Author's Note: I've seriously been writing nonstop for this, and I don't know why. It's just coming out. I can't explain it. But I wanted to thank you all for your comments! They mean a lot and they just really make my day. Know that, even though I don't reply, I read and appreciate every one of them!
Lenneko-Chan, thanks for pointing out the continuity error! And xXJuliets SecretXx, thanks for the spelling error! Both fixed now~
Riku; Need That Picture of You
I should have gotten a picture.
Not of that scene back in the alleyway, no, but when I had first saw her—him. Whichever. I should have snapped a picture, even if it was a quick one. I still remembered her—him, damn it—vividly. Those eyes. That hair. Had that been real hair? The blouse with the frilled collar that fell just right around the chest without revealing too much. If there was anything to reveal in the first place. That skirt, the hips it clung to. Those legs… Mostly the face. What a face.
I was confused. Really. I just didn't get it. Was it even possible for a guy to be that…what's the word?
Gorgeous?
No, I didn't get it at all. But. That's all I could think about when I got home that night. But. I hadn't gotten a very close look at her face. His face. But. Maybe the reason why it bothered me so much was because of what followed afterward in that alleyway. Who was that Axel guy, and why? But. I'm not making sense, but that's mostly because I didn't understand anything right now. But. His face… But.
But she's a guy.
I should have gotten a picture…
"Shh… Don't—aha! Gr—Gre— Greg, stop! That tickles!"
Seriously?
And, of course, Mom had a way of snapping me right out of my thoughts when I least expected it. When all I wanted to do was get some damn sleep—even though images of that brunette were floating around in my head, keeping me from staying asleep for longer than ten minutes. She often came home late, but usually she was quiet about it.
"Shush, shh…" The woman giggled. Footsteps in the hallway. A man's voice, low. Both drunk.
Another one. Again. Seriously?
I heard them bump against my door, fumble around again. Mom said something unintelligible, causing this Greg to chuckle. God. I rolled over in my bed, lifting the sheets from my head to glance at the clock on my nightstand. It was one fucking thirty in the morning.
They were still doing something in the middle of the hallway, right on my door, when I reached out of bed and picked up a stray sneaker. Threw it at the door with a tired yell, "Get a room already!"
More giggling, more whispering. Then I heard them make their way to Mom's room, heard the gentle click of the door and the not so gentle sound of two bodies crushing together and plopping onto her bed.
Jeez.
I woke to the sound of Christina Aguilera singing from the living room. Must have been the radio, an old little thing Mom had bought at some vintage store that still sold records and lava lamps and all that hippie crap. It was a small thing, but it could get pretty loud. Some song…I don't know the name. Mom was singing along with it, though, matching all the high notes. The low ones. Singing the chorus. The woman can sing, no doubt. I just didn't wanna hear it first thing in the morning.
"…Something's got a hold on me right now, child.
Oooh, it must be love.
Let me tell you now. I've never felt like this before.
Something's got a hold of me an' it won't let go—"
Ah, jeez.
Sighing into my pillow, I scratched at the back of my head and checked my clock only to realize it was much earlier than I would have liked. Six twenty-two. Eh. No point trying to go back to sleep.
So I rolled out of bed, not even bothering with throwing a shirt on, and headed straight for the bathroom. Noticed that Mom had left her clothes and underwear—along with "Greg's"—on the floor and simply kicked them out into the hallway.
I took my time getting ready that morning; really, there was no rush. I took a long shower just to drown out the sound of Mom's voice, the sound of her latest boy toy. (Why the hell was he still here?) My arms and legs felt like lead as I got dressed. My head hurt, too… Food. I needed something in my stomach, even if it was small.
So I headed for the kitchen with the intention of getting my breakfast, eating it, and getting out without dealing with my mother or her current plaything. Boyfriend. Did it really matter, with her?
They had cozied up beside each other on the weathered sofa, the man half lying down half sitting with Mom's head resting in his lap. She was still singing along with the little radio on the coffee table, her features bright as she did so. My eyes fell on the man she was with. I stopped in the hallway long enough to examine him, far enough that they wouldn't notice me right away.
He was handsome. Like most of the men she brought home. Had the wavy brown hair, squinty amber eyes that fit his face. High cheekbones, thin nose, angled jaw. He had a sharp face, but it suited him. And a tan. Yeah… At least he was clean shaven, didn't look like the usual creeper that frequented the club Mom danced at. They were both wearing bathrobes, loosely tied up. Mom had her powder blue one with the white lace to tie it close. And him, Greg… He was wearing my father's old robe, the maroon and gold one.
