"Futaba didn't tell me you were coming," Sojiro says from the other side of the counter and over the hunched shoulders of one of his regulars. Unclasping the last button of her coat, Haru smiles. Gives him a slight shake of her head.
"She wasn't expecting me," she says as she rolls her coat into a bundle. The gurgle of pouring coffee and the weightless words coming from the television are oddly relaxing. Haru can almost breathe deeply.
It seems silly to feel so nervous.
Placing her coat and a canvas tote bag down, Haru slips into a booth seat facing the Leblanc's door. The weather has not changed since she came indoors just minutes ago: the morning light is still drearily dim. Somehow, it had made the walk here from the station that much harder. She is grateful when Sojiro appears at her elbow and sets down a cup of coffee between her bare hands. The coffee looks the right colour to her eye. He must know the entire former-Phantom Thieves' orders by heart now.
"Thank you." Haru gives him another smile. Closes her hands around the ceramic cup to warm them.
"My pleasure," Sojiro says. "If you want, I can give her a call." The cup burns against her fingers as they clench. "She's probably awake by now."
"No— no," she says too quickly. Ever so slightly, Sojiro arches at eyebrow at her. "That won't be necessary."
Haru is twice as grateful now for the coffee. Taking a sip from it buys her some time.
The regular buys her a little more.
"Hey, how about a refill?" he calls out from behind Sojiro. Frowning, Sojiro shifts his weight backwards. Puts a hand on his waist. It is almost enough to disguise his amusement.
"You drank it that fast?" he mutters.
"I heard that!" the regular says. If she had not felt so under the microscope, Haru might giggle.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming."
The door bell chimes as Sojiro steps away from her table. In the span of a second, her fingers slip and reapply themselves around the handle of her coffee cup. Haru looks at the entrance way to find an elderly couple tottering in. They pull hats from their heads and gloves from their hands. Pull words and a soft chortle from each other. The door swings shut behind them.
Haru notices then that she is holding her breathe. Notices then how heavily the tote bag leans against the side of her thigh.
Sojiro and the couple exchange greetings. Their voices sound like they could be coming from the café's television. It feels as though the room has dropped a degree or two in temperature. Scolding herself for her nerves, Haru takes another sip of her coffee.
He is running late.
It is unusually cold outside. It is the kind of day that makes one crave something warm to drink. The kind that makes one crave someplace warm to be. She hopes he did not forget his gloves and a hat today. Hopes he did not forget his own gentle laughter.
Her eyes drift away from the CLOSED sign hanging on the other side of the glass and pass over the healthy-looking leaves of the potted ficus plant to the Sayuri. Something about the woman's expression makes Haru's hands withdraw from her coffee cup. Clasp one another.
Haru had not known the significance of the painting when she first saw it. It had been on the night that Mona reconciled with his friends. The same night Sugimura had grabbed her by her arm hard enough to leave bruises. Fighting with online train schedules and the zippers of their lightweight jackets, the then-Phantom Thieves huddled near the doorway. Haru's gaze was drawn to the thin strokes of the woman's dark hair. To the gentle angle of her eyebrows. Drawn to the faint blush to the baby's cheeks. It was undeniably a beautiful painting. Only, the terrible knot in Haru's stomach had made it difficult to appreciate it right then.
Now she knows who the painting is of. Knows what it means. She traces the outline of the woman's eye with her own. Although the woman is stylized, Haru has seen this shape in reality.
The bell chimes again and that shape stares back at her.
"Ah." Yusuke smiles. Takes off his gloves. Haru notices that he is not wearing a hat. Perhaps she could gift one to him later.
"Oh! It's you," Sojiro says from across the room. Yusuke half-bows in Sojiro's direction before stepping farther into the café.
"Good morning, Haru," he says as he undoes his coat. Her elbows press in against the sides of her ribs.
"Good morning."
After neatly folding his coat, Yusuke places it down beside him on the opposing booth seat. His long legs accidentally knock his feet against her own. Hands still clasped, her fingertips dig into the places between her knuckles.
"Apologies," he says nonchalantly. Haru just smiles. Reaches for her coffee cup.
He clearly has no idea what that briefest bit of contact has done to her.
