Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zenitsu was fairly sure that he was this close to throwing in the towel, giving up, and becoming a NEET. His gramps would obviously not like the idea of his grandson, who he poured a lot of love and money into, to just give up when he was almost done with his degree. Who knew that being a music major was as hard as it was? Not him, apparently. 

It was half past two in the morning. His midterms were next week, he had three performances he had to do, two of which he has not practiced for yet, and no coffee at home. He has been up for days, writing and rewriting pieces and performing on not just his shamisen , but all the other instruments he had on hand. It was like his teachers expected him to be able to finish and complete a symphony orchestra piece on his own in three days . 

He groaned into his hands, wanting to cry on the spot. He’s been on the hunt for any place that sold coffee that was still open, and so far, he was out of luck. His normal grocery store was, obviously, closed, and the convenience store around the corner was being remodeled. This left him scouring the Internet for anywhere that was open. A Mcdonald’s would suffice even, but the nearest one was shockingly another half kilometer away. 

He groaned to himself, cradling his face in his hands. “Who in the world said that college was a good idea anyway?” he whimpered, pouting to himself as he trudged along. Zenitsu hated walking around at night. It was so still, hardly a sound if there ever was. It honestly freaked him out more than calmed his frazzled nerves, so seeing a bright light ahead--- The Breath Café, the sign said--- made him weep for joy. 

He wasn’t ashamed. He was too tired to care at this point as he pushed through the doors, the smell of coffee making him want to cry, and giving out a desperate cry of gratitude. Zenitsu was so very tired and the shop was so empty, saved for the barista at the counter who greeted him as he went inside. “I’m so sorry for coming in so late, but my teachers have been giving papers nonstop for the past few days! I haven’t slept in three straight days, and I’ve run out of coffee at home!!” he said hurriedly, barely paying attention to anything but the sheer relief.

Gods, he could cry. 

“It’s alright,” the barista said with a smile, and Zenitsu couldn’t help but stop everything. This barista’s voice was so unlike anything he’s ever heard before. It was soft and smooth like cream and beyond gentle. “We get exhausted college students here all the time, so it’s no bother.”

Holy shit, this guy was so nice . To Zenitsu’s tired and confused brain, it was enough to finally push him over the edge and cry . He was so thankful that this was happening to him because of how terrible the last few days were. This guy must think he was absolutely mental. “You’re so nice even if it’s like three in the morning and you’re about to close,” he couldn’t help but gush. “Can I please have your strongest, largest cup of coffee, to go please?”

“Sure thing,” the guy said and he could hear his smile without even having to see it. “Can I have your name please?” 

“Uh, Zenitsu,” he replied, the tears finally dying down as he wiped it against his sleeve, finally looking up and getting a proper look of the barista as he quickly wrote his name on the side of the cup. He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling that he looked too shabby. He looked down at the hoodie he’s been wearing nonstop for the past few days and the hair he hasn’t washed since Sunday--- it was Wednesday at this point--- and he honestly wanted to die on the spot. 

His barista was ridiculously good looking. It made Zenitsu feel incredibly unattractive just being near him, days old clothes notwithstanding. He was all smooth, tanned skin and nice forearms. The uniform they put him in did him wonders and his hair was just begging to be mussed--- tugged out of its clean cut hairstyle so that the dark locks would fall over his eyes. His eyes, of course, were the best part. They were inexplicably kind looking, dark red eyes.

He averted his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. Wasn’t he into girls?! When did that change? Apparently Mister Barista Man could do something like that. 

His thought process got cut off, his attention focusing on the completed cup of coffee that was placed in front of him. It was absolutely beautiful. He has never seen anything more amazing in his life. He picked it up gingerly, smelling the heavenly scent and blowing on the steam carefully. He barely got a couple of gulps in before he suddenly felt very much alive. He hummed in approval, the coffee tugging a pleased smile onto his face.