I sighed and walked past them, headed for the kitchen. I would have kept going if Mom hadn't stopped me with a whistle, hadn't sat up and turned the music on her radio down a little. She was all toothy smiles today. "Mornin', baby."
"Morning."
"There's someone I want you to meet."
I really didn't want to do this right now. She couldn't tell, but I really didn't want to do this at all.
They just didn't notice my peeved expression, though, so they both shot me those toothy smiles. Greg—damn, he had a nice smile—had a polite look about him as Mom introduced him. Like he needed an introduction after last night... "Riku, this is Greg."
And before he could even say anything in greeting, before he could get it in his head that I would pay him any mind, I simply replied, "Don't really care."
Of course, that shut him up before he could even get the words out. He was still trying to look polite, but I could see the disdain growing in his amber eyes.
Mom scowled, lips stretched thin. "You're being rude."
"So were you."
She knew I meant last night, but she didn't say anything. Honestly, I just didn't care. Somehow I felt more tired now than I had the other night. I went to the kitchen then, wordlessly fixing myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs while Mom and Greg started talking. They were trying to be quiet, but—thin walls. It's a hard thing to do in this place.
"Is he always like that?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry. Kids, you know? What're you gonna do? But, anyway…" Her voice dropped to a playful purr. "About that breakfast. We can go after he leaves for school. Maybe, an hour or two from now."
"Mm, and what should we do in the meantime?"
"Oh, you know what I'm thinking." And she giggled again before they started kissing. You know, the kind you can hear, with the lips smacking and everything. The kind where both people are really into it.
Shoot me now.
I shoveled a few spoonfuls of cereal in my mouth, trying my best to ignore them before calling out. "I can still hear you, you know."
Lips parted. Greg gave an angry groan, and I could hear my mother sucking her teeth in annoyance. It was clear in her tone. "Don't you have somewhere else to go?"
"Don't you have someone else to fuck?"
Something told me I should have regretted saying it immediately after it slipped out of my mouth. The reality is I didn't. I paused, setting my bowl on the counter and letting the spoon dip back into the brown milk. Waiting for her response. When there was none, I just went on eating. The music, the radio, was switched off shortly after.
It wasn't until I heard shuffling from the living room—sounded like they were getting their stuff together, fixing their robes properly—that I picked up my bowl and made my way to the entrance of the kitchen. I saw Greg heading down the hallway, for the bathroom. Probably for his clothes. Mom walked right up to me, milky green eyes narrowed.
Hurt. Angry. But mostly hurt.
She looked up at me and muttered, "Screw you."
Then she whipped around and followed after her boy toy.
Whatever.
I know, harsh. But you know what? We had emotional disconnects, on and off, all the time. I don't know what it is. One day we could love each other unconditionally. Sometimes we snipped at each other back and forth, acting more like siblings than mother and son. Sometimes I couldn't stand the thought that she was breathing the same air as me, that I was related to her in any way shape or form. Then we went right back to loving each other. It's a cycle, almost.
She learned to get over it and so did I.
Whatever.
"Was that party amazing, or was it amazing?"
Kairi laughed, looping her arm through Naminé's the moment the blonde seated herself at our lunch table. "Yeah, it was great!"
The cardigans, today. They both had on peach colored cardigans, unbuttoned, over white tank tops. Except Kairi had on the white denim skirt and Naminé sported beige skinny jeans. Same wedged heels. How were they not coordinating this? It made no sense.
I just watched them silently as they talked about last night, about the club and how it was a shame that it took money to get in. The invites for the party had covered the cost last night, but now that we had gotten a taste… Well, they wanted to go back.
They had their talk, but I didn't really pay much attention. The brunette came back to mind. The red head he had been with. The alley. I was right to leave them, right? Or should I have butt in? Now that I thought about it, that hadn't even crossed my mind until now…if the brunette had made it out alright…
"—listening?"
I blinked, looking into two pairs of identical blue eyes. "What?"
Naminé arched a slender brow. "Are you feeling alright?"
Good question. I really didn't know. I felt a little out of it. Still, I nodded and picked at a carrot stick lying on my tray, dipped it in the splatter of ranch before popping it in my mouth. "I'm listening."
