Chapter Text
The strong scent of coffee flooded his foggy system as he pushed the front doors open with a tentative shove. He’d woken himself up early—something he tried to do most days, but more often than not, something got in the way—combed his hair to his satisfactory level of neatness, shrugged on his pressed and neatly folded clothes that he set out the night before, and made his way to the local café with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. All things considered, he hadn’t really woken up yet, but he managed to force himself towards the front desk with a slight hint of crimson creeping onto his cheeks.
He ordered a simple black coffee, both because it felt like the most proper and adult thing he could order, and because it was honestly all he could afford. The girl behind the counter treated him kindly, and he stuttered out politeness in response. She probably thought he was weird. Berating himself for it, he said ‘you’re welcome’ instead of ‘thank you’ before walking away, immediately regretting his entire life up until that point.
After that, as a different but equally chipper girl called his name for his drink, he responded only after she reiterated it the third time. Whether it was because he was practicing what he was going to say to her in his head or simply just completely zoning out of the world, it didn’t matter. It was probably both anyway. He took it with a shy smile, which got more nervous as he rushed to the side table to slip on a sleeve and nurse the faint burns on his palm.
Finally, he could get to work. He sat at one of the long tables along the window with high chairs, setting his papers in front of him with his cup set to the side in case he knocked it over. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that. Reading down the first page, his brows furrowed in desperate concentration until his eyes fluttered upwards and outside, idly watching any passers-by that happened to walk along. They seemed to have everything sorted, like the woman walking her dog, doing a speed-walk and her ponytail strung through the gap in the back of her cap, or the man wearing a business suit complete with tie and briefcase that he wished he had. The man looked at his watch and hurried along faster. He must be late for work.
His eyes forced back down. He had to focus. The café was full of chatter and the hiss of milk in the process of being steamed, acoustic melodies on a basic playlist to set some sort of mood, and it felt as engrossing as it was distracting. Everything was distracting. How could he possibly get this done with all the noise bombarding him from every angle?
A new noise snapped him out of his daze and his head darted to the side, catching on a moment too late that someone was taking the seat next to him. You were far taller than he expected, slinging your backpack onto the floor beside your chair and slapping a thick notebook onto the table, exhaling deeply before getting up and moving off again. Having been caught off guard, his posture snapped into an upright position, relaxing slightly as he glanced over your notebook carefully—it being coated with various long streams of notes and lessons with small drawings in the margins—only to bolt back upright when you approached again. His eyes stared down solidly at his own pages, using one finger to tug at his shirt collar while you shuffled to make yourself comfortable, grabbing a laptop out of your bag and setting it up in the space on the other side of you.
The words on his page didn’t seem to make sense anymore. How he was supposed to focus now that someone was sitting near him was beyond his comprehension. Aside from the lack of focus, his motivation was at an all-time low, regardless of what he would admit to those around him. Over time he gradually managed to reach the bottom of the page, reaching up to turn it over from the corner, at which point his hand grazed against yours as you simultaneously went to grab your drink.
“Oh—sorry!” Your voice was light and polite, with a hint of uneasiness that made him feel better about the way he’d shot his hand away from yours and blatantly shivered at the sudden contact. He stuttered out his response,
“Th… Oh, that’s ok! You startled me—or, I startled myself… ha ha!” His hands collected into his lap, wringing themselves under the table. His mind completely blanked after that. His eyes darted around the immediate surroundings, trying to think of something to comment on. It eventually landed on the screen of your computer, which shot guilt into his heart immediately for invading your privacy. It was all he had, however,
“Ah… I see you’re job hunting as well.” Your expression soured a little, causing his heart to sink further until it felt like it could drop right into his stomach. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have… I’m in the same boat, it’s ok, you can look at—!” He slammed his hands onto the table and spread out his papers, causing you to laugh. It was only a minor relief.
“It’s ok. Heh, it sucks though, right? What applications have you got?” You leaned over slightly, trying to steal a look at his various bits of paperwork.
“Oh, um… mostly office work, sales, numbers…” Things that were out of his league, since he had zero experience to boast about. “What about you?”
“Anything, really. Just something to get me by for the moment.” A deep sigh passed your lips, which you shrugged off after a moment of silence. As you opened your mouth to speak, he started again.
“It must be easier with that,” he pointed to your laptop, “I don’t have anything like that, so it’s all by hand for me. My wrist always ends up hurting.” He was infinitely grateful that you missed his wince, both at the slight fib he’d told and at the jokes his brothers would make at his expense for that comment.
“Same. I mean, this alone is enough to cause some awful carpel tunnel for me,” you gestured to your notebook, holding the corner to thumb the pages and flip them to showcase the pages upon pages of notetaking you’d completed. His flabbergasted expression brought a cheeky grin to your face.
