Chapter Text
Shouto loves his job.
He does, really. He loves how whenever he enters the shop the bell above the door gives a merry little ding, and how the small, quaint building seems to come to life when he enters it. He loves how the pleasant aroma of coca and coffee beans always lingers in the air, clinging to him and filling the space with a swirling familiarity, an unspoken promise of safety. Shouto loves the chipped gray paint and exoitic pictures, the whirrling of the coffee machine and the voices that all blend into a distant hum, as he works slowly, apron adorning his chest. He loves the clunky cash register, the tired regulars, the worn wooden booths and tables. Shouto loves everything about his job, and though customers can be bothersome, coworkers annoying, and his manager can be bossy, he wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.
Plus, it upsets his old man, so that’s another great reason to love it.
Shouto’s eyes crinkle in silent amusement, as he leans backwards slightly from his place at the front register. He fondly recalls how furious his father was, how he turned so red in the face when he told him about his new job that Shouto was sure he was going to burst into actual flames. ‘This isn’t how I raised you,’ he had spat. ‘Stop this petty rebellion and come take your place in the boxing ring, where you belong,’ he had raged. Shouto lets a miniscule smile overtake his normally stoic features as he recalls how he had walked out with a quiet curse at his idiot father and not a glance backwards.Good times, those were, but he has to say now is even better.
After all, Shouto hasn’t seen him since, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’s almost giddy with the freedom.
He’s been living in a cheap apartment off money lent to him by his siblings, working a part-time job, and going to college to be a dancer. He’s gonna be who he wants, without his father constantly breathing down his neck. He’s going to make a difference, without all the unnecessary violence of boxing. He is going to be who he wants to be.
Most of all, however, he’ll show the world how it feels to feel . He’ll dance with his fears in his feet and his hope in his heart. He’ll dance with the knowledge that he finally, finally proved his father wrong. He’ll show him that he’s right, once and for all. He’ll show him that he doesn’t need him. He’ll meet his old man’s fiery gaze and smirk, as he dances Endeavor’s power away.
Only then, Shouto knows, only then will he actually be truly, truly happy.
Shouto gives a soft sigh, as the bell over the door chimes, brushing back his two-toned hair as he looks up to greet the newest customers. It’s a gaggle of girls, giggling and whispering as they glance at their phones and to him. Oh joy, Shouto thinks sarcastically, his previous thoughts forgotten in his newfound annoyance. This’ll be a pleasure.
As they continue to try and figure out their order (or are they not even doing that, anymore?) Shouto takes the chance to observe them boredly.
Long, curly hair, nails glittering like claws, and flawless makeup that must’ve taken ages to do, Shouto supposes most would call them beautiful. Beauty, he thinks as he watches as one of them gives a wink at him, is such a strange subject. So many people put on the mask of beauty to hide their ugliness within, and so many people fall for it, hook line and sinker. Shouto knows how people hide behind their appearances all too well, considering his father was such a person. He knows how easy it is to fall in the cycle of lies and pretty faces, and he’s determined not to do it. Shouto never did really get how people could be such idiots, on both sides.
“Hello, how may I help you?” he says monotonously, as the girls seem to finally have stopped chittering and are now ready to order.
Shouto quickly falls back on his work mode, as he takes each of their orders and enters them into the machine. He ignores their cheesy flirts and pick-up lines with ease, and soon they’ve all crowded in a table fairly near the front register, so, he assumes, they can spy on him. People can be so predictable, he muses, as he makes their coffee- all of which are sugary and expensive drinks. People can be so, so dumb and not even realise it. These girls probably don’t think anything of their actions, so caught up in their routine they are, and it’s pretty odd to think about, honesty. Though he can’t really speak, considering how attached he is to his schedule.
Shouto continues working, time buring as the sun makes its long trek through the sky and the customers dwindle. It was around four in the evening when he started his shift, and yet somehow, the sun is already well below the horizon, and night is upon Japan. Time really flies like that, he thinks as he hums contemplatingly, eyes drifting to the antique clock that displays the time, it does indeed. Now, all he has to do is close up, kick out the remain customers, go home and perhaps make himself something to eat and read a bit. Another day closer to his dream and another day farther from his old man. He couldn’t be more content. Content, yes, but not happy—never happy. And Shouto’s fine with being that, he really is.
The dual haired boy tears his eyes away from the clock and clears his throat, raising his voice a tad as he addresses the few people left in the cafe. “We’ll be closing in a few minutes,” he states, looking at the group of girls who are somehow still here, as well as a green-haired guy in the corner that he hadn’t noticed before, “You might want to start packing up. Good night, and come again.”