“This is amazing! It’s like I’ve never felt more alive before!” he said, excitedly while staring at it in wonder. He was almost so caught up in finding his new favorite drink that he almost forgot to pay. He started digging into his pockets, reaching desperately for the wallet he knows he put in there, and feeling rightfully truimphant that it was there. He wouldn’t know what he would do if it turned out he forgot it at home. “I’m so so sorry, I almost forgot to pay!” 

Zenitsu looked up to see the barista just blankly staring at him, and he suddenly felt ridiculously self conscious. Did he notice that he forgot to bathe this morning?! He gulped, eyebrows furrowing in worry. “Um, hello?” he asked.

Finally, he responded by blinking, a flush starting to spread on the other’s cheeks as he smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry! I may have lost myself there,” he said, sounding so disappointed in himself for the slip up that he could only nod in understanding. He couldn’t judge after all--- he was the one that just cried in public for coffee. “That will be 500 yen.” 

Zenitsu paid the right amount, adding in a couple more yen because he probably kept him out longer than he should have, before leaving. He was sipping the coffee the rest of the way home, humming contentedly to himself. 

It was only after he got home, stripping off his hoodie, and sitting down to start working again that he realized he never got that barista’s name. He cursed himself, groaning lowly under his breath. 

No problem. He’ll go back tomorrow or something.

Zenitsu found himself standing in front of the tackily named Breath Café two weeks later. 

It took him a whole two weeks because of his many requirements that he needed to submit and perform, and not because he kept coming around the area sometimes, coming close to about a couple of feet from the door, and then turning around anyway. No matter what everyone else said, that was not it. He had been actually busy--- he swears by it. 

He takes in a steadying breath, it was earlier this time than it was earlier--- about seven in the evening--- but there were very few people. Possibly because it was a Friday night, and he had nowhere better to go to but this hole-in-a-wall coffee shop with its handsome barista. Zenitsu opened the door, being greeted by the same gentle voice from before. However, now that his brain was not buzzing due to lack of sleep, he could finally hear the sounds that came from him.

Early on in life Zenitsu, because of his very keen ears, found out that different people created very different sounds. From their heartbeat, to the rush of their blood, to the very breath that they took, it was all unique to a person. These sounds create a mini symphony to his ears--- reminiscent of different things in life. For example, his gramps sounded like rolling thunder, strong and overwhelming. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem like a good thing that he sounded almost like an incredibly strong gurgling sound, but his point still stands. 

The barista’s symphony, just like his voice and his eyes and his smile, was gentle sounding. It reminded him of the sun after a particularly long and heavy bout of rain, like the crackling of a hearth in the middle of a cold night, and, sometimes, the start of spring after a particularly harsh winter. He sounded not just gentle, but solid and like a new beginning. 

Zenitsu bit his lip before heading over to the counter, the other’s eyes lighting up upon seeing him, a dazzling smile already on his face. “Hello! Welcome to the Breath Café, what would you like to order?” he asked, and honestly, he did not think about what he wanted to order at all. He just wanted to know his name.

He looked over the menu, shifting from foot to foot nervously, before deciding on the simplest and most common thing he could see. “Um, a regular matcha latte would be nice,” he said, smiling slightly back at him before adding. “For here, please.” His order was punched in quickly and he was told how much he had to pay. He pulled out the cash from his back pocket, not messily searching for his wallet this time. He was prepared now , thank you very much. 

“Can I please have your name?” he asked, waving a marker slightly. Zenitsu almost felt bad that he didn’t remember his name, but he figured that he probably got so many customers a day that a random blonde crying about coffee and exams was a normal occurrence.

“Zenitsu,” he replied, smiling slightly as he started to quickly write it down. Now that he was barely awake, he could finally notice all the other things that he missed last week when he was too busy ogling his forearms like a weirdo--- who even did that anymore?!--- and noticed that on his forehead was a very noticeable burn scar that did nothing to mar his features, in his humble opinion. It only seemed to elevate it more. He also wore a pair of old Hanafuda earrings that dangled from his ears--- an oddity in and of itself.

He should seriously stop standing here and staring at him. Zenitsu pursed his lips, walking away as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t notice that he was just staring at him for five minutes, unashamed. He would have honestly died of shame if he was caught by him, or if someone else had to snap him out of his daze. 

