First of all, I must thank all you wonderful people for reviewing. Two of which in peticular I ought to mention.
Kamyra: Thank you! First reviewer for this story and I thank you for your support and enthusiasm.
Alkira Sonoma: Merci! I thank you for the positives and negatives in your review as they really do help a lot!
Thanks given, we move on to the next chapter. Again, expect nothing fantastic, but enjoy if you can.
Lord...
Lord, I hate the morning...
I rolled over, wrapped in my covers, away from a thin sliver of light that had invaded my room.
By the way, had I ever mentioned I am not a morning person?
Sunday mornings, though, are the worst.
Why?
Because I had to wake up at the crack of down to go to Church. Listening to a choir warbling away like a bunch of choked pelicans and the priest preaching repeatedly Lord-knows-what is not my idea of a good way to spend the morning. The number of people sitting at the benches don't make it any easier.
I wish I could sleep bit more.
I groaned before rolling over and glancing at my bedside clock.
5:57
I hate Sunday mornings.
I slowly untangled myself from my covers.
Hell, it's cold.
I sat at the edge of the bed, trying to gather my thoughts, shivering all the while in my pyjamas.
Almost unconsciously, I lifted a hand to my lips.
Lord...
Last night...
A kiss...
If last night turned out to be just a dream...
If last night were only a dream...
Sigh...
It would've been the best dream I ever had.
Thank bugger it was all real then, eh?
I slowly got up, stretching and yawning as I did, before I went into the bathroom.
After brushing my teeth, I undressed and prepared to bathe.
Soon the sounds of the shower filled the room. I stepped in, grabbing a bar of soap as I did so. When I finished I reached for the shampoo, a look of disgust on my face as I read the label.
'For oily hair', my arse.
I swear, the only thing I ever pour out of this is something to make my hair even greasier.
All the while, I was still thinking about last night...
All the while, I was thinking about her...
Lord...
She was beautiful...
A little inner voice decided to make itself heard at that moment: 'It's only, what you call, an infatuation, no more, no less. You get over it soon enough'
I wasn't all that sure. Did I really want to get over it?
The answer: No idea.
Sigh...
I washed the shampoo off my hair and closed the shower, before reaching for a towel.
After drying and then wrapping the towel around myself, I walked back into my bedroom. It was still quite cold. I shivered as I chose what to wear.
Let's see...
In the end, after having dug through three drawers, I found a thick, black turtleneck and a thick pair of black trousers.
If you haven't got it by now, my favourite colour's black. Pitch black preferred.
It looked cold outside too, but maybe it was just me. Not that I could tell really, seeing as my windows were frosted up.
I opened one, sighing and stuck my head out. I saw...
Bugger...
Snow!
I cursed, looking at the streets. I judged it had already a good few inches already. Must've started right after I got home.
At that moment a heap of the stuff decided the time was right to fall off my roof.
I spent the next minute or two swearing at the sky.
I stuck back my head in, shutting the window, shaking away the better part of the powdery, wet, cold stuff.
Bugger...
I pulled on a pair of long, black socks and a winter waistcoat. Opening my wardrobe I fetched a jacket and an overcoat. You can never be too prepared, I always say.
I walked down the stairs, sneezing half way. The last thing I needed was a cold.
What else did I need?
Bag and hat. I grabbed those from the hat rack by the door, as well as a thick woollen scarf.
I was about to open the door when I was struck by a thought.
Would I be hungry later on?
My stomach chose that moment to make itself heard.
I ran to the kitchen. A box of chocolate muffins stood on the table.
I forgot about those...
I had bought them a few days ago, but they still looked quite good. I shoved them into my bag, before running out the front door, grabbing an umbrella as I went.
The door locked behind me as I raced down the street.
Three minutes later, I reached the church and, puffing and panting, I made my way inside.
Lord damn all traffic.
I got to the organ and took out my music notes. I flinched when I saw some had been squashed by the box when I put it into my bag.
A signal from the priest was all I needed.
I began to play.
How long did I play for, you ask?
Lord knows.
I knew the routine well enough though.
Play on until the priest begins to speak. In-between, just keep playing.
I was to follow that routine until lunch, when I was officially off work; someone else would come play.
Wonderful...not. It was only five past seven when the priest began to speak.
Five hours left...
