I pushed my way farther from the bustling crowd, weaving through strangers in search of a familiar silhouette—the man from earlier. My eyes scanned the thinning crowd, but uncertainty began to cloud my thoughts. What if I can't even find him? A sigh slipped from my lips as I slowed my steps, already preparing to give up and turn back.
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something—a black hoodie with a printed design on the back, just like the one he wore. The figure was crouched low to the ground, seemingly preoccupied with something I couldn't make out. My heartbeat quickened.
Could it really be him?
I approached cautiously, holding the forgotten phone tightly in one hand. With my free hand, I gently tapped his shoulder.
"E-Excuse me... sir?"
He flinched as if struck, stumbling back with a startled movement before catching himself and quickly rising to his feet. Our eyes met again—and in that instant, I knew. It was him. The same person who had left their phone back at the café.
For a moment, everything fell into silence. The street noise dulled, the people around us blurred into the background. Then, his gaze hardened. His eyes narrowed, sharp with suspicion and something that felt dangerously close to anger.
Even with the mask on, his expression is so easy to read, I thought, unease creeping in like a slow fog.
He drew in a shallow breath, his voice suddenly bursting forth in a tone edged with alarm.
"...WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
I froze, caught completely off guard. That was not the reaction I expected. I stood there, dumbfounded, staring at him like he was some kind of... lunatic.
"Uhm..." I attempted to clear my throat and speak, but before I could finish even a single sentence, he cut me off again, louder this time.
"Why did you follow me?! PISS OFF!"
His voice echoed down the narrow street like a gunshot, drawing the attention of a few passersby who turned to look.
Startled, I watched him hurriedly adjust his cap, which had been knocked askew in his earlier stumble. Just before he pulled it down over his face again, I caught a fleeting glimpse of his hair—silver, almost metallic—shimmering briefly in the fading evening sunlight.
I couldn't bring myself to say anything. My voice caught in my throat. It was such a ridiculous misunderstanding, and yet here I was, standing there like a statue, completely thrown off balance by his outburst.
The man staggered back a step, his body language awkward and defensive. He turned and began walking briskly in the opposite direction, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure I wasn't following.
And just before he disappeared from view, the only words I managed to whisper—barely audible, even to myself—were:
"Uhm... your phone."
My hand slowly fell back to my side as I stood there, more confused than I'd ever felt before. I glanced down at the phone still clutched in my grasp and let out a sigh. A part of me desperately wanted to chase after that man—to explain, to clear up the ridiculous misunderstanding. But the other part, the more cautious part, hesitated. What if I just made things worse? What if he misunderstood again?
I turned my head to look down the direction he had stormed off.
He's gone, I thought bitterly, the street already empty of his presence.
The café had already been closed for the day, and even if I went back, it wasn't likely that many customers would show up this late in the evening. There was no real point in lingering. With another sigh, I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.
After a few moments of pacing and indecision, I made up my mind. I'd take the phone home with me. It was the best option, really. Sooner or later, he'd realize it was missing and—hopefully—come looking for it. Maybe then, we could have a conversation that didn't involve yelling or being told to "piss off."
Waiting at the bus stop felt like it took an eternity. The breeze had grown colder, and the silence around me only amplified the awkward events of the evening replaying in my head. An older woman came to sit beside me, her presence oddly comforting. When I glanced over, she offered me a gentle smile—one of those warm, maternal kinds of smiles you don't see often anymore. I returned it, though mine was more out of courtesy than genuine ease.
A few minutes later, the bus finally arrived. I stood up and stepped on board. As I turned to look behind me, I noticed the woman being held back by the bus driver. His tone was harsh, and while I couldn't hear their words, I could see the tension rising. My eyes widened when I saw her lips peel back—revealing sharp, canine-like fangs.
Beast-men, I realized with a jolt. The discrimination wasn't even subtle anymore. My expression soured, helplessness tightening in my chest. There was nothing I could do, and that fact alone made me clench my fists.
Tch.
For the entire bus ride, I kept my eyes closed, trying to center myself. I didn't want my mood to worsen. I slipped on my headphones and let some music drown out the world. Leaning against the cold window, I watched the city roll past, blurring into streaks of artificial light and shadows.
Eventually, I reached my stop—an uninspired, concrete apartment complex that looked as dull as I felt. I trudged up the stairs, unlocked my door, and stepped inside. Shoes off. Coat hung. The usual routine.
After a long, hot shower that left the mirrors foggy and the tension in my shoulders slightly eased, I collapsed onto the couch and unlocked my phone. As usual, Olivia had posted another update to her Nytube story. This time, she was out to dinner with her new boyfriend, laughing over sushi and wine in some stylish bistro downtown.
"Lucky bastard," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I gave the post a half-hearted like.
I scrolled aimlessly through the rest of my social feed, watching other people's lives flicker past on the glowing screen. But then, from the corner of my eye, a different light caught my attention.
The man's phone had lit up on the coffee table.
Curious, I leaned forward and picked it up. A new message had popped up on the lock screen:
—Hey, just wondering if you wanna go drink with the boys? It's Friday and we're hosting a meet-up at the beef spot behind Jules' flower shop.
My stomach sank slightly. My eyes narrowed as I read it again.
Jules' flower shop...?