The key turned with a mechanical click. You shouldered your messenger bag off before the door even finished swinging open.
Your apartment was modest… it was small enough to be considered a studio, technically, but with enough dividing lines to pretend otherwise. The entryway gave way to a kitchen nook, a compact fridge humming next to a two-burner stove. Opposite it, a raised futon platform beside a low kotatsu table where your laptop still glowed softly, asleep from earlier that morning.
You always left it on. Just in case inspiration struck mid-bite.
A few anime posters lined the far wall. They were stylized, not gaudy. One had begun to peel from the corner, but you hadn't fixed it. You sort of liked it that way. Made the place feel more lived in, like time had texture here.
You kicked off your shoes. Grabbed a chilled drink from the fridge.
And right as you popped the seal…
knock knock knock.
You blinked.
Then sighed.
Already knew who it was.
You opened the door.
"Good afternoon, Dorian-san," said the girl with flaxen hair and the world's gentlest voice.
She bowed slightly.
"I brought cleaning wipes and another copy of My Friend is the Messiah! in case yours was damaged."
You gave her a small look.
"It wasn't."
She nodded, undeterred.
"Then perhaps you could… skim it this time?"
She glanced at one of the pages in your copy quizzically.
"The margins are annotated for Western readers?"
"I grew up in the United States of America, Asia. I am a Western reader."
"Oh. R-right."
You let the silence hang long enough for her to shift awkwardly. Then moved aside to let her in.
"Shoes off, as usual."
"Of course," she said, already stepping neatly out of them.