Chapter Text
Someone is watching her.
Kotone can feel it the second she steps inside the café. The air is warm, thick with the smell of coffee beans and butter. The space is small. Only a few tables. Shelves lined with mismatched mugs, rustic espresso machines below them. A record player in the corner, the needle scratching soft music into the background.
It feels different from her shop. Her shop is bright, full of petals and vases and too much sunlight. This place is muted. Rustic. Quiet. A homey place boasting a small checkout counter, propped right next to a glass case with pastries that look like they were made by hand, not a factory: uneven croissant layers, lemon loaves with imperfect glaze.
It all started with Yukari.
The shop – her shop – was alive now, after months of dreaming, planning, saving, and begging people to trust a nineteen-year-old with laughably little business experience and pretty please let her lease this spot.
And now, she’d done it. At nineteen. She had her own place.
Well, technically not on her own. Makoto and Yukari had been there since day one, both of them willingly swallowed up by her dream. Makoto, her twin, hadn’t even questioned it when she’d asked if he’d help. He just said, “Of course.” and quietly handled half the invoices before she could panic. He should’ve been focusing on grad school applications, on the stack of psychology textbooks piled in their apartment, but he insisted he had time.
And then there was Yukari. Kotone’s best friend since high school. Makoto’s fiancée since forever (or at least since their second year of university, but who’s counting?). Modeling gigs didn’t keep her from dropping by daily, makeup still clinging to her cheekbones, sleeves rolled up as she argued with suppliers on the phone or charmed every customer who stepped through the door.
Makoto kept things steady. Yukari kept them moving.
And Kotone… well, she tried to keep herself from falling apart.
After all, her little flower shop had been brought to fruition, the first month going pretty smoothly, all things considered! When she’s not so busy she forgets to breathe, however.
And of course, this busyness extended to interacting with people. Hence Yukari, who had been talking behind the counter all morning, swaying on her feet and beaming like she’d just thought up the best idea in the world. Yukari had been constantly nagging her about it all week – be friendly, make connections, don’t just bury yourself in flowers all day. It’ll make this new place feel less lonely, or whatever.
And Kotone had laughed it off at first, insisting she’d go later, or tomorrow, or whenever she had time. But Yukari was persistent, especially today, gesturing out the window to the café with the confidence of someone who had already mapped Kotone’s fate.
“You’ve got to go say hi, Kotone.” she urged, leaning forward with both palms pressed against the countertop. “The café across the street, it’s always open, and the owner is always there. You should introduce yourself! It’s what good neighbors do!”
Kotone looked up from tying ribbon around a bouquet, sighing dramatically. “Why me? Makoto could go!”
Her twin didn’t even look up from the stems he was trimming, pursing his lips. “You’re the one who talks.”
Which wasn’t untrue. Kotone had always been the one who filled the air when silence threatened to take over, especially compared to Makoto. She could talk to anyone – customers, strangers, probably even a brick wall. But even then, she didn’t exactly want to go and start conversation, she had a store to run!
Makoto had only looked up long enough to say, “It’s good manners.” before he went back to the flowers at hand. Calm. Reliable. “You’ll be fine.”
Kotone groaned. “This is bullying.”
“This is networking!” Yukari corrected brightly. “Now go. And while you’re at it, get me a croissant! My blood sugar is, like, negative.”
She threw her hands up. “Unbelievable! I’m being used as a delivery girl in my own shop.”
“You love us!” Yukari sang.
Kotone did. That was the problem. So she goes. She decides that introducing herself is the first brave thing she does as a business owner. Or the second. The first was signing a lease she can barely afford. The second is this: crossing the street to the store like it was a mile away, with a bag slung over her shoulder and a smile far too big for her face before the bell over the café door chirps at her with a little announcement of her arrival.