“Here you go,” a familiar voice said, and a coffee cup with his name and a smiley face sat in front of him. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of it, smiling up at him in genuine gratitude. This only seemed to have made his smile brighten as he asked, “Is there anything else you would like?” 

Zenitsu shook his head before picking it up, admiring the way his name was written and the little smiley face in the end with a small smile. “Aw, this is cute,” he said without really thinking. He bit his lip and flushed a little. He hoped that wasn’t too much, sipping his drink in hopes of covering up his slip up. ‘ Wow, the coffee here was absolutely divine ,’ he thought as he let out a deeply contented sigh. 

Alright, this was it. “Thank you so much, uh…”

“Tanjirou,” he--- Tanjirou, apparently--- replied and Zenitsu couldn’t help but notice that there was a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He chose to ignore it, of course, as he nodded. He smiled secretly into his coffee--- Tanjirou, huh --- before looking up at him through his lashes.

“Thank you, Tanjirou,” he said, an honest smile on his face because if not for him letting him buy a coffee at a ridiculously late hour, he probably would have failed at least one of his midterms the following week. He received a nod and not much else before he was left alone to his own thoughts. 

He sipped the coffee again. He should come here more often. If not for his blatant crush, then for the coffee itself.

None of his friends knew who Tanjirou was at all. Zenitsu figured from how he acted around him--- all smiles and thoughtful gestures--- that he was at least a little popular on campus. His sister, Kamado Nezuko, was fairly popular in the university because she was incredibly pretty and kind to everyone she meets--- he could admit that he vied for her affections earlier in the year, but was promptly shut down and presumably forgotten. However, after asking everyone he knew, which was not a lot to begin with, there was only one person who was also friends with him. 

It was Hashibira Inosuke--- the bane of his life back in second year. If you don’t count the part where never got to remembering his name correctly, that one instance that he was beat up by him in a drunken brawl, had to carry his weight for the entire semester, and him just generally being annoyed by his presence, Zenitsu would like to think that they were pretty good friends.

Hopefully, that doesn’t say too much about the other kinds of friends that he has. 

“So you’re friends with Tanjirou,” he said, clasping his two hands together with his eyebrows drawn in a pinched look. Inosuke was busy eating a rice bowl full of tempura--- which he had to buy for him--- while steadily eating through his own tempura too. Honestly, he was used to it, so he let him go crazy on his tempura. His mind was too busy racing with the fact that they knew each other . “But how ?!” 

It honestly astounds him that someone like Inosuke, whose symphony was as wild and barbaric as his mannerisms, and Tanjirou knew each other enough to be close.

“A party back when we were freshmen,” he said, with a slight shrug. “It’s a little fuzzy, but all I know is that there was beer and that I lost to him in a drinking game. He still owes me a rematch actually!” Inosuke’s enraged shout about his rematch attracted the other patron’s attention and Zenitsu just wanted to melt into his seat already. First, this guy doesn’t wear a proper shirt to class--- he refuses to button up his shirts, claiming that it was too hot--- but he also didn’t have much in terms of table manners. 

“Can you lower your voice?” he hissed, pressing his face, that was burning bright red, into his hands because the amount of eyes on him made his skin prickle uncomfortably. “You’re going to get us kicked out!”

He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re the one who wanted an answer,” he said, turning back to his meal.

“I didn’t want you to scream it out loud!”

Inosuke was grumbling again around a mouthful of rice as he levelled him with an apathetic expression, like Zenitsu was the dumb one--- him! He pouted in response, nudging the rice in his bowl around. 

“You know,” Inosuke said as he chewed his rice, making him grimace slightly in response. “If you really wanted to know more about him, you should stop randomly just going to that stupid coffee shop of his, buy like one cup of coffee and stare at him from a table for an hour.”

Zenitsu gasped, appalled. “If not that, then what else am I going to do?!” he asked in exasperation before pausing, eyes narrowing. “I do not sit there and stare for like an hour!”

