[12/09/16]

11:00PM

A young man has been typing away in front of his laptop for the last two and a half hours, ocassionally pausing to order another oolong tea and for bathroom breaks.

11:26PM

A couple walks in, making the bell chime. He is staggeringly beautiful with his long hair the colour of midnight; she is also beautiful, with short brown hair and smiling eyes like molten chocolate.

12:37AM

Two people walk in, but they are not together. One is a tall young man with dark hair, glasses and a tired look. In contrast, she looks cheery and energized. He politely requests a booth; he's carrying books and under his arm, a laptop. The gold rings on her fingers make her look odd and out of place in the old café.

He orders coffee, black. She asks for something clearly not on the menu and after a few minutes, asks for a minute more to decide.

12:45AM

A very attractive blond comes in. He is carrying what appears to be a guitar on his back and we can assume, then, that he is a musician. He lifts a finger and the waiter on shift brings him one coffee, black, no sugar; he seems to be a regular. His blue eyes briefly scan the present company as he walks towards the breakfast bar, waiting for his usual booth. The nervous-looking young man does not seem like he's about to be finished soon and the young couple speak in soft, hushed tones.

12:58AM

The girl with the rings lifts a delicate hand and they come closer for her order. The young waiter, scandalised, goes back to the kitchen and they can hear the mumble of the cook asking if she's insane. She doesn't seem to mind, inspecting her nails. Five minutes later he comes back with a tray holding a number of things: an espresso, a mug of warm milk, pancakes topped with cream and strawberries and chocolate syrup.

01:04AM

The waiter places a cup of some frothy drink before the blond at the bar.

"I haven't ordered anything."

"It's from the lady."

01:06AM

"I don't drink capuccinos."

Standing before her, the handsome blond has brought back the drink she sent. Smiling, she drops the magazine in her hands and eyes him carelessly.

"Good," she says. "That's a mocha."

01:17AM

The bell chimes and a redhead in a coat and high heels walks in. Her eyes are searching something and when they find it, she sighs.

"Good, you're still here."

"Sora-chan? It's late, you should be sleeping!"

"I promised I'd help you study, didn't I?"

She orders a coffee for herself and a refil for the young man named Jyou. Despite his exhaustion he smiles and all protests end when she sits next to him.

01:32AM

The redhead at the laptop is typing away furiously and when it seems like he can't possibly go any faster, he stops. He stares at the screen without blinking and when he does, he looks like he has just woken from a dream.

"I can't believe this."

Without stopping to count, he leaves money on the table and as quickly as he came in, leaves.

02:24AM

At their table, the girl with short hair smiles and her partner takes her hand.

"I want to show you something."

She leans over the table, kissing his lips.

"Hikari-chan...?"

"Shall we leave, Ken-kun? Before the last train leaves."

They exit the coffee shop still holding hands. On their table they leave empty mugs, a half-bitten cookie and a napkin with drawings of a place they have only seen in their dreams.

03:15AM

"Ya-ma-to."

The way she pronounces his name reminds him unexpectedly of his childhood. He hides his smile in what is left of a sweet beverage he remembers he didn't ask for. He sets the mug down and underneath, a folded bill. He stands, heaves the bass over his shoulder and offers her his hand. It's late and the trains have stopped coming but his apartment is close-by and Yamato isn't in a hurry.

"Mimi."

The bell chimes announces their exit and the warmth of her hand on his forearm, the sunrise that's approaching.

Author's Note: I began this collection as a dumpster for all the Mimato trash I kept churning out and for a while, it served its purpose. There are things in here that made me happy, others that made me sad and others that I wrote for myself, because I needed to heal. They are not particularly good pieces but they were an important step in this process and deleting them would be denying things I have no business denying. There are still many Mimato stories in me, I'm sure, but this collection needs to be closed before I turn it into something even more bizarre.

Thank you for reading.