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Au: Regular
Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, Bad English puns
Word Count: 2.8k+
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Kira was convinced she was in love with the part-time chef at the restaurant around the corner from your apartment.
Along with a pair of friends, I went to the small restaurant for her birthday. It was conveniently in between all of our homes. It had a variety of food to choose from, which Kira appreciated as her diet was restricted. I wasn't quite sure why she decided to be a vegan after years of enjoying all kinds of food.
The kitchen was visible through a large glassless window frame that separated itself from the main dining area. After making our meals, the chef had come out from behind the see-through wall to lay them out before us.
Kira squealed at the sight of her food, immediately thanking the man and insisted on talking his ear off about her diet. I, along with our other friend, Sayori, sighed, waiting for the man to make an excuse and flee, but he didn't. Instead, he listened, naturally wide eyes watching the woman rattle on with his hands tucked behind his back.
He didn't say a word. For whatever reason, Kira took it as permission to keep talking. Somehow getting on the topic of her pet dog that she owned as a kid that had died the year prior, and then onto how it was her birthday.
"Congratulations," he said before walking back to the kitchen.
Sayori snorted, but it went unheard by Kira, who kept her eyes glued to the man for the rest of the evening. She was smitten. She practically begged to stay back for drinks just to watch him for a bit longer.
I couldn't understand it: he had only said a single word. But then again, Kira always had a way of crushing quickly and suddenly on the most random people. In high school, she had crushed on at least one member of every club that she could openly observe, namely sports players who waved at the crown after gaining a point.
So infatuated with the new object of her obsessions, she had come to me. Well, my apartment.
The restaurant itself was closest to my apartment. I just so happened to live near one of the main roads where restaurants presided. So, when Kira felt the urge to go and spy on the silent man, she ran to me to go with her.
So there I was, in the same seat as before, sipping on sake, watching Kira ogle at the man in the kitchen.
Seeing Kira grow excited, I turned my attention over to catch the sight of him walking over with our freshly made meals balanced in his hands. His apron was thick, tied comfortable over his clothes. He rolled the sleeves of his pullover up to his elbows, showing off the toned muscle of his forearm. His hair was black, clipped short as if his parents had done it for him as a kid, and he never tried anything different. It suited him, though, like a Scottish fold with black fur.