It is an odd kind of agony when Sojiro disentangles himself from his other customers long enough to attend to their table. He arrives with a cup brewed to Yusuke's liking and that barely-raised eyebrow aimed at Haru. For the third time today, Haru is thankful for her coffee. It is useful to hide behind.
"I'll leave you two to it," Sojiro says after taking Yusuke's order. There is no insinuation there. No judgement. Haru blinks sharply in their absence.
She remembers then that Sojiro, like the others, is on her side.
"Thank you for meeting me today," Haru says.
"Of course." His smile does something to her own. Blushing, Haru sets aside her nearly-empty coffee cup. Twists in her seat to pull out a folder from the tote bag. The folder is thick with magazine clippings and printed emails. With rough sketches and an Okumura's Foods budget plan.
Haru looks up at Yusuke. Finds him tilting his head toward her in interest.
"So, um, you probably don't remember, but I wanted to open up my own café someday," she says. Lowers her gaze to the folder as she places it on the table between them. Her fingers drag across the folder's front. The words in her throat drag too. Her nerves just will not quit.
"I remember." The tone of his voice sends something electric through her. Her eyes dart up and drink in the explicitness of his smile.
She remembers then: he is on her side too.
"Oh." It is not nervousness that leaves her wordless now. How silly that she had ever been nervous to share her dream with him. Yusuke would not think her too inexperienced or incompetent. Would not think such a thing was beyond her capabilities.
Unintentionally, Haru begins to giggle.
"Thank you," she says. His smile is replaced with perplexity. It makes her laugh a little more. "I'm sorry, I'm— I was nervous."
"Nervous?" Yusuke says the word like he has never heard it before. Flipping the folder open, Haru tears her eyes away from him to look for a particular document.
"Yes," she says as she searches. "We haven't closed on the property yet, so the renovations won't start for a while. But I need to have a design ready for approval before"— she stops on a page of full-colour photocopied photographs— "then."
Rotating the paper, she pushes it closer to Yusuke.
"This was my grandfather's," Haru says. "I was thinking of trying to adopt a similar look, as a, well, a homage, I suppose, but I also wanted the interior to be unique." Yusuke frowns.
"Haru, I don't do interior—"
"I know." She hopes he will forgive the interruption. "I'm not asking you to design it. I already have an idea in mind, but I was hoping to have your opinion on design elements. You'll be compensated for your time, I promise."
The creases between his eyebrows disappear. Picking up the paper, Yusuke inspects it. Then he stands up. Whatever confidence she had leaves her right then and there.
He must be insulted: she has asked an artist to waste precious time and skill on something he has no interest in. In Shido's Palace, Yusuke had not been impressed when asked to use his talents to design a tattoo. Her heart beats four times faster than it should as she scrambles to find the words to fix this. She should have known better.
"May I?" Yusuke asks from where he stands to the left of her. Her heart rate goes completely flat. It takes her a few too many seconds to understand what it is he is asking. Shuffling over, Haru makes room for Yusuke to sit down next to her.
He does.
Her heart finds it in itself to start beating again. Quickly.
"Your grandfather had a strong aesthetic sense," Yusuke says. Places the paper between them. "It is an excellent base to work from. I have a few ideas regarding the colour of the display shelf, as well as the placement of the hutch— ah, how similar are the floor plans?"
"I have them here." Doing her best to ignore how close she is to him, Haru turns over a few pages to reach the new floor plans. She believes she is handling this quite well.
Then she glances at his face.
Her gaze is drawn to what looks like a faint blush to his cheeks. Hurriedly, Haru looks back at the document in her hands.
"We don't"— she chokes on her words— "the blueprints— we don't have them for grandfather's café just yet."
"No matter," Yusuke says. If he is flustered, he does not sound it. "I believe this should be enough to work with. I have an idea for the seating..."
Their conversation carries them away. At some point, Sojiro returns with food and Yusuke inhales it between sentences. Haru convinces him to order another plate on her dollar.
A part of Haru wonders if she had truly seen what she thought she had. Perhaps she had only imagined him blushing.
It hardly seems to matter now. The lovely shape of his eyes house such passion. Such light.
He is that someplace warm she craves to be.