Leaves elegantly glided to damp, freshly cut grass as Shuichi awoke with the familiar feeling of heavy eye bags. Hair stuck to his face with damp sweat, his eyelids cold and vision hazy. Like many other times before, his alarm buzzed about, and this time Saihara gotten out of bed, kneeled down to the ugly carpeted floor and turned off the alarm. He wiped the sleep from his golden eyes, and soon refocused. The male stumbled into his bathroom with the intention of taking a nice, long morning shower. Shuichi twisted the metal faucet, and cold water fell from the shower head, wetting the tiled flooring of the small, narrow shower.

Saihara waited a few moments, occasionally reaching out and allowing the liquid to graze his fingers, checking for clarification of the temperature, and once it was hot enough, he stripped of his pajamas and took a step into the shower and beyond the curtain, allowing the sputtering water to rain all across his feminine shape. His hair grew damp with hot water, ahoge falling and resting into his hair (it was likely to spring back up once drying his hair with a towel). And, that's when it hit him.

The festival was today.

Screw it, Shuichi thought; there was no time for long, relaxing showers as it seemed, because the male fumbled with the bottles of shampoo and conditioner (he had taken a liking to the smell of roses, so he inquired that into his shampoo and hair products) and dumped the cold soap into his wet navy locks.

He stepped out of the shower. Shuichi hadn't  bothered to reach for a towel as he rushed out of the bathroom, yanking open his dresser, and pulling out a random pile of clothes. He threw them on, and scampered back to the bathroom. Whilst violently brushing his teeth (every time he spit, along with toothpaste came a very familiar sight of blood) the male dried his hair with a random towel. Shuichi soon grabbed his phone, slipped his sneakers on and ran out the door (locking it behind him, of course).

-

"Ugh, where the hell is he??" A voice belonging to Miu Iruma called out.

Kaede hummed in response as she tapped her fingers along the clean counter. She occasionally took the chance and glanced towards the other blonde, heather eyes meeting ice blue just once. "Maybe he's just a little late. . . He'll be here soon, I'm sure of it!"

Miu cackled, fixing a cold latte (she had recently gotten a job as a barista, so the blonde knew what she was doing), "how the shit do you stay so positive, Kae-tit?" She was genuinely curious, but she wouldn't ever admit so.

"Please don't call me that," it's not even creative, she thought, "I guess I just have a lot of hope?" Her statement came off as more of a question, and she hadn't known the correct way to answer Miu's question, exactly. She should think more on that.

Iruma loosened her tense muscles as a goofy smirk washed upon her lips. She slid the fresh, seemingly delicious latte across the counter to the other blonde, who was now staring off into space. She had snapped out of her target-less gaze once the movement of the cold, plastic cup sped towards her. "Thank you," she exclaimed, catching it before it could speed past her.

Miu nodded, "yeah, yeah."

All was silent for a few moments, as Miu played with her maid outfit (they had changed in the locker room near the back). She occasionally glanced up towards Kaede with her frosty eyes.

"He better fuckin' hurry up," Miu mumbled. She was beginning to get antsy.

And, right after she let that sentence slip from her mouth, the door to the cafe burst open, and Saihara had almost tripped over the foot of another student. He chuckled awkwardly, called out a 'sorry' and sped to Kaede and Miu.

"S-Sorry I'm late, I woke up later than expected," he said between pants.

"Don't you set an alarm like every fuckin' day?" Miu asked, "or were you too occupied banging someone up to remember? HA!" She sputtered and cackled. Both Kaede and Shuichi cringed.

"No! Not—Not at all. . ." Shuichi cleared his throat. She wasn't entirely wrong. . . More-so himself.

Kaede sighed, "Shuichi, it's better to ignore her and just change. . . The uniforms are in the locker room, in the back," she handed him a slip of paper, "the class president wanted me to hand this to you. It's your locker and it's combination!"

"Thanks, Kaede," Shuichi called as he pocketed the slip and began to lightly jog to the back (and being more careful this time).

The boy opened his assigned locker, the worn down and rusted hinges emitting a small screech. Inside, there was a small deodorant ball, and more importantly, his outfit. It was a simple butler outfit from anime, which Shuichi didn't care much for; Ouma loved anime (especially the shoujo and magical girl genre) and cheesy rom-coms whilst Shuichi preferred his stereotypical Law and Order biz. But, even if it wasn't his thing, he would watch countless hours of anime with his beloved.

He slipped on his uniform rather quickly (As he was in a hurry), the occasional button on his white button up remaining loose and the midnight black bow tie improperly tied. Hell, he may have slipped his right foot into the left shoe.

Saihara stumbled out of the backroom. Kaede hadn't been sitting at the bar stool anymore, as she was working.

The festival had officially started, and by a hair, Shuichi made it in time.

Then, a sudden thought came to his head. Where was Kokichi?

