Smoking Behind the Supermarket with You Sasaki and Tayama

Smoking Behind the Supermarket with You Sasaki and Tayama; super no ura de yani suu futari;

PG-13 HD

Behind the Supermarket

The supermarket closed at eleven.

By eleven fifteen, the parking lot was empty except for the buzzing fluorescent lights, a shopping cart abandoned beside the loading dock, and us.

You sat on the concrete steps behind the building, your school jacket pulled tightly around you. A cigarette rested between your fingers, its tiny orange tip glowing against the blue-black night.

“You know that’s a terrible habit,” I said.

You glanced at me.

“So is following me.”

I laughed and sat beside you.

The alley smelled like rain, cardboard, and the faint sweetness of something from the bakery inside. Somewhere beyond the wall, a refrigerator compressor hummed steadily, almost like the soundtrack to a scene nobody else was supposed to see.

You took a slow drag and stared at the sky.

“No stars tonight.”

“Too many city lights.”

“No,” you said. “Too many things in the way.”

For a while, neither of us spoke.

That was what I liked about being behind the supermarket with you. We didn't have to pretend. At school, you were the quiet anime girl everyone thought was mysterious. In the classroom, you barely spoke unless the teacher called on you. Online, you posted drawings of impossible cities floating above oceans.

But here, behind the supermarket, you were just you.

You nudged my shoulder.

“Got any plans after this?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

You smiled.

“Because I don't want tonight to end yet.”

The cigarette burned down between your fingers. You crushed it carefully into the empty can beside the steps.

Then you stood.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

I followed.

We slipped around the corner of the supermarket, walking beneath the orange streetlights. The city was still awake, but it felt distant, as if someone had turned down its volume.

You walked ahead of me, your hair moving in the cold wind.

For a moment, I wondered if this was what growing up felt like.

Not some dramatic confession.

Not fireworks.

Just two people wandering through an ordinary night, carrying secrets neither of them was ready to explain.

You looked back at me.

“You coming?”

I smiled.

“Yeah.”

And together, we disappeared into the city.

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Type: TV