Chapter Text
Nagisa’s tapping his pen on the counter impatiently, chin cupped lazily in his hand. Every few seconds he’ll make an impatient little sound, which Haru knows is entirely for his benefit.
It’s still thirty minutes to closing, but the cafe is already completely empty. Considering the small size and sleepy nature of their town, it’s unlikely anyone will come by this late at night. But Haru likes to stick to his schedules, so he’ll stubbornly stay open until ten, as posted.
“Haru-chan,” Nagisa whines, finally giving in. “There’s no one even here!”
Haru nods absentmindedly. “It’s nice.”
Nagisa sighs and slumps forward so his face hits the counter, smudging the pristine countertop. Haru winces a little; he’d just cleaned that.
“Can’t we just close up a little early tonight? I promised to meet Rei-chan after this, and he gets so sleepy if it gets too late.”
Haru resists the urge to tell Nagisa to wipe the counters again, and huffs. Nagisa’s a good kid, and a close friend. He currently works part-time as a server here in between stints with the entertainment business, and he's not terrible at his job. Sure, he spends half his time flirting with the chemistry intern who frequents the place, but his bubbly personality and general positivity really seems to brighten everyone’s day. And Haru finds he has a hard time denying him anything.
“Fine. You can go home,” he says, as if they didn’t both know he would inevitably cave.
Nagisa lights up like the sun before the words have even left his mouth. He bounds forward to wrap his boss in a tight hug, nuzzling his face into Haru’s apron. This wouldn’t seem like an entirely appropriate interaction between co-workers in most places, but Haru doesn’t run a very conventional workplace.
“Thank you, thank you!” he cries, tilting his head to the side. “You’re the best, Haru-chan!”
Haru waves him off with a shrug, watching in amusement as Nagisa leaps forward to grab his coat and head out the door.
“See ya, tomorrow!” he calls, turning back to wave enthusiastically over his head. He spins around, swinging the door open-
Only to slam into the firm chest of a tall, foreboding figure.
Nagisa squeaks. Behind him, Haru straightens up, brows furrowing. It’s uncommon for anyone he doesn’t recognize to enter his cafe, considering the small population of their town, especially this late at night.
“Sorry-!” Nagisa squeaks, eyes going wide. “I didn’t see you there, officer...Yamazaki?” he reads off the man’s uniform.
The man in the entrance is incredibly tall, with broad shoulders and a large scowl on his face. He’s wearing a police uniform, as Nagisa has already observed, and doesn’t seem to know what to make of the little blond standing in front of him.
“It’s fine,” he says finally, in a rough voice. Nagisa doesn't wait around to apologize further. He offers one of his signature smiles, before scurrying around the police officer and out the door.
Officer Yamazaki watches him go with a slightly peeved look. Haru frowns. There’s something vaguely familiar about the officer, like he’d seen him somewhere before. He scans over the man’s droopy eyes and seemingly set-in scowl, not quite able to place it.
“Can I help you?” Haru asks, with measured politeness.
Yamazaki grunts, eyes surveying the display case. “A friend of mine said you have decent pie.”
And then it clicks. He does know this man, or at least he’s seen him, in cellphone pictures that were enthusiastically shoved in his face.
“You’re Rin’s friend,” Haru says aloud. He wonders why he hadn’t realized it sooner, considering the fact that he’s clearly a police officer. Rin had traipsed into his cafe earlier this week, practically gushing over how his old childhood friend Sousuke would be transferring to their unit. While the redhead had seemed excited, Yamazaki doesn’t appear quite so enthused.
“Err… yes,” Yamazaki replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Just moved here.” He seems much less intimidating now that he’s speaking, but he still gives off a rather grouchy aura.
Haruka nods absentmindedly. “Rin doesn’t like sweets.”
“Well, he pointed me here anyway,” Yamazaki replies gruffly.
Shrugging, Haru resolves to at least try to be nice to this officer. If he’s Rin’s friend, that means this surely won’t be the last Haru sees of him, whether they like it or not. “Which type?”
Yamazaki deliberates for a moment, before settling on pecan. Haru hands him the slice without comment. He tries to busy himself with other tasks and not focus his attention on Yamazaki while he eats, but that’s more easily said than done, considering they’re the only two people inside the small cafe.
Haru’s pleased to see the contented look that appears on Yamazaki’s face when he takes his first bite, momentarily replacing the deep scowl that he’d been beginning to think was permanent. He looks a lot younger when he smiles, Haru thinks offhandedly, but he quickly brushes that thought away.
This is his favorite part of owning the cafe; seeing his customers’ reactions to each dish or dessert he creates. For Haru, cooking started out as a necessity, with him living alone and having to feed himself. But seeing other people enjoy his food always sends a wave of pride through his body, and might be the reason he’d chosen such a career path. Not that he’d ever speak that out loud.