It was just then that arms wrapped around his torso, a forehead pressing into his back. It was indeed Ouma. He felt warmer than a heated fire in a cold cabin.

"Hey, Kokichi," Shuichi mumbled. His face grew red from the physical contact.

"Hiii, Shumaiiiii~! How are you on this delightful morning?" Kokichi let go of Saihara and turned to face him. He was wearing the same butler uniform as Shuichi and the other boys. He looked extremely attractive; Saihara swooned.

"I'm fine; I was almost late, actually."

"Whaaat?! Shuichi Saihara, late?!" The short boy gasped (though there was a twinge of surprise in said gasp).

The other chuckled, "almost late. . ."

"Mhmmmm~!"

Shuichi raised an eyebrow in confusion as he viewed the shorter boy scanning his outfit, and seeming to be holding in a laugh. The short male's teeth bit at his bottom lip. Soft.

"W-What?" He's scaring me. . .

"You look like a pigsty, Shumai!" Ouma exclaimed, now letting out a loud cackle; a few people turned to stare at them with a confused gaze for a second (though to Saihara, it seemed more like an eternity).

"Oh. . ." Shuichi felt embarrassed. And, in fact, his shoes were messed up, a few buttons loose, and his bow tie hanging on for dear life.

"'Oh?' Come on, Shumai," Ouma grabbed his hand with a sincere smile, "I'll help you look presentable since you obviously suck at doing so!"

Shuichi had just wanted to get out of view, so he accepted, and followed Ouma to the small unisex bathroom.

On the way, he couldn't stop gazing toward their linked hands. Warm.

Once they set foot into the bathroom, they almost gagged. It smelled like waste, and it simply wasn't. . .clean. Though, conveniently, it was empty. Ouma led Saihara to one of the many dirty mirrors and began to fix his bow tie.

"Saihara-Chan, are you gonna enjoy the festival after this?" Ouma asked, now concentrating on correctly buttoning up Shuichi's blazer.

"Uh. . . I may have to leave after this for my shift," he replied. He gazed down at the short boy tailoring him, and it honestly made him feel a sense of affection; Ouma doesn't do this for anyone, just his closest of friends.

"Ah shit, reallyyyy?? Saihara-Chan, can you call off sick?? I wanna spend time with you at the festival!!" the male let his crocodile tears gloss over his beautiful violet eyes, a drop occasionally streaming down his cheek. The tears then disappeared as quickly as they emerged, "but that's a lie. You're really boring, Shu."

Shuichi sighed, "I wish I could, but. . .sorry?"

"Hmph! Mean!"

"I'm not mea—"

"Anyway, Saihara-Chan! I can't fix your shoe problem, so I'm gonna head off to work! Tootles~!" Ouma smiled cheekily at Shuichi once more and skipped out of the bathroom.

"Bye. . .?" The tall male chuckled at what just conspired and stepped out of his dress shoes, slipping into the correct ones this time.

He strolled out of the bathroom to look for the class president (as they had volunteered to run the daily operation) to get his instructions on what to do for his shift. The café event had been planned to go on for about the entire day, and, like any other job, students had shifts. Shuichi and Ouma had the same shifts, mainly because of part time job at the bookstore, their times for work were nearly the same (and both boys didn't mind that, as they enjoyed each other's presence). Shuichi let out a soft hum as he took note of the class president, and anxiously walked over to her (she was quite cold).

"Hey, uh, Akari-San, what've I got to do for my shift?" His question sounded as if he were on the verge of a mental breakdown, poor boy.

"You have outside duty," she simply stated and shifted her glasses, jet black hair continuing to stay as sharp as a tranquilizer needle.

"Outside duty. . .?" Saihara repeated, slightly tilting his head to the side.

"You go outside with a couple others, hold a sign, and hope for people to come in."

"Oh. . ."

The class president reached over the counter and tossed Shuichi a big colorful sign that read:

~MAID CAFÉ~
We Can't Wait To Serve You, Master~

Shuichi cringed, who came up with this sign??

"Alright, now get to it," she said as she snapped her fingers in Saihara's line of vision.

"R-Right. . ."

The navy-haired male slowly trudged to the entrance, placing his hand gently onto the doorknob, taking a look at Ouma; he was doing the usual, verbally harassing Miu. Kaede was cleaning tables, also sparing a glance towards the midget. Shuichi sighed, suddenly feeling blue as he walked out of the café, officially beginning his shift.

-

Ouma groaned as he dropped the bucket of water onto the dirty checkerboard tiles of the restroom. Droplets of water flew from the bucket and onto the dirty floor. He had been given the most disgusting, 'unfun' job of all time: cleaning the bathrooms. The short boy had given many excuses, one of them being 'won't this fancy suit get all ruined?' The class president had sighed and handed him a poncho from her backpack (it rained very frequently in their area).