"I was asking if you talked to anyone at the party."
"What?"
"You know," Kairi said, playfully nudging her girlfriend's shoulder. "Did you meet some cute thing, chat 'em up?"
Huh. "Sorta."
"Really?"
They were both staring at me, eyes wide with surprise now, unsure if I was jerking their chains or if I was telling the truth. Well. There was some hint of truth, right? I did meet someone, just didn't talk to her. Him. Crap…
Immediately the girls tried to pry answers out of me, going back and forth with their questions.
"Who is she?"
"Or is it a he?"
"What do they look like?"
"What'd you say, huh?"
"Did you two dance?"
"Is it someone we know?"
They were getting so worked up over it I couldn't help but snort a laugh, popping another carrot stick in my mouth. "Just because you won't stop bothering me about it, I'm not telling you."
Simultaneously: "No fair!"
Really, they were like twins. It was creepy sometimes.
I just smiled a small smile, ignoring their pleas to tell them about this mystery person who must have been all that and a bag of chips since I refused to spill. Eventually they gave up—"You're a meanie, Riku."—and moved on to different topics. Kairi reached over the table for my backpack, unzipped the front pocket.
I didn't stop her as she pulled out my camera and started skimming through the pictures. "Anything new?"
"Not a whole much since last time."
Every now and then at lunch—because that was the only time the three of us really got to see each other, save for after school—they would check through my pictures together, always side by side with their eyes glued to the little screen as if watching a really good movie. And they'd comment—
"Oh, this one's good," Naminé uttered, leaning closer to Kairi. The red head nodded in agreement.
"Oh my God! I love the shadows in this one. Is that your mom?"
"That one's nice. A little blurry, though."
And I'd just sit there quietly and let them do their thing. If I wasn't so confident with a camera, part of me would probably think they were just saying what they did because they were my friends. Unlike the two of them, I had a very high standard for what I considered to be good or nice. Unlike the two of them, I thought half of the pictures on there were crap and needed to be cleared out or enhanced. I'd take care of it later, maybe.
I tried to sneak a look at the camera screen when the two let out a giggly, "Aww!"
There was a picture of one of the cakes on the screen now. It was in a glass display case, resting proudly on its plate. It was a round cake, like half a sphere, covered completely in pink frosting. Except it was made to look like a pig, with square cookies for ears, a round sugar cookie for a nose, and a pink frosted cinnamon roll for a tail. I remembered, Aerith had tried to get me to try a piece, but I kept saying no. Honestly, it was a sugary death trap waiting to happen. Of course, the girls thought it was just the cutest thing.
Naminé awed once more. "Where is this?"
"Sonata Tea House," I replied with a sigh, poking at my tray. "It's out in town."
"What other kind of food do they have there?"
"Tea, obviously. Breakfast food. Cakes, cookies, muffins. Just baked stuff."
"Oh, I wanna try some."
"It's gonna make your thighs fatter."
"Ugh!"
Kairi, fighting her amused giggles, shook her head at me with a somewhat serious expression on her face. "Ouch, Riku. Why are you so cranky today? I don't like it."
"Are you on your man period?" Naminé pitched in, stealing and munching on one of my carrot sticks with a pout.
I would have joked back, but I didn't feel like it. I couldn't explain it. Something… I just didn't feel like it today. Didn't really feel like much of anything today. Was it because of that guy? Was I seriously sulking because I hadn't gotten one picture of some random stranger? Some random, beautiful stranger? Or maybe it was my little snipe at Mom this morning.
What the hell is wrong with me today?
The bell rang. Time for third period. The bustle and shuffle of the cafeteria grew louder as students moved from their seats and headed for the halls. Naminé was eyeing me with this excited look in her eye as we rose from our seats. "What's the address? Let's go there some time."
"Why?"
"Please, Riku? You can bring your new girlfriend or whatever and we can have a double date there."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Yes?"
"Sure."
"Sweet beans! I'll call you later so we can set up a time."
The girls both handed back my camera with identical grins. I took it from their hands and placed it back in my bag. Kairi stopped for a moment, though, before Naminé could drag her off to their next class. She stopped and pulled me into a hug and whispered something in my ear. "Feel better, okay?"
And I couldn't help but nod and return the smile before pulling away. "Yeah."
Then they went down their hallway and I left for mine.