Shouto walks out from behind the counter, beginning to clean up and putting the chairs atop the tables, as the people remaining start to gather their belongings. He can’t bother to keep in a huff of annoyance, as his coworker was supposed to be here to help him close up, but apparently she got in a fight with her girlfriend and had to make it up to her. Shouto likes Yaoyorozu, he really does, but he wishes she wasn’t so nice all the time. It gets really annoying, especially when he can’t be mad at her because she apologized so many times.
Shouto continues his work absentmindedly, his thoughts far away as he thinks about a nice, warm cup of tea and a good book. Perhaps he should meet up with Fuyumi come tomorrow as well, he thinks, as it’s been a while since he’s last seen her. Maybe they could go to the new bookstore that recently opened and then get lunch afterwards at the worn dinner by her school. He should invite his brother too, Shouto thinks, but he doubts he’ll be able to come with work and all. Still, an invite never hurts.
His mind continues shifting lazily, like the gentle autumn breeze as it blows ideas to and fro, a constant, but not a distraction. A comfort, one could say, simply a welcoming presence in the back of his head, a warm breeze that neither adds or takes away. His thoughts, the whispered words of the wind, they were the same in that way, as Shouto could always rely on them to be there in some form. It’s a small blessing, one he wholeheartedly takes advantage of as it’s something his father can never take away, no matter how he wishes Shouto is a perfect boxing machine. He has his thoughts and the the shifting, twisting wind and that’s all he needs. That and the knowledge his father is wrong, wrong about everything. Wrong about him.
He somewhat aggressively slams down the chair he’s holding, trying to release some of his pent up frustration. Today’s really not been his day.
The plain, green-haired boy, who’s standing awkwardly a couple steps away from Shouto, jumps at the sudden noise and lets out a nervous squeak. Shouto doesn’t pay him any mind, continuing to ignore him as he finishes the table he’s working on and moves to the next. He’ll probably go away soon, he figures, probably just another nosy customer drawn in by is odd appearance and scar. He really doesn’t want to interact with anyone else today, so he really hopes that’s the case.
It’s not.
“U-um, excuse me?”
Shouto holds in an annoyed sigh and continues with his work. Maybe he’ll just go away if he ignores him more…?
“U-um, sir? I-I was wondering-”
Nope. No such luck. Shouto stops what he’s doing and turns around carefully, a blank mask firmly in place. “I’m sorry, but the shop is closed now. If you have any inquires about the business, you can email the manager or wait until tomorrow. Good night.”
The green-haired boy’s cheeks flush and he waves his hands frantically, as if to ward off the statement. “No, no! I-I don’t have any questions a-about the business, I-I was just gonna offer to help you clean up! As you still have a while to go, it seems, not that I’m s-saying you’re not capable, just-- I thought that you might like the help? Y-you don’t have to of course, I-i just thought--” the rest is lost in a muttering storm which Shouto quickly tunes out in favor of eyeing the strange boy warily.
He knows better than most that things like this don’t just come for free, so he knows there must be some sort of catch, some sort of important detail that he’s overlooking. He critically stares at the green-haired boy, who still appears to be lost in the storm of his words, as he searches him for anything that could give away any ulterior motives. When he finds no tell tale signs, he doesn’t drop his guard a bit, the years of mistrust and abuse that are hardwired into his heart preventing him from even thinking of doing so. He keeps the same cold mask over his face and the same burning chains around his heart, not even blinking when the green-haired boy comes out of his daze and sputters out multiple more apologies. There is just no way that someone could actually be that well-meaning and adorable on purpose. Shouto won’t believe it.
Adorable, his mind whispers accusingly , what a joke.
He brushes away his thoughts, and finally addresses the other boy blunty, cutting off his stammered apologizes, “And what is it that you want?”
“W-wha-?”
“Because if it’s coupons, I’m afraid we don’t give them away here. You’ll have to find another place to sweet-talk your way into free drinks, I recommend the large coffee shop a few blocks west of here. They’re always looking for meaningful customers to butt into their employees’ business. But if you’ll excuse me, I must finish closing up. I’ve had a long day, and wish to get this over with as quickly and efficiently as possible. Goodbye, now, and come again,” he says rudely, turning around and waiting for the other to leave and file a complaint.
Again, today just really isn’t Shouto’s day, and he doubts he has the mental capacity to deal with any more human interaction.
However, much to Shouto’s surprise (not that he shows it) no such thing happens. At the tense silence following his blunt announcement, he turns back around slowly, and is quite confused to find the green-haired boy not even looking the least bit offended. In fact, if anything, he looks even more determined. Intrigued, Shouto looks into vibrant green eyes narrowed in thought, eyes that sparkle with undying light. Eyes that, for a moment, light up the pure darkness of his never-ending night. Eyes that, for less than a second, illuminate something more .
As quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again, and Shouto, blinking, thinks he must’ve imagined it.
“-not like that,” he catches the green-haired boy saying, “I really do want to help. I-I mean you could always say no? But my offer still stands, if you want it.”
Still recovering from his momentary daze, Shouto gives in with a shrug. “Fine,” he says, “You may help if you really wish to, but, again, don’t expect anything in return.” He grabs his rag and continues wiping down tables, ignoring the blinding smile shot his way.
Seriously, you’d think he said that the other boy won the lottery or something, Shouto thinks in annoyance as he gives the other boy instructions on what to do—he just can’t understand it. Still, as he listens to the boy babble excitedly about his college professor that looks just like his favorite superhero and other pointless things, he decides he’ll worry about possible repercussions later. The boy’s company isn’t the worst , after all, and he even finds himself not minding the one-sided conversation that comes with it.
“-And, seriously,he looks almost exactly like Eraserhead from the comics! Same disgruntled appearance, tired face, he even wears a scarf almost exactly like the one from the comics! Oh my gosh, the first time I walked into his classroom I almost fainted at the similarities. I managed to save myself from falling by crashing into a desk, but someone was, uh, sitting at the desk. So I f-fell right onto her lap, haha. But it’s fine! We’re best friends now, so it’s cool-- but, uh, y-you probably don’t care, whoops. S-sorry, I tend to ramble.”
“I noticed,” he says dryly, but he has a feeling it doesn’t come across as nonchalant as he wishes it to, based on the shy smile the green-haired boy gives him, “You talk quite a bit.”
“I’ve been told it’s annoying,” the boy agrees as he pushes some of his green curls away from his face, “It looks like we’re about done, though.”
“Ah. Indeed we are,” Shouto says, hiding his momentary surprise as he goes along with the subject change.
With the two of them working together, it had taken half the time he had originally expected. Now, he’d have time to practice his dance for his dance class before he slept and actually be productive. And he’s grateful for that, but emotions have never been Shouto’s specialty, so he doesn’t know how to put it into words.
So, an awkward silence follows, as both attempt to find something to say.
“W-well, I should go, then.” the boy says kindly, his vibrant green eyes locking with Shouto’s, before he looks away, blushing, “I’ll, uh, see you around…?”
“Alright,” Shouto says plainly, his mind floundering for something-- anything -- relatively nice to say, “Have...a good night, then.”
He winces internally and berates himself for his social awkwardness and inability to say a simple ‘thank you.’ The green-haired boy, however, doesn’t appear to mind and just flashes him another smile as he heads towards to the door.
“Thanks,” he says easily, “but it, u-uh, already i-is.”
They lock eyes one last time before he’s gone, the door’s chime sounding more longing, like it’s mourning some unsaid event with a ring of finality. After a pause in which Shouto absorbs that the strange, green-haired boy really is gone, he sags slightly and turns off the lights in the shop. Fiddling with the keys, he too heads outside and locks the door, his thoughts elsewhere.
He’s in his car, and heading to his apartment when he realizes he never did get the other boy’s name.
…
Meanwhile, unseen by both boys, the group of girls linger in front of the shop, having seen the whole encounter through the glass windows.
“Man!” one sighs, “Why are the hot ones always gay?”
“Oh, shut up.” another says, rolling her eyes, “you’ve gotta admit they’re pretty cute together.”
The others nod their agreement as they all start meandering towards their cars, chatting idly about the pair.
“It’s too bad, that cute green-haired one would totally be my type.”
“Yeah, did you see his freckles? They're so adorable!”
“Come on guys,” a brunette says defensively, cutting the two off, “don’t rain on my new ship,”.
“Oh my God, Akari. They talked, like, once.”
“So?”
“You’re freaking hopeless. Calm down,” a short one states, crossing her arms playfully.
“Hey! No ship-shaming!”
They all laugh, and soon their conversation fades into the night, too. Leaving only the sound of the wind blowing and the bleary image of the many stars in the sky. Autumn leaves dance in the chilly air, and the old building creaks tiredly, as if rejoicing the fact that the hustle and bustle of the day is finally gone. A tranquil scene, at one’s first look; just an ordinary, autumn night. A tranquil scene, indead.
However, just below the surface of the night’s pleasant appearance, the bindings of curiosity are already starting to constrict one boy’s heart. About green eyes that burn like a supernova, around and around it coils, like a snake suffocating its prey. Seizing an already hurting heart, it shifts and lurks, an Iron Grip that adds to the burning chains of fire and ice.
After all, Shouto never did get the green-haired boy’s name.