Closer

prologue

I wonder what you were thinking then, in that street. Just the two of us. It was probably that the weather was fucking terrible.

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a week before

THE CITY WAS COLD.

Ambling across the smooth pavement, Misaki clumsily wrapped her maroon scarf around her neck with her nimble fingers. She scowled, despite knowing that her distasteful reactions wouldn't improve the weather.

This is the dozenth time that I have fixed my scarf today, she thought, sighing to herself.

Today, she noticed that the bipolar weather was especially unforgiving in the bustling city, as the ferocious wind tried to sweep away the precious handmade scarf her mother made for her countless times.

As a way to distract herself from the wind biting at whatever exposed skin she had, she focused her attention on the skillful stitching of her scarf. A faint smile made its appearance on her face as she pictured her mother sitting on her usual couch with a cup of tea, making the scarf for her before she left her hometown for good.

"It's so whenever you look at it you'll miss me and then that will make you visit home more often," she softy whispered to her with a playful grin.

But at that time, Misaki saw the sad glint in her eyes. A pang of guilt hit her hard. Very hard.

Although she appreciated the opportunities that the city could only offer her as opposed to her small hometown, Misaki couldn't help but reminisce the memories that she had with her family.

Her whole family.

Misaki's eyes started to water slightly, and she didn't know whether it was because she missed her home greatly or because of the wind.

Probably both, she decided, releasing a dry chuckle that rumbled from the back of her throat.

Groaning, she noticed that her legs had started to tremble and also that although her mind was elsewhere, her body was currently being tortured by the cold. She knew, no matter how hard she tried to escape with her mind, her physical self would still be there in the painful reality of her life suffering.

Accompanying the howling of the wind was the soft padding of her tiny feet against the ground as she was heading towards her favourite coffee shop.

Inside of her, she could feel a wave of excitement slowly growing as she was getting closer and closer to the feeling of warmth - to a place warmer than home.
Misaki noticed that the initial sinking feeling in her chest was slowly fading away, and surprisingly turning into something lighter.

Pausing at the intersection near the end of the silent street, she blew on her hands and rubbed them together, trying anything she could to save herself from freezing to death. Sighing, she realised it wasn't helping so she stopped.

Honestly, why should I ever trust the weather forecast? Sunny day, my ass.

Smoothing her hair out, Misaki impatiently tapped her foot on the ground, waiting for the traffic lights to change. She unconsciously fiddled with her fingers, folding and unfolding them - a habit she had whenever she was standing still and had nothing to do.

Misaki saw somebody step beside her from the corner of her eye and she instinctively dropped her hands, rested them at her sides and lowered her head.

Cursing under her breath, she realised that the wind had unraveled her scarf once again.

"Why did I even bother to listen to the weather forecast? They're full of bullshit anyway," a deep voice irritatingly grumbled from beside her, as she was wrapping her scarf around her neck once again.

Surprised at the sudden comment, similar to her own thoughts, Misaki whipped her head to her left and was faced with a teenage boy, staring straight ahead at the road. She realised that the statement wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but inside of her head she couldn't agree more with him.

Tilting her head, Misaki couldn't help but stare at him.

Judging by his rough features, he looked around her age. His hair was a rich shade of blonde and was messy, like unruly moderately-turned leaves in autumn that were scattered all over the ground, but were still undeniably beautiful.

Both of his arms were tightly caged around his muscular body, a futile attempt to protect himself from the raging wind. His face was plastered with a disapproving frown and his nose was scrunched up in disgust, most likely due to the terrible weather.

Looking closely, Misaki noticed that there was a hint of sadness in his emerald eyes, which were focused on the concrete ground in front of them both.

She curiously stared up at him, her hands still clutching onto her scarf. It was another habit that she always had growing up. Whenever something intrigued her, she would stare and stare, hoping to decipher whatever or whoever it was.

It fascinated her that everyone she passed on the street had their own lives, their own struggles which were completely different from her own. This curiosity would lead her to use her imagination in the most innovative ways. Misaki often joked that she could be passing a government spy every now and then.

When she was younger, Misaki was told that she would grow out of the whole 'people watching.' However, it only grew, because as she got older she was more exposed to the world - there was so much more to see. And that genuinely excited her.

Clearly sensing eyes on him, the boy turned to look to his right and caught Misaki, who was still staring straight at him.

The expression in his eyes went from solemn to cold. He raised his eyebrows in question at her and thrust his hands into his pockets, clearly giving up on attempting to shield himself from the wind.

With her face flushed, Misaki awkwardly scratched the back of her head with her now frozen fingertips and looked away from him, pretending she wasn't staring at him in the first place. However, she felt the need to explain herself.

"You looked a bit sad, that's why I was staring," Misaki blurted out still not looking at him. "Don't get the wrong idea."

Before he could even react, the traffic lights turned green so she stepped onto the road holding the front folds of her thin coat together with a hand.

Without looking back, Misaki briskly walked to the coffee shop.

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