4. The Calm After the Storm

The apartment felt strangely quiet after the adrenaline rush of the night. The distant hum of the city below us seemed muffled, and for a moment, it was just the two of us, standing in the middle of this luxurious space, still processing what had just happened.

I glanced around, trying to focus on something that wasn’t my pounding heart. Yuki’s place was impeccably neat, with minimalistic furniture and soft lighting that created a serene atmosphere. There were no loud posters or flashy memorabilia that screamed “celebrity”—just clean lines, modern art on the walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the Tokyo skyline.

I sat down on the plush, beige sofa, feeling a little overwhelmed. My mind was still trying to catch up with everything—the date, the sudden paparazzi chase, the surreal feeling of being alone with Yuki Hayashi in his apartment. It was like everything was happening too fast.

Yuki sat down beside me, his movements calm, but his eyes were still alert. He let out a long sigh, as if trying to shake off the tension that had been following him all night.

“I swear, I can’t catch a break with the media,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to have a quiet dinner. But it’s like they can smell when I’m trying to be normal.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. The idea of someone “smelling” a celebrity trying to have a normal evening seemed ridiculous, but at the same time, it was a little sad. How could anyone live like that—constantly under the watchful eyes of others?

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who wants the spotlight all the time,” I said quietly, not quite sure how to phrase it.

Yuki turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m not,” he replied softly. “But it’s part of the package. You don’t get to choose what comes with fame. And sometimes, it’s exhausting.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time, I saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the part of him that wasn’t just a celebrity idol but a person who had to navigate a world that constantly demanded something from him. It wasn’t something I’d ever considered before.

“I can’t even imagine,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “Being in the public eye like that all the time, never having privacy. It must be so… draining.”

Yuki leaned back against the sofa, his gaze distant as he stared out the window. “Yeah. It’s lonely, too. No one really sees the real me. They see the stage version. The guy who smiles and sings and performs, and they think they know me. But they don’t. Nobody does.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for him. It was clear he was more than just the persona the world knew. He was someone who had a life beyond the camera flashes and the fans, someone who longed for connection, even if he couldn’t always get it.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should say anything, but then something inside me told me to be honest. “I don’t think you’re like the way people imagine. At least, not the way I thought you would be.”

Yuki turned back to look at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure me out. “Oh? How did you think I’d be?”

I shifted a little on the sofa, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d be… distant. Or maybe a little untouchable. You know, like you’d have a wall up because of all the attention. But you’re not like that at all. You’re… normal. And, honestly, that’s kind of refreshing.”

Yuki’s lips twitched upward, the corners of his mouth curving into a small, genuine smile. “Normal? Is that a compliment or an insult?”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease just a little. “I mean it as a compliment. I think it’s nice to know that someone who’s in the public eye can still be a person. It makes you… real.”

The smile on his face widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost shy. “I’m glad you think so. I don’t get that a lot.”

We sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward, just peaceful. It was strange, this sense of calm that had settled over me after the chaos of the night. It almost felt like we were just two regular people sitting together, talking.

Then Yuki shifted slightly and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, huh?”

I glanced at the time on my phone and realized it was already past midnight. The night had flown by faster than I expected. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here,” he said, his tone a little more serious now. “If you want to leave, I can arrange for you to get home. But if you’re okay with staying for a while… I can promise we’ll just talk. No cameras, no crazy fans—just you and me. Like, a normal conversation.”

I blinked at him. He was offering me the option to leave, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made it hard to imagine walking away. For the first time all night, I realized that this wasn’t some PR stunt. He wasn’t just trying to impress me or make me feel special for the sake of an image. He was… being real. And that was something I hadn’t expected at all.

I hesitated for a moment, then made my decision. “I’ll stay. I think… I think I’d like to get to know the real Yuki Hayashi.”

His expression softened, and for a split second, I saw something behind his eyes—a hint of gratitude, maybe even relief. “Yeah? Alright. Then let’s talk.”

And with that, the night took on a new rhythm. One where the glitz and glam of the celebrity world seemed far away, and it was just the two of us, figuring out what it meant to truly be ourselves.