Note: It's been a little over a year since I last updated this... (Apologies! Blame busy school life, writer's block, etc.) Anyway, I decided to write something in a little different style than the previous chapters.
Saturday afternoon, Ikebukuro.
Crowds of people were bustling through the streets as they headed to the city's malls, cafes, and parks, for it was the perfect time to walk out of their busy lives and into urban relaxation.
In the midst of all this, a small lone figure stood still on the sidelines. She was tugging at her black sweatshirt dress, wondering if the outfit would be enough for the occasion.
No, occasion sounded too fancy. It was more of a casual hangout, nothing more, but the girl still had the lingering thought of wanting to look nicer for him.
Speaking of him, she eyed her surroundings. Where was he? Was he going to come? It was quite bold of her to ask him out like this, especially considering his reputation around the city.
Wait... ask him out?
The girl paused from her train of thought, only to be interrupted by the screeching of amorous voices within her. She pushed them aside. The screeching could only mean that he must be nearby, nothing more; the girl didn't bother dwelling on other reasons why the voices were acting up.
She looked amidst the crowd until she saw a man in his typical bartender uniform, looking around for her. Time took its course as she ran up to him, pleased that he had made it here.
The first place they went was a sushi restaurant. Known for its bizarre flavors and foreign employees, its exotic-yet-familiar atmosphere made it a common hangout in the city. A towering black waiter seemed surprised upon seeing the unlikely duo, but he welcomed them as customers, regardless. After sitting down and being served with a platter of sashimi, the man offhandedly commented whether the sashimi might get him arrested or not, causing the girl to briefly gawk at the morbid joke.
Throughout their stay, they began discussing about various subjects. The comforting fish (and not flesh) taste of the sashimi. The reminiscent anecdotes from the hotpot party. How surprised she was to find out that his favorite drink was milk. How proud he felt when he finally called her by her first name.
Their common friend, the headless dullahan. How the man had met her in high school and confided to her about his problems. How the girl had met her when she saved her from a stabber and praised her for her abilities. How they both acknowledged the endless kindness the dullahan carried despite endless opposition from the cops and other narrow-minded folks. How they both acknowledged the deep admiration they felt for her.
Their personal lives. How the high school the man had gone to changed from where the girl was currently at. How the girl became curious of his outfit when she learned he was not a true bartender. How he cracked an awkward but far more pleasant joke of not worrying about the pace of his damaged suits, like his brother spending money on them. How she unexpectedly chuckled despite not being the kind of person who would understand a joke.
Both of them were in deep conversation; so deep in fact, that they had failed to realize the bewildered stares directed at them by the customers. The blissful ignorance cracked for a moment when a male customer glared at them while walking to the restroom, causing the man to glare back with a grunt of what the hell was he looking at, a popped vein on his temple; the customer darted headfirst through the door, while the girl waved her hands to try to calm him down. The black waiter eventually came in and spoke through broken tongue of not to worry about them, for as long as the duo was bringing good business, who should care of who comes in and who should not?
Some time later, they left the restaurant, with the man bowing his head and apologizing for his behavior and the girl calmly smiling and reassuring that she had no hard feelings. They then went to a bakery to lighten the mood, ordering some cakes and pastries for their way back to their apartments.
In that moment, time turned immeasurable to count. Estimates of seconds—if they were even the proper amounts—seemed useless given what happened next.
Time remaining until they walked out to the street: ten seconds.
Time remaining until she tripped on some rubble: nine seconds.
Time remaining until he caught her by her waist: eight seconds.
Time remaining until she still felt the bag in her hand: seven seconds.
Time remaining until she felt herself blushing: six seconds.
Time remaining until she saw her heels from her head: five seconds.
Time remaining until she fell head over heels for him:
Another Note: As for the erotic fanfic for AO3, it's still in progress, but I plan on finishing it this year! I promise!