Saturdays at Café L'Amour (Kuroko no Basket - Kuroko Tetsuya Fan Fiction)

мay 9тн

"One cookies and cream frappe and one strawberry crepe. Is that all?"

She stared at him unblinkingly for a few seconds, searching his face for the littlest piece of thought and emotion. His serene blue eyes were just as expressionless as his face, deadpanned and uncharacteristically dull for a person working at the counter. His gestures and body movements were just as neutral, devoid of anything more other than what was necessary at the moment.

"Yes, thank you," she finally replied, tearing her stare away from him in temporary defeat and fishing her purse adorned by pink frills and intricate laces from her mismatching old denim messenger bag.

"That'll be 1080 yen."

She handed him the exact amount. He handed her the receipt. She walked away and went to her usual table.

Once she got settled on her seat, she put out her small notebook and flipped it open to a blank page. Taking her trusty black pen from her sweater's pocket, she started scribbling what she found interesting on her way thirty-six minutes ago, the image of the burly male feeding pigeons in the park still clear in her mind. When she was done, she let her gaze roam the cafe's indoor scene and focus on the other  three customers.

The bespectacled male who sat three tables away from her, for example, definitely had a date scheduled today. He had his palms pressed against each other as he rested the frontal part of his face on it, his eyes tightly shut and his breathing obviously ragged. He wore a gray blazer over his black and white striped shirt. The bottom part of his outfit consisted of dark fitting pants and high cut polished boots of the same hue. Around his neck loosely hung a plaid peanut-colored scarf, and on his wrist was a silver expensive-looking watch. That was not an outfit you'd wear if you were just out to get some coffee.

Also, the articles on the male's table were a forgotten cup of coffee meant to be drank in a few minutes, a white inactive smartphone being glanced at by him every five seconds, and a tin can of amaranth pink with a ribbon of a darker shade on top of it.

She wrote down her observations because, well, she believed that reality is always the best reference for any kind of fiction. Perhaps the male's current uncomfortable situation could help her write the forsaken genre she was now forced to write about. Just as she was through the first six important points, the door's melodious bell chime resounded in the cafe, immediately followed by the sound of one of the wooden chairs being pushed back. Entering the cafe and looking at the male was a girl with fluffy hazel brown hair and a flowy white dress accessorized by a heart charm necklace. The graceful female walked to the jittery man and sat in front of him.

She grinned to herself; she was right about her guess.

She looked back down to her pocket-sized notebook in with a small satisfied smile and spun her pen in complete circles through her fingers. She closed her eyes momentarily, and tried not to remember what she last saw before her vision turned dark, then opened them to see a woman, presumably in her mid-thirties, busily hunched over a stack of legal-sized papers with a large cup of espresso beside it. Shrugging, she began to take notes regarding her new target once again and began being thoroughly occupied by her thoughts.

The third person for her to lay her eyes on was interesting—too interesting, to be exact, that she had to spend a longer period of time to figure out something definite about him. He was the incarnation of contrasting elements and of unrelated circumstances. Who in the right mind would wear expensive fashionable clothes yet bring a totally worn-out bag? He seemed the type to be a show-off—and no, she couldn't tell if he was gay or not, which was another problem—so why would he use something that would put his efforts to shame? It didn't look like it belonged to someone else. Also, he was using a laptop of the latest models and yet there was a device connected to it that was made to be able to read diskettes, which is a really old-fashioned type of memory storage item. That didn't even make any sense—

"I apologize for the long wait."

Her body automatically straightened up upon hearing the calm and soothing voice which shooed away the noise of her inner rants and seemed to further tone down the mellow music playing in the café. She snatched her pen and notebook from her table in a swift motion and let them rest on her lap; she didn't want anyone to get the impression that she was stalking anyone, especially not the waiter who gave her the tissue notes. She curled her lips into a sheepish smile as she let her hands fall to her sides, as if to say that he was now welcome to place her food on the table.

He did as she expected him to, and now, unlike what she always did before, she paid closer attention to his movements. Just as he was unnoticeable, there was nothing extraordinary with his movements. He carefully brought the cup of coffee and the plate of crepe and set them down, his index finger first being sandwiched by the plate and the table's surface to avoid make less noise. But that wasn't really anything interesting; she had noticed waiters and waitresses do just that.

He brought back his hand to his sides, the black circular tray in between his arm and the side of his torso. "Is there anything else?" he asked in a formal and steady tone, one that was deemed proper for their situation.

She slumped down a little—the smallest indication of her disappointment. Her sea-green eyes remained on his serene ocean-like ones, and again, she couldn't get anything. A small sigh of defeat left her lips before her lips were forced into a small, friendly smile. "No, there's nothing," she replied, and an idea came up. "Thank you, Kuroko-san," she added, giving emphasis on his name and intending to elicit a reaction from him.

He blinked, unfazed, and made a curt bow before walking away.

That was it. That was the end of their interaction for the week.

Her gaze remained on his trail nonetheless, as he walked back to the counter only to be tackled by his slightly older co-worker. The taller male cheerfully said something, and Kuroko's lips quirked up to a small smile. He casually scratched his cheek and said something in reply.

Huh.

Maybe that was enough for today.

She felt herself beam in satisfaction before turning to her food and starting to eat it.