My mind wandered as I sat there. I wondered, would she be here, sitting amongst the masses? I scanned the benches. I saw black, white, grey, blonde and even green hair, but not purple.
I sighed.
Green always said vegetable to me for some reason. No idea why, I don't mind the colour.
And the priest stopped speaking.
Here we go again...
Finally...
The clock struck twelve, the priest stopped speaking, and the choir boys buggered off.
Lunch!
I was out the door faster than those nearest to it.
And was rewarded with a face full of cold air.
I shivered, looking down the street, wondering which way I should go.
Most of the people were heading down the westerly end of the road, towards the main hub of the city. Most were talking about shopping or seeing movies or other Lord-knows-what. Nothing I could relate to or like.
I went the other way.
Crowds always made me uncomfortable.
I walked past a park and playground, my eyes passing over the empty swings and slide, a layer of snow covering everything.
Sigh...
I continued on, past various streets and houses, most covered in the frost. To the right, a cafe seemed to pop into view.
I warn you now, to close your eyes if you hate pink as much as I do.
It wasn't a quiet cream pink either, nor was it a darker, almost red shade. I can stand pinks that are subtle or un-pink, if you get what I mean.
This cafe was of a shade of fluffy, rinky-dink pink that made you ache at the mouth.
But, looking up and down the road, I saw no other cafe or restaurant open.
Bugger...
It was either that, or freeze.
I went inside, not without a few carefully chosen profanities which I threw up into the sky.
The place was cheerfully lit, not really to my taste mark you, and pinks, white and reds dominated every surface. White, I like. the other colours though...
Yuck.
I took off my hat as a blonde, undeniably short girl led me to an empty table by a corner. Hyper-activity seemed to be her problem as she bounced, yes, literally bounced away to some of the other patrons of the cafe.
I set my hat, bag and umbrella down on an empty chair, before taking off my overcoat and placing on the back of the same chair. I scanned the room.
The place was filled to the brim with girls. Mostly teens, their winter school uniforms betrayed where they came from as they chatted happily about boys, love lives, idols, and so on and so on.
You get the drift.
I saw one or two boys though, none of whom were sitting alone like I was. Boyfriends, as likely as not. I snorted.
If you haven't already realised, I can be a bit of a scrooge at times.
A green haired girl was edging timidly towards my table. I sat there watching her out of the corner of my eye as I continued to watch the other people.
I knew I was frowning, but at times, one does want to be a bit of a mood-killer, if you know what I mean. The cheerful atmosphere did little to really improve my mood.
At any rate, I'd never win the 'most approachable looking person award', what with my clothes a hair and such.
She was about a foot away when I turned to look at her. Sorry, glare at her. I was feeling a bit mean at the time, you understand.
She visibly shrank back, looking as though I had brandished a sword at her or something.
My conscience smote me a blow.
I felt guilty.
Sigh…
"Hey…" I tried to sound friendly, a weak smile spreading across my features, "Can I help you or anything?"
I knew, for all my efforts, I wouldn't win any 'friendliest looking' contests anytime soon, but her reaction to it was even worse than when I hadn't opened my mouth.
She squeaked before retreating back towards the kitchens.
My smile turned, as they say, upside down as I scowled after her, annoyed that my attempt at being friendly had made the matter worse.
At the moment, I could pretty much kill for a bite to eat and a strong cup of lord-knows-what in hand.
I opened my bag and took out a thick, bound book. Nothing extraordinary about it, just a sketchbook I bought quite a while back.
I flicked past the first few pages; they had already been filled on previous occasions.
I turned to a new blank page and took out a sharp pencil from a pencil case in my bag.
I wrote the date on the top.
What should I sketch?
I saw a girl sitting by a table near the kitchens, sipping at a teacup. She was wearing the same clothes as some of the other waitresses, although hers was of a shade of blue.
She would do nicely.
I began to sketch. At first only a few seemingly random lines littered the page.
As I continued they began to take shape, joining and criss-crossing in every way imaginable. Soon I had a picture perfect drawing of the girl in my book. I began to expand in detail, before I was interrupted.
While I had been sketching, another girl had walked up to my table.
So intently focused was I on what I was doing, that I didn't notice her until a particularly loud cough attracted my attention.
"Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
This one was a red-head. She wasn't my idea of what I'd like to call a belle femme. She looked more cute than pretty to be honest. She tapped her foot impatiently and asked, "Are you going to order anything?"
