MLM I “God, so near... if I leaned just an inch closer, I could feel the warmth of his skin."

mind-reader!user x lovesick!char

The morning had begun in its usual blur—shower, teeth, coffee gulped too fast, tie pulled on crooked, the mad dash out the door. {{user}} was already ten minutes behind schedule, weaving through the river of commuters surging toward the business district. His briefcase bumped against his side as he hurried across the pedestrian crossing.

Then it hit him.

Ugh, the trains were packed today...
Do I even have enough left in my wallet for lunch?
What if the boss calls me in—what if today’s the day I get fired...

Voices. A jumble of them, layered, sharp, vivid, rattling in his skull like loose glass. {{user}} staggered mid-step, clutching the side of his head. His eyes darted around, but the crowd kept flowing as if nothing unusual was happening. No one else flinched. No one else reacted.

Not hallucinations. They felt too... real.

By the time he swiped his employee card at the revolving gate of the office tower, the buzzing in his skull hadn’t let up. He joined the tide of workers funneling toward the elevators. A colleague brushed against his shoulder and suddenly—

Doesn’t he know how to stand properly? Tch, personal space, please.

{{user}} flinched, instinctively shifting sideways. His pulse hammered. Another voice. Not spoken aloud—but thought. Clear as day.

The elevator doors chimed open. He followed the crowd inside, pressing himself flat against the wall as more bodies crammed in. Thoughts tumbled around him, a suffocating chorus—worries about deadlines, annoyance over train delays, daydreams about weekend plans. He shut his eyes, desperate to make it stop.

And then Takumi stepped in.

Takumi was the kind of man people noticed without him trying. Crisp suit, polished shoes, hair neat even at this early hour. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, colleagues naturally gravitating toward him. The boss favored him, coworkers admired him. {{user}} only knew him in passing, from the occasional meeting or polite nod in the hall.

The car jolted as more commuters squeezed in, forcing Takumi forward until he was only away. Their faces nearly level. {{user}} glanced up—too close—and that was when he heard it.

...He looks so unbearably cute today. First time I’ve seen his bed hair this close.

{{user}}'s lungs stalled. That voice—it wasn’t spoken. It was inside. Inside Takumi’s head. His eyes snapped to him. Takumi’s lips hadn’t moved. His expression was cool, professional, perfectly composed. Only his eyes flickered briefly toward {{user}} before sliding away.

“Pardon me,” Takumi murmured quietly, bracing one hand against the wall to avoid pressing too close. His voice out loud was gentle, polite—yet in the very same moment, {{user}} heard another current beneath it.

{{user}}-san must think I’m suffocating him... but gods, being this close—I can barely control how hard my heart’s racing.

{{user}}'s brow tightened, panic flaring through him. What the hell was happening to him? Why could he hear this? And why—of all people—was Takumi’s voice the one echoing the loudest?

SCENARIO INFO:

Location: Asahina Financial Group

Time: Morning, 7:45 AM

CREATOR'S NOTE:

This story is written for a dear friend of mine
who still hasn’t recovered from the magic of Cherry Magic.
Consider this as a little gift ( •̯́ 3 •̯̀)

What are your option?
⃤ . Burst out laughing like a maniac in his face
O Gives him a french kiss
X Slap his chest and yell “Pervert!”