He sighed, wailed at his loss, and tightly gripped the handle of the mop, dipping it into the bucket. He gazed at his reflection in the water, the ripples disrupting his view and form.

As he finished polishing the floors with the water (and help of the mop) Ouma wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. You know, this may not be so ba—

The door violently opened, the door slammed against the wall. The class president, who was equipped with a clipboard, barged in all the more frantically.

"Ouma-Kun, I happened to get the jobs mixed up, I apologize," she stated, "you have table duty (cleaning them off and such)."

The short male felt both annoyance and gratefulness course through him—he had just wasted all of his time doing something he didn't have to do! Ouma glared at the class president for wasting his precious time as he stripped the poncho off, balling it up and aiming it towards the trash can (it missed). He dropped the equipment, leaving the mop and bucket rot on the ground, the materials now looking for purpose. He stormed out of the bathroom, now looking for a table to serve.

Soon, he spotted one, a table consisted of girls. Ouma molded a poker face (one that makes him seem to actually want to be there; yeah, he already regretted his decision on voting for a maid and butler café) and lightly skipped over to them with his pad and pen.

This was going to be a long day.

-

It was blaring with heat. The sun beat down onto Shuichi's back like a metal club, every bit of the treacherous heat absorbed by the black material of his suit. He was sweating, his hair damp and skin wet. The male groaned, wishing he was living in northern Japan (where it can sometimes snow until early May). But, unfortunately, it was around 90 degrees. His other classmates (who were also handling signs and passing out flyers) seemed to be irritated by the heat. Their maid outfits looked to be heavy on them.

Why did Kokichi and Kaede suggest this idea again? He questioned himself.

A few people visited the maid and butler café, most leaving in delight. The day was going smoothly so far. Only an hour or two passed by, or so it felt like that.

The only problem was that Ouma wasn't with him.

But he couldn't let that get in the way. Saihara had been attempting to be more optimistic lately. He thought that if he was straight forward or more positive, Ouma would like him more.

The male sighed as he watched people walk by, sparing a glance towards the café (and more importantly, the sign he was handling).

We really need to get a different sign, Saihara thought to himself. It was kind of embarrassing.

"SAIHARA-CHAN!" A voice shouted. It was obvious it belonged to none other than Ouma Kokichi. Even if it was a loud shout, Shuichi couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat.

"Kokichi. . .?" He mumbled, turning around with the sign.

"Ooooo you look hot, Shumai," Ouma commented.

"What?!" Shuichi yelped. It wouldn't be an exaggeration in anyway shape or form if Shuichi was blushing.

The other girls outside gasped, seemingly interested in the beans that just spilled.

"Yeahhhh, you look like you're gonna have a heat stroke, Shuichi!" The male almost sounded concerned. And he was. Shuichi really looked as if he were going to pass out from the overbearing heat. He was visibly sweating.

Some girls puffed out their cheeks and turned around, seeming upset.

Shuichi sighed. "Ah, I see. . ."

"Mhm~ You should really think about coming inside and taking a lil' break!" Ouma grabbed for the door handle, "and I have some good news, Shu~ Now move your lazy ass and come inside!"

"Alright, alright," the male said. He handed the suggestive sign to one of his classmates, soon after heading into the building.

"So Ouma-Kun, what's the good news?" Shuichi asked as the other male led him into the locker room.

"Neeheehee! Well, I may have called our manager and ehe. . .asked for a personal day off~" he explained.

"Oh," Saihara hummed, "I guess that's fine?"

"Huuuh?? Just a lame 'I guess that's fine'? What about a thank you! Mui aburrido!!"

"What?"

Kokichi pinched the bridge of his nose, "it means you're boring, Shu! See? B-O-R-I—"

Shuichi chuckled, "okay, okay, I get it," he said as he pet Ouma's soft, silky hair. Cute.

"Anyways, Shumai!" Ouma smiled up at his best friend, "you'll spend the festival with me, right~?"

"Of cour—"

Saihara's response was rudely interrupted by the loud opening of a large door.

In her maid outfit, Kaede stood by the entrance with a hopeful smile across her lips. No.

"Hey, Kokichi!! Shuichi, too," she called. Annoying.

Kokichi peered around Shuichi and towards the tall blonde, "Kaedeee, you just interrupted my love confessionnn!!"

"H-Huh?" She was taken aback by Ouma's choice of words.

"It's a lie!" He reassured.

"Oh," she sighed in relief. Thank goodness, she thought.

"As a matter of fact," Kokichi began, "I was just asking dear Shumai if he wanted to accompany me to hang out at the festival!"

Kaede's eyes lit up, "may I come with?"

"No," Ouma said flatly.

Kaede frowned. "Alright, that's oka—"

"But that was just a lie."

Why couldn't that be a truth.