It was his eyes that did it. His wide eyed look, pupils larger than normal, thin circle of green surrounding them. The black shadows under his eyes, hinting at the lack of sleep, yet also accenting the pale green of his irises. Hmm, maybe it wasn't his eyes.

Maybe it was his hair.

His hair was dark black opposing the pale fragileness of his skin. It might have been shoulder length long if wet, say in a shower? Instantly the thoughts raced in my head before I could stop them. Him. In a shower. Steam rising over the shower door, dew gathering across the mirror, fogging it. I could imagine him shirtless, and probably from a distance would have thought of him as skinny, almost anorexic.

But from my position on the couch at some café I couldn't quite remember the name of right now, I could see him perfectly. I once again followed the path from his messy hair, disheveled and untidy-what was it called? Oh right, bed head? Bed hair? Something like that. Almost like he had gelled it, the way the ends of his hair spiked, leaning specifically to his left side, not one stray out of its disorganized place.

Once I past the hairline, I was met with a pale slender neck. That didn't last too long; a bleached white shirt disrupted my view, not that I minded. Just before the shirt, and you had to have a good eye to see it, the appearance of muscle. So anorexia wasn't his problem. Fantastic, though I was slightly confused with the reason he would be here then.

Apparently this café was famous for its sugar inducing, 100 sweet, rot your teeth from the inside out after coffee cakes. This is what he was eating currently, and quite a big one. It looked like brown sugar, white sugar and syrup coated the entire cake, as well as mixed into the batter of the actual white cake.

He ate it with a black plastic spork, sitting oddly in his chair, eating it oddly as well. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest, his toes dangling off the very edge of the cushion, his baggy jeans pooling around the middle of his foot. He ate his cake from the top down, I mean that he would move his whole arm so that his elbow pointed in the air, then swoop down in a straight line, then immediately plop it in his mouth.

I continued to openly stare, laptop in front of me absent, work do tomorrow forgotten. I focused on his face once again, watching as his eyes closed in savoring the cake. This unavoidably led me to his lips. They were thin with lightest tinge of pink. Yummy, almost as edible as his cake, probably just as sweet too.

A blush arose on my face as I quickly shut my laptop and abruptly left the café before I did something stupid, like introduce myself. Once outside I took a deep breath of fresh air and motioned for a taxi. No coming back to this café ever again.

-A brief thought from Ryuzaki's mind-

Hmm, I wonder who that girl was. She should know it's quite rude to stare at people. Or maybe it was my cake she was staring at? Hmm…

(A/N: Ok people, VERY nervous about this. First EVER fanfic, so how did I do?)