▸ ‘ & Stranger ;

      He meant no offense by it ─ really, he didn’t ─ but Miyagi hadn’t stopped staring at the other male for quite some time now. He observed him with a heavy, slanted gaze and a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips; a single lithe digit tapping with rhythm against his coffee mug as he waited, impatiently, for the man’s identification to pop into his mind. He just knew he recognized him… Perhaps not though, and all he had accomplished during the last five minutes was make himself appear uncivil.

      “You’re not Akihikio Usami,” He muttered to himself, the fag between his lips bouncing with each enunciated syllable. The infamous boys’ love author and the stranger ahead had similar builds, but aside from their broad frames, there wasn’t much else alike between the pair.

      Admittedly, he’d become mildly agitated… Distress rattling his brain and creating even more of a detached vibe, as it was a common misfortune for the man of thirty-five years.

          Slender fingers brushed against the worn out pages of the book as Takano skimmed through the novel with light enthusiasm. Usami-Sensei finally update his magazine series, and the editor was lucky enough to receive a copy from Yokozawa. Though the stories were still as strange as he remembered, Takano found himself indulging in the intricate novel; however, in the midst of him enjoying his story, the editor felt a pair of eyes on him. Deciding to brush it off, he continued to read on–hoping it was just a passing feeling. After a few minutes, he heard someone spoke; their words clear enough for Takano to hear. Looking up from his book, the man tilted his head–eyeing out the stranger cautiously.

                                                    “Ha?”

                   A puzzled expression placed itself on Takano’s face as the man locked eyes with the other before him. Never in his life had anyone marked him as someone who would look like the famous BL novelist. Though he didn’t know if it was a compliment or not, Takano brushed off the stranger’s words as he went back to his book; his eyes trailing back to the other,

                             “I’m sorry, but I’m not. I do admire his
                             work though; however, I don’t sport his
                              gray hair, nor do I even look remotely
                                                 close to him.”