The Cultural Festival runs smoothly.

Aisaka leans on the bar stool, wearing a barista's coat, with a deep chestnut acoustic guitar in his lap. He strums each beat and lets the notes sing for themselves.

His hair is bound up halfway because the girls in class thought he'd look cuter that way. They were too fearsome to resist, so he allowed them to bind his hair in a rather simple half-bun.

He'd managed to convince them to leave his glove as it is, (mainly because he'll have to take it off while his hands are on the guitar) but he still can't understand why he needed makeup and eyeliner.

He's not playing a tune anyone recognizes. It's a tune from his past that he's heard many times on the radio but never bothered to learn its name. He plays it by ear with what meager self-taught understanding of the instrument he has, and it works, barely.

Midorima plays the part of a waiter perfectly. His hands are held in professional angles and his mannerisms are so perfect he could pass for a real butler. (Though, he's only supposed to be a waiter-- oh well, nevermind.)

It impresses the guests as much as it does his own classmates, and the peaceful lull of their cafe is a hotspot of the festival.

There's little that actually happens in the store, so in the off chance where they both have a break and another pianist or guitarist takes over, they take a walk around. Aisaka slips his glove on and the girls in class have no way to protest.

They escape the hell hole that was Murasakibara's class (he looked amazing in that wig and dress) and says hi to Kuroko (Midorima shrieks [I did NOT]) and Kuroko gets slapped in the face) then they find themselves watching part of a play where Soldier Haizaki is pushed off a tower to his death. (Curse you, Queen Aomine!)

"I thought you said you weren't part of the play!"

"Shut up, I was the sub!"

It's blissfully stupid, but they enjoy it all the same. Midorima's expressions rarely change from exasperated to stupefied, but when he thinks Aisaka isn't looking, there's a faint smile left at the curl of his lips.

(Aisaka's not sure why Midorima always looks away when Aisaka turns to him, though.)

"Where should we go next? A haunted house?"

"I am not interested in such things, but if you would like to go, I am willing to accompany you."

"Really? Thank you! Then, let's go to Momoi's class!"

"Wait-- why that one?!"

"...oh, we can't?"

"No, that's not what I meant--"

"Then off to there we go!"

-

OGIWARA:

I heard ur a butler Kuroko ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

And Saka's a host or smth?

AISAKA:

IM NOT A HOST (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

IM JUST A BARISTA OK

KUROKO:

He makes a very pretty barista.

I have scared more customers
than I have served today.

AISAKA:

U guys shuda done a haunted house

KUROKO:

The girls wanted to see Kise-kun
in a royal prince costume so

OGIWARA:

piCTurES

AISAKA:

Camera0.jpg View Image.

Our costumes are kinda similar ( ˙▿˙ )/
Except he has a suit and I have an apron

OGIWARA:

U GUYS R SO CUTE

IS THAT KUROKO SMILING

IS THAT SAKA W ICE CREAM
ON HIS CHEEK

I WANT TWENTY

KUROKO:

Sorry, limited edition items
Can't be bought in bulk.

-

Aisaka crashes headfirst into a wall.

Or, it isn't a wall. It was a pokey human being with an obnoxious amount of metal ornaments at the chest of whatever shirt he was wearing-- holy crap, golden hair.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was--"

Aisaka is gaping before he realizes it, then he snaps out of it and fumbles to compose himself.

But blondie himself is gaping like a horror story.

That's when Aisaka sees the paper cup in his hand, crushed by the impact, and the blond boy's hands are glistening with orange juice.

Aisaka looks down, and suddenly realizes the front of his barista costume is drenched.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry!" blondie freaks out, and suddenly his one hand is too full. The crowd parts for the scene, and mister prince scrambles for a tissue, though his attempt is just a little more than screaming 'tissues!' at anyone that passes by.

Aisaka stares down at this shirt morbidly, knowing that the girls in class would be furious at him.

"Ah- it's okay! I think we have spares," he assures the boy first, who was meaninglessly trying to soak up some of the juice from the hopelessly stained shirt, "and it's my fault, anyways, is your costume alright?"

Aisaka takes the orange juice cup from the boy's hand, and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket (because it's his lucky item, says Midorima) and wipes the blond's hand between the fingers-- because at least that is salvageable.

"You're from Class Two... Kise, right?" Aisaka remembers to say, "it's a relief your costume isn't ruined! It looks super expensive and whoever made it probably put in a lot of effort into it... oh no."