And now, she stands two steps inside the café and stares like she’s never seen a room. She inventories everything because she’s nervous. It isn’t noisy, not in a loud, grating way. Nobody’s rushing. It feels like time here moves half a moment slower than it does in the world outside. She takes in the steady hum of people talking over coffee, the scrape of a chair, the clink of a spoon against plates, the quiet whirring of the espresso machine.
And the man behind the counter.
He doesn’t say a word. Just raises one eyebrow slightly, a silent question of: you ordering, or just here to stare?
Right. Ordering. Kotone walks up, puts her palms on the counter like that will ground her, and her brain trips, scrambles, lands on a smile because a smile is the safest thing she knows – she’s practiced at it. It’s what she uses on girls at her store who don’t know the word for the flower they want, on clueless boyfriends who want “something that looks pretty, I don’t know.” Not to toot her own horn, but she’s pretty damn good at making people comfortable. She just has to remember that includes herself.
“Hi!” she says, and it’s far too loud for this quiet room, but it’s out there now, so no takebacks. “I- uh, I’m Kotone. I run the flower shop across the street. We opened this week, so I thought-” She hears Yukari’s voice in her head: go meet the neighbors, network, be charming, blah blah blah. “...I thought I’d introduce myself!”
The man didn’t say anything. He just looked at her. Beanie pulled low, apron slightly wrinkled, eyes unreadable – like he was already analyzing her. Intimidating-
She swallowed. Tried again. “Your café is beautiful. Cozy.”
He nodded once. Said nothing.
Okay. Time to order. That’s what normal people did. Order something.
Her eyes dart to the board. Words she doesn’t speak live up there. Cappuccino. Macchiato. Americano. Americano? Did it look like they were in America? She should ask. But her pride is gnawing and ridiculous and it claws at her throat. She doesn’t want to be taught. Not by him. Not right now.
“Just… plain coffee!” she says.
His eyebrow raises slightly. “Drip?”
She doesn’t know what that means. She decides it means yes. “Mm.”
He turns away without much question. The machine whirs to life. He knows where everything is without looking, hands that have done this a thousand times. She clutched the counter and tried to breathe like this was all fiiine, like she hadn’t just ordered something she already knew she’d hate.
Her eyes darted to the pastry case. Salvation. “Um-” she blurted again, pointing before she could lose courage. “And a slice of lemon loaf, please. And a croissant.”
That got her another glance, one eyebrow raised just slightly higher. But he nodded, placed aside the two pastries, and set them beside the cup when it was ready.
“Drip coffee.” he said, pushing the cup toward her. “And your pastries.”
Kotone smiled too wide, again. She thought her face may fall off. “Perfect! Thank you!”
After an awkward moment of pause, she wrapped her hands around the cup like she knew what she was doing. She can do this! She opens shops, does big business stuff or whatever. She can drink coffee, dammit. So, she takes a sip – bitter, oh my god so bitter- don’t make a face.
“Strong.” she said. “Very… coffee.”
For a second, his mouth almost moved. Not quite a smile, but something close. A grunt of amusement, god she was making a fool of herself.
“Thank you!” she said quickly. “It’s great! I should, um, get back. Busy day! Flowers don’t sell themselves.”
He just nodded. “Good luck.”
She nearly tripped on the way out.
Kotone burst back into the store like she’d been chased. The bell overhead gave a happy chime, as if mocking her misery.
Her cheeks still burned. She’d carried the hardly touched cup across the street like it was proof of survival, like Yukari and Makoto needed evidence she’d done the thing asked of her. She set it down on the front counter with a thud, like it might just bite her, along with Yukari’s croissant that she absolutely needed, apparently.
“Spill.” Yukari demanded the second she stepped back into the shop, picking at her nails like she hadn’t been waiting for Kotone to return. The grin was immediate.
Kotone slapped both palms over her face. “Don’t talk to me. Ever again.”