He was given the driest look ever. He didn’t even know Inosuke could do something like that. 

“He’s literally in the same campus as you,” he said, after a particularly big swallow of food. The idea dawned on Zenitsu and he had to pause, in awe at how good the advice from Inosuke was saying. 

“So you’re saying that I should… invite him to lunch? Meet up with him?”

“I don’t know with you! I just said that he’s in the campus, up to you how you want to do it!”

He huffs, crossing his arms to his chest. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world. It would certainly do him good to not just stare and to start talking and becoming friends with him. All he really knew about Tanjirou was just bits and pieces he heard from Inosuke, or from the idle small talk the two of them had together while waiting for coffee when there wasn’t anybody else around.

Zenitsu could not believe he was considering this. He wasn’t even sure it was going to work, but what else was there to do? Sit there in that coffee shop until he graduates? Graduate a single man with a caffeine addiction and a sudden realization that he was gay? Absolutely not!

“Alright, I think that’s what I’ll do,” he said, placing a fist on his other, upturned hand with a determined look in his eyes. “I’m going to ask him out to eat together, as friends.” He nodded to himself, satisfied, until a sudden sinking feeling made him pale. He could not do it. Not alone at least, not in front of so many people. In the coffee shop, it was mostly just them and apathetic college students who were too busy cramming their thesis to care much

“Wait, Inosuke!” he yelled out, before slapping a hand on his mouth and sinking in his chair. He’s a fucking hypocrite. 

“What?!” came the muffled reply from behind his rice bowl. Zenitsu sighed heavily, shaking his head. There goes his lunch.

“You have to come with me and Tanjirou when we meet up!” 

“But, why??”

“Because I will literally die without you there, we’re already both your friends so what’s the harm, AND you already ate my lunch for the day, so you owe me that at least!”

Inosuke was grumbling, seemingly still unconvinced so he tried to assuage some of that uncertainty by pouting and tearing up a little at him. He huffed, scratching his head a little before finally conceding. 

“Fine, crybaby,” he said, tilting his bowl so that he can get the last of the rice at the bottom. “I’ll help you with Jangoro.”

“Yes! Oh my gods, thank you Inosuke!”

“For a free meal!”

“ NO ”

To Zenitsu, he would like to say that that first lunch together with Inosuke went out great. Even though he was late for like five minutes and his wallet suffered because of it--- thanks ever so, Inosuke--- it was still a success in his book. For one thing, he saw Tanjirou out of his Breath Café uniform for once which was great . 

Tanjirou in jeans and a button down was absolutely transcendent, and it took all of his willpower to not just spend the entire meal staring. That would be uncouth and he knows it. 

Afterwards, they have done it a couple more times--- dragging Inosuke in all the while because he still could not do it on his own, and everyone knew it--- and he was slowly, but surely getting used to his kind eyes and the sound that seems to cut through everything else around him. Personally, it was what was the most distracting thing about having him around. It was like his heartbeat was a thrum he can’t shake and his voice was a melody he can’t stop humming under his breath. The same tune, the same melody, with a little concentration he could--

Zenitsu squealed, jumping a few feet in the air when a hand landed on his shoulder unexpectedly.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” came Tanjirou’s hasty apology. His eyebrows were drawn and his mouth was tilted downwards in a frown--- his classic concerned older brother face. He and Inosuke have been on the receiving end of those for a while now. Zenitsu relaxed, leaning back in his chair and giving the other a weak smile. “Are you okay? You were so out of it that you weren’t responding when I called your name a couple of times.”

He scratched his cheek nervously, “Yeah, don’t worry. I was just thinking about something.” 

Tanjirou nodded, smiling in relief that his friend was okay before placing his ordered coffee in front of him. “You know, with how jittery you are, I’m considering cutting you off from your caffeine intake,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Zenitsu gasped, horrified beyond belief. “You would never--!” he started to say, but was cut off by the devious look on Tanjirou’s face. His hands quickly gripped the body of his coffee cup and he hissed indignantly at his friend, turning his body so that he was shielding it from his grabby hands. “Don’t you dare .” 