“Okay?” he asks, as he turns away to finish the last of the dishes.
Yamazaki hums, bending over the dessert. “Yeah. Pretty good.”
He’s scarfing it down far too quickly for someone who only considers the pie ‘pretty good’ but Haru offers no further comment. Yamazaki leaves the money on the table and walks out without another word minutes later, which suits Haru just fine. The silence that comes with an empty cafe is refreshing, and he’s never minded being alone.
He trails lazily through his nighttime routine, wiping down the last of the tables, and the smear Nagisa’s face left on his white counters, before finally locking up for the night. He pauses for a moment to stare up the sign that Makoto and Rin had helped him paint five years ago, the words 'Waterfall Cafe' printed in big bubble letters, next his own carefully drawn illustration of a waterfall spilling over a cliff.
On the short walk home, he busies himself by checking his cellphone. He's unsurprised to discover that he has a string of new messages from Nagisa.
‘Haru-chan! sorry!!!! ┐(‘～`；)┌ I didn’t mean to ditch you!’
Haru rolls his eyes, knowing very well that Nagisa knew exactly what he was doing.
‘Did that guy look familiar??????’
‘Maybe Rin-chan knows him?????? Cuz theyre both officers????"
‘but he was hot at least (●´ω｀●)’
‘you should ask for his number’
‘I mean, did you see his arms??? ♥‿♥ (✿◠‿◠)’
‘AND dont lecture me, i can LOOOK’
‘Haru-CHANNNN’
Haru lets out a heavy breath of air, watching it drift away above his head with the chill of the early spring night. Nagisa is Nagisa, he reminds himself. And he’s learned from years of experience that humoring Nagisa is much more effective than ignoring him completely.
‘i agree. his arms were nice’
He hits send, hoping Nagisa will be content with that and stop bothering him. And it’s not really a lie. Yamazaki had definitely been conventionally attractive, not that Haru’s one to pay attention to those types of things.
Still, Haru’s not in the mood to stay up gossiping with Nagisa till three in the morning just to please his younger friend, so he promptly shuts off his phone before he can receive any more messages.
He’s sure he’ll be hearing all about it at work on Monday anyway.
The cafe closes early Sundays, so Haru heads home at a more reasonable hour the next day. He considers what he’ll make for dinner as he strolls along; maybe a chocolate cake to appease Makoto’s notorious sweet tooth.
When he steps inside their small house, he’s surprised to find his roommate standing with his face plastered to their living room window.
“Makoto?”
“Oh, hi, Haru,” Makoto squeaks, turning to smile at his best friend. “How was your day?”
Haru frowns, brushing by him to glance out the window.
“Oh, it’s okay! I was just-”
“Is something wrong?” Haru asks, scanning the empty streets in front of them.
Makoto sighs, setting a hand on Haru’s shoulder. “It’s probably nothing,” he laughs, tilting his head to the side. “I’m sure you must be tired from working. You should sit down.”
Haru snorts. Leave it to Makoto to say something like that, when Haru knows he’d been running training drills with the firestation all morning.
He ignores his friend’s coddling and looks back out the window, lips pursed together. “Was it another stray cat?”
“Hmm…? No!” Makoto laughs. “There was just this guy… He’s walked by here like seven or eight times. He seemed really angry and scared all the neighbor kids inside. I’m sure it’s nothing but-”
As if on cue, the man appears again, tall and angry-looking as promised, turning the corner of their neighbor's house. Makoto jumps and shrinks behind the window.
“That’s him,” he whispers. “I don’t know. Should we call the cops or something?”
"He is a cop," Haru says plainly, shaking his head at his friend's panic.
Despite that he’s traded his police uniform out for street clothes, Yamazaki is still easily recognizable. The broad shoulders and stern face are kind of hard to mistake. And with the scowl he's wearing, Haru's not surprised that he managed to scare children off. However, to him, he looks much more pathetic than intimidating, with the way he's glancing helplessly around like he has no idea where he is.
Haru may hardly know the man, but he's Rin’s friend, so there’s minimal chance he’s actually a criminal. Probably still an asshole, but one that manages to get lost in a town of only a few thousand people, so not too much of a threat.
"What? Haru-"
“It’s nothing,” Haru assures, pushing back from the window. He tugs his jacket back on, heading for the back door. Someone probably will have to save that idiot before some alarmed parent does actually call the police. And he’d been intending to head to the store anyway.
Makoto still looks mildly worried, following along after him. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
Haru rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, Makoto. I'm going out to buy milk."
With that, he pushes his way outside, ignoring his friend’s concerned voice calling after him.