Saera hesitated, glancing between him and the door. It was late, and she was alone - but also, the desire to understand him, to know why he'd done what he'd done, itched at her insistently. At second glance, she realized he was already tipsy. His usual stiff demeanor was gone, and so was the angry, cold energy that he carried. He was just a tall, lanky man now, his shirt opened to the middle of his chest and untucked, his hair ruffled.
"The wedding is tomorrow," Saera said, watching him take another swig.
"Obviously." Akira wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, dark bangs falling over his eyes.
"Why are you here?"
"I come here when I want some peace and quiet. There's never been anyone here before." The sound of cicadas buzzed faintly around them. Saera stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say, and Akira continued to drink as if she wasn't there.
Eventually, the terse silence became too much. "I'm going inside," Saera said, reaching for the door.
