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You tuck Karma's arm closer to you, hoping to steal some of that everlasting warmth of his.
"Grab me any tighter and you'll cut off my blood circulation," Karma comments, voice amused and a little uninterested as he watches you shiver in the fresh winter cold. You can't help but smile prettily at him when he, as quickly and silently as the grave, tugs your hood forward so it covers your ears and neck more.
"You're cute," you murmur, burying your face in the soft material of his thick, brown coat.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," he replies undiplomatically. You peek open an eye to gaze at your beautiful boyfriend and admire him in the winter sun. Speckles of snow have gotten caught in blinding red hair, creating iridescent sparkles when it hits the sun. Karma's eyes are trained ahead like they always are, firm and decisive, and flicker with uncertainty before they go wide as– wait what?
You jumble out of your thoughts for a second, detaching yourself from a stiff Karma to see what had shocked the immovable rock that is your boyfriend.
By the doorstep of his apartment stood a woman.
An older woman, you observe on closer inspection. Her auburn hair, tied delicately to the back of her head, was rich and full, complimenting her long, elegant pine green coat with golden buttons on the cuffs and satin black gloves underneath. However, despite smooth and rather tanned skin, the wisened experience in her eyes revealed her older age– possibly 40? 45?
She notices us second.
A pained sort of look invades those overly familiar golden eyes, and her back straightens, mouth wobbling into something less professional and less uptight.
"What are you doing here?" Karma asks in that abrupt, harsh way of his he uses on people he sees as inferior.
My arms tighten around his arm, but you can't bring yourself to berate for him the way he talked to the woman he knew in some way. Her expression doesn't change, but her eyebrows plunge slightly in a way that looked pained. Her eyes travel to you: and something softens, and you try to give her a smile.
"I suppose I'm here to see my son," she responds, voice a soft, tentative whisper: not at all like the commanding, elegant tone you'd imagined.
Oh. Oh.
"You've missed him," Karma replies blandly. "you're a couple of years late, actually. Your company is in the centre of Tokyo. Need me to call you a taxi?"
The only thing you knew about Karma's parents is that they were workaholics– and rich because of it. It was a passing comment, probably not meant as a confession, but from that and Karma's independence but loneliness you concluded that they were never there for him. He'd probably spend his childhood alone, drowning in a big, empty, echoing house.
"I quit my job," she counters softly.
"Ah– personal development after 18 years," Karma's voice is sarcastic, and his face hardens. "should I congratulate you?"
"Of course not," she breathes out, a challenge to her voice. "but I was hoping to–"
"I'm afraid we have to leave now," he cuts her off, and you feel yourself being pulled closer to your boyfriend. "(y/n) and I have exams in a few weeks, and we have enough on our minds." and just like that, he marches past her, with you hanging onto him like a ragdoll, your arm in his vice grip–
You twist and dip low, as Karma taught you when an attacker hangs onto you without letting go. You come face to face with her, those same eyes surprised by your sudden assertiveness.
"Excuse me, would you like some tea?" you ask, a little breathlessly.
"Don't invite her in, I'm not gonna talk to her–" he hisses in your ear, but you don't look at him.
"I live here too," you reply with a tight smile. "and I'm inviting her so I can talk to her," your face softens and you manage a real smile at her this time. "or do you prefer coffee, ma'am?"
"Oh, tea is fine, thank you," she nods, and she finally smiles, gratefulness on her face.
Karma huffs, not saying a word while unlocking the door, but he doesn't protest.