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For the third time this week, Judai has forgotten his umbrella.
Yubel sighs when the lock on their door clicks open to reveal a drowned puppy slightly reminiscent of their childhood friend, dripping onto their placemat as he steps inside and shakes his head, sending water flying out of his hair everywhere. Again, a puppy.
“I left it right by your backpack, too, darling.” Yubel admonishes, sipping from a mug of hot tea as she returns her attention to the textbook on her lap, the chapter due this week being something about Nietzsche’s ideas about existentialism, continuing off last week’s introduction to such. Judai pouts and pulls off his sneakers, soaked with rain, leaving them on the floor by the door to dry. “It wasn’t raining this morning, though.” He mumbles, hanging his jacket on one of the coathooks perched on the wall.
Yubel smiles akin to an amused mother, placing her mug on the coffee table and leaving her textbook open beside it as she stands from the recliner. “Don’t drip all over the carpet.” She calls as she heads to the bathroom, plucking a fluffy beige towel from the closet and walks back over to where Judai stands at the entrance to their apartment, draping it over his wet hair and massaging his head through the cloth for a moment. Judai seems to deflate slightly in comfort, but before he can lean into Yubel’s chest she places her hands on his shoulders and pushes him away gently. “You’re not going to get me soaked just because you already are.” She says, grinning and tilting his head up to look at her as she plants a kiss on his forehead, leaving a faint imprint of her teal lipstick. “I’ll bring you some dry clothes.”
“If you wanted me to get naked, you just had to say so!” Judai’s laugh at his own joke echoes after her as she sticks her tongue out at him before opening the door to their shared bedroom, pulling out a plain black shirt and a pair of jeans as well as clean underwear before returning to where Judai stands, now naked and drying himself off with the towel Yubel had given him. She hands him his change of clothes and musses his hair, still damp, before leaving him in the front of their apartment in favor of heading into the small space they consider the kitchen to begin preparing something for dinner.
Over the simplest pad thai Yubel can manage, Judai keeps silence at bay with talk of how the Duel Monsters club didn’t even meet today because it was storming so badly, how his computer programming professor didn’t bother showing up or telling her students she wouldn’t be there today, and how he nearly got struck by lightning running home. Yubel doubts the validity of the last one, but she just hides her amusement behind an affectionate smile. She’s gone to DM club before with him, and she enjoyed it; the only problem was that everyone played decks that were either just childhood favorites, and therefore old archetypes with no recent supports, or brand new ones that were too overpowered to even hope to beat, due to them being in their trial period.
After dinner they sit together on the couch, Judai’s head leaning against Yubel’s shoulder as they watch a Netflix movie, one that Judai’s friend (Shou was their name, she thinks?) had recommended-- it was a chick flick that wasn’t necessarily up Yubel or Judai’s alley, but the story wasn’t bad or overly dramatic, so chick flick it was.
It isn’t until they reach the end credits and Judai starts flipping through other shows that he jumps up, disrupting their tranquil position. Yubel turns her head with a questioning look, and at his eyes flown wide and cry of shit!, she asks, “Is everything all right?”
Judai meets her gaze hurriedly and calms down instantly, deflating slightly at Yubel’s concern. “Yeah, I just.” He pauses, reddening. “Forgot there was homework due at midnight tonight.”
Yubel sighs; “What kind of homework?” Judai only becomes more embarrassed at her inquiry, mumbling with a sheepish grin, “An essay.”
“Judaaai.” She groans, running her hand through her hair then taking the remote and turning off the TV. “I knooow.” He says, in the same tone of voice. “But I’m sleepyyy.”
At this Yubel sighs again, exaggeratedly and on purpose. “I’ll get you some Starbucks if you start on it now.” Judai perks up like a dog offered a bone, and she squeals inwardly at the sparkle in his eyes. “Really?” He asks, obviously invested in the idea.
“Yes-- now go work on that thing, or you’ll never finish it.” She shoos him away, and he ducks into their bedroom (where his desk awaits) with an exclamation of love you! A warmth fills her chest at his words; as always, Yubel is a slave to love.
It’s still raining outside when she opens the door, so she grabs the umbrella she’d left for Judai earlier after she throws on a windbreaker and shoes before she heads out. The air is pungent with humidity and the smell of pavement, but in a way it’s comforting to Yubel, having lived in the countryside her whole life as opposed to the urban jungle she currently resided in. Starbucks is just a couple blocks away from their complex, and she knows she’s craving a pumpkin spice mocha from the breeze that tickles her cheeks. She’ll get Judai something a little more interesting than his usual, a maple pecan latte with an extra shot of espresso-- he didn’t usually get the extra shot either, but if he wanted to finish his homework, he’d need it. Maybe an almond croissant too, just as motivation. When she arrives she closes and shakes out her umbrella politely before walking in, despite the rain that drips off the edge of the small canopy in front of the door onto her hair. She tsks and walks inside before it can happen again.
