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Futaba’s only warning that her life is over is the jingle of the bell on the door.
“Sakura-chan!” A pair of big red eyes, magnified by the glasses of the wearer, suddenly fit themself right under Futaba’s nose—more importantly, between her and her laptop screen, which she’d only been inches away from, so it’s naturally closer than Futaba is wanting or expecting to be to anyone else today. Even a classmate.
“Personal space, Yoshizawa,” Futaba complains as she leans back, holding her computer carefully so it doesn’t fall and create a chain reaction of falling coffee mugs on the bar. It could happen. It has happened before. Leblanc is a professional establishment and thus not the place for the tomfoolery Sumire apparently keen on getting up to today. It’s sort of not fair, because the way Akira talked about it, Sumire’s ‘true form’ is supposed to be really shy and awkward and delicate, which would actually be sort of cute, but she isn’t that way with Futaba whatsoever.
Instead she beams even as she giggles bashfully and leans back, tucking a red curl behind her ear. “Ehehehe, sorry about that… I was just so excited to see you.”
Futaba side eyes her. “I’m here every day, you know that? This is my dad’s shop.”
“I know that,” Sumire says, and to be fair, she does. She leans against the counter and hugs her arms over her stomach. She’s gained confidence since their second year started, Futaba will grant her that. She seems more comfortably settled in her skin, a healthy flush on her face from the constant running around she’s always doing even when she isn’t practicing to go to the Olympics or whatever. She looks at Futaba strangely as well, like she hung the moon and all the stars or something… which beyond being embarrassing is just, really a wild overreaction and not a way anybody should ever be looking at Futaba whatsoever.
It makes her neck feel warm. “...So what is it, did you want to copy off my homework or something?”
“I-I don’t do that!” Sumire stammers. “That isn’t it at all!”
“Ehhhhh?” Futaba snickers and raises her voice. “Yoshizawa, I can’t believe you came all the way here to bum my notes for the history exam…”
“No no no!” Sumire stomps her foot and pouts, and it is pretty cute so Futaba lets it go, albeit snickering all the while. She can’t help it. It also makes her feel a little bit more like she’s steering when they have conversations like this, considering that Sumire (despite being, again, purportedly awkward) approaches interactions like a fun new challenge and Futaba looks at every new stranger like they could unhinge their jaw and eat her. They really could, in her defence. Not that she feels that way about Sumire exactly, she’s not worried about being eaten and also Sumire is ostensibly not a stranger, they’re classmates if not allies, but it’s like…
Ugh, she’s just weird, okay? It’s so weird being looked at like that. Futaba turns away and bites on her lower lip.
“Okay, seriously, what do you want?” Futaba asks, side eyeing again.
Sumire drums her index fingers together like a walking stereotype. “Well… I guess I didn’t have anything specific in mind… not that I was here for your notes!” She huffs and stamps her foot, which makes Futaba want to smile, so she hides it behind her laptop screen. “I just knew you’d probably be here, and I wanted to see you, so…”
There are a billion other things she could be doing right now. Practicing for one. Studying for another, if she’s so adamant that she doesn’t want to cheat. She could buy a coffee or something and at least support the business, although in that respect Futaba is sure Sumire would do so if she just made a recommendation… Sighing, Futaba turns away and tugs at a piece of her hair. It defies reason, really… Studying Sumire out of the corner of her eye, she takes in that bashful smile and flattering blush, the way her vibrant red ponytail swings from side to side as she stands there with gooey eyes, and it all…
“I don’t get it,” Futaba admits. “Why are you so… energetic, all the time? Where does it come from?”
Sumire perks up. One area where Futaba has to give her credit is the fact that she never seems disheartened to receive questions like that, even when they’re (self admittedly) sort of mean. She only rolls with the punches, ready to answer no matter what Futaba’s actual intentions might be in asking.
“This is sort of a nerdy answer, but,” Sumire smiles, “did you know that exercising regularly can actually give you more energy?”
“Ugh.”
“It’s true! It burns calories, which makes you hungry, then in turn you eat more and get more energy!” Sumire beams. “You don’t have to do gymnastics with Kurusu-senpai and me or anything, but you could always try going for walks or something, Sakura-chan… You might really like it! And it could put you in a better mood sometimes.”
Futaba rolls her eyes. “Pass. I have everything I need right here.” She drums her fingers on the back of her laptop.
“Ehehe. I thought you might say that… It’s okay.” Sumire’s bashful smile returns. She hesitantly climbs onto the barstool at Futaba’s side when it doesn’t appear like Futaba is going to shout her down or bite her so she’ll leave. “I really just like you exactly as you are, Sakura-chan, so… it really is fine.”
Ugh, this girl… Futaba is at a loss for words, so she just sighs and hunches back over her computer. If she wants to sit here in quiet because she ‘likes Futaba as she is’ then that’s fine. Who is Futaba to stop her? She better buy something to justify taking up space and heat in Leblanc, but as far as Futaba is concerned, she can do whatever she wants. Be wherever she wants! Why did today have to be a day when Akira wasn’t in to divert her? She’s so bearable in small doses when she’s just hanging over Akira’s shoulder…!
…No, actually, Futaba wouldn’t wish for him to be here. She doesn’t mind this anywhere near as much as she makes it out in her head. When she glances over at Sumire again, she finds that Sumire’s gaze is already on her. The other girl turns a red to match her hair and quickly looks away, staring down at her lap.
Hehehehe. “You want a coffee?” Futaba asks, sliding her laptop across the counter. “I’ll make you one on the house, since I’m still practicing.”
“R-Really?” Sumire lights up. “Sakura-chan, I would love that!”
“Always such a big deal with you…” Futaba mumbles… but she has to say it out of the corner of her mouth as she makes her way onto the other side of the bar. After all, it would defeat the purpose of grumbling if Sumire realised how hard she’s trying not to smile.