At the counter, Levi slid the vinyl records into a crisp paper sleeve with the kind of care that made it clear he loved what he did. His movements were unhurried, almost reverent in their attention to detail. Jean lingered nearby, her eyes drifting between his focused hands and the collage of posters plastered behind him: a vibrant mess of punk chaos, faded jazz greats, and psychedelic swirls from eras long passed.

“I didn’t mean to sound judgy about your shop earlier,” she said suddenly, her voice softer now, stripped of sarcasm, gentler in its cadence. “You know… with the whole ‘who still uses this clobber’ bit."

Levi looked up from his task, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips, the warmth reaching his eyes.

"No worries," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "I'm just glad you changed your mind in the end."

Jean hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the worn wooden counter. A small, unconscious gesture that gave her away. There was a sliver of vulnerability beneath her usual self-assuredness, a flicker of something older and quieter.

“This place…” she began, her voice catching slightly. “It reminded me of some childhood memories. Ones I didn’t think I’d ever run into again.”

“Good ones, I hope?” Levi asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone curious but never prying.

“Yeah... it was.” Her voice softened further, her lips curving into a faint smile, not quite wistful, but close.

Levi didn’t press her.

He simply nodded in understanding, as though he knew that some memories were better left unexplained, and turned his attention back to the bag. Once sealed, he handed it to her with a quiet, almost formal gesture.

"Do pop by again sometime," he said, his voice low and warm, touched with sincerity. 

“I can recommend more records you might like.”

“I will,” Jean replied.

And this time, there was no doubt in her voice.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, something unspoken hanging gently between them, too subtle to name but too real to ignore.

"またすぐに会えるといいね。" 

(I hope to see you again soon.) 

He added, the Japanese words flowing smoothly, his tone gentle yet subtly hopeful.

She told herself he was just another boy trying too hard to be different. The type who learned foreign languages and worked in dusty old record shops just to stand out. But watching him now alone in this tucked-away little shop, handling vinyl like sacred scripture, she saw someone who wasn’t trying to be different.

Levi simply was.

Music wasn’t his aesthetic; it was his language. The only one that truly made any real sense to him. It wasn’t about being different from the start. 

It was about belonging. A kind of solace that Jean never really quite knew.

In that moment, Jean realised how badly she’d misjudged him and the shop and how little she actually knew. Levi wasn’t someone you clocked straight away similar to this dusty old record shop she was in. He was the kind of person who slipped past your guard unnoticed.

But today, both the shop and he didn't go unnoticed. In fact, they left quite an impression on her.

The bell above the door chimed softly as she stepped outside, the sudden brightness of afternoon light momentarily dazzling. She squinted against the sun. Renee and Diane were already loitering by the curb, both of them radiating exaggerated impatience and barely-contained curiosity.

"Good heavens, what took you so long?" Diane asked, one brow raised, her eyes practically gleaming. “Don’t tell me there was a spark with you and Renee’s brother?”

"I blooming hope not!" Renee cut in with an exaggerated shiver, crinkling her nose. “Can’t imagine him chatting you up—ugh. Gives me the ick.”

Jean smirked as she brushed past them, her footsteps light, the records tucked safely under her arm.

“Mum’s the word on that one,” she said breezily, the slight lift in her voice deliberately mysterious.

“You jammy sod!” Diane crowed, clapping her hands together in delight. “There was something, wasn’t there?”

“Gross!” Renee groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. “Anyway—weren’t you chatting up some fit bloke after that match on the first day back?"

"What?!" Diane spun around, scandalised. "And I’m only hearing this now?”

Jean held up her hands in a gesture of surrender, a blush already beginning to creep up her cheeks.

"It was nothing, honestly," she insisted, trying to downplay the encounter.

Renee, however, was not easily swayed. She narrowed her sharp blue eyes, a knowing look on her face, the expression of someone who had long observed the subtle dynamics of their social circle.

"It was 'cos of Julian, wasn't it?"

Diane blinked, her attention shifting between Jean and Renee with growing fascination. 

"What did Julian do?"

"He butted in on their conversation," Renee replied with a knowing smirk, her tone implying a deeper understanding of Julian's motivations. "As per usual."

Jean turned to her, caught off guard by the implication.

"Hang on, what do you mean by 'as per usual'?"

Renee gave her a look that didn’t need words. It was part exasperated older sister, part omniscient best mate. It said: Don’t be daft. You already know.

“It’s bleeding obvious he’s got a bit of a crush on you, Jean.”

“Oh, I’m ever so envious!” Diane gasped, clasping her hands to her chest with theatrical flair. “Truly, I am! Must be so hard, being adored on all sides.”

Jean groaned, but she couldn’t hide the heat spreading across her face. Her cheeks now positively glowed with the shade of someone who very much regretted staying behind in that shop for just a bit too long.

“Stop it,” she muttered, trying and failing to sound annoyed.