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It’s five and a half feet from Daichi’s desk to Suga’s. Precisely. Daichi measured it once, when he was supposed to be figuring out the size of the office’s air filters so they could order replacements. He wanted to know, because sometimes it seems like there’s something mystical about the distance.
Sometimes it seems so impossibly far, when Suga is busy—focused on the monitor in front of him, taking calls, helping people coming in for meetings. On particularly busy days, Daichi gets a little desperate and will send tiny airplanes fashioned out of colorful post-it notes soaring over to Suga’s desk, until the silver-haired receptionist’s lips quirk up, and he gives Daichi one of those smiles that makes his job as a temp seem like a dream career.
Then there are other times, when they’re both bored out of their minds, and Suga documents his entire day for Daichi in little messages sent through the company system.
>>Have reminded Mazaki-san 3x of his meeting after lunch >>Highly suspect he just does not want to go >>Please approach me at 1:00pm with Very Important Business so I don’t have to help him get out of it >>Mazaki-san is under the impression his dry cleaning is somehow my responsibility? >>Do I ignore it and leave him suitless? >>Please be advised, Mazaki-san’s suit is waiting for you to drop it off >>Am sorry but will definitely go on a murderous rampage if I have to deal with it
He shoots Daichi significant glances every time their boss does something especially obnoxious, every time Daichi messages back with a little quip that draws a quiet laugh from Suga, and on days like that Daichi swears he can see every golden fleck in Suga’s brown eyes, like there isn’t any space between them at all.
So it really hasn’t been so bad, being a temp. Despite the lunch-fetching, and the fact that he still feels a little strange wearing these crisp suits and shiny shoes every day. He kicks them off the moment he gets home, but while he’s here, while Suga is there —five and a half feet away, slim fingers toying unconsciously with a sleek, soft purple tie, while he solves one office crisis after another with that calming voice—Daichi really doesn’t mind it.
It does make it difficult though, has made it difficult, for Daichi’s entire six months here, his six months that have now drawn to a close. When he and Suga are in the break room together on his last day, and Suga is leaning against the counter, long legs crossed and unbelievably distracting in those dark, fitted slacks, Daichi starts to have trouble putting words together. The words he really wants to get out, anyway. Words that will result in Suga’s number safely saved in his phone, so when he leaves this job at the end of the day, he doesn’t have to leave Suga, too.
“Daichi-san,” Suga says. “You look extremely morose for someone who’ll be free of this place in four hours.”
Daichi looks up and finds Suga’s eyes on him, warm and teasing. This would be the time to say that he wants to keep in touch. He wants to take Suga out, to see him somewhere other than inside this building. But Suga is charming and beautiful, and Daichi is just one of many temps that have come and gone, and when he opens his mouth he can’t say it.
He just shrugs, gives Suga a smile that hopefully hides the way his stomach tightens at those words. Just four hours.
“Well,” he manages eventually. “It’s not all bad here.”
“We do have excellent coffee,” Suga says with a solemn nod.
“I make the coffee,” Daichi points out.
“Right...so I guess you really don’t need us, do you?” Suga says, so lightly that Daichi almost misses the way something has shifted in his expression, just slightly.
“I’ll worry about you a little,” Daichi says. “What happens when Mazaki-san takes it a step further and asks you to get his underwear dry cleaned next week?”
“Oh my God, Daichi,” Suga laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. “No one dry cleans their underwear, why would you put that horrible image in my head?”
“But what if?” Daichi asks, keeping his face straight even though all he wants to do is smile when Suga is smiling. Especially when it’s because of him. “Will I turn on the news one night and see my former co-worker being led out of the office in handcuffs?”
“They’ll read our emails and you’ll go down with me,” Suga says. “Co-conspirator. You knew I was on the edge.”
“Well shit,” Daichi says, and Suga laughs again, leaning a little closer. He’s smiling the way he does, with his cheeks faintly pink and his eyes curved in two perfect, happy lines, and Daichi says it again, without meaning to. “Shit.”
He’s going to do it. Suga is so close, and in a few hours he won’t be, he’ll just be a memory, if Daichi doesn’t get it together right now and—
“Sawamura-san,” a gruff voice says.
Daichi’s stomach drops, and Suga stands up straight very suddenly as Mazaki-san steps into the room.
“Language, please,” he says.
Daichi nods, drops his head and apologizes. If there were any chance of Mazaki extending an offer for him to stay here, it’s definitely out the window now. He and Suga stand stiff and quiet as Mazaki digs around in the cupboard until he finds a breakfast bar, and then tosses them a look over his shoulder before he leaves.
Suga’s face breaks into a smile the moment they’re alone again, and Daichi feels himself relax.
“He hates me,” Daichi says.
“He doesn’t. Honestly, I’m surprised he even knows your name,” Suga says.
“Is that…better?” Daichi asks.
“He called me Sugihara for my first eight months, and I’m still here,” Suga says.
Daichi laughs a little, but his stomach is twisting up again. “I won’t be, though,” he says.
“Where will you go next?” Suga asks, and Daichi shrugs.
“Don’t know…I’ve been avoiding calls from the temp agency. I was kind of hoping my coffee making skills would keep me on here,” he adds with a half-hearted smile.
“Would you want that?” Suga asks.
“I…” Daichi stops to think. About his last two jobs, and how he felt every morning before he left for work. The way he feels now, when he looks in the mirror and sees someone who might be going somewhere. When he gets to the office and Suga is there. “Yeah,” he says, with maybe too much honesty, too much emotion in his voice. “Yeah, it would have been nice.”
Suga nods, and his face does that thing again, where Daichi isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking. “We should get back to work,” he says. “See if you can make a sale before I answer fifteen emails?”
“You’re on,” Daichi says, swallowing back anything else he might have said.
He settles back in his chair, with Suga five and a half feet away. The magical kind though, the kind that seem to have stretched into something Daichi can’t cross over.
He goes through his files, finds a client that needs to be called. Suga is bent over his desk, sending messages that matter instead of the little ones he’s sent to Daichi over the past months.
He makes the sale, but Suga is still busy, not looking up at Daichi when he tries to draw his attention.
Daichi leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. He lets the minutes pass by, each one bringing him closer to five o’clock, when he’ll leave for the last time.
There’s a soft sound, the brush of paper, and Daichi twitches but doesn’t open his eyes. Then it happens again and something touches his arm, light as a breath. He looks down at his desk to see two little airplanes. Bright pink, except for the dark ink disappearing in the folds of paper.
Suga is watching him and Daichi almost can’t place the expression on his face, because he doesn’t normally see it there. Hesitant. Nervous.
He unfolds one of the airplanes.
Mazaki-san doesn’t hate you, and he listens to me. I didn’t know you wanted to stay, but if you really do, I’ll make it happen.
Daichi’s heart does something strange, an extra little beat, and he picks up the other airplane, carefully folding back its wings.
I hope you stay, Daichi. But either way…I don’t want to be left missing you.
There’s a phone number written neatly underneath the words, followed by,
What do you want?
Daichi picks up his phone immediately and types the number in. He says, “I want this,” before Suga can say hello, and when Suga’s smile lights up his face, Daichi feels it like the sun, like Suga is closer than he’s ever been.
Like he’s only going to get closer.