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ㅤsou joined a series of among us rounds with his good friend, corpse, when his own viewers demanded that he plays the game. what he didn't expect is to be enthralled by a person whose speaking voice is softer than any cloud spread throughout the s...
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10:29 p.m. pacific daylight time
in all of the truth that one sou mitsuji could muster up, he swore with his whole heart that he tried to vlog his trip.
he really did.
but it's hard when to vlog when you're in a daze the entire time. immigration was total shit, sou felt like his legs were going to fall off the moment he took his seat on the plane.
in the eleven-hours flight, with his neck firmly planted against a neck pillow, all he did was edit a video for him to upload tomorrow. when that was done, he decided to edit two more so that he might get some holidays.
after that? he fell asleep. into a land of slumber so deep that he did not dream of anything.
he ended up with 15 silent clips of him either staring at the camera, out the airplane window, or the video that he was editing. well-a voice over should do just fine. it was no time to fret over something so trivial.
not when he's in the middle of lax, half-awake, with people rushing all around him. someone bumped onto him hard enough so that his luggage fell on the floor. and they didn't apologize.
instead of cussing them out like he would normally do, sou only sighed and bent down, picking the heavy bag up by its handle.
he buried his face deeper into the neck pillow, lips edging a big frown.
if it wasn't clear enough, he hasn't been there for an hour yet he was already sick. sick of the people, sick of the shitty immigration, sick of los angeles.
aniki, he thought, moping inside of his mind, but his hand reached down to his pockets nevertheless to grab his phone. i hope he's still awake—
"hey," a familiar voice spoke out of nowhere, fumbling up his line of thoughts. he turned to where it came from. "i might be wrong, but are you sou—"
"huh—" when sou recognized the face of the person, his eyes lit up, "you!" he pointed out, almost shouting in an accent mixed he himself couldn't recognize as japanese nor australian.
sykkuno—flesh and bones, real, bonafide—was standing in front of him. the guy was wearing a pear of light jeans and a plain white t-shirt under a varsity jacket.
"me!?" sykkuno pointed to himself with the same urgency in his voice.
"you!" sou was instantly revitalized, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the odd, timely meeting with him. "i can't believe that the first person i talk to in l.a. is an online gaming buddy!"