Tanjirou laughed, surprised as he tried to show his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not going to steal anything,” he said, with a wide grin on his face. “You can calm down already.” 

He glared one last time for good measure, before sinking back into his seat and opening his cup to blow into it. “You better not,” Zenitsu said, glumly. He took a sip and then sighed, humming a little as he did so. He smiled to himself, the coffee immediately perking him up.

“I swear,” Tanjirou said, his voice wavered a little, so slight that if it was any other person they would not have noticed. He, of course, noticed anyway, and he looked up at him curiously. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you so murderous, and I’ve seen you at three in the morning, ranting and raving about how Professor Tengen did not know how to properly teach a class.”

He flushed a bright pink and pouted behind his cup. “I don’t rant and rave!” he protested. “Professor Tengen just sucks at teaching! The way he teaches music makes no sense at all. He always talks about his three wives all the time during class that we end up not learning anything, AND he gives us so much homework! How is he even checking all of those papers and performances? I bet it’s his wives…”

Tanjirou gave a snort, laughing a little. Okay, so he was prone to rants and raves. Zenitsu’s blush started to darken all the way to his ears and he took a long sip from his latte.

“You know, Zenitsu,” he said, a fond smile on his lips and his eyes shone with… something. He couldn’t place the emotion, but it made the back of his neck prickle and his lips to dry. “You are seriously something else.”

“You know, that’s not exactly brimming me with confidence.” he said, absentmindedly tracing the circular pattern of the lid. Tanjirou just shrugged, straightening his uniform with a smile and then turned away from him and back to the counter. 

“I gotta get back,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You are, as I quote, ‘becoming a hindrance to my most valued employee.’” This got Zenitsu laughing, grinning broadly because wow, he knew he was a hindrance, but hearing Tanjirou say it like that--- terrible imitation voice and all--- was making it hard not to smile. 

“I buy so much of your coffee,” he said, like it was an accomplishment. In reality, his wallet was just constantly empty nowadays because of how much money he was spending on just coffee. “If I stopped coming here, your profits would most certainly go down.” 

“Yes, and we thank you,” he teased lightly before sauntering back to stand behind the counter. 

Zenitsu couldn’t help but smile to himself, sipping more of his coffee. He lilt of his voice, the slight rasp he didn’t notice before and the sound of his laugh--- they all sounded incredibly cheesy to him--- but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Not when he was drinking a warm cup of coffee in late September under the warm light of the coffee shop and thinking---

At least I’ve got an idea for my final now.

Tengen’s final was very straightforward; you were supposed to make an original song and perform it. 

Of course, it wasn’t nearly as simple in practice. 

Zenitsu seriously wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. This guy . He was seriously driving his patience up the wall this time. Who would do this? There was about a month left before finals week--- he wasn’t even done with his piece yet--- and he still had to do like three performances perfectly leading up to it. How is he going to do any of that?! He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hair before picking up his shamisen . 

The three songs they were supposed to do weren’t particularly difficult--- intermediate level stuff, to be honest--- but he was still struggling and he didn’t know why . 

He huffed, bracing himself as he started to play the song from memory. The notes flowed easily from his fingertips onto the sao , the neck of the instrument. His gramps bought him this, insisting that it was a nice extracurricular to learn. It was a ridiculously expensive instrument, but his gramps still believed in his potential. He picked it up, he played it, he loved it, he pursued it. 

Now here he was, cursing it--- threatening to just throw it off the building at this point--- because Tengen sucked . He keeps screwing up the same part over and over again and he can’t seem to get it consistent. Zenitsu loathes to think what it would be like in front of an audience. He pales, wanting to tear his own face off. He was not ready for that kind of pressure. His playing was not ready for that kind of pressure. 

What if he could just practice in front of someone already? Maybe then his nerves would be used to being in front of an audience. When he was younger, his gramps would be his audience as he tried to play through song after song until he built enough confidence for him to do it on his own without outside help. He sighed, collapsing on his bed. He has a plan, but who?