“Oh no, you’re telling me everything.” Yukari leaned forward, practically vibrating. “How was it? Did he scowl at you? Did you charm him? Did you ask his name? Did you-”
Makoto’s voice drifted from the back, calm and even. He was still trimming roses, his movements precise as he carefully snipped away. “What happened?”
Kotone dropped her hands dramatically onto the counter, whining. “I ordered plain coffee. Plain! Just- just coffee. Black. No sugar, no milk, nothing.”
Yukari gasped so loud half the shop turned. “You didn’t. You hate coffee!”
“I know! I drank it!” Kotone wailed, flinging her arms wide as she rambled. “Well, kinda! I drank some of it and pretended it was fine, and he just stood there watching me like I was failing a secret test. But I panicked! He was just staring at me, and the menu was full of scary words, and I couldn’t think- so I blurted it out! But what was I supposed to do? Say, oh sorry, actually I want hot chocolate like a child? No! I had to commit. I had to look like I knew what I was doing. Like a professional. Like a businesswoman.”
Makoto’s mouth twitched, corners of his lips curling up. That was his version of laughing. “Did you get something sweet?”
“Lemon loaf.” she admitted. “Saved my life. Might marry it.”
Yukari doubled over laughing. “Oh my god. Did you at least get his name? I bet he thought you were adorable.”
“No!” Kotone threw her hands up. “He thought I was a lunatic. I’m never going back.”
“Sure.” Yukari said, grinning wickedly. “Never.”
“I mean it!” she said, trying for forceful, though her voice wavered. “I embarrassed myself. I made a fool of myself. End of story.”
The other girl behind the counter leaned close again, mischievous. “So, be honest. Was he hot?”
Kotone’s ears burned. She didn’t even spare a glance, staring at the lemon loaf on the counter like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the entire world. “He was… very tall.”
“Tall is hot.” Yukari declared.
“He was…” Kotone fumbled for the right word, one that wasn’t handsome or broody or the kind of guy who looks like he doesn’t text back but actually probably cares or whatever. “…serious.”
Makoto’s scissors clicked softly against another stem. “Good trait for someone who makes your coffee.”
“See? Makoto’s practically blessing the marriage already.”
“Yukari! Makoto, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
Makoto didn’t flinch. “It’s an observation.”
Kotone dragged her hands down her face. “This is the worst day of my life.”
She flung her arm around Kotone’s shoulders and squeezed. “Nooo, this is the best day of my life. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? This is peak entertainment.”
Kotone let her head fall dramatically onto Yukari’s shoulder. “I’m never going back in there.”
“Yes, you are.” Yukari sang. “You’re going to march right back in with a bouquet and a smile and ask him what a cortado is, because you’re Kotone. You’re unstoppable.”
“I’m ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously cute.”
“Shut up.”
By the time Kotone finished closing off the store, she’d almost managed to convince herself that the café fiasco hadn’t happened.
Almost.
She’d replayed it over and over as she moved around the shop – the way her voice had cracked, how she’d asked for “plain coffee” like an idiot, the way she’d practically swallowed her tongue when he’d stared at her. She told herself she was being dramatic. She’d just been introducing herself to a neighbor. People embarrass themselves every day! No one cared!
Except he probably thinks I’m completely insane, she thought, dragging a broom into the corner.
The shop always got quiet in the last hour before closing. Not empty – there were still the occasional customers who darted in for a last minute bouquet, or someone who remembered an anniversary at the last hour – but quieter. The rush of the afternoon faded out. The sunset creeped through the windows, softening every color into honey.
Kotone loved this time.
Now, she was sweeping near the front, humming under her breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment of earlier.
You survived, she told herself, dragging the broom in long strokes across the wooden floor, too caught up in her thoughts to actually sweep anything at all. You walked into the café, you ordered, you even drank some of it! And he didn’t throw you out. That’s fine! That’s a win. You are fine.
“Kotone,” Yukari sing-songed from the counter, “what’s the face? Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about Mr. Hot Barista.”
