POV: Ren (with Ayaka's introspective thoughts)
Snowflakes drifted languidly, layering the city streets in a silent silence as the morning light filtered dimly through a gray sky. Slowly, Ren's dry, gritted eyes opened. His fingers ached from the cold, even though they were tightly wrapped in his sleeves, but his breath curled in the cold air like smoke. Nevertheless, he felt warm. not tangible. Sentimental.
He cast his gaze downward. The now-empty ramen container lay softly on his lap, as though he had held onto it while he slept. Along its edges, a thin layer of frost had begun to form, but it made no difference. Not to him.
since he had been spotted.
Not only did they see him, they also acknowledged him. decided to give up. Decided to share.
The image of her face in the dim streetlight kept coming back to him. Her sophisticated coat stood out sharply against the snowy surroundings. Her cheeks were softly framed by her dark hair. Those eyes, inquisitive and unreadable. As she held the food out to him, her features were illuminated by a delicate blush.
Why? He continued to wonder. Why had she done?
Ren had once performed for small audiences in underground cafés; it seemed like that was years ago. Women closed their eyes to listen as his voice reverberated off painted brick walls. He wasn't a ghost to the world all the time. However, dreams were brittle, like lanterns made of paper in a storm.
A bad deal. A boss who embezzled everything. A voice that used to fill rooms with cheers died down. Homelessness didn't happen overnight. It happened gradually, as if you were being removed from your own narrative.
However, last night was a punctuation mark. A breath in the midst of drowning.
He put his hand to his chest. The feeling of fullness persisted. Not with food. With something else.
Hope?
Ayaka stood at her office's glass wall across town. Beyond it, she could see a blur of the city, with cars weaving through the snow and voices rising and falling. Looking back at her, her reflection was composed, well-groomed, and professional.
But her mind was a million miles away.
"That man," she muttered to herself.
"Which one?" She was startled by Haruto's voice.
She made a slight turn. "What?"
"You made a statement." He smirked after squinting. "Considering a MAN?"
After rolling her eyes, she returned to her desk. "Avoid being absurd."
However, she was. utterly, absurdly, irrefutably engrossed in a single interaction with an absolute stranger.
She didn't intend to halt. I didn't intend to gaze. However, there was something about his quiet sitting in the snow that drew her in.
Not sympathy alone.
Something else was involved.
A magnetic substance.
Was that his face? Perhaps. It was the contrast, though, more than that. He hoped despite the way his eyes viewed the world as though it owed him nothing. Even in poverty, he was proud of the way his back stayed straight while his fingers trembled around the food she gave him.
How would he sound? She pondered once more.
She pictured it being deep, rough around the edges, and having that heart-fluttering, inherently baritone resonance. Perhaps it was just fantasy. However, her heart was not paying attention to logic.
Later that night, Ayaka sat in her car with her hands clasped around a lukewarm coffee cup. Haruto had returned to the studio. She had made up an excuse about having to take a breath.
Really, though, all she wanted to do was go by that convenience store once more.
Silently, she reprimanded herself. What are you doing? This is crazy. Even his name is unknown to you.
Nevertheless, she requested that the driver pull over a block before the store. She desired to go for a walk. Did you want to appear... informal?
Absurd.
Her boots crunched on the snow. In the chaos, the streetlights resembled halos. The warm lights of the store shone ahead.
Then—
A noise.
Gentle. Lost in the wind, almost. But different.
A hum.
'Under falling stars that have forgotten how to mend, I sleep in silence where the night never ends.'
Ayaka paused.
Someone was singing behind the store, close to the alley where the dumpsters were and shadows huddled.
At first, she remained motionless. Simply listen.
Yes, the voice was rough. but profound. resonant. Filled with unadulterated passion. Perhaps untrained. but strong in its own right. Soft but sure, like wind against glass.
Before she saw him, she moved slowly, her boots sinking in the snow. The same individual. He closed his eyes, hummed a song to himself, and leaned slightly against the wall with his knees drawn to his chest. A strange but eerie melody.
She remained silent.
Didn't interfere.
Simply stood there and allowed it to sink in.
'In silence I sleep where the night doesn't end,
Beneath falling stars that forgot how to mend.
A whisper of warmth in a world so cold,
A voice they ignored, a story untold.
I dream with my eyes open, chasing a flame,
For someone to see me, not run from my name.'
That voice...
Slowly, Ren opened his eyes. That tingle of being watched came back to him. He turned to face the light.
And caught sight of her.
She.
The previous evening's woman.
Their gazes met.
He didn't turn away this time.
He didn't have to.