Immediately she’s assaulted by the scent and sound of coffee beans being ground to espresso, but those senses are at the back of her mind when her gaze lands on the barista at the register, diligently taking some person’s order. His hair is a light royal blue, black roots just barely peeking out from his part, and it’s spiky in the back not unlike Judai’s (or how his would look, if he stopped forgetting his umbrella). His eyes, bright and sealike (the dark circles underneath them giving away his true state), turn to Yubel seconds later, after the previous customer pays. She’s awestruck for just a moment, lost in that period that consists of just their eye contact before he says, “Welcome!”.
Yubel forces herself to snap out of it before her unmovingness makes things awkward, and walks mechanically over to the register, pretending to peruse the menu above for a moment before shifting her gaze back to the smiling barista-- she’s nearly caught off guard by the intense eagerness in the look he’s giving her again, but she quickly reminds herself that this is his job, and that he’s getting paid to be overzealous. “May I get a grande pumpkin spice mocha, a venti maple pecan latte without the foam, and an almond croissant?” She places her order as if on autopilot, something a random Starbucks barista wouldn’t realize but something Judai would; yet there’s a one-second silence that passes between them for a moment, as if this particular barista has noticed there’s something off as well. It ends as quickly as it began, however, and he nods and smiles politely at her, gesturing to the card reader before her as he lists her total.
She pays and moves to walk to the area where orders are being picked up, but before she turns away completely she catches a glimpse of the nametag hanging off one of the straps of the barista’s apron. Johan, it reads, in loopy yet messy handwriting.
With drinks in one hand (thank goodness for the invention of those cardboard drink holders), an umbrella in the other, and an almond croissant tucked into the pocket of her coat, Yubel leaves for her and Judai’s apartment once more-- though it’s only when she arrives there does she realize she forgot to ask for the extra shot of espresso. Nonetheless, Judai grovels at her feet in thanks, and eagerly tries to take a sip of his drink before burning his tongue in vain and making a sound akin to a whimpering puppy. Yubel just muffles a giggle into her hand before pointedly taking a small nibble of the croissant right in Judai’s face, turning his whining into shiny-eyed excitement instantaneously. “You get it after you finish.” She commands, and her roommate’s metaphorical ears droop before realizing that he should be spending his time working instead of complaining if he wants to get any closer to the glorious prize of a warmed almond croissant. He straightens up and salutes, shouting an over-excited “Yes ma’am!” before dashing back to their bedroom where his laptop awaits. Yubel grins in amusement.
It rains again the next day, although it’s not pouring as it was yesterday. Yubel glances over at the bus stop to make sure the bus hasn’t come yet as she leans against the brick wall of the humanities building, standing below the small overhang in front of the entrance to shield herself from the weather. In her hand her phone vibrates with another text from Judai ( oh i almost forgot!!! i have good news when you get home :p ), and briefly her visage shifts from a bored expression to that of a small smile as she reads his message. It quickly disappears, however, when she checks the time-- her bus is late.
She’s debating how badly it would wound her pride to wind up at her and Judai’s apartment just as drowned-rat-like as Judai was yesterday when a shock of teal blue to her right catches her eye-- running across the campus with his windbreaker thrown over his backpack is the barista from yesterday ( Johan, she thinks, and wonders how she remembered that). He’s dashing right in Yubel’s direction, actually, and she almost looks around to see if there’s someone nearby that he’s meeting despite knowing she’s the only one half-braving the rain. But no, he’s just running to the canopy above her; as he comes to a stop only inches from the door and reaches back to pluck his jacket off his backpack, shaking it out before he walks inside. For just a moment, he seems to realize Yubel is also there, and he looks up to catch her eye and make some comment about the neverending rain to a fellow humanities student--
When he looks up, all she has left behind is an empty space. He looks to the side and watches her trot to the bus that’s finally pulled up, scan her bus pass and board. Though it’s obvious to Johan that he wouldn’t be able to see her through the unpolished bus windows, he swears that for a moment her gaze pierces through it to meet his.