Zenitsu’s eyes widened and he sat up. He scrambled for his phone--- almost 2 in the morning. He swallows with uncertainty. 

Well, he could always beg. Without a second thought, he grabbed the first hoodie he saw, his phone, keys and his shamisen . 

He was out the door in under a minute.

Something shifted in the dynamic Zenitsu had with Tanjirou after that night. It was subtle enough that he almost could ignore it, but his sound turned slightly different. It was hard not to notice when he looked at his friend, expecting to hear the familiar gentle crackle and sunlight, but instead getting something faster, more upbeat. The tempo quickened and the rhythm changed. It was almost like listening to a rave--- exciting and unexpected--- which was so unlike how it was before.

However, it was still the same song. The melody was still there, the feeling was still there--- it was like it was a remix. Zenitsu figured he liked it. He plucked the string of his shamisen experimentally as he waited for Tanjirou to show up--- Inosuke bailed on them, citing that he had something to do.

Tanjirou eventually did show up, flushed and looked a little dazed with a mask on. He looked exceptionally tired that day--- his steps were just mere shuffles and the circles under his eyes were incredibly dark. Zenitsu frowned in concern, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, hastily keeping his shamisen properly before standing up and helping his friend. “You don’t look so good.” 

He hummed in response, a dopey smile was probably on his face judging from the way his cheeks lifted and his eyes got hooded, but he didn’t confirm or deny anything. Tanjirou couldn’t lie to save his life. Even if he did want to pretend that he was okay, he probably wouldn’t be able to succeed in saying that he was. Zenitsu sighed, pressing a hand on his forehead and then to his nape. 

Both were burning hot.

“Tanjirou,” he chided, shaking his head before ushering him to sit down on a nearby bench. “You have a fever. Why did you still go to school??” He got a helpless shrug in response and he had to choke down the urge to groan. There was obviously more than one stubborn pig headed person in his group of friends.

“Well, there was a test I couldn’t mess, and--” he blinked dazedly, cutting himself off for a second “--there was you.” Zenitsu frowned, staring at the dark red--- which was dulled significantly from sickness--- hard.

“You didn’t have to stay here for me! You could have gone home after your test or something! Texted me that you couldn’t make lunch because you were sick, I would have got it!”

“But work--”

“Who cares about work?! We literally fool around all the time when you’re on shift and your boss never cares. What would one or two sick leaves cause him?”

This got Tanjirou to avert his eyes, tilting his head. He sighed, wanting to scream because all his friends were actually idiots. He was seriously reconsidering the role he played as mom friend if this was how dumb he was when it came to his own health. He ran a hand through his hair before holding a hand out. 

“Come on,” he said, eyebrows raising at the bewildered look he was given. “I’m taking you to the nurse before you get even worse.” Zenitsu’s offered hand was stared at for quite some time, apparently being offered his help was a little too shocking, so he withdrew it. Tanjirou slipped his hand in his at the last minute, eyes firmly stuck to his lap. 

If he didn’t know any better, he would think that his friend was sulking. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips despite the situation. He pulled him up, supporting him all the way to the other end of the campus where the healthcare building was located. 

Thankfully, they arrived without a hitch--- almost vomiting inside the garbage can did not count as a hitch--- and Tanjirou was rushed inside by a nurse and urged to sit down before she leaves to get a thermometer. Zenitsu sat down next to him, blithely ignoring the fact that their hands were still connected. 

“I’m sorry you have to miss your break for this,” Tanjirou said, sounding particularly congested and glum. “You didn’t have to come with, you know?” Zenitsu wanted to squawk. Of course, he had to come! How else was he going to make sure that this guy actually went. 

“Well, it’s fine,” he said, tilting his head slightly and catching the other’s eyes. He smiled, attempting to joke. “Though, if you’re really sorry, you can always just buy me another coffee. You do still owe me one more from earlier in the year.” 

Tanjirou’s face softens, and a look crosses his face. Zenitsu didn’t know what this look was--- having never seen it on his friends face before. It, however, made his skin prickle and his stomach turn.

