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Sleep eluded you, as it often did when you were overwhelmed with university work, tossing and turning for hours on end as your mind swirled with all of the assignments you were too worn out to finish. It was nearing twelve o’clock and you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a pencil or read any more academic journals.
Finally deciding to just get up and move around, you ventured down the hallway and out into the kitchen. A cup of tea could do some good, you thought.
With the tea kettle on the stove, you hopped up onto your counter, mind reeling with other ways you could get yourself to fall asleep. You could go for a walk, watch tv, or listen to music. Maybe going for a drive could help alleviate the stress crowding your brain.
As the kettle began to hiss, your mind was made up. A drive around Morioh sounded perfect, but one question remained. Should you go on your own?
Without a second thought, you pulled your phone from the wall, eagerly dialing the number of the only person you thought would be awake at this hour.
Rohan Kishibe.
It took a few moments for him to answer, casting doubt on the possibility of your plan coming to fruition.
“What do you want?” His voice was sharp and biting, clearly not thrilled about being pulled from whatever he was doing.
“Hello to you too, Rohan. Do you want to come for a drive with me? I can’t sleep.”
Rohan’s response was immediate, sparing you no kind words or easy let-downs, “No.”
“Come on, please. I’ll pick you up! You don’t even have to do anything!” You knew you were beginning to grovel, trying to sway him to indulge your midnight whims, but you didn’t care.
“I’m not getting caught dead in that tin can you call a car.”
“Some of us have student loans to pay off, you know. Plus, who would see you anyway?”
You could hear him scoff through the phone, a short judgmental sound followed by a few long moments of silence. As soon as you thought he had hung up on you, he spoke, “I’ll pick you up in five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m going home.”
A click sounded before you could get a word in. He was such a pain in the ass.
Rohan wasn’t easy to like, or easy to get along with, and he knew that, but you searched for his company often, asking him to coffee or lunch or stopping by to give him a new book he could use for research. At first, he would roll his eyes and scoff at your presence, annoyed at the prospect of someone so wholeheartedly thrusting themselves into his quiet little life. However, as time went on, he began to crave conversations with you, though he would never admit it.
So when you called, practically begging him to go for a drive, he couldn’t really say no, despite the apathetic lilt to his voice. Reluctantly, he pushed away from his desk, gathered his keys, and headed out. He would indulge you, if only just this once.
With your teacup long since forgotten, you raced around your home, throwing a comfy sweatshirt over your head and slipping into your shoes. Casting one final glance at yourself in the mirror, you lept out the front door, seconds after Rohan pulled up.
Plopping yourself into his passenger seat, you let out an excited greeting.
“You’re far too energetic for this time of night.” He replied, hand reaching across the gap to land on the back of your chair as he backed out of your driveway.
“What?” You whined, pouting at his tone. “Car rides are fun!”
“You sound like a dog.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
The car fell silent as he began to drive, taking random turns and heading in whatever direction he pleased.
You brought a hand up to the radio, fiddling with the dials and buttons until you landed on your favorite station. You lowered the volume, sending the music into the background, rather than allowing it to ruin the calm energy in the car.
Rohan glanced over at you every so often, admiring the ways that the street lights mixed as they sped by, molding together to cast interesting shadows along your face.
The whole experience felt almost surreal in a sense, traveling through liminal spaces as some silly pop song played softly through the speakers. Just the two of you, the street lights, and the rumble of the car.
After another turn, you began to ask Rohan more about his life. What motivated him, what he was currently working on, when he was traveling again. Every question on your mind seemed to pass your lips, eager to become closer to the man that tried so hard to keep you at arm’s length.
He humored you, of course, but not without little complaints and jests, “You working for a gossip magazine or something?”
“No, I just want to get to know you. That’s all.”
Your response made something tighten in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown genuine, unmotivated interests in his thoughts and feelings. He was so used to the same questions, people entertaining his presence in order to weasel their way in, hoping to get some money or fame through his friendship.
You were different, a welcomed change.
When you exhausted your questions, he picked his own. How were your studies going, did you have anything lined up for once you graduated, what had you so worked up you couldn’t sleep. If you were going to know more about him, then he would like to return the favor.
Growing tired of taking the same turns, Rohan directed your little mission to a scenic overlook, angling the car so you could both stare out at the ocean.
It was peaceful, sitting under the light of the moon with you, watching as it bounced off the waves below, creating swirling patterns of dark sea and pale moonlight.
The orange glow of the streetlight on his side of the car casted a shadow along the side of his face, illuminating his high cheekbones and green eyes. Your eyes traveled down his neck, absorbing the way that same shadow warped against his neck and collar bones. In your eyes, he was rendered ethereal in this light, an untouchable being with an indescribable beauty.
“I didn’t know you had a staring problem.”
He could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head and it was starting to bother him. You can’t just stare at people, refusing to utter even a word. It was annoying.
Still so hypnotized by the light playing against his face, you responded without a second thought, “Rohan, you’re beautiful.”
Your words left you both speechless, rendered even more silent following your confession. You were embarrassed beyond words and Rohan was in absolute disbelief.
“What?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Just the,” you floundered, hands rising in falling in a desperate attempt to collect your thoughts, to form some sort of explanation, “the light.”
You cleared your throat, “The light behind you… it’s casting a pretty shadow. That’s all.”
Through your pathetic attempt at deflecting his question, he examined you, turning in his seat to really take you in. The same light casting shadows on him created a perfect beam on your own face, your soft skin and kind eyes on full display. He laughed, the whole situation both ridiculous and welcome at the same time. A mix of literal and subjective interpretations of the phrase “seeing someone in a new light.”
He scoffed, a smirk lighting his face as he pulled you closer, closing the distance created by the center console, “You talk too much.”
With that, he planted his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Your hands came up to trace along his cheekbones while his hand remained on the back of your head.
Rohan wasn’t one to wax poetic about just anyone, that much you knew. So as he pulled away, still holding your head as he began to describe how you looked under the light streaming in from outside, you felt your face warm. The slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate dip of your cupid’s bow, all made beautiful under Rohan’s diligent stare.
When he was finished, he readjusted his position to sit facing forward again with his hands resting on the steering wheel, “You’re alright, I guess.”
That’s the Rohan you knew and loved.
The two of you remained at the overlook for another hour, chatting and listening to music, but as he watched your blinking begin to slow, your eyes begin to grow heavy, Rohan elected to take you home.
As he drove along side streets, passing neighborhoods and businesses, he stretched a hand over to land against your thigh, gently squeezing it every so often.
Maybe he could afford to put this side of himself on display more often, if only for you.