Oshitari taps his pen against the blank page. He looks down at it, sighs dramatically, then glances out the window. If he stares hard enough, he can make out the heat coming off of the pavement. His other hand thumbs away a stretch of condensation on his iced coffee.
"I think he's stuck," Shishido says quietly, leaning over the counter slightly.
Yukimura shrugs. To be honest, he is glad because that means less blatantly obvious novels about his relationship with Sanada. Though, he can't deny that the one shot side story to the bestselling coffee shop series was well-written, if completely pornographic at the end. Things just didn't always end with getting fucked against walls... Unfortunately.
The door chimes and Atobe strides to the counter. Yukimura has to fight rolling his eyes and instead settles on a low chuckle as Oshitari looks their way.
"My usual. Iced this time. It is July, after all."
"Are you suggesting that someone on staff doesn't know you take your order iced between the months of May and August?" Yukimura asks with feigned shock.
Atobe scoffs. "Ahn. I used to think your staff would be competent in your absense. Alas, how wrong I was."
Yukimura smiles, starting to mix the different ingredients together. "Oh, Atobe-kun, just for admitting that, I'll give you an extra shot of espresso." He pours the entire thing into a venti cup filled to the brim with ice, then tops it with whipped cream. "Four hundred and fifty yen."
The diva deposits a one thousand yen note onto the counter, grabs his drink, and walks over to a spot near the windows. Yukimura smirks as he puts the correct amount in the register and the rest in the tip jar, which is less like a jar and more like a large fish bowl.
"Are you sure that was necessary, kachou? I mean, he's already insufferable before, but four shots is bound to make him down right intolerable."
Yukimura pats Ohtori's shoulder. "You don't need to worry. I think our favourite author is going to deal with him."
A small gasp escapes. "No. You can't have."
"Can't have what?" Yukimura asks with a devious grin. "I did not text Oshitari to have him chat up Atobe-kun."
"That was me," Shishido says, smirking at Ohtori before returning to adding in pastries from the morning delivery.
Ohtori twists his hands in his apron as Oshitari slides into the seat opposite Atobe, notebook and pen left forgotten at the table he was sitting at.
"May I help you?" Atobe asks with a dismissive air, not looking up from the business section of the Japan Times.
"Oh, not really," Oshitari says, fiddling with his jacket slightly. "I happened to notice as you were walking by that you were emitting a faint scent of Burberry cologne. I admit, it is one of my favourites."
Atobe peers up over the stock numbers and adjusts in his seat. Yukimura chuckles. The diva reminds him of a male peacock during mating season.
"Also, I thought it necessary to inform you that your two love interests are not here today. If my sources are to be believed, Tezuka-kun is at a tennis tournament and Shiraishi-kun is on vacation."
"Ore-sama has many, as you call them, 'love interests'. Two being away does not settle heavy on my heart."
Oshitari smiles. "That is heartbreaking, Atobe-kun. I can feel the sorrow in your words." He reaches forward and pats the diva's knee. "There, there. I'm sure that one of them will realise what a catch you are and come running like a gazelle in the African savannah."
Yukimura slides down behind the counter and bites down on a towel to prevent himself from laughing out loud. Atobe blinks slowly a few times and folds up the paper, setting it in his lap.
"Who are you?"
"My dear, Atobe-kun, I am no one. A mere romantic, looking for love in all the wrong places. I dabble in the arts on the side."
Shishido joins Yukimura on the floor. Ohtori looks between them panic-striken.
Atobe raises an elegantly groomed eyebrow. "That is hardly a profession. What kind of art?"
"A writer. Children's books, mainly. I wish to spread love to all the children in the world through my books."
"Noble, yet completely ridiculous."
Oshitari shrugs, eyes bright. "It warms my heart to know that you think I'm being noble. The world should know love, Atobe-kun," he says with conviction, hand squeezing the man's knee again.
"And do you claim to have enough to give to every one?"
"Of course I do! And you, with all your sorrow and heartache... I will help you learn to love again."
Yukimura and Shishido snort loudly. Atobe looks to the counter, curiosity written on his features. He turns back to Oshitari and gently removes the author's hand from his person.
"Thank you for the offer, but I think I will decline."
Oshitari deflates. "You wound me, Atobe-kun."
"You are far too soft for you own good," Atobe says, standing up. He tucks his paper under his arm and grabs his drink. "I wish you the best of luck spreading your message."
With a curt nod, the diva leaves. Oshitari fumbles with his jacket again. Shishido rises up unsteadily behind the counter, flushed and out of breath.
"You get anything, bro?"
"Oh, yes. I greatly appreciate the opportunity to talk with him. I might have just found my next protagonist for a series of period dramas. How does the name Keiko sound?"
Yukimura gets to his knees before another bout of laughter overtakes him. "It's fantastic," he gets out eventually. "Top seller, no doubt."
Oshitari smiles and resumes his seat with the blank notebook.
Keiko was a lovely young lady at the spry age of eighteen. She had flaxen hair in light waves and sparkling blue eyes. Many men admired her, but she only had eyes for a fair few that were always just out of her reach...