"—and the Action Potential, the nerve impulse, takes place within the membrane rather than the whole nerve itself. The impulse is sent to the opposite end of the nerve—"
She looks nice today. That's a new dress… Yeah, silver suited our mousy teacher, Mrs. Belle. She was a short, curvy force to be reckoned with. The frill that ran diagonally on her collar reminded me of the blouse from the other night…
Mrs. Belle tapped the diagram on the board with her manicured finger—the nail was the same green as my eyes—and pointed to the spindly ends of the nerve she was talking about. Honestly, I liked my psych class, but days like these where we did nothing but take notes, notes, notes wore thin on my nerves. (Ha. Pun intended.) It was almost over, though. Just five more minutes.
I thought this and glanced towards the door, towards the clock hanging above it. But, instead of checking the time, I met his blue gaze. I blinked at the blonde. He blinked back, one hand pressed lazily to his cheek and the other writing what was on the board as Mrs. Belle spoke. He stared at me for a split second before looking back to his notebook.
Why the hell was his seat so close to the exit anyway?
The bell rang, causing my classmates to slap notebooks closed and yank on backpack and purse zippers. Mrs. Belle, who liked teaching up 'til the very last minute—the, very, last, minute—decided she'd cover the rest tomorrow. "Read chapter seven. Don't forget the quiz on Friday!"
And we were already out the door. I had to hold back a sigh as I filed out with the others, bracing myself for the next minute. Thirty seconds, if I could help it.
I always put the things I didn't need in my locker after third period. Everyday. It was just easier that way. Then I would gather my books for my fourth and last class and head on my way. It only took a minute, since my locker was just two steps away from my psych class, pressed against the wall.
His locker was next to mine.
It was some curse, it had to be. At the beginning of the year it hadn't bothered me as much, but with each passing day and Winter Break drawing closer, I just prayed for the day he would get sick of it too and change lockers. Because I wasn't going to, and I was tired of looking at his face. He was stubborn, though. I used to love that about him.
Thus, our daily ritual commenced.
I was the last one out the door, and I took my sweet time heading for the locker. He was piling books inside his own, backpack hanging loosely from his shoulder. I was quick to make my way next to him and start spinning in my combination. Complete silence, even though there was the usual chatter of students in the background. He was stiff tossing in his notebook.
Then he changed the grand scheme of things and broke the silence. "Saw you at the party last night."
No comment.
"You…still taking pictures?"
He pissed me off… After the shit he pulled, after cutting it off with me…everything. And he wanted to make conversation with me? He really pissed me off.
I grabbed my Algebra II book and stuffed it into my bag, keeping my voice even. "Why do you care?"
"Just curious."
"Well don't be."
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't get the chance to. Someone called his name. He turned towards the voice, smiled when he saw its owner. His whole demeanor changed as he loosened up, pulled the approaching girl into a hug. "Xion, hey."
Xion, the pretty young thing he had been with at the party, had trailed along on the dance floor. I'd only glanced at her, though, so I hadn't gotten a close look at her pixie hair cut or her eyes that were eerily similar to his. What was with…blue eyes, huh? I eyed the Invader Zim T-shirt she sported, the matching Gir hat she was now slipping off her head as she leaned in to plant a kiss on the blonde's lips. "We're gonna be late to class."
"Alright, hold on."
He had looked like he wanted to say something else to me, but I wasn't giving him the time of day. I put away the last of my things, got what I needed, then slung my bag over my shoulder. I could feel his sideways gaze—he couldn't hide it that well—as I brushed past the two of them.
He really pissed me off.
I decided to start calling her the Dragon Lady. Mainly because she was usually wearing some form of leather. A medium sleeved jacket, or a skirt that had a tendency to cling just below her naval. Occasionally I'd catch her in leather pants. Not the skimpy, Hoochie Mama kind—yes, that's what I called them—but they were close. No, but she usually had very nice clothes. Like something you'd see in a high end fashion catalogue.
She had moved in three days after the party. I had hopped off the bus that day and headed for my apartment only to see a U-Haul truck parked close the curb in front of the B Building and two men carrying a sofa into one of the apartments on the first floor. A nice sofa, a U-shaped one. Or was it more like an L? That evening I was quick to rush up the stairs, toss my things in my room…and, for some reason, come back out with my camera in hand. I didn't take pictures, though, just watched as the men unloaded various pieces of furniture and wondered if it would all fit in that tiny space. Wondered why anyone in their right mind would want to move into Rhine Wood, the dump of all dumps. Especially if they had big money, which this woman obviously did.
