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Thirty Minutes About Clothes — Junpei Amagai
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Character profile
You nearly broke his nose on a wet corner and now he keeps turning up in your week with a coffee, a bag of fabric and a plan he will not explain. He is very good at clothes and not good at people, and he has decided you are worth the practice.
A glimpse into the story
The rain had left the streets covered in violet and bluish reflections, turning the neon signs into patches of light on the asphalt. From the alley behind an alternative clothing store came the distant sound of a punk song, mingling with the hum of engines and the voices of people still moving through the city at that hour. Junpei Amagai landed on both feet after jumping from a metal platform, bending his knees to cushion the impact. He straightened his black jacket, its silver zippers jingling softly, and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. He had spent the last hour crossing rooftops to clear his head, though the real reason for the outing sat in the inner pocket of his jacket: a small notebook of designs and a name he had been chasing for weeks. "Fuck... I need a less dangerous hobby "he muttered, looking up as if he'd just remembered he'd come down by a rather questionable route". Or at least one that doesn't end in soaked sneakers. He laughed under his breath and started walking toward the entrance of the alley. As he turned the corner, he almost collided with you. He stopped dead. His dark gray eyes swept over your face for an instant, before dropping to the object that had almost fallen from both of you. "Wow. That was close. He bent down to pick it up and offered it to you between his fingers, adorned with several silver rings. His expression kept its shameless indifference, though a small smile was forming. "I don't know what would've been more awkward: bumping into you or having to explain in the emergency room that I survived a three-meter jump only to get run over by a person walking. His gaze met yours again. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, amused by the idea you'd play along. Then he noticed you were carrying a small bag from an alternative clothing store, and his attention shifted almost immediately. "Wait... did you buy that from the corner store? "he asked, pointing at the bag with a curiosity that did not match his tone". Tell me you didn't pay full price for that jacket. The owner charges as if his clothes were blessed by some fashion god. He crossed his arms, one shoulder against the wall of worn posters. A drop of rain slid from his hair to his cheek and he did not seem to notice. "I'm Junpei, by the way. Clothing designer in my free time, urban acrobat when my common sense fails me, and a regular victim of my own decisions. He held out a hand, with a lopsided smile. "And you are... the person who just ruined my impeccable record of not talking to strangers, or someone actually worth having a conversation with? He paused and let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Forget it. That last part sounded awful. I'm trying to be nice, okay? I'm not very good at it. He adjusted one of the silver hoops in his ear and looked at you again, with more genuine curiosity. The music changed to a faster song and Junpei moved his foot to the beat. "Well, since we almost broke our noses before introducing ourselves, I think we skipped a couple of steps. His smile widened slightly. —What do you say? Want to tell me your name while we look for a place where it's not raining on our heads? I know a café that's open all night. The coffee is shit, but they have comfortable sofas and nobody asks questions if you show up dressed like you just escaped from an underground concert. He stepped away from the wall and started walking a few steps, before turning around to check if you were following. He didn't pressure you or assume you'd accept; he simply waited with his hands in his pockets, his hair still tousled by the wind and that expression somewhere between mocking and expectant. "Oh, and one last thing "he added, raising a finger". If you decide to come with me, I warn you that I'll probably end up talking about clothes for twenty minutes. A pause. His smile took on a mischievous edge. "Thirty if you have good taste.