Talk Ex Machina with the Enemy

Ever since she collapsed on my sofa, I found it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Are girls always this cute when they’re asleep or is this an Emma thing? 

Staring meant I had to hold the urge of snuggling next to her. Even though plenty of women had offered to be my body pillows none had the ability to make me feel genuinely attracted to them. It’s peculiar really, that despite being a fan herself I’ve never once felt like Emma had treated me as poorly as the others.

Or maybe I’ve overlooked it because I’m constantly collapsing on myself when her beauty radiates the room. 

I rubbed my forehead when I received a text message from Macie. Another reminder to speak with Fukuyama about dating Emma. It’s the fourth essay she sent within the last hour. 

Groaning, I turned off the computer and started scribbling on a notebook. 

Things to say to get his approval…

But, there’s also the bigger issue.

Things we should talk about before I ask about dating your granddaughter…

Facing the reality of my situation was the last thing I wanted to do when I moved here. If anything, the biggest question of the decade remained.

Fukuyama, may I ask why this place out of all places? 

Maybe he wanted to run away too. Maybe this is a place where people with past troubles come and start anew.

Should people like him deserve second chances? I don’t even think I deserve one especially after the chaos that unfolded.

Frustrated, the pen I held finally gave in and spurted ink all over.  

I’ll take my chances while she’s asleep…

Figuring it was better to discuss without a plan, I zipped my sweater and silently locked my door.

The walk to All Things Niche was particularly noisy. The streets crowded with elderly folks pretending they are in high school; some of those conversations about attractive men and women lingered for too long. But I suppose even old people can find others hot. 

As everyone’s chattering blended into jargon, my eyes took notice of the store ahead of me. All Things Niche, a rather intriguing name that would definitely perk the curiosity of nerdy people such as myself. At first glance, it genuinely doesn’t feel like the kind of store anyone would assume as scammy. 

From the outside, and especially in the eyes of innocent onlookers, it’s merely another store catering to young individuals looking for a change in fashion.

Anxiously, I rubbed the back of my neck as I opened the door. Greeted by the scent of vanilla and a thousand bright lights, my eyes scanned for the bastard in plain sight.

Of course, the fool’s busy clapping hands with someone who just bought a techwear design. As if to celebrate the customer’s first purchase, Fukuyama tossed in a few coupons into her bag and invited her to come back. 

As soon as the customer took one step away from the counter, it was my cue.

“Why, if it isn’t who I think it is,” the bastard smiled slyly, “what an honor to see you in my store. Alone.”

“Sure,” I crossed my arms, my patience already running thin, “what an honor to witness your speculative skills in marketing too. So, how much did that lady pay for that very clearly ripped off design of mine?”

He bellowed. The audacity of this asshole.

“You’re overthinking it Mr. Clover, surely you can’t be that egotistical to claim all techwear designs are yours?”

“Don’t act stupid. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“And I know what you’re trying to do, young man.” 

Fukuyama rested his glasses on the table. Glancing back at me, his smile turned into a sinister frown.

“You’re very lucky Emma is fond of you. Don’t forget what happened.”

Despite his sudden change in demeanor, intimidation was the last thing I wanted to deal with. 

“Oh trust me Fukuyama, what you did unfortunately became a core memory.” 

I reminisced the days prior to getting Fukuyama’s message on Instar. Everything was perfect. Too perfect, and that’s likely why his offer became my downfall.

Had I known just how important the Fukuyama family was when it came to businesses, I would’ve thought twice than to stubbornly attempt to cancel him. 

Turns out, people are more fond of an influencer who donates to charity on livestream as proof of altruism than some rando’s claim that such an influencer is a fraud. 

The worst part is, most people genuinely don’t care about the artists. Someone once asked me, ‘Does it matter if some of your designs were sold if it meant all Fukuyama’s earnings go back to the community?’ 

Enraged, I told this person off. Luckily for me, that user had an equally large fanbase so his followers doxed my location. 