Kotone froze mid step. “I am not.”
“You are.” Yukari grinned over the rim of her magazine. “I can see it on your face. You’re reliving every mortifying second. That’s the universal I-just-met-a-hot-guy-and-humiliated-myself expression.”
“I’m never going back.”
“Yes, you are.” Yukari declared, snapping her magazine shut. “You’re going back tomorrow and every day after that until he proposes.”
“Yukari!”
“What? It’s called manifesting.”
Kotone dropped her hands and pointed accusingly. “You’re evil.”
“But I’m right!” Yukari shot back, striking a pose with one hand on her hip. “Trust me, Kotone. Guys like that? They secretly live for bubbly girls who knock them off their broody pedestals.”
She shoved the broom back into the corner and busied herself with rearranging the front display, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. But her cheeks were still warm.
They fell back into routine after that. Yukari cleaned the counter, humming some song under her breath. Makoto tied up the last bouquet order for pickup tomorrow, neat and precise. Kotone watered the smaller plants by the window, watching the light sink lower, painting the street outside in gold.
The shop felt safe again. Easy. Predictable.
Then the bell over the door chimed.
And it was him. Of course it was him, dammit-
The barista in question stepped inside, shoulders broad enough to take up the doorway, beanie pulled low. The last of the sunrise caught the back of his jacket before the door swung shut, leaving him framed in the amber glow of the setting sun. He didn’t look uncomfortable, though he didn’t exactly belong amongst all these little flowers. He simply stood still, eyes sweeping the space, taking notes, before landing on her.
Kotone, on the other hand, felt her stomach drop into her shoes.
He looked around once, eyes moving over the flowers, the counter, the chalkboard where she’d scrawled welcome in! in looping letters. Then his gaze landed on her.
“Evening.” he said, voice low, but not unkind.
Kotone scrambled upright, clutching the watering can too tightly. “Hi! Uh- welcome in! We’re about to close, but there’s still plenty left, so if you need anything, really anything at all, we can-”
Yukari’s grin widened. She didn’t say a word, yet, but the amusement was radiating off of her. Stupid- don’t rub salt in the wound.
Despite her continuing to embarrass herself, the barista’s mouth quirked, almost like he was fighting back a smile. “Looking for something simple. For the counter.”
Kotone blinked rapidly, her brain catching up about three seconds too late. Simple. For the counter. He wanted flowers. She could do that! She was literally built for that, that’s her literal job.
“Yes! Absolutely. Something simple.” She snapped to attention, setting the watering can down a little too loudly against a table. “We’ve got lots of simple. Uh, subtle. Classic. Or bold. Not that bold is bad, bold is great, I just don’t know if bold is what you want for a café counter, but hey, maybe it is, people like bold-”
“Kotone.” Makoto said quietly from behind the counter. Just her name, but it was enough to reel her back in.
Right. She was spiraling. Again.
She cleared her throat, smoothing down her apron like that could smooth out the heat blooming across her face. “Blue and white.” she said quickly. “That’s what I’d recommend. Really clean, fresh. Everyone loves that.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched her, steady and unreadable, while she busied herself with the flowers.
She pulled a few stems of flowers from their water buckets, their pale blue petals blooming at the edges, then added in a few white flowers for softness. Her hands moved automatically, arranging the bouquet, but her thoughts were a mess.
Don’t drop anything. Don’t cut your hand. Don’t ramble. Don’t-
“You run this place yourself?” His voice cut into her thoughts, rough around the edges but not unfriendly.
She blinked up at him, startled. “Oh- um, yeah! Well, no- kind of. It’s mine, but I’ve got help.” She gestured toward her brother with the scissors. “That’s Makoto, my twin. He’s basically the brain of the entire operation. And Yukari-”
“Present!” Yukari chirped, leaning her chin on her hand from the counter. “Best friend, part-time worker, full-time moral support.”