His rambling comes to an abrupt pause when he realizes his brace is coated in the sticky liquid.

Both pairs of eyes stop on it.

Then all calm goes out the window.

"I'm sorry!"

"No, seriously, it's okay!"

-

"Are you sure? Like, seriously, I don't need to run out to a pharmacist and, say, buy a new one for you--"

Aisaka gives up. He just laughs, flapping the washed cloth brace in his left hand in some form of an attempt to shake some more water out of it.

"It's completely fine! You freak out way too much!" he says, and his right hand hovers in the hand hesitantly as it gets used to bare air again, "it's not like it's torn or anything. And I'm only playing the guitar today, so I won't need it anyways!"

"I still feel incredibly guilty..."

"Don't be!" Aisaka responds, brightly. "I'm the one that crashed into you and you've already trailed me all the way to the washroom. You're a nice guy, huh?"

"Oh-- yeah, I... guess," Kise stumbles, "also because you're apparently the guy that tamed Murasakibara so."

Aisaka laughs again, "don't worry, I won't sic him on you or anything. Your fans would kill me!"

Aisaka smiles at him in a startlingly stable manner, and Kise has to relent. There's little worry for more than his own well-being anyways. Kise looks at the boy again and has the distinct realization that he has no idea of his own fame.

If the basketball club members ever find out he did anything to the boy, Kise would lose his head in a few seconds. This was the kind of situation that's gotten people kicked out of their clubs, after all.

(If Kise's fan club is crazy, Aisaka's fan club is absolutely rabid.)

And really, it's not like he can't understand it.

Girls tend to like the cute types, and since he's such a calm guy... yeah, he understands why people are protective over him. But he's so smiley, isn't that annoying? And he's not exactly tiny, either.

Kise finds this guy oddly annoying.

He wouldn't want to meet him again, if possible. He's bad with the obnoxiously oblivious ones. They were always painful to look at.

"Anyways, thanks for your concern. My shift is soon, so I'll have to go back," Aisaka says to Kise, who visibly snaps out of his thoughts, "I'll see you around!"

Kise barely manages to return the goodbye before the boy leaves.

Kise turns to the mirror, fixes his hair-- and scrunches into a frown before leaving with a model's best smile.

-

"Aisaka! Help us out!"

Aomine barges into the classroom just as Aisaka is getting lectured by Midorima about the ruined shirt.

"Aomine? Aren't you supposed to be helping out in the basketball team-- wait, shush, this is quiet zone!"

Midorima scowls at the tanned boy, not at all appreciating his sweaty presence in the scented classroom cafe. But he steps up anyways, seeking to address the issue as he hands Aisaka a kitchen apron to string over his button-up.

"One of our guys twisted a foot so we're a man down," Aomine looks distressed enough to not really care for Midorima's presence there, "these outsider college guys are being pretty mean ta' us, so could you help us out? I'd ask Murasakibara but he'd rather bake than play basketball."

Aisaka blinks, taken aback.

"What about-- ah, Akashi probably won't be free. What about Midorima... right, he won't play anything other than the shooting guard position," he mutters to himself, "but my shift is starting soon--"

"He called us a bunch of english words none of us understand and spat gum on a basketball."

"Alright, lead the way."

Midorima whirls, flabbergasted. "Aisaka, your shift starts now--"

"I'm so sorry, Midorima!" the indigo-haired boy turns to him, hands held together in a prayerful apology, "could you take my shift for me? I'll get back to you as soon as I can, I promise!"

Midorima shoots back, stumbled by the sudden desperate offer. He steels himself, looking away and fixing his glasses as he stutters, "no, I- I am tired, tired from my previous shift. You should be more responsible--"

Aisaka's face falls, hurt and crestfallen.

Midorima stumbles over his own words, "bu- but I uh, guess that if we were to lose to such people, it would be... a disgrace to our club and Akashi will not be pleased, so--"

"Thanks, Midorima!" Aisaka brims into a smile, like he'd planned this all along, "I'll treat you to a meal some other time! Sorry guys, I'll be right back!"

Aisaka spins out of the classroom, eyes still on him. Even Aomine is gaping at the amazing show of manipulation, but he doesn't react until someone from the counter calls him out.

"Wait, Aisaka, change out of those! Don't you have anything in the lockers?"

"Your hair! Come back here, we need to tie your hair back!"

"Aisaka, your wrist brace is dry now, don't forget it!"

"Aisaka, bring your lucky item with you."

Seriously, who's the mama again?