“I’d buy you all the coffee you want, if you’d ask me to.”

“Is… Is that a promise?” 

Tanjirou stroked the back of his hand with his thumb--- unconsciously or not, Zenitsu didn’t know--- and looked up at him for a long while. He was searching for something, staring intently enough that it made him want to blush and melt into the floor. He must have found it because his eyes--- such a rich, dark red that is starting to become his favorite color very quickly--- shone with the same emotion mixed with something… something more. 

“Yeah.”

It was finals week and Zenitsu was quite ready to murder someone--- specifically Professor Tengen. He just wanted this semester to be over and done with already, but he had to go through a couple more tests first before he was free. 

He twitched nervously, fingers drumming against the body of his shamisen . He’s been preparing this song and practicing it for weeks--- how he managed to finish in time was a wonder. He has been practicing it in front of Inosuke, which didn’t yield much because half the time he was asleep, for days now. Everything was leading up to this point, and he wanted it to be as perfect as it could be. 

Zenitsu stood there--- the glare of the spotlight in the auditorium making him squint--- and he sat down, tucking his feet under him. He’s been practicing for days, he could do this. He took a steadying breath, eyes lifting to see across the small gather of people--- mostly teachers and some students. He asked Inosuke and Tanjirou to come, needing the moral support in case he failed or something equally plausible. 

Sadly, all he saw was a sea of dark hair and expectant faces. He swallowed thickly because this was it. No turning back. He steadied his breath before starting to play. 

The notes, at first, were incredibly simple--- only four notes in the main melody itself, repeating over and over in a nostalgic tune--- and the tempo was fairly easy to follow. It was slow and lazy, reminiscent of an English waltz, and would probably sound like it if it were played on a classical piano. 

It was comforting and gentle, supposed to envelop the listener with a feeling of ease. He remembers the silence of a dead night--- when the really early hours of the morning would terrify him--- and the gentle sanctuary that he got pulled into without knowing it. He played of spring, when the snow starts to melt and the first flower starts to bloom--- all light and airy sounds--- but also of fire, soft and crackling merrily away, but still as robust and dangerous as fire is. 

He breathed, his voice hitching a little and he clenched his eyes shut, feeling the music flow through him as he moved from one note to the next. He remembered soft smiles and kinds eyes, the cluttering of mugs and spoons, the laugh and the way he always seemed to ask for his name even if he knew he knew it. 

As if hearing Zenitsu say his name was the best thing about his day, and that writing his name in odd and ugly nicknames and cute drawings at the end was a small tiny joke that he shared with himself.

The tempo quickened. When at first it was an English waltz, it picked up in momentum--- almost suddenly. He plucked the strings steadily, his fingers moving quickly, as if to replicate the sudden spike of his heartbeat--- quickening whenever he came near. He thought of the way he looked, watching him as he played--- mesmerized like he has never seen anything like him before. His stilted compliment at the end and the look in his eyes as he started to make him a new cup of coffee. 

“ It was good, ” he had said, as if at a loss of words, and that was how it started. From a crackling hearth, it slowly grew--- becoming a fire that engulfed everything. His sound was like the sun--- not the soft ray of sunlight that he originally anticipated--- but it was all encompassing and life-giving. It was gentle, soothing the cold and weary. 

Hearing him was like a beginning. Zenitsu steadily slowed the pace again, returning  to the original melody only more forlorn. They’ve only known each other for a couple of months, but he couldn’t help but want more. It was real--- not like how he felt when he threw himself at the nearest pretty girl--- and he yearned for it. 

The song ended melancholic, and as he stood up and bowed--- the applause near deafening--- he caught a familiar glimpse, and the gentle sound of his song cut through it until it was just white noise and he could just focus on that. 

He walked away from the stage, his hand clutching the neck of his shamisen tightly. Something passed between them earlier, a new level of understanding he couldn’t quite place.

When Zenitsu entered the coffee shop a couple of days later, he honestly did not know what to expect. 

