Just Pentagon things

strangers~kino pt2 (day five)

Nothing is said while he leads me down the hallway. There's multiple doors left and right, each made with glass but discolored to where no one can peek a look inside. The doors are identical to each other, each printed with the name "CUBE" in the discoloration—making it the only part you can see through. Kino then stops at one door, and punches in a few numbers before holding the door open and gesturing for me to happily join him inside.

When I first walked in I noticed how many pretty paintings he had inside, and how the room was scented with a light vanilla. Every corner of the room was decorated. Either with paintings or with shelves of pictures. But the first thing you see when you walk in is his computer, with a keyboard next to it. Hovering over the computer was a microphone, pointing towards a chair with wheels.

Kino closes the door behind us, "so this is the place."

"You're an idol."

"Yep," he shrugs, carefully stepping to stand next to me. An idol, I was now standing in a studio, an idol's studio, with an idol, an idol.

Trying to act like this fact didn't have an effect on me, I shuffle towards the black couch across from his keyboard. "Were you working?"

"Yeah, but I'm always working. I promise you didn't interrupt me," Kino smiles, taking a seat in the wheeled chair in front of the computer. Earlier, when I first met him, I was unable to see his face—masks. But now I was able to see his supple cheeks, plump lips, and the mole that decorated him underneath his eye.

My face pulls into an unknown smile, "I don't suppose there's anyway I can help?"

Kino's eyes go wide before he turns to his computer, rapidly tapping away at the keys. Silently, I admire his many paintings surrounding us—the clicks of the keyboard the only sound in the room. There's a painting of a woman behind me, her long and slender body filling a black dress, Breakfast at Tiffany's it reads.

"Here," Kino says, still focusing on his computer as he pushes the microphone in my direction. My mouth opens to protest but he cuts me off, "you said you wanted to help. Sing for me."

"Kino I don't—"

Kino sucks air through his teeth and tilts his head in protest. His arms cross and a mischievous, pretty smile lines his lips. "Something tells me you do sing Coni."

I gulp, and feel the hard wad of spit struggle to make its way down my throat. "I did sing—"

"Good, you can do it again then," Kino pushes, grabbing the headset off his monitor and carefully placing them over my hair—curling wildly upon my head.

I take a deep breath, "what am I supposed to sing?"

Kino's face scrunches in puzzlement, "Hm. Just 'ooo' and 'ahh' to a tune in your head."

And then I sing.

I try to make the 'ooo' 's and 'ahhh' 's unrecognizable to any other song. My eyes softly flutter to a close, both because of habit and because I don't want to know what expression held Kino's pretty face as I sing. If it was shock, I would immediately stop singing and start laughing, and if it was anything else, I would stop singing, and start apologizing.

The notes feel like soft liquid as they leave my throat, a warm familiar feeling. Singing again like this, feels right—I feel whole again.

When I belted my last 'ahh', I leaned back from the microphone, hands gripping the ears of the headphones—and eyes still closed. A wash of fear almost knocked me over, almost knocked the hidden tears I had deep within the walls that shielded everyone out. Those walls had been up for everyone, and everything. So when a single tear drips down my brown skin, I try to quickly wipe it away.

Though Kino is much, much faster than I could ever dream to be. Suddenly there's a soft feeling on my cheek, stopping the path of the tear on my face—a pair of lips, I registered. When the soft feeling is gone I force myself to slowly open my eyes, and witness Kino looking at me with more love than I could ask for.

"That was so beautiful you even made yourself cry," Kino jokes, smiling widely at me. Unable to reply, or ask him what's on my mind, I shyly lift my hand to my cheek, to feel the warm spot making my heart quake.

Then Kino snatches my hand away, his eyes burning holes into mine as he pouts, "don't wipe my kiss away."

"I wasn't going to," I protest. When I realize how terribly I exposed myself, I slap my other hand over my mouth—eyes now growing wide. Kino, on the contrary, is more than pleased with what he made me admit, and releases his grip on my hand.

"You like me~~" he coos, softly pinching my cheek before turning to his computer.

"N-N-NO I DON'T!"

"YES YOU DO!!"

"DON'T"

"DO"

"DON'T!"

"DO!!"

After around three minutes of arguing, I let him win. Even if I had won, we'd both knew better than to believe that lie.

I went from having no one, to having a boyfriend, in two days.

Maybe this could work out...for the both of us.