IRL » Places

         

Find a reason to sing!

”Ok, don’t mess this up. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Right fo- ACK.” Ken attempted to properly pace himself by mentally maintaining a rhythm in his head, but, it seemed that his efforts were in vain. The will of survival kicked in, as the otaku didn’t want cover the costs of Ryuuji’s recording equipment which he could spend on merchandise later down the line. He also didn’t want to be experience a short-lived free fall from their floor. Besides, an enraged Ryuuji was the last thing Ken wanted to see, especially right before a party, which they were now frantically trying to assemble the pieces to. Walking would have been an easier task for the student if the floor wasn’t covered in streams of wires.

His neighbor’s apartment heavily contrasted from his own. They both obviously had their own hobbies and oriented everything else in the room around them, all of Ken’s belongings were meticulously organized, to an almost unsettling extent. Ken too was stumped over why the party was taking place here. Aika’s room was at least slightly bigger than both Ryuuji’s and Ken’s. Yet now wasn’t the time for questions. Now was the time for eleventh hour organization. He set down the equipment with the greatest care, and made sure that it was entirely out of harm’s way.

”Hm, hm! Read you loud and clear, Kita-san!” Ken gave a deft salute and puffed out his chest, which seemed to be allergic to weights. ”And don’t worry ‘bout the bill! I’m sure all of us here will chip in.” If everyone lent a helping hand, then the individual amount would greatly lessen. Ken also didn’t want the guy having to reduce himself to using the kitchen in the white-haired boy’s apartment if he was short on cash. Although the chances of that ever happening were slim, since Ryuuji’d rather live in the dark than ask Ken for help. Ken brought his voice to a whisper and leaned a bit closer, ”Don’t worry, I’ll cover for whatever people can’t pay. This is Aika-chan’s dream after all, I’d like to keep this ember aflame.” Ken spun around and offered to help with cooking. He wasn’t the a culinary mastermind, but he could perform rudimentary tasks. All the while, the boy was humming out the song playing in his head. ”Connecting, Connecting with your song...”

         maccotango xx
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NaMei x @LustyHearts

wwwww jk. I brought the plates and cups

maccotango xx
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NaMei x @LustyHearts

When you remember the party's BYOB at the last minute

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Oh so this was a thing. This was a thing that was happening and they would have to participate whether they liked it or not. Shinji in particular seemed to hate it. It didn't take an empath to see the fire surging in the black-haired man's eyes nor the loathing seething from his speech. Izanagi supposed that the right thing to do would have been to end the man's suffering by quickly introducing himself (and urging others to do the same), but he quite enjoyed the prospect of being in a room with Ken and a bunch of other interesting people that he didn't necessarily interact with on a daily basis.

"Alright calm down," the blue-haired boy raised his hands, "I'm not trying to kill you here."

Perhaps he ought to have listened to his cautious side and let the man go.

But it's more fun letting the drama unfold, his malicious side said.

He listened to Ken and Ryuuji speak, smiling at his best friend's attempts at being endearing as well as the confession of his otaku-ness. Finally he wouldn't be the only one who knew about the white-haired boy's obsession with vocaloids and anime. Of course, he might still be the only one who knew about the young man's body pillow. That was not the sort of knowledge people let see the light of day (unless they were anonymous). Even if it did, Ken had the tendency to bounce back from all sorts of odd situations. Unlike Izanagi, he was never made fun of for his quirks and he was sure that having the oddities that he did only made him more endearing to all the boys and girls of ETU.

Maybe if he'd had more charisma in real life he wouldn't need to seek it online.

But that's a dark thought I'll save for later.

"You guys might know some of me, Satonaka Izanagi and I'm a math major," he started, "I kind of know about Vocaloids too but I don't really know how to sing or anything. I'm friends with that idiot"-he pointed to Ken-"and yeah."

He hoped that Shinji wouldn't drag the other girl out, but their chances were looking slim.

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It wasn't the trampling that was funny so much as the figures involved. Izanagi recognized the Aika Mifune, AKA KoKo, AKA utaite extraordinaire. She was mugekano's darling and though neither party meant any ill will he would most definitely write a Chunmi about it. It was too irresistible of a situation not to. However, it was due to this mentality that many would call NaMei a gossip fiend and Internet troll. Despite sitting in the corner for most real life social situations his online media never stayed quiet for more than a few hours. If he didn't have videos he had photos or hints to upcoming content. If he didn't have either of those then he'd just troll harder. Today just happened to be one of those days where he could do all four seeing as he planned on uploading a video, posted a photo of his food, and was currently in the process of schadenfreude.

Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear he quickly typed a post before slipping his phone back in his pocket and leaving Red 88 with his groceries in hand. Well groceries would be the wrong word to use. He'd be lucky if he still had a box of food by the end of the night. He'd simply bought these to snack on during class as he knew that falling asleep was an imminent threat. Plus the chances of Ken waking him up were slim to none. The boy would just coast by.

"As usual," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" a greeter asked.

Izanagi shot her a sheepish smile before shaking his head and walking out of the store. He had no business thinking about the closet otaku. Ken wasn't a math major, he had no business competing with him.

The walk took perhaps fifteen minutes due to the influx of lunch-related outings but given how important finding a good seat in class was, Izanagi felt anxious when he finally arrived. Seriously, who puts a STEM class all the way on the eleventh floor? Those rooms were reserved for classes people didn't care about like Anthropology or cultural studies. He glided into the elevator, barely making it before one of the students pushed the "11" (while the other seemed annoyed that her constant pushing of the "door close" button didn't work).

The rest varied in age and perceived major from the stereotypical engineer to the hipster photographer to the quirky graduate student-turned-teaching-assistant to...was that the man in the store? His eyes moved toward the blonde boy with golden eyes, half with bemusement and half with amusement. Assuming that they would be in the same class things would get interesting.

         
＆O1. #55bbd0 ; dialogue
＆O2. #514c88 ; thoughts
＆O3 What did I write OTL

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How she and Shinji began to date was a mystery even to herself. Sure they had known each other throughout the years from when they first attended ETU, but most conversation derived only from necessity or award ceremonies. How he had taken an interest in her was a question she never quite had the gall to ask about.

It wasn’t as if being in a relationship with him was horrible though. In fact many girls would kill Natsuki to be in her spot, but something always seemed off; as though he knew she would say yes and their relationship would last for however long he wanted it to. She would be lying if she said it wasn't unsettling.

Those thoughts only plagued her mind when she had nothing better to do, but they were her own nonetheless.

Natsuki could only watch in strange fascination as Shinji removed Shou’s hands from hers all the while holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She didn’t stand up when her classmate left nor did she say good-bye but she did wave him off in a ‘I’ll-get-back-to-you-later’ manner. After all, a promise was a promise no matter how much she wanted to say no.

A few moments later Shinji sat in the seat across from her and presented the flowers with ease - the reasoning behind such an action was unknown but if she had to guess it would be a sorry of sorts. She wasn’t fluent in the language of flowers like so many people were, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless and made a mental note to look up their significance to see if she was correct.

"Natsuki-san, what did that person want from you?” she looked up from analyzing the flowers and watched as he took another sip of his coffee.

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “He wanted me to lead a study group on Wednesday, apparently chemistry is too hard for them.” Natsuki wasn’t arrogant enough to flaunt her intelligence, but she did find mild annoyance at people who couldn’t understand simple concepts. “Anyway, thank you for the flowers they’re lovely. I’ll be sure to take good care of them, boyfriend.” A smile graced her lips as she mimicked what he did only minutes before hand.

“Oh, and how was tennis training, I heard it was quite brutal,” she took a sip of her own latte and reminisced about the last time she watched him play. Although not knowing a lot about the sport she was in awe, and wondered if she could design a robot to mimic the swing rate and accuracy of a professional. Of course others have already designed such a thing, but she wondered if her version could surpass theirs.

The alarm on her phone went off and reminded her that there was only twenty minutes left until their next class period, and it was a subject they both shared and were equally good at - math “We should probably get something to eat, math is going to start soon.”

◆ ◆ ◆

They didn’t have to wait very long for Matsuya was known not only for it’s five for four gyudon deal, but their quick service, and so in a matter of minutes they were once again seated - indoors however.

Natuski didn’t waste a second and began to eat her food quickly, but not sloppily. Normally she would have consumed her meal like a normal person would, but their math professor (although incredibly sweet) was known for being more of a high school teacher than a professor in the aspect that he expected all of his students to be on time and prepared; where as most professors wouldn't bat an eyelash to someone coming in late.

“Sorry about the rush, next time let’s enjoy our meal, ne?”