A/N: This in no way reflects my personal views regarding Valentine's Day.
"Irasshaimase!"
Kurama weaved between tables on his way to the cafe's counter. He was greeted with a shy smile from a familiar face.
"Good morning, Minamino-san. The usual?"
Kurama returned the smile. "Yes, please," he said.
Dark brown eyes flicked down as a slender hand wrote his order down on a small notepad.
Kurama paid before moving aside to let other customers approach the counter. He studied the cafe's decor as he waited. Small tables were scattered around the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, containing a selection of popular novels, magazines and manga. The place had a comfortable, cozy feel to it, which was what drew Kurama here time and time again. It was a respite from the busy, crowded streets of the city he now thought of as home.
But, unlike most days, each table was decorated with a vase containing roses placed in the centre. The cafe also had a selection of chocolates prominently displayed at the counter, each wrapped in Valentine's Day-themed paper.
Kurama hid his scowl behind an impassive mask. This day was a trial for him. Perhaps he might feel differently if he were in a relationship, but he was single. That was a fact that his female colleagues were well aware of, much to his chagrin.
Little did those colleagues know, the only person Kurama ever accepted flowers or chocolates from on this day was his mother. He had always felt terrible for her as she had no one to share the day with. Over the past few years, Kurama had tried to make her feel better in various ways, like picking roses with her for her friends or making home-made chocolate. He knew that she often thought of his father on this day and he had wanted to ease her loneliness.
But she didn't need him now. She had someone new to share the day with.
The bell above the door rang out, announcing another customer's arrival. The familiar greeting from the cafe's staff followed.
Kurama watched with mild interest as the customer, a girl wearing a cute top and short skirt, approach the counter. What had drawn his eye wasn't her clothing choice. It was fairly typical for girls her age. His eye was caught by the small box of chocolates she held in her dainty hands. Who were those for?
The girl shyly approached the same boy who had taken Kurama's order. Kurama listened, feeling just a bit embarrassed for the girl as she stammered out her confession of love for the boy.
Kurama, like many of the other customers in the cafe, had turned to watch the boy's response. It came out barely understandable.
His cheeks were bright red beneath brown bangs.
"I-I'm sorry. I c-can't."
He fled, ducking out of sight through the kitchen's doorway. Kurama frowned as the other employee at the counter called after him, "Shin!"
The customer looked very upset as she left without ordering. Kurama felt only marginally sympathetic towards her. She had to have been aware that she was risking rejection, yet she had decided to go ahead and approach the boy anyway. In truth, Kurama was far more sympathetic to the boy's position. He'd made his own fair share of rejections today and it wasn't even lunchtime.
The girl behind the counter looked back and forth between the doorway the boy had disappeared through and the customers waiting for their orders. No one else made a move toward her so Kurama stepped up to her.
"Would you like me to check on him?" Kurama offered.
"Oh, yes, please," the girl said, looking relieved. "This is the third one today. He's so nice that he has a hard time saying no. He hates to hurt their feelings."
"Only the third?" Kurama asked with a raised eyebrow, drawing a laugh from the girl. Her name tag read 'Aki', he noticed. She had taken his order a few times before but he had not concerned himself with remembering her name, or that of her co-worker.
Aki gestured him behind the counter and Kurama approached the doorway. It led to a small kitchen. The chef, a skinny black-haired teenager, pointed him towards another door. Kurama found himself in an even smaller room intended to be some sort of meeting place for the employees, he guessed. There was a table with half a dozen seats around it. Coat racks and lockers for employees' valuables lined the room. At the table sat the young man, Shin. His head was in his hands.
"Excuse me?" Kurama asked.
Shin's head shot up. He turned, brushing bangs out of his face.
"Oh, ah." He started to stand. "Can I help you?"
Kurama couldn't help but laugh. "Sit down," he said. "Your co-worker sent me in here to make sure you were all right."
"Oh."
Shin sank back into the chair, a dejected look coming onto his face.
"Thank you but I'm fine," he said. "I just needed some space."
Kurama nodded sympathetically. "Valentine's Day does have that effect on some people," he said.
Shin laughed quietly. "Yeah," he agreed.
Kurama could see why he'd drawn the girls' unwanted attentions. He'd always personally thought that the boy was handsome, in a young, shy kind of way. But he had never even remotely considered the boy in a romantic way. There was a lot more to a relationship than physical attraction and Kurama knew absolutely nothing about this boy other than that he worked at a cafe. For all he knew, they had completely different interests. If he were going to enter into a relationship with someone, then it would be with someone he knew. Someone he had formed a friendship with first.
And he wouldn't wait until Valentine's Day to confess his feelings. He'd do so when he was good and ready to, not because of some strange human convention.
"I hate Valentine's Day," Shin muttered, taking Kurama by surprise. He raised his face to Kurama, eyes sparking with frustration. "I don't know those girls. I don't even like girls. Not like that."
Shin's cheeks bloomed pink with that admission, but he continued unapologetically. "But they just assume… and I hate having to turn them away. It feels horrible."
Shin ran a hand through his hair. It flopped right back into his face.
"You have nothing to feel guilty about," Kurama assured him. "Rejecting the gifts outright is preferable to leading them on."
Shin nodded, but he still looked bothered.
"I have turned away several young ladies myself today," Kurama admitted. "It is quite distracting."
That earned him a small smile from Shin. "Yeah," he agreed. Then he paused, giving Kurama a speculative look. "I thought that I was the only one who hated today," he admitted.
"You are not," Kurama informed him.
Shin's smile was broader this time. "Thanks," he said.
He rose and tucked the chair back beneath the table.
"I suppose I had better get back out there," he said. "Before Aki sends anyone else in after me."
Shin held the door open for Kurama, allowing Kurama to precede him into the hot, stuffy air of the kitchen. Shin took his place behind the counter, greeting the next customer with his usual friendly smile while Kurama took his coffee from Aki.
"Thanks," she said quietly to him. "Honestly, he's so high-maintenance."
She rolled her eyes, her expression exaggerated into an exasperated look. Kurama laughed. It was clear that she didn't mean what she'd said.
Shin glanced their way, eyes bright with curiosity and suspicion before he returned to writing the customer's order down.
"I think he'll be all right now," Kurama said. "He just needed a sympathetic ear."
Amidst the colourful little chocolates and the bloom of red roses, Shin would have a difficult time finding that ear. Most people didn't share his dislike of the day. Even Aki sported little heart-shaped earrings half-hidden by shoulder-length straight black hair and a matching heart necklace around her slender neck.
Kurama left the cafe, sipping on his coffee. He held the door open for a girl holding a large bunch of red roses.
"Those roses are lovely," he commented. He silently hoped they weren't for Shin.
The girl paused, giving him a startled smile. "They're for my boyfriend," she said. "I know we're supposed to give chocolate but he doesn't like chocolate so…"
Kurama wished her a nice day and continued on his way back to his office building. Hopefully, he wouldn't arrive to find more gifts left on his desk during his absence. This day couldn't be over soon enough, as far as he was concerned.