“That—that’s for work stuff? Is that what I should be doing?” Just as he was about to enter crisis mode for missing every job opportunity known to man, you interrupted, “No! No, this is for school.” Your laugh doubled the butterflies currently taking residence in his stomach, forcing him to avert his gaze from embarrassment.
“I’m ____ by the way.” Your hand reached out as a cautious friendly gesture. He glanced back at you and stared at your extended palm before shakily taking it, and giving it a gentle tug.
“Choromatsu. It’s nice to meet you.” Oh, thank god, he said it correctly. So far, this was his most successful interaction with a stranger for as long as he could remember. His smile turned brighter at the revelation, making you smile in turn.
“Hey, since you don’t have one, do you want to fill out a few applications on mine? I don’t want your wrist to hurt or anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging and ducking his head down into his collar. There was something oddly intimate about that.
“That’s ok…” He stammered, forcing his attention ahead of him, “I really should focus on filling these out first, since I brought them and everything… thank, thank you though.”
They shared a mutual demure smile before dividing their focus to their respective work, occasionally exchanging a quick ‘sorry’ when their shoulders bumped together and ‘how’s it coming along?’ after periods where, in actual fact, nothing was coming along. He still felt unbearably distracted (not to mention unmotivated), and you made the mistake of having a browser open that you got distracted with, as well as enough blank pages and coloured pens to keep you busy with what you would rather be doing.
Eventually and inevitably, he quietly excused himself to the bathroom, having downed his coffee a little too quickly and burned his lip in the process. Upon his return, he was incredibly flustered to find a small piece of paper with himself drawn on it from different angles, and one of him with a big, bright smile.
“D… Do I look like this?” He asked earnestly, pointing to the page carefully so as to not smudge it.
“Well, I think you do… is that ok?” You sounded wary.
“Yes! Of course, I just…” He stared down at it again, awe and wonder plain on his face. “This, ah… this is am, amazing, really, thank you…” You laughed under your breath at how carefully he picked it up and placed it into the front pocket of his hoodie. He’d have to do a good job of hiding it later.
Having resettled, the realization that he’d have to go back to reading through his documents made his exhaustion triple. He glanced over to you, holding his hands together, trying desperately to pick the right wording before he spoke.
“Do you think I could… I could try drawing something? I’m not very good,” he sighed, regret filling his entire body. This was a terrible idea. “I’d like to try drawing you, maybe, but it’ll be bad probably.”
You snorted, beaming down at him as you slid a small piece of paper towards him with a simple black pencil. Considering his overall nervousness, you made a point to look away while he started scribbling onto the page, occasionally making quick-fire glances up at you for reference.
His deep, hopeless sigh made you snort again.
It didn’t take long for the page to be silently slid in front of you again, upside down. A comforting smile helped to ease him a little bit, though nothing would stop the sweat beading on his forehead. You could practically feel him holding his breath as you turned the page over.
It was alright.
“It’s good!” Your voice was light again, “Don’t worry so much, I really love this. Thank you so much!”
Oh shit right, “Thank you for yours too! Yours were much better than mine, ah… I really liked them a lo—”
Your phone was ringing. You quickly muttered an expletive while rummaging through your bag to grab your phone, a ‘missed call’ message awaiting you on the screen. With a heavy sigh, you put it away, thumping your laptop to a close before packing it up as well.
“I have to go, but, um… can I give you my number, or something?”
WHAT.
“I…” Say something! “I—” Say something! “Phone… don’t have. I don’t… have, have a phone.” Fuck shit fuck shit shit shit ass shit fuck fuck.
“Oh… hm,” you thought for a moment while he tried to keep his devastation hidden, “Do you want to meet here again tomorrow morning? I’ll have more time then.”
“No!” What the fuck. “Uh, no—yes, I mean yes! Yes pleas—yes? Yes! Sorry—” Oh, how he wanted to slam his head against the table. He wasn’t prepared for this. There was no time to plan what he wanted to say, or think, or what he should be feeling properly. Despite being over the moon, he didn’t want to show that as clearly as it wanted to burst out of him in sparks of excitement. Thankfully, you found it sweet, at least for the most part. At the very least it was pity, but he wasn’t above taking that.
“Tomorrow morning then! You can let me know how your applications went.” With that you stood, shrugging the backpack onto your shoulders and giving him a small wave. “See you tomorrow, Choromatsu.”
“Bye! Bye. Tomorrow, see you!”
He sat in wide-eyed silence for another 20 minutes, after which he ordered another coffee, wiping out the remaining contents of his wallet which he replaced with the pictures you made of him. He’d have to practice more before he saw you again.