After his performance, his friends were there waiting for him outside. He was, at the moment, crying over how he passed Tengen’s class because his song, in his words, “made him cry.” He was so relieved at that point that almost nothing else mattered. That was a big almost because Tanjirou gave him a stunning smile, placed a hand on his shoulder, told him that his performance was beautiful, and his brain immediately zeroed in on him and him alone. 

He wanted to say that the song was about him, that he wanted to try and be something more, that he really wanted to just stand there and listen to him talk all day because it was the most comforting thing he has ever heard in his life. Of course, those words never came in because his name was Zenitsu and those nothing does not come easy to him. He stuttered out a “thank you,” and Tanjirou’s hand lingered. 

At that point, he did not know what was happening. He was pretty sure that something was going on between them, and that the urge to kiss him was a little much. He was still busy deciding, not sure what to do next, when he was pulled from his thoughts by an excited Inosuke demanding he teach him something like that. 

Their moment ended and they all left, briefly forgetting what just happened. 

For a while, Zenitsu really tried to ignore it. It was an honest effort that he immediately threw out the window when he passed by the Breath Café at what he knew was the cusp between the afternoon shift and Tanjirou’s night shift. He could enter and wait for him to show up and they could finally talk about it. Right, a plan. A solid plan. He had one for once. 

He braced himself by taking a deep breath and opening the door. It was a lot more anticlimactic than he originally expected, letting the familiar buzz of coffee shop patrons calm his frazzled brain. There was a pretty girl with a side ponytail manning the counter, and if it was just a few months ago, he would have been all over her. Right now, however, he couldn’t care less. He was on edge and needed the soothing comfort of coffee.

“Hello,” came the voice, smooth and emotionless and she had a calm and serene smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her sound in general was apathetic--- as still as a stagnant body of water could be, but was undercut by a warmth he didn’t expect. “Welcome to the Breath Café, what can I get for you?”

“A latter would be fine,” he said, without really thinking much about whether he really wanted a latte or not. “Regular, please.”

She nodded, punching it into her cash register with almost robotic fluidity. She picked up a small cup and waved her marker at him, asking for his name without even talking. “Zenitsu,” he said and she gave a smile, which was as blank and unfeeling as her eyes earlier, had sparked with recognition. 

“Alright, thank you, Zenitsu,” she said, a lilt to her voice the only indication that she was hiding something, before turning around and preparing his coffee. 

“Wait,” he said, hastily trying to bring out his wallet. “I haven’t paid yet!”

“It’s alright,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s already paid for.”

Odd. That was so odd, but she didn’t budge. He sat in his usual table, the one at the back near the far wall that nobody wanted. Zenitsu looked around, trying to catch sight of familiar dark hair with burgundy tips, and sighed when he couldn’t see one. He checked his watch--- it was already past the time his shift was supposed to start. Was he late, perhaps? 

He didn’t have enough time to think much about when a coffee cup was placed in front of him and a kind, familiar voice chimed in. “Thank you for waiting, here is your coffee.”

“You--”

“I owed you a free cup of coffee, remember?” 

Tanjirou was right. He had owed him one for months now, and he wanted to blush. He honestly forgot that fact because his thoughts have been running wild for the past few weeks. He looked at the cup in his hands, the unfamiliar handwriting of the girl was the first thing he saw. It was a little unnerving, to be honest, but that was quickly forgotten when he saw what was written underneath it. 

He gasped, almost dropping the cup in his hands, before turning quickly to look at Tanjirou whose face was burning a bright pink. No fucking way. This nerd really did that . 

“Are you serious?” he asked, bewildered and amused because this was the nerdiest and sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him. Zenitsu wanted to cry on the spot because this was almost too much. 

Written under his name was the simple words, scrawled in Tanjirou’s familiar handwriting, “ Will you go out with me? ” with a small cute peach at the end. 

He wanted to combust. 

Tanjirou nervously ran a hand through his hair, some strands escaping the usually impeccable hairstyle. “I mean, yeah,” he said, awkwardly. “You don’t have to say yes or anything. I just wanted to put it out the--”

Zenitsu didn’t even have to think about it because he already knew his answer. 

“Yes.”