The afternoon lull had settled over Café Lumière. A soft jazz record played from the corner speaker, mingling with the hiss of the milk steamer. Ren wiped down the tables, his mind drifting back to the morning's encounter.
He'd left his sketchbook on the counter again—an old habit—and for a moment feared Kaito might tease him. But the mysterious customer had simply nodded and left. No questions asked. No judgment.
Now, Ren cradled the leather-bound book in his arms as he refilled the sugar jars, heart fluttering at the memory of Kaito's words: "They're good."
"Hey, Ren." Hana, his co-worker, leaned against the espresso machine, eyes flicking to the closed book. "You gonna show more of those doodles to the world someday?"
Ren shrugged, cheeks warm. "I don't know. They're just private." He set the sketchbook on the top of the pastry display, above the éclairs and scones. "Maybe one day."
Hana grinned. "Don't be so shy. You've got talent."
Ren gave her a small smile, but his attention drifted to the door. Footsteps. A familiar rhythm.
Kaito.
He pushed the pastry door open and stepped inside. The daylight caught the soft strands of his hair, revealing warm chestnut highlights Ren had only noted in his drawings. Kaito's eyes swept the café until they landed on him.
"Black coffee," he said, voice quiet and steady.
"Right away," Ren replied, heart skipping. He grabbed a clean cup and set it under the drip.
Kaito's gaze lingered on the pastry display, and Ren realized the sketchbook was right beneath his line of sight.
"Oh—" he hurried forward, lifting it down. "Sorry, that's—personal." He tucked it behind the counter.
Kaito watched him, inscrutable. "May I?" he asked, gesturing.
Ren froze. "Um—sure." He handed the closed sketchbook over.
Kaito flipped the cover open and paused at the first page: a rough pencil portrait of a café interior. He turned—not too fast, Ren thought—and looked at Ren's face.
Ren swallowed. "Sorry. I—I didn't expect you to—"
Kaito held up a finger. "Wait." He thumbed through pages: a landscape, a cat napping, a city skyline. Then he reached the page with that first drawing of Kaito at the window. He stopped there, tracing the pencil lines with a fingertip.
Ren's breath caught. "You—"
Kaito looked up, softening. "You really see things—the little details." He closed the book gently and handed it back. "Thank you for sharing. It's… nice to be noticed."
Ren's heart pounded. "I—I mean, you're always here. I just—"
Kaito smiled, and it felt like sunrise. "It's a gift," he said. "Keep drawing." He turned away, heading to the window seat, sketchbook safe in Ren's care again.
Ren watched him go, hand trembling. He opened the book to that sketch of Kaito's profile and added a tiny note below, in neat script:
"To be continued…"
Because now, for the first time, Ren knew the story he wanted to tell.