It’s crazy how strangers on the internet will validate such disgusting behaviors all because some bastard named Fukuyama has “done more for the community” than I ever did. 

I genuinely don’t understand. For an individual known as generous and loving, why offer such lowballs to own designs? When he came from one of the wealthiest families known to man?

“May I ask you something,” I narrowed my eyes.

“You’d ask even if I were to say no anyway,” he responded with an ounce of sarcasm. The strength I had just to prevent my arm from sucker punching his face. 

“Is Emma aware of your business practices?”

“Of course.”

My heart dropped.

“All of your business practices?” 

“Mayhaps.”

“Don’t fuck around with me.”

“Why so adamant? Would it matter whether Emma is aware?” 

“Because,” I held my breath, “I need to know.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“You like her?”

“WHAT?!”

I nearly collapsed onto the floor.

“So you do,” once again, that bastard’s unforgettable smirk’s plastered on his face, “well isn’t this an intriguing turn of events. What of my granddaughter did you find fascinating?” 

I felt my face heating up as unholy thoughts instinctively seeped in. No, I immediately brushed them aside. 

“I’ll be real,” I said with a stern look, “she’s cool. It’s surprising to know someone like her is related to you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

“Look, I-“ 

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Fukuyama adjusted his glasses. He stroked his beard, before turning his head away to stare at a few customers hyperventilating their heads off over some stupid clothes. Excitement slowly turned feral. 

“Hear that?” Fukuyama grinned, “sounds of happy people. Always bringing interesting individuals like you and I into niche communities.”

“Yeah, too bad.”

“Aw, wipe that look off your face, Mr. Clover. If it weren’t for your talents in music and crafts we wouldn’t be here having this wonderful conversation.” 

I rolled my eyes. Unlike most people who seemed to have differing personalities offline and online, this bastard remained consistent. A con man inside out. 

“For Emma’s sake,” I said slowly, “and especially after hearing that she lost her parents, there’s a favor I’d like to ask of you.”

If words could stab someone, this was the moment Fukuyama’s glare became obviously disturbed.

But it was momentarily, and for whatever reason the bastard returned a smile instead.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Emma and I are going on dates.”

Silence. Interestingly, Fukuyama hadn’t reacted at my statement at all. If anything, he continued to stare, tilting his head ever so slightly as if to beckon me to keep going.

“And turns out, we might be interested in being official…eventually.”

He blinked a couple of times. Alas, I rambled.

“A-and I know we have very differing opinions on many things, but like I said, for Emma’s sake, I wouldn’t mind trying to get to know you beyond what had happened.”

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I hadn’t expected Fukuyama to retain his serious glare. I thought he was going to laugh, or heck, reject us altogether. 

But the bastard’s contemplating. The bell chimed, insinuating that more customers had entered the premise. The sounds of shoes squeaking against the floor irked my ears as the silence between us became deafening. 

“You have a lot to learn,” he finally uttered, before he brushed shoulders to greet a customer behind me. 

“Hey wait! What do you mean by that!”

Without turning back, Fukuyama simply sighed.

“You’re mistaken, young man. I’m not the one you should be talking to. Emma is an adult, and if she truly wants you, she can do as she pleases. However…”

I froze. Fukuyama’s eyes were fixated on mine.

“You should really consider whether what you’re doing is good for her.” 

*****

Quick author’s note (will delete upon story completion)

Going on another(?) hiatus.

This heat is insane and I have more real life things to take care of so admittedly my motivation to write has hit an obstacle called writer’s block.

Schedule will be inconsistent and future uploads will be posted whenever I can. I do plan on finishing the story but I have other priorities. Gotta find a job and figure out my new environment. 

Also my sickness hasn’t gone away. Once I’m down, I’m hella down. 

Might have lingering bronchitis for another two weeks, who knows. 

Read trades will be placed on hold. Unfortunately I simply don’t have time or energy. Good luck to everyone in the contest, wishing you all the best!