I looked back at her, an impassive look on my face.
If she was going to treat me that way…
"I haven't been given a menu yet," I answered calmly, keeping my eyes fixed on hers.
I saw her open her mouth to reply, before closing it again, slightly unsure of herself.
At least she realised I wasn't at fault…
I saw the green haired girl poke her head out from directly behind the red haired firebrand. I heard her squeak as I looked in her direction. I smiled inwardly to myself.
Heh…
A little jack-in-the-box.
She must have been hiding behind the other girl…
I felt a menu pressed into my hands as I turned these thoughts over in my mind. Opening it, I looked it quickly through.
My eyes still scanning the page, I asked, "Do you have anything that isn't so...so cake-based?"
She shook her head, tapping her foot in impatience as she waited for me to choose.
Bugger...
I sighed before saying, "Tea, English Breakfast if you've got, with milk and sugar and a chocolate fondant, please."
I handed the menu back to her and took up my pencil, continuing where I left off.
It took about fifteen minutes for the food to arrive, by which time I was making the final adjustments on the drawing. I heard a clink of plates and dishes and the green haired girl's voice came, stuttering, but clear from across the other side of the table. "Yo...You're food, s...s...Sir..."
I merely grunted in answer, still intent on finishing.
Suddenly, I heard a squeal behind me. I turned and found the blonde hyper-active midget standing on a chair behind me, staring with childish delight at my drawing.
Without any warning, she snatched at it.
"Let go!" I bellowed, as I struggled to keep the book in my hands, the girl pulling back just as hard. I was pretty strong, as I've already told you, but this girl was yanking like mad, her feet planted on the back of my chair, her legs giving her enough strength to keep the battle running.
She was yelling "Na no da! I wanna show Minto-san!"
"I don't buggering care who the hell Minto is! Let go!"
Green-hair was now trying to pull the little monkey girl off, her glasses all askew. She was whimpering quietly where she stood, her arms wrapped around the other girls waist.
Most of the other guests were now watching, most with a look of shock or amazement plastered on their faces. Only two of the other guests, one blonde, the other brunette, continued whatever they were doing despite the chaos. The girl I was sketching was still placidly sipping at her tea.
Must be used to it...
Though I was still shouting, I was laughing inside. How often, I wonder, does such a thing have to happen to make it considered as usual?
I swung round, the two girls still stuck fast to my book. I continued to swing them round and round, heir feet lifting from the floor and both began screaming, one from fright, the other, delight. But as I whirled them round faster and faster, I felt my book slowly slipping out of my grasp.
Oh bugger...
The book flew out of my hands. The girls flew backwards, sailing through the kitchen door at the other end of the room. I heard the crash and clatter of plates breaking, as I myself fell backwards onto the floor.
As I fell, my back crashed into the metal frame of the table.
Crap that hurts...
I saw the blonde girl run back out the kitchen girl shouting at the top of her lungs, "Minto-san!!! He was sketching you!"
The girl who was drinking tea dropped her teacup. The smashing of china was accompanied by a shriek of "What!"
Oh crud…
She ran towards the blonde girl, who waved my sketchbook in front of her face. The green haired girl and the red headed firebrand also joined them and all four looked into my sketchbook.
I muttered a very, very long string of profanities under my breath.
They finally stopped goggling at the picture of the girl. To my horror, I saw them turning over the page to look at what I had drawn on the page before.
Damn!
I leapt to my feet and charged towards them. I had drawn a fully coloured picture of Zakuro, the young, simply beautiful lady I met the other night. It was a drawing of her asleep on the church bench; I had drawn it from memory. That drawing took me the entire night to draw.
That drawing, I felt, was my masterpiece.
That drawing was private.
I dived towards them, my hands reaching for my sketchbook. The little monkey girl held it out of reach as my dive knocked us all through the kitchen doors.
We all lay in a messy heap on the kitchen floor, me on the bottom of the pile for some reason, the rest of them sprawled on top, each groaning about various aches and bruises they managed to achieve. The only one who seemed uninjured was the hyper-active little monkey. She just sat on top of the rest of us.
Foul, little harridan...
I slowly got up on all four, shaking the girls off me like a dog would after a bath. I got to my feet, straightening out my clothes as I looked around for the blonde little monster. A brown haired cook was staring at me as I did, and I bowed apologetically.