That's when I'd seen her, the model, casually strolling towards the truck twirling a green lollipop in her fingers and offering drinks to the men. And she had looked up at me then, caught sight of my camera, and smiled that cat-like smile that had put me off the first day I'd met her.
I hadn't said anything to her, just lifted my camera and positioned her in the very center of the screen before taking a shot. Her grin had broadened when I finished. Then I left.
Two weeks passed since then. Whenever I saw her in the morning she always looked like she was heading somewhere in a hurry, and I made sure to take a picture of her outfit of the day. Save for weekends. I didn't see her on the weekends.
She didn't have a car, from what I could tell. I think she caught the city bus a good ten minutes before I left for school. She didn't have family, at least not in this area. If she had friends, they never dropped by. No boyfriends. Which was…a bit surprising. Considering how pretty she was. As far as I was concerned, she didn't have a name. She was nothing more than the lone Dragon Lady that lived downstairs. I had no relation with her whatsoever, nor did I wish to form one.
But.
"You're not a very good stalker, you know," the blonde said that Saturday as she was returning from Walmart. She had three bags in her hand, along with her black purse. The same "Every Inch a Woman" T-shirt from before, only with ripped gray jeans and leather boots. She had a baseball cap on, backwards and tilted ever so slightly downward.
I arched a silver brow at her, leaning on the second floor railing. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She stopped just below me, looking up with those blue green eyes. "If you're trying to sneak pics of me, the least you could do is be discreet about it. But I guess you can't resist my feminine charm."
"You keep telling yourself that."
"Don't hate. Appreciate."
Weird. No, she was beyond weird. Something about her, though… "What's your name, anyway."
"Larxene Chavarria. But you can call me Larxene."
"I think Dragon Lady fits better."
And she blinked at that, must have found it amusing on some level, because the next thing I knew she was barking out a laugh. "Okay! Oh, jeez, I think I'll start going by that now. Or just Dragon. It can be my stage name."
Well, so long as she got a kick out of it.
She shot me one last smile before heading for her new home. I stayed put, listening to the soft thumps of her boots on the concrete. The footsteps stopped halfway, though, grew louder as she rounded back. She stopped and stared up at me again, her expression showing she meant business.
"Riku, right?"
"Yeah."
"Did you think about my offer any?"
"What offer?"
"Take pictures of me." She said it like a demand rather than a question or request. The woman crossed her lightly tanned arms, plastic bags rustling against each other as she did so. "I need to work on my portfolio."
I didn't say anything for a moment. Swept hair from my eyes. "You'd choose some random kid to do it rather than hire a professional photographer?"
"You don't think you're any good?"
And that struck a nerve with me, made me I narrow my eyes and reply matter-of-factly, "I know I'm good."
"Then do it. I'll pay you. Five bucks a shot. You give me a good ten, that's fifty right there."
She was serious about this.
"Well?"
I matched her gaze, trying to find any hint of joking or lying. She still meant business. This woman.
All I could do was nod, a thoughtful expression on my face. "I'll think about it."
That must have been good enough for her. Uncrossing her arms, she disappeared beneath the pass again, heading for her apartment.
I went through a phase two years ago where I didn't talk to anyone and made sure no one tried to talk to me. It lasted about nine months. I was that guy in the back of the class that no one was comfortable around, that people avoided unless absolutely necessary. If I said anything to you, it was to ask a question relating to class. Or to insult you in some way that you wouldn't immediately pick up on. Yeah, I was that guy. That all started when Mom got really bad with her drinking, now that I thought about it. That's beside the point.
Thing is, back then I tried to stay as far away from home as possible when I could, usually catching a bus to some obscure shopping district, the library or hangout downtown. That's when I discovered Sonata Tea House. It's like a music bar and IHOP smushed together in one cozy shop. Only with tea.
You would walk in to see a Barnes n' Noble café setup. Round tables were spread evenly around the room. Booths lined the yellow tinted windows that took up the entire right wall, save for the entrance. Across from these booths was the bar, complete with plush golden stools and flowers posing perkily on the bar's surface. The cash register, the kitchen in the back. The smell of coffee and baked goods. There was a display case right by the entrance with cakes, cookies, and finger sandwiches resting on platters.