[ My bus came ]
[ finally!!!! ]
Yubel gets home minimally soaked, and thanks Mother Nature inwardly for going easy on her less-than-rain-ready shoes today (which was, she admits, a poor choice on her part). When she unlocks the apartment door and steps inside, she’s greeted by the domestic scene of Judai unpacking a plastic bag full of what looks to be Chinese takeout. “Ah!” He exclaims when the lock clicks back into place on the door, and he turns to see Yubel standing befuddled on their entry mat. “I know it was your turn to cook today, but something really good happened, and I know you have two classes more than usual today, so I…” Judai gestures to the various paper containers beside him on the kitchen table. Yubel sighs exaggeratedly (it’s not like she wanted to cook today, but she would’ve done it anyway for Judai, so this is a pleasant surprise), eliciting a kicked puppy expression from the other before she strides over to embrace him. “Thank you, love.” She murmurs, resting her chin on his head as his arms snake up around her torso to hug her back. “I haven’t even told you my good news yet!” Judai whines quietly, so Yubel lets go after a couple moments and goes to prepare them both a cup of tea. “What happened?” She asks, holding back a giggle at the huge smile that comes over the other’s face at her question. “I thought you’d never ask!” He says excitedly. “I got the job at the card shop!”
The other places the tea kettle, now filled with water, onto the stove and ignites the burner. “That’s wonderful, honey.” She says, tone full of tooth-rottingly sweet sentiment. “What position will you be working?”
Judai sits down at their small kitchen table and starts opening containers to see what’s in each one, as if he hadn’t ordered the food himself. “I’m gonna be restocking mostly to begin with, but they said that if I prove myself they’ll move me to the front!” He swings his legs back and forth beneath the table, clearly excited-- Yubel can understand why, his previous job at the grocery store had been “mind-numbingly boring”, and plus, this was Duel Monsters, something he was already overzealous about. Working in a profession that tied into that was bound to bring good luck around.
They end up getting on the topic of Judai’s favorite cards after a while, a feat not easily ceased. Yubel’s tea, chai in flavor (it is winter, after all), is drank to the last drop, but Judai’s, being the beverage of the resident never-finishes-his-coffee-roommate, gets cold after fifteen minutes of info-dumping. Eventually Yubel gets him to move to the couch after they crack into their fortune cookies, and before she knows it Judai’s asleep on her shoulder. She watches the way the light from the TV cloaks his face in blue while making his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks for a moment, then quietly presses the power button on the remote. She figures she’ll wake him up after thirty minutes of napping.
During that time, she resigns herself to phone games riddled with microtransactions she’s too broke to purchase. It ends up being an hour until she finds Judai and herself pajama-fied and tucked into bed for the night.
The next day, after her classes are finished for the day, Yubel takes the city bus to work in the almost-snow-but-still-rain. She tucks her hands into her pockets just looking at the world outside the bus’s heated interior, feeling a slight shiver come on. Soon enough she pulls the cable and gets off at her stop; one in front of a row of older looking houses. She walks past three of them then up the steps of one slightly more ornate looking than the others, with muted mint green siding and a small porch littered with wind chimes dangling from the overhang, currently screaming their glimmering sounds out to anyone who can hear them over the deafening weather. A sign on the door says “walk right in, we don’t bite!” in loopy cursive, and the welcome mat below her feet reads “welcome” punctuated by a smiley face. Yubel opens the front door without regard to any of these things, then nudges open the screen door behind it. A jingle comes from above her head, and immediately the scent of eucalyptus drifts into her nose as the oil diffuser perched on the counter puffs out its scheduled dose of such. Before her is a setup that resembles that of a witch’s den, minus the witch herself. Knit carpets are spread across the hardwood floor in all shapes and sizes, bookshelves packed with gold-lettered spines line the right wall, and from the ceiling hangs lightbulbs enshrouded by small pyramidal lampshades in brown and beige. On the far wall in front of her, there’s shelves and shelves of different types of crystals and gemstones, some with different cuts and carats than the rest, each with the name and details of the stone and the price written neatly on an index card folded in half in front of them. To her left, there’s a counter with the aforementioned oil diffuser placed atop it near a handheld bell (that has “ring for service” written on it in Sharpie) and an old-fashioned cash register, with the typewriter-esque buttons and everything. Behind said counter is an array of essential oils in small brown bottles with eyedropper tops, and a stack of cardstock you’d see in a perfume store for sampling the fragrances. The atmosphere is finished by the faint hum of piano in the background, so faint that Yubel can’t tell if it’s the owner’s son upstairs practicing or the usual CD.
“Yubel, is that you?” The voice of either an elderly or a middle-aged woman resounds quietly from down the staircase beside the bookshelves, blocked off by a thickly braided knit scarf with a sign that reads “employees only” hanging from the center by a thread. “Yes, Ms. Emi.” She calls back, walking behind the counter and stashing her bag under the register. She digs around until she finds her beige canvas apron, plain and blank sans an embroidered patch of a bird’s wing right in the center of her chest (Ms. Emi had insisted on it, hers having an ambiguous jewel on it and her son’s having a music note, when he did end up working). Almost as soon as Yubel ties her apron in the back does a customer walk in, jingling the doorbell as she forces herself to rid her face of her “resting bitch face”, as Judai called it. “Good afternoon.” She smiles at them before she even realizes who it is-- when he turns to face her, she has to will her cheeks not to heat up. It’s the barista from the other day ( Again, his name is Johan, you fool, she thinks, still surprised she remembers), and when he meets her gaze, for some reason, his face turns the slightest shade of pink.