"Pardon the interruption, sir, but have you see a little blonde...girl?"
It took a considerable time to get him to understand my question. He simply stared at me. I sighed in impatience.
Finally, he nodded and pointed back out the kitchen doors and mutely indicated I should go to the right.
"Thank you."
I growled as I stepped out the doors and walked up a flight of pink coloured stair to the right.
Bloody idiot, the cook was...
At the top of the flight of stairs was a corridor. Heart-shaped windows punctured the walls at regular intervals. Like the dining area below, the corridor was mostly pink, red and white.
I heard a noise in a room to my right. The door was opened halfway, and the sound of the monkey girl's voice floated out of it. A plaque on the door said 'Girl's Changing Room'.
"Bugger," I hissed, and contemplated what my next move would be. I decided to knock.
Tap, tap, tap...
I rapped sharply on the door. A voice cried from inside, "Come in! Na no da!"
I took a deep breath and flung the door wide open, just as a second voice, one hautingly familiar, suddenly answer the first, "No! Don't!"
Too late.
"Give me back my sket..." The words died on my lips.
I stared.
The blonde girl was in the room, still bouncing about, but I only had eyes for the other person in the room.
Lord...
I was struck dumb. A piece of Paradise on Earth could not had compared with her. I felt like I had stepped into the tales of Ancient Greece, for before me stood a Helen of Troy, a face that could launch a thousand ships. One that could burn the topless towers of Illium. A mortal Aphrodite, free from the corruptions of the world. She was beauty personified, before whom all other worldly beauties fell to their knees in shame.
Zakuro Fujiwara stood in the middle of the room, her violet eyes fixed on mine, an expression of shock and embarrassment frozen on her face. Her hair was wet, and the scent of roses was filling the room. I saw an open door to the left of her. A bathroom, I guessed. The only thing she was wearing was a large towel wrapped around her, which was, thankfully, long enough to hide everything that needed to be hid.
My cheeks were flushing a bright red. An achievement in itself, you understand, as I almost never, ever blush. My hair did little to hide my own embarrassment.
She blushed as well.
The blonde girl leapt up and waved my drawing of the other girl in her face. Her eyes flew towards it, and I saw her cheeks blush even redder.
I slowly grew redder as well and began to back out the door, pulling it quickly shut behind me.
I sat right next to the door, my red face buried in my hands.
I moaned quietly to myself.
Lord, I am such an idiot...
After what seemed like a long time, the door opened and Zakuro stepped out, dressed in an outfit not unlike the other girls, save purple.
I looked up at her from where I sat, my face still as red as a tomato.
She looked back, her face impassive and I felt compelled to apologise.
"I'm sorry."
She stared at me, her face betraying nothing.
I began to stand up and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't mean to...to..."
She cut me off, her eyes fixed on mine, her voice cold, "I know."
I sighed, a look of misery on my face, "I'm such an idiot."
She said quietly, her voice a little softer, "It's not your fault."
I merely sighed.
She walked down the stairs, and I followed. I said again, "I'm so sorry."
She didn't answer.
We reached the bottom of the steps and I proceeded to walk back to my table, my face as impassive as I could make it. I was still red, I noticed.
I sat down. My tea was still there, as was the fondant. Both were stone cold. I ate them anyway. I had lost my appetite when all the action began at any rate.
The green haired girl was up and about and I asked for the bill.
I paid without much ceremony and began to get ready to leave. I had my hat and coats on, my bag in one hand, my umbrella in the other.
I walked out the front door.
Just as I took my first step out into the snow, a hand grabbed my arm from behind.
I turned around.
Zakuro stood there, my sketchbook in one hand.
"This is yours, I think."
I took it.
"Thank you."
She turned away. So did I.
I had walked to the pavement, and began to walk down the road. I opened my sketchbook, just to check if any of the drawings inside had been damaged. When I got to the page with the drawing of her, a piece of paper fell out.
I picked it up.
Someone had written a note in pen.
Please meet me tonight in the park at 7:30. Do not be late. I forgive you
for what happened in the changing room. As I said, it wasn't your fault.
Zakuro
PS. The drawing was beautiful.
I looked up at the sky.
I sighed contentedly.
The day was simply wonderful.
Author's Note: All hell broke loose as usual! As before, read and review, please. Criticisms, preferably constructive, and suggestions will be noted. Hope you enjoyed. :P