I remember the first time I had walked in, around closing time. It was going on seven and mostly everyone had cleared out for the night. The manager was wiping down tables, brown curls hanging over her shoulders as she did so. And she looked up at me the moment I walked in, smiled in a way that made me stop in the doorway, and politely said, "We close in five minutes."
I didn't have anywhere else to go—anywhere else I wanted to go—but I didn't want to leave either. She must have sensed that then, because she eyed me for a moment before asking, "Did you want me to get you something?"
"Um… What do you have?"
"Come sit."
That was the start of many visits. Aerith Gainsborough, whose name I'd learned only later, hadn't minded whipping up a cup of tea and serving me a cinnamon biscuit. She was the kind of person who would do that, who would listen to your troubles. She didn't mind. That's probably why I kept coming back to Sonata ever since. I would vent; she would lend the ear. I bought whatever was on the menu and she'd either cook it herself or have one of the employees in the back fix it.
In a way, Aerith was like a second mother. A proper mother…
I walked in with Kairi and Naminé on Sunday, amused by their Ooh's and Aah's as they glanced around the tea house. There weren't many customers around noon, just a young couple in one of the booths and a father and his two daughters laughing about something at one of the round tables.
Aerith was the one that greeted us, stepping out from behind the counter with a bright grin and her arms outstretched towards me. "Riku! Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks."
I hugged back, replying, "Eh, I've been busy."
"School?"
"When isn't it school?"
"And who are these pretty little ladies?"
That only caused Kairi and Naminé to giggle. I rolled my eyes as the boneheads introduced themselves, commenting on the shop, on Aerith's hair. They asked something about the pig cake from my picture, only to receive the disappointing news that someone had already bought the cake. But Aerith was more than willing to make them a new one, if they wanted to order it.
Before long we were seated at a booth, the girls side by side on one end and me on the other. Aerith handed us menus, placed smiley face coasters—gag me with a spoon—in front of each of us as she ran down the specials for the day.
"We serve breakfast all day, so feel free to glance at that section of the menu. What do you want to drink?"
We ordered our drinks but still needed a minute to think about what we wanted to eat. Aerith touched my shoulder. "Well, I'll send someone out with your drinks in a minute or two, and then you can order. And you can show me your new pictures later, too."
"You can look at them now, if you want," I said, digging in my bag—I always had some sort of bag with me—and handing my camera to her. She just beamed, taking it.
"I'll be quick with it, promise."
Then she headed for the kitchen with the camera in hand, skimming the photos.
Naminé gave me a sly smile. "Riku, I didn't know you were so good with the older ladies."
"Ew. She's like my mom."
"Ever heard of the Oedipus complex," Kairi asked.
I shook my head. "You two have sick minds."
"You know you love it."
We went back and forth as we looked through our menus. As promised, another server came out with our drinks not long after. He had the same lemony apron the other Sonata employees had to wear, a white long-sleeved shirt underneath. There was a tray in his hands with our drinks, which he set down before us on each of our coasters. And I looked up to thank him—
Wait.
Blue eyes. The face. His face.
He looked a little different. His hair, no longer straight, but chocolate spikes that reminded me so much of Ro… That guy. There was no makeup on his face now, none of the feminine dressings he had sported that night. He looked like a guy, just a regular guy. But his face. I don't forget a face.
"Are we ready to order?" he asked us cheerfully, looking to each one of us. He caught my gaze, his smile faltering just for a second. (Did I really look that shocked to see him?)
Kairi and Naminé didn't seem to notice how intently I was staring at him and started ordering. I didn't say anything, though, just continued to stare and wonder if I was just imagining things. Maybe this was a different guy, just someone who looked similar. But, no. I didn't forget faces…
"And what can I get you?"
He was looking at me expectantly, holding the serving tray in both hands in front of him. Trying to look polite and professional, but obviously put off by the way I was eyeballing him. His name tag read 'Sora.' Seemed to fit. I'd have to remember that name.
I cleared my throat, glanced down at the menu again. "Uh, yeah. I'll just have the sampler."
"Okay. Your order will be right out."
And he left with that, heading for kitchen to repeat our orders. I watched after him, long enough for Kairi to be concerned.
"Riku, you okay?"
"…Yeah."
Damn it.
I still hadn't taken a picture.
