Makoto chuckled and smiled, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous gleam. "Well, I thought you'd never ask."
FLASHBACK...
The room was small, the lights overhead slightly too bright, casting a sterile glow over the table where Ayaka sat, her hands trembling slightly as she flipped through the pages of her book.
Her heart raced with nervousness.
This was her first official book signing event, but the turnout was far from what she had hoped.
Only four people had shown up, and most of them seemed more interested in checking their phones than engaging with her.
"Smile more! You're too stiff!" Daiki called from across the room, giving her an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up as if he was conducting a grand performance.
Ayaka plastered a tight, awkward smile on her face, but the nervousness was still apparent in her stiff shoulders and the way her hands fidgeted with the pen.
"Mr. Takahashi, I don't think this is a good idea… Look, only four people came..." she whispered, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment that she couldn't hide.
Daiki was not phased, the enthusiasm practically oozing from him.
"Just trust the process! This book signing event will help people get to know you! Be fun!" He gestured grandly, almost like he was directing a movie.
Ayaka felt a knot twist in her stomach. She appreciated Daiki's optimism, but it was hard to ignore the growing sense of discomfort in the air.
The small crowd barely seemed to notice her, and the thought of standing there all day, feeling like an outcast, made her want to hide.
Outside, a group of friends walked by, the cool evening air carrying their voices into the bookstore.
They were laughing, talking loudly, and clearly not interested in anything happening inside.
"Look, is that a book signing event?" one of Makoto's friends asked, pointing to the window.
"Why aren't there too many people?" another one asked, peering through the glass.
Their voices grew louder, distracting Ayaka from her own thoughts.
"Forget about that! Just check the author out! She's so pretty!" a third voice chimed in, and Ayaka could almost feel the weight of their stares through the glass. She felt herself flush, but tried to ignore it.
Makoto, who had been silent up until then, rolled his eyes and groaned. "You guys look like creeps. Let's just go."
He turned to walk away, but one of his more persistent friends wasn't having it.
"Oh no you don't! You've rejected a lot of girls already today! This time, I think she's your type!" he said, grabbing Makoto's sleeve and yanking him toward the door.
Makoto tried to resist, pulling his arm back in frustration. "Hey, let me go!"
But it was no use.
The group was determined.
The pressure from his friends made him stumble inside the bookstore, causing a small ruckus as they made their entrance.
"Welcome!" Daiki greeted them enthusiastically, clearly oblivious to the fact that they were disrupting the already quiet space.
He turned back to Ayaka, a proud smile on his face. "See? I told you more people would come!"
Ayaka forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the headache that had been forming all afternoon.
'I don't think these guys even know me...' she thought to herself, trying to suppress her embarrassment.
Makoto's friends, still whispering to each other, looked around awkwardly.
"Crap... who is this writer?" one of them murmured under his breath.
"Let's go now." another muttered, clearly wanting to leave.
"This is all your fault! You just wanted to check her out!" a third complained in a hushed voice.
Makoto, however, wasn't paying attention to them anymore.
He had already spotted Ayaka, sitting alone at the table with her book, and felt an odd pull in his chest.
There was something about the way she looked, something that made him feel strangely compelled to approach her.
He shook off his friends' teasing and walked past them toward her.
Her eyes widened as their gazes met, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away.
The noise of the bookstore, the awkwardness of the situation—it all disappeared. It was just the two of them.
Makoto grinned, his lips curving upward in a mischievous yet warm smile. "Will you sign this for me?" he asked, holding out a freshly bought copy of 'Garden of Lies'.
Ayaka's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected anyone to actually approach her like this.
She nervously fumbled for the pen, her face turning slightly pink as she tried to hide her surprise.
"O-oh, okay! I hope you'll love the book!" she stammered, her hands trembling as she signed it with a small note. "Thank you for the support! :)"
Makoto's smile softened as he read the note. "Thank you. I'll treasure this." he said with sincerity, his gaze never leaving her face. "I'll look forward to seeing your next work."
Ayaka felt her heart flutter in a way that she couldn't quite explain.
There was something about his words, the warmth in his voice, that made her feel seen, as if she mattered in that moment.
"A-and I'll look forward to seeing you in my book events!" she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.
The smile she gave him then was genuine, the first real smile she had allowed herself all day.
And when their eyes locked, something shifted between them, a quiet understanding, a silent bond forged in that brief exchange.
As Makoto left the bookstore, clutching the signed book in his hands, he couldn't help but keep glancing at the words written inside.
"Ms. Midnight…" he whispered under his breath, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. There was something about her that intrigued him, something he couldn't shake.
-----
Later that night, as the soft hum of his computer filled the quiet room, Makoto sat at his desk, the cool blue glow from the screen casting long shadows across the walls.
The world outside was still, the only sound the occasional rustle of papers or the soft tap of keys.
Yet in his mind, it was anything but quiet.
The encounter with Ayaka kept replaying, like a song stuck on repeat, each note bringing him back to that moment in the bookstore.
Her shy smile—the way she had seemed so unsure at first, fumbling with the pen and trying to steady her trembling hands—was imprinted in his memory.
The vulnerability in her eyes, how it shifted when their gazes locked, a fleeting spark of connection.
The way she had carried herself, her quiet grace amidst the awkwardness, had struck a chord deep inside him.
She had been so real, so human, and it pulled at him in a way that felt strangely familiar.
As he stared at the blank screen before him, he couldn't help but feel a quiet tug in his chest.
It wasn't just the story he had been planning to write—"His Melody"—it was her.
Ayaka had become the melody in his mind, a song without lyrics, a rhythm he couldn't quite place but was undeniably drawn to.
He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair, his mind racing with thoughts of her.
The way she had looked up at him, wide-eyed and startled, as though she hadn't expected someone to actually approach her like that.
There had been something almost fragile in her, but it wasn't a weakness.
It was strength—quiet, unspoken, and yet so profound.
It was as though she had been waiting for someone to see her in a way no one else had, and in that moment, he had felt that pull, the quiet connection that words couldn't quite capture.
Makoto leaned forward, his fingers hovering above the keys, unsure whether to dive into the story he had intended to write or if the story was already starting to write itself.
'His Melody' wasn't just a title anymore—it was a feeling, an echo of something that had been left unsaid, a tune waiting to be discovered.
With a deep breath, he began typing.
The words flowed freely at first, like a river breaking free from its banks, but soon, his thoughts grew tangled, as they always did when something—someone—was on his mind.
He paused, running his hands through his hair again, trying to organize his thoughts.
It wasn't just about writing a story; it was about capturing that feeling, the one he had felt when he looked at Ayaka.
The hesitance, the warmth, the unspoken connection.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the window, though he wasn't really looking at the night sky outside.
His mind kept drifting back to her.
How had he never noticed someone like her before? There was something about her softness, her quiet strength, that intrigued him.
He hadn't been able to shake it since the moment he'd seen her in the bookstore, and it only seemed to grow stronger the more he thought about it.
As he continued typing, he allowed himself to sink into the flow, letting the words come freely.
His fingers moved across the keyboard with purpose now, each sentence building the framework of a story that felt more real, more raw, than anything he had ever written before.
By the time the first paragraph was complete, Makoto sat back, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He was no longer writing a story about an idealized love or an imagined world.
He was writing about her—the girl whose smile had haunted his thoughts and whose presence had stirred something deep inside him.
He wasn't sure where it would lead, but for the first time, he was excited to see where the story went.
He whispered to himself softly, almost to reassure himself, "I think I found my muse."
And with that, he leaned forward again, his fingers moving swiftly over the keys, letting Ayaka fill the pages with each word.