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Osamu never knew how to describe his thoughts about this young woman sitting in front of him. Her eyes are glued onto the book she’s been reading for the past hour. He had no idea what she was reading and had no intention of asking. Her long lashes danced slowly as her eyes scrolled through the words, brows furrowed every once in a while. Brown strands fell into places, covering some part of her face from his sight. Little did he know he was fighting himself not to tuck them behind her ear. He shifted from his seat, folding his hand on the table, and resting his chin on the other.
It was only their first year of knowing each other, but it is now their routine to randomly go cafe hopping to finish their assignments, to judge the tacky food people are lining up for (and sometimes ended up loving it and lining up for it their next visit), or just to sit and do nothing. The things they take into consideration are the internet connection, the variety of food sold, and the shape of the chairs. Osamu really doesn't like cafes that use too small chairs and tables because he has to bend slightly to use his laptop while doing work, or the anxiety of breaking the furniture haunts him. Yukie said it's just his body that's too big. Atsumu even questions what makes Osamu so often spend time outside. Of course, he noticed. His brother usually prefers to go home to his cramped apartment and read comics while eating takeouts. Unlike what people always think, Osamu doesn't always cook for himself. He prefers to cook for other people. Seeing their reactions when enjoying his dish brings him warmth and joy.
Pages turned and stuck to each other, she was so immersed in her world that the cup of barley tea in front of her turned cold—she barely even had a sip. On the other side, the man had already finished his second plate of galettes and half of his now cold americano. He really wanted to tell her he was hungry, but she looked so focused he couldn’t dare to distract her. But his stomach thought otherwise. It decided to rumble just loud enough to win her attention. Now her eyes are on him.
“What was that?” she asked amidst her small laughter, hand closing the book, and finally took a big sip of her tea.
“It is what it is,” Osamu answered, giving her his worst pleading smile, like a cat asking for a treat.
“But you had already eaten what, two croissants?”
“Kie, you know it won’t sufficce,” he leaned his back on the chair, “and it’s galettes, not croissants.”
She laughed at him once again, he didn’t mind. “I know.”
She gathered her stuff and grabbed her bag, left some amount of cash under the saucer, and stood up. Took him two seconds to follow her and they left the small cafe Akaashi had recommended to them. The pastries they sell were good, Osamu was sure they either made the butter themselves or they bought the best quality market had to offer. The coffee was a little bit overpriced though. It was 7/10 for him, he made a mental note to write his review later that evening.
Yukie was walking a few steps ahead of him on the wet pavement, her steps were tiny compared to his, so he adjusted himself to her. She stopped abruptly in front of a small shop with no sign but a small board with a neon border that said “25 hours”. Osamu nearly bumps into her but before he can protest, she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the shop. His face was slightly caught in the red noren at the shop entrance, while the brunette walks in effortlessly.
She smiled at the warm greetings the shop owner gave them and sat at the nearest stool. He followed and sat beside her. He took his time to observe what shop were they in. The owner seemed like the kind of cook who wasn’t only selling food for money but to share their love of food. Osamu doesn’t even know what that means, but he sure feels like he’s a little kid coming home to his mom’s warm chanko nabe. They didn’t sell anything fancy, just some simple Japanese dishes claimed to be made from their family recipe and that is why Osamu got lost in his thoughts deciding what to order. Yukie, being the spontaneous and decisive as she is, ordered almost everything on the menu.
“You just ordered what?” Osamu smiled, not attempting to protest at all.
“Please, don’t act like you can’t finish their whole stock,” she nudged his arm playfully.
It only took a moment of talking about some of Atsumu’s and Bokuto’s antics before everything is served. From tricolor dango Yukie ordered a little bit too much, a warm bowl of tori ramen Osamu ordered for himself, some plates of gyozas, steamed pork buns, and a couple of onigiris.
He never really paid attention to how this little friend of his eat before so it took him by surprise how his mind is smitten seeing the girl he spend most of his time with just casually eating and enjoying the food. She looked so happy and content like she had everything in this world for herself. He knows how good food can bring happiness, but he never knew it could look so beautiful. Suddenly everything was clear, all the questions he had been asking himself.
The thought itself successfully pulled a smile on his face, long enough for Yukie to notice his weird behavior and stopped eating, a pink dango ball between her teeth. He shook off his thoughts, waving his hands in front of his own face. They looked at each other, one confused, one still smiling at the other.
“What?” she asked, proceeding to munch on her pink dango.
“I love food.” He said, looking at the chopsticks in his hand.
She gave him another confused look that only lasted a second before she grabbed another skewer of dango.
“Kie,”
“Huh?”
“Someday I’ll open my own shop, you’re gonna have to be my first customer.”
“Do I get to have a daily free meal pass?”
“What? Are you trying to drag me into bankruptcy?”
“I thought you love me?” they both laughed hard at her joke.
“Yeah, whatever you want,” Osamu replied jokingly, finally beginning to eat.
Yeah.