“Exactly! So, I guess I don’t run it all on my own. But it’s my name on the lease. Scary, right?”
For the first time, something flickered across his face – just the barest tug at the corner of his mouth. “Brave.” he said simply.
Kotone almost dropped the flowers.
Brave? No one had ever called her that before. Loud, sure. Energetic, all the time. But brave? Brave was something she’d never quite believed about herself.
She ducked her head quickly, pretending to fuss with the bouquet. “Well, someone’s gotta keep this street lively, right?”
Silence stretched for a moment, but not the uncomfortable kind. It was steady, like he was content to let her fill the air while he waited.
She wrapped the bouquet carefully in brown paper, tied it off with a little ribbon, and held it out with both hands. “Here. For your counter.”
He took it from her without hesitation, careful with the stems, his hand brushing hers only briefly, but it was enough to make her heart thump far too loudly in her ears. Get it together!! Why am I letting some random barista make me so… nervous?
“Nice colors.” he said, studying it. “Better than plain coffee.”
Kotone’s mind short circuited. He remembered. And he noticed she hated it. Ugh.
Her laugh shot out, sharp and too loud. “Ha- yeah, well, flowers are prettier, that’s for sure! And tastier. I mean, not tastier, unless you’re into… edible flowers? Which I guess is a thing, actually, but I’ve never really tried-”
Makoto coughed pointedly. She clamped her mouth shut.
The man – god, she really needed to stop thinking of him as the man and maybe start figuring out his name – just gave a small nod, pulling his wallet out of his coat pocket. He handed over the bills, movements easy, deliberate. No fumbling, no second guessing. Transaction complete. He could have left then. Should have. But instead he lingered, bouquet balanced in his hand, his gaze finding hers one last time.
“Congrats on the opening.” he said, voice steady but carrying more weight than the words alone. “Good to see new places like this here.”
Kotone’s chest tightened unexpectedly. “Thank you.” she said, softer this time. “Really. That means a lot.”
And there it was again, that almost-smile. Barely there, but definitely real. Then he tipped his head once, bouquet under his arm, and turned for the door, bell jingling behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Yukari was the first to break the tension, snapping her magazine back closed with a dramatic thwap. “Okay.” she declared, pointing at the door with her dramatics. “That was not just a customer. That was Mr. Hot Barista himself, buying your flowers like he’s starring in some kind of indie romance.”
Kotone groaned and leaned against the counter, covering her face with both hands. “Don’t.”
“Oh, I’m definitely doing. He smiled! He smiled at you, Kotone. I saw it with my own two eyes. I thought his face was physically incapable of doing that.”
Kotone groaned louder, dragging her palms down her face until they dropped to her sides. “You’re both unbearable.” Her cheeks were burning, and no amount of pretending to fuss with ribbon scraps was going to hide it.
“Unbearably right.”
“It was just business! He wanted something for the counter, and I made it. That’s literally my job.”
Makoto didn’t look up, but his voice carried with quiet certainty. “He was paying attention.”
“…What does that even mean?”
“He watched your hands.” Makoto replied. “Not the flowers. The way you arranged them.”
Her stomach flipped, and she hated that it did. “You notice too much.” she muttered.
Yukari gasped like she’d just been given divine confirmation. “Oh my god. He’s already halfway in love with you. You’re doomed.”
Kotone groaned, pressing her hands to her burning cheeks. “This is ridiculous. All of this is ridiculous.”
The three of them settled back into the last few minutes of closing. Makoto finished wiping down the back counter, moving steady and quiet as always. Yukari kept passing Kotone, humming something poppy and obnoxious under her breath, clearly basking in her victory. Kotone busied herself with counting bills in the register, though her mind wasn’t on it.
Because when she glanced across the street, she could see it: the warm glow of the café windows, and on the counter inside, the faint silhouette of pale blue and white flowers cozied in a little vase.
Her heart gave a little squeeze.
“…I still didn’t get his name.”