The First Time

Chapter 2

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━≾

        As Haru set fooT inside, he was greeted by the petite silhouette and a welcoming smell that was perhaps too familiar. The sound of the bell hung above the door startled him, rudely interrupting his train of thought. Another wave of piercing glares fixated on him for a mere moment, yet surprisingly, not as long as he had expected. The man averted his gaze and approached the counter.

        The place was overwhelmed by plants with names Haru did not know. The cosy café was more crowded than it looked from outside. Looking around, the tapestry and furniture followed a pastel theme—all pinks and purples. "Huh, girly," the quick thought struck him. Cursive letters spelling out 'Hachikō Café' covered half of the wall facing the entrance. "Cute."

        "Welcome!" Her warm smile and sweet voice made him feel temporarily safe, and he sighed in relief while breathing the somewhat intimate air of the café. "How may I help you?"

        Haru scanned her briefly, mostly with disinterest. He was not there to make conversation with anyone. The man mostly avoided her eyes, but could not help but notice her taking a relatively long time to watch him. He shook off the idea; she was an employee. It was her job to supervise the customers, and he was used to the attention regardless.

        "Just browsing, thanks." His eyes darted around frantically, trying to pinpoint where the scent which brought back unpleasant memories came from, but without any luck. It was almost infuriating to him. His stomach growled.

        "We have loads of pastries, or if you're really hungry," the woman poked fun at the noise, "I could give you a menu of our proper meals. We have—" He continued to hear her innocent voice recommending items off the menu, but he was not actually listening. "Oh...?"

        Her eyes darted to the window, where the infamous swarm of fans had gathered quite rapidly. They shouted Haru's name and desperately peaked through the rose-tinted glass, but had the decency not to storm in—somehow. The woman was visibly anxious, not allowing her sight off the door, anticipating the moment in which she might have to control the crowd. "Please, no..." she repeated in her head.

        "What's this about?"

        Those words forced Haru to take a proper look at her. He watched her, from head to toe, analysing every inch of her, from her blonde locks to the seams of her pale pink dress. She was suddenly fascinating to him, or more so, her surprise to the fans glueing their faces to the windows was fascinating to him... "She must think that was rude," he said to himself, averting his gaze the minute he realised he had been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time.

        Haru ignored her question and sat down at a table obscured by the counter, taking his phone out. His goals were simple: to hide from his fans, which had obviously utterly failed, and recently, to find the source of the scent. He was distressed and it showed on his face. It reminded him of her, but it was too late to leave. With every second, he pictured the click-bait articles:

Haru Okada cosies up to a cute blonde. Who is she?

Japan's heartthrob seen inside Hachikō Café - Find out what he ordered!

        Pathetic. He was trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible... There was no reason to give others more to talk about than there truly was. His palms started shaking as his mind wandered. People knew he was there. They were probably watching him, his every move. He felt his face grow hotter. A set of eyes appeared fixated on him from behind the counter. "Why? No, stop. Stop. I don't want to read about this tomorrow." Haru rubbed his palms and hugged his fists with each hand, one after the other, every exactly ten seconds. For a brief moment, he lost control of his breathing.