The next day, Rey went to Ellie’s home address. He knew that showing up unannounced was considered impolite in Japan, but he had no other choice. If no one answered, he would simply leave.
His hair had grown longer without him realizing it, now brushing just past his ears and long enough to tie up. Every time he looked in the mirror, he would chuckle, finding the hairstyle surprisingly fitting.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly through his mouth to calm his nerves. After gathering his courage, he pressed the doorbell once, hoping he hadn’t come to the wrong house.
“Who is it?” A middle-aged woman’s voice came through the intercom, her Tokyo-accented Japanese sharp and clear.
Rey cleared his throat a few times before responding in Japanese, “Excuse me, is this Yuzuki Amane’s residence? I’m Rey Hutomo, a close friend.”
“What do you want?” Her tone was anything but welcoming.
“May I see Yuu for a moment?” Rey tried to keep his tone polite.
There was no immediate response, leaving Rey standing anxiously at the door. He waited patiently, though his hopes were dwindling. Occasionally, he kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet, wondering if this was how it would end—without answers.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened, and a woman stepped out. She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself as she crossed the path separating the gate from the house, approaching Rey in hurried steps. Instinctively, Rey bowed deeply to greet her.
“So, you’re Yuu’s boyfriend?” the woman said as she faced him.
Slap!
Instead of a warm welcome, a sharp slap landed on Rey’s left cheek. He was stunned, completely taken aback by such unexpected hostility. They stared at each other for a moment, Rey at a loss for words.
“Yuu ran away from home five months ago. Her mother in Fukuoka is extremely worried because she can't reach her. Who knows if she even has her phone with her. You must have been a bad influence on my niece,” the woman accused.
“Yuu ran away? Why?” Rey repeated the information, still processing what he’d just heard.
“You’d better leave before I report you to the police for kidnapping someone’s daughter,” Yuu’s aunt threatened.
Before Rey could respond to the baseless accusation, the gate was slammed shut in his face. “What on earth just happened?”
He walked away, now even more confused and clueless about where Ellie might be. Frustrated, Rey ruffled his hair in agitation. This wasn’t even halfway through, yet the situation was already pushing him to the brink of giving up.
“Where did she go?”
Yuu, or Ellie, was a business and management student. She had once told him she never struggled with her classes, but in truth, she wasn’t very interested in the field. Her parents had forced her into the major, believing it would lead to better job prospects in the future.
Rey hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address. He planned to meet up with an old childhood friend, a game developer who was also of Japanese-Indonesian descent. If asked why he seemed to meet so many people with similar backgrounds, Rey wouldn’t have an answer. The universe just had a way of bringing together those with similar energy frequencies, Rey recalled a chef he admired once saying something like that.
[Ez! I’m on my way to your place. Clean your kitchen!]
That was Rey’s message to Ezra. It was a usual thing—when Rey was stressed or upset, he would cook for someone, but only in a clean kitchen. Cleanliness and food were two things that went hand in hand, and Rey didn’t like them being separated.
An hour later, Rey arrived at Ezra’s apartment building. He entered the lobby, took the elevator to the third floor, and felt the urge to vent after just being slapped by Yuu’s aunt. Before coming here, they had discussed what food Ez wanted, and he had missed Indonesian dishes.
The skinny man insisted that Rey make him rawon, complete with all the usual side dishes. In truth, Rey wasn’t yet very skilled at cooking traditional Indonesian dishes because the ingredients were more complicated, but so far, none of his dishes had ever failed.
Ding!
The elevator doors opened just as Ez stood in front of them. Rey rolled his eyes, then grinned and put his hands on his hips, eyeing his friend who was grinning back while carrying two large garbage bags.
“Has the water in this apartment stopped working?” Rey teased Ez.
Ez’s clothes were scruffy, his eyes tired, and he smelled of sweat. Ez grabbed Rey’s arm and dragged him into the apartment. “Welcome, Rey! The kitchen’s all clean and smells great! Come on in, come on in.”
“You’re only nice when you want something,” Rey grumbled as he took off his shoes and slipped into sandals. He scanned the apartment while Ez resumed his task of taking out the trash.
“By the way, your hair looks good. Kind of like a Yakuza style,” Ez joked as he returned and washed his hands at the sink.
“How’s the kitchen?” Rey asked, kicking a shoebox near the guest chair.
“Spotless, Chef! Don’t worry. I even bought all the ingredients you asked for.”
Rey headed to the kitchen and snorted when he saw that Ez’s kitchen was genuinely clean. Or rather, it had never been used. Ez probably ordered food from outside more often than cooking for himself. Besides, Ez was too busy with work in front of the computer.
“Well then, Chef, time to cook. I’m off to take a shower.”
“Your life is too easy. You just shower and then eat?” Rey mocked.
“Of course, Chef!” Ezra replied with a small laugh.
Rey started taking ingredients out of the fridge. He needed to cook so he wouldn’t go crazy. If asked where his love of cooking came from, the answer would be from his parents, who were both chefs. Since childhood, Rey had been helping and playing in the kitchen. At the age of three, he could already separate egg yolks from whites and started experimenting with small creations as he grew older. It was a talent and a hobby that brought him joy.