the rest of the week.

Not that there was time for any other observations, Mikoto realised in a flurried panic that this place was his stop. He only had chance to let out a shocked gasp before pushing past other passengers to make his way off the bus before the doors closed.

He stood at the bus stop for a moment, allowing himself to take in deep breaths of warm, polluted air. If the bus was running as usual, he'd just made it in time. He grasped his own wrist and brought it closer to glance at his watch. A packed bus on a Saturday morning was bound to not run "as usual". He'd arrived almost ten minutes late.

Did Tooru arrive on time? Where would he be standing?

Mikoto began anxiously looking around, not seeing any signs of his friend amongst the swarming groups of people in the court area. Different flashes of hair colours, clothing materials and builds intertwined around him wherever he looked. This was hopeless. A couple of people even glanced back, Mikoto looking more youthful and well-kept than other men his age, thus making him a little more noticeable.

Although he hated this, he had no choice. He thought for a minute about running away. He was already late, Tooru had probably gone by now, he could just hop on a bus straight back right?

Mikoto gripped his t-shirt sleeve and nervously made his way past a crowd of people, into the middle of the court. He'd already made this much effort, and this didn't happen often, there was no point in running off now.

"Mikoto!" He'd heard his name being called clearly, there was no mistaking it. He glanced around, trying to follow the sound, looking a little lost.

"Hey!" It was Tooru's voice for sure, yet he couldn't see him anywhere. He'd become blinded by the sheer number of people surrounding him.

He tried glancing around once again, and this time caught a distinct movement in his sight. The waving of hands. Mikoto thoughtlessly took a few steps in that direction.

There he was, leaning against a nearby bench; he'd spotted him at last. That's when he realised he hadn't taken into account the changes he saw the other day in the café. He was looking for the Tooru he remembered.

The current Tooru had grown his hair out, in a slightly messy style that looked like it was done purposefully. His clothes were casual, plain yet somehow fashionable. It was inevitable that Tooru also attracted the occasional glance or head-turn, albeit not as much as they both used to gain during their younger years.

Mikoto continued to approach him, apprehensively blurting out an apology as soon as he was within speaking distance.

"I, I-I'm sorry I'm late!"

It didn't seem to have made much difference to anything. Tooru was smiling as soon as he'd seen him, and he was still smiling now.