In the bustling streets of Notting Hill, Kenma often wonders if he'll die as the same man every day.

It wasn't like he hated himself.

Kenma had a flat of his own. The one with big blue door that he bought with his wife — who left him for a much younger guy; livelier than Kenma could ever be. Although Kuroo, his roommate, often gets on his nerves; but the company was much appreciated even when the blonde won't say it aloud.

In his button shirt and slacks, Kenma walks through the busy street that was filled with stalls and vendors. Morning market. It was the usual direction towards his work.

Kenma works at a bookstore called that mostly sells travel books. The scent of books often makes him feel at home than anything at all.

So when Kenma sees you walk inside the small store, he started wondering whether home could embody a person. Not like Kenma knew that you were a famous actress — his world is rather small with books and games. Kenma wasn't a fan of movies.

But Kenma feel like you could change that. As if a film was already playing out and the young man felt more like a main character than the ones in the sidelines.

"That book would be a waste of money," he spoke, "if you want to read a book about Japan and its culture. This one has a lot of... interesting information, you see. It won't be a waste of money." he eyed the picture book in your hands — he had the urge to slap himself, feeling like he was being annoying. But Kenma tried to convince that he was only doing his job.

He tried to smile, "I mean... unless you prefer photos. Then that book wouldn't be a waste of money at all."