[If Kaede notices anything amiss in those last few seconds, it doesn't show. His gaze slides back to the windows, watching the familiar scenery emerge from blurs into clarity as the train slows down. He is listening, though - and he spares a glance back and another quirk of that half-smile before he says something vague about his stop and goes.
He goes home, shrugs his jacket off onto a chair, and finds something else to do with his time. He doesn't go to class on Thursday, either.]
[It's a few weeks later when he's made it to the point that he might actually get to class. His routine has changed very little - he's still on the train with regularity, but for a time between that Wednesday and this one, he's gotten on the rush hour train from each stop around the one closest to the university campus, and never that one specifically. Today though, it's near the university where he gets on, like before.
But the proof of his crime boards with him; a serious young man who argues with (or rather, at) him for three whole stops about how Kaede would be better off sleeping through class than not attending it at all. Kaede says very little, and alternates between looking at his friend glumly and staring out the window, ostensibly not really listening - but it's during these moments that his few contributions to this non-argument slip in, an "I know" here, a "Next time, I promise" there. At three stops the other young man hastily moves with the crowd to get off the train, saying something over the noise about emailing before the doors shut him out.
Kaede sighs and turns his back on the door, leaning his shoulders against it and staring out the car's opposite windows instead. He'd rather not email, all things considered, although after a moment he takes his phone out and eyes it warily. If an email pops up in the next minute, he swears, he will leave his phone on the train...
But apparently not. For the next week, at least, his refusal to make something of himself can go undisturbed.
He puts the phone back in a different pocket and feels the thick paper of a business card bend and crease against his knuckles. It's still there--he pauses but doesn't take it out, as there are only so many (just one) business cards he's kept in his pocket.
And like so many insignificant things aligning solely for the sake of some other, unknown thing happening, Kaede abruptly finds himself blinking at the side of Yoshida Takuya's head some five seats down just seconds after wondering idly if the man were on this train again. It's a coincidence, he thinks, and then, At least he's sitting this time. He won't lose any of his things that way.]
Wallet-san, [and now abruptly he's standing just in front of him, not having thought about going over but doing it anyway, and not having thought about how calling a near stranger wallet-san weeks after speaking to him once makes him look but doing it anyway. He's half-bent to the side, pretending to look under the seat.] You didn't lose anything, did you?
[There's no reason to talk to this man other than Kaede is in a bad mood now, and chattering nothing at a stranger might scratch the surface of it if not actually help. He needs a good reason to ignore his email for the rest of this ride, and here it is.
He straightens back up a second later and half-steps forward to bump his leg against the next empty seat but doesn't sit down; he's touching it, it's claimed, but he's still going to stand.
As an afterthought,] Sorry, you probably don't remember me. I found your wallet that time?
no subject
He goes home, shrugs his jacket off onto a chair, and finds something else to do with his time. He doesn't go to class on Thursday, either.]
[It's a few weeks later when he's made it to the point that he might actually get to class. His routine has changed very little - he's still on the train with regularity, but for a time between that Wednesday and this one, he's gotten on the rush hour train from each stop around the one closest to the university campus, and never that one specifically. Today though, it's near the university where he gets on, like before.
But the proof of his crime boards with him; a serious young man who argues with (or rather, at) him for three whole stops about how Kaede would be better off sleeping through class than not attending it at all. Kaede says very little, and alternates between looking at his friend glumly and staring out the window, ostensibly not really listening - but it's during these moments that his few contributions to this non-argument slip in, an "I know" here, a "Next time, I promise" there. At three stops the other young man hastily moves with the crowd to get off the train, saying something over the noise about emailing before the doors shut him out.
Kaede sighs and turns his back on the door, leaning his shoulders against it and staring out the car's opposite windows instead. He'd rather not email, all things considered, although after a moment he takes his phone out and eyes it warily. If an email pops up in the next minute, he swears, he will leave his phone on the train...
But apparently not. For the next week, at least, his refusal to make something of himself can go undisturbed.
He puts the phone back in a different pocket and feels the thick paper of a business card bend and crease against his knuckles. It's still there--he pauses but doesn't take it out, as there are only so many (just one) business cards he's kept in his pocket.
And like so many insignificant things aligning solely for the sake of some other, unknown thing happening, Kaede abruptly finds himself blinking at the side of Yoshida Takuya's head some five seats down just seconds after wondering idly if the man were on this train again. It's a coincidence, he thinks, and then, At least he's sitting this time. He won't lose any of his things that way.]
Wallet-san, [and now abruptly he's standing just in front of him, not having thought about going over but doing it anyway, and not having thought about how calling a near stranger wallet-san weeks after speaking to him once makes him look but doing it anyway. He's half-bent to the side, pretending to look under the seat.] You didn't lose anything, did you?
[There's no reason to talk to this man other than Kaede is in a bad mood now, and chattering nothing at a stranger might scratch the surface of it if not actually help. He needs a good reason to ignore his email for the rest of this ride, and here it is.
He straightens back up a second later and half-steps forward to bump his leg against the next empty seat but doesn't sit down; he's touching it, it's claimed, but he's still going to stand.
As an afterthought,] Sorry, you probably don't remember me. I found your wallet that time?