A/N: Oh look, it's Bosami. I haven't written this pairing (or any LOK fic in general) in a long time, so hopefully I'll get in the swing of things soon. Title, cover image, and inspiration come from "Sayonara Crawl" by AKB48.
When you work at a diner right across the street from the airport, you tend to see a lot of people looking their absolute worst. Regardless of whether or not they fixed themselves up after landing, everyone had crusted saliva around their mouths, stains on their shirts, and/or dark circles underneath their eyes. Everyone, no matter how old or young, regardless of whether it's their first visit or their twenty-first, looked like that coming out of grueling security checks and ten-hour flights.
So when he looked up to the window after cleaning a table, Bolin was shocked to see a young woman strutting out of the airport looking as gorgeous as ever.
She was wearing a white, sleeveless blouse that had a collar on it, and dark red shorts that contrasted sharply to her pale legs. Her long, black hair bounced and didn't look disheveled at all, and her lips were stained a wine red. She had a big white handbag with red decals dangling on the crook of her right arm which swayed with every step she took, and she gripped a big black suitcase with her left. The waiter couldn't make out the woman's eyes, much to his dismay, as they were hidden under black sunglasses, but the woman was crossing the street, making her way towards the entrance of the diner.
Bolin started to vigorously wipe down the table he just cleaned, keeping his head down low and hoping to look like he was diligently doing his job. The door opened and the bell rang. In walked the woman from the airport, looking as cool and untouchable as ever. The low rumble from her suitcase wheels contrasted with the sharp percussion of her footsteps. From the corner of his eye he watched her seat herself at an empty booth.
It was a slow time at the diner; the lunch rush ended an hour ago, and the only people left were the one or two stragglers, him, his boss Toza, and the head chef, Narook, and neither employer nor cook were anywhere in sight. The seventeen-year-old took a deep breath before straightening himself up, lifting his eyes from the table to the last person to enter, who was taking off her shades.
The ten steps it took for Bolin to reach the table were the ten most tortuous steps he'd ever taken his whole life. It was as if he were being sent to the gallows for crimes of the heart. He could feel the sweat accumulate underneath his fingers as he grabbed a menu for dear life. When the waiter made it to the table, making an effort to not bump into the suitcase beside it, he couldn't even look at the customer in the eye for what felt like eternity; instead, he focused on the table, and the painted pale fingers drumming on its surface. He then cleared his throat and raised his head a little.
"Good afternoon," the teenage boy greeted, gingerly placing the laminated menu in front of the young woman.
From his vantage point, Bolin could see the crown of her head, blacker than night and pulled back on her left side by a green clip. Her eyelashes were long and perfectly curled, and she had a pale lavender eye shadow on her lids. However, as she lifted those eyelids, Bolin felt as if he lost all control over his body; he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't stop himself from getting sucked in to the stranger's eyes.
They were green, green with specks of teal, like the ocean just a few kilometers away, a familiar shade, but like the tides themselves, uncontrollable and hidden in mystery. The verdant orbs twinkled with something the waiter couldn't explain as the young woman gave a small smile.
"Good afternoon to you as well," she replied smoothly, arching an eyebrow slightly after a few seconds of him staring.
Bolin could feel himself burn up. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. His throat felt dry, and he had to cough a little before asking the customer if she wanted anything to drink.
"Iced tea, please," she responded, the smile on her face growing a little more at the sight of the waiter getting flustered, "with lemon and sugar."
Bolin scribbled her drink on the pad before speed walking to the counter, muttering under his breath that he'd be back to take her order. He took a clean glass by the soda machine and placed it under the nozzle for iced tea. He pulled the lever.
"Hey Bolin!" a deep voiced growled from the kitchen, "What's with that show you put on?"
Everyone looked towards the counter, witnessing the young waiter flushing from the cook's loud yells. Bolin shushed Narook, turning his head around to give an awkward smile to the customers, before facing the cook through the order window.
"Quit it, Narook," Bolin whispered, "I just saw her coming out of the airport."
"And you're losing it so hard that you over-filled her drink."
"What?"
Bolin looked at the soda machine, gave a high-pitched squeak and lifted his hand off the handle shakily. The brown beverage spilled onto the grates of the machine and onto the floor. The waiter quickly kneeled down, grabbing the dish rag from the back of his pocket to wipe up the mess. A little bit of the tea seeped into the fibers of his pants and the cuffs of his sleeves. Strings of curses quietly made it out of his mouth as he mopped up the mess.
Once he was done, Bolin quickly stood up and readied the woman's drink. The glass cup was still perched on the grate of the soda machine, filled to the brim with iced tea. Bolin placed the glass under a small plate, spilling a little over the side, and wedged a lemon on the rim. He could feel the wet stains spread throughout his uniform.
"Here you go, one sweetened iced tea with lemon," he announced hurriedly. The waiter plopped the drink carelessly on the table, making a little more of the beverage spill onto the plate.
The young woman looked at the drink, and then at him. His hair was a little tousled, and his face was still red. She saw the tea stains on his sleeves.
"Thank you," she replied, giving the waiter a small smile, "It sounded like you had to wrestle someone back there to get it ready."
"He he, yeah," Bolin laughed awkwardly, "It's been an off day for me."
"Would it be even more of an off day for you if I ask you to show me around the island sometime?"
Bolin's green eyes bulged, and his throat went dry.
"W-what?"
The green-eyed woman chuckled.
"Just trying to loosen you up. Relax a little before you take my order," she coaxed.
"S-sorry about the mess," Bolin apologized hastily, "It's just been a tiring day and you're the prettiest customer I've had to serve these past few years and-"
"SIR!" said customer cut him off, a small blush finally made it on her pale face.
"S-sorry," the waiter answered. He cleared his throat.
"So, what would you like to order?"
After finishing her food, the tall woman left the diner, placing money and the receipt next to her empty plate. As soon as the diner door closed, Bolin immediately started clearing her table. He dumped the empty dishes into a big brown tray, and he pocketed the money and receipt to cash in later.
Bolin unceremoniously slammed open the gate to the counter and crashed into the swinging doors to the kitchen, dropping the container of dishes for the dishwasher boy to clean later. He slowly trudged back outside to deposit the cash into the cash register. He took out the money and dropped them into their designated slots. The waiter then looked at the receipt; his green eyes widened, and his heart stopped beating for a second.
Under the "total amount" line on the receipt was a phone number written in black pen. There was also a message written underneath the digits.
"The offer to show me around the island still stands. Call me when your shift is over!
Asami"