“Good afternoon.” He answers back, smiling sheepishly. Yubel thinks she might be dreaming-- what reason does he have to be embarrassed? She’s the one who still remembers his name without him even telling her! “How can I help you today?” She says mechanically, managing a warm tone.
Johan looks around the shop for a moment, then rubs the back of his neck. “I actually just learned you guys were here.” He admits, laughing out of embarrassment. “But I heard you sell healing crystals?”
Yubel walks out from behind the counter and gestures to the wall of said crystals. “Are you in the market for any specific ones?” She asks, somehow getting a grip of the situation that shouldn’t really be a problem at all. Johan taps a finger to his cheek in thought, then says, “Do you have any that help with remembering dreams?”
She nods at that, leading him over to the shelves. “Amethyst is probably our most popular for dream recall, but personally I prefer Herkimer diamond.” She plucks a purplish and a translucent gem off the shelf, handing them both to him for him to feel. “Dream quartz is in high demand at the moment since it’s a new discovery, but it’s rather expensive. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you have the wiggle room to spend eighty dollars or more.”
Johan blanches at that price, almost dropping the amethyst; if she didn’t know before, Yubel knows now that this is definitely the same Johan from Starbucks. No barista had that kind of money. “How much are these?” He asks, regaining his composure quickly. She places her hand out to take them back, and as he places them in her palm, his fingers brush against her skin. Warm, she thinks. On a rainy day like this?
“The amethyst is anywhere from five to fifty dollars, depending on the cut.” She explains, putting it back where it came from. “This particular one is fifteen. This Herkimer diamond is a mere seven, as it’s not actually a diamond, but a variation of quartz.” She replaces that one on the shelf as well. “And if you’re looking to have more vivid dreams rather than just remember them clearly,” she leads him back over to the counter, where she ducks below the register and pulls out a box of Native-sourced dreamcatchers, “these will do the trick. But,” she holds one up to the light, “not just any will do. You absolutely must buy from a Native-owned business, otherwise it will do little to nothing.”
Johan’s eyes sparkle at the box of dreamcatchers, and reaches out to touch them, but he pauses before he does. “May I?” He asks, to which Yubel nods. He gingerly picks one up, and immediately looks enthralled at the hand-painted clay beads that line the strings hanging from the bottom, the real feathers that are tied to the ends, the spirograph of thread leading to a circle of more clay beads in the center. He’s almost cute, Yubel finds herself thinking.
“I’d like to buy this and the Herkimer diamond.” He decides, looking up with eyes glittering excitedly. Yubel smiles her customer service smile and retrieves the “diamond”, placing it in a velvet drawstring back along with the dreamcatcher. She rings him up and he pays, expression shining like a child who’s been handed candy when she hands him the bag. Before he leaves, though, he looks up at her with determination in his eyes. “Thank you very much for your help.” He says earnestly, and Yubel’s caught a little off guard-- usually her customers just thank her and leave. “N-No problem.” She stutters out, half confused and half embarrassed, forcefully willing herself not to blush. Johan smiles at her again almost knowingly this time, and takes his leave.
When she is home with Judai later that evening she tells him about her run-in with the mysterious barista. “Yubel has a cruuush!” He exclaims as soon as she’s done talking, and she groans at his excitement. “You shouldn’t be that overzealous.” She mutters. “I only love you, of course.”
Judai laughs aloud at that, ignoring Yubel’s slightly offended expression. “I know you love me! That doesn’t mean you can’t love anyone else, right?” He says happily, blinking like an innocent child. Yubel groans again, covering her eyes with one hand and feeling her face heat up. “You’re too much.” She says mournfully as Judai giggles at her inner conflict. “Cheer up! We still have leftovers.” He reminds her, winking goofily.
Yet despite Yubel’s resistance to fulfill Judai’s teasing and her resistance to loving anyone other than Judai, she finds herself awake thinking when she’s supposed to be asleep that night. Judai is curled into her side like a cat leeching off her warmth, and she tugs the blankets up a little higher over his shoulders. Say Judai’s right, she wonders to herself, say I do have a crush. What would I even do in such a situation?
She thinks that, as if she doesn’t know.
The next morning it’s finally not snowing or raining, but it is cloudy, reminding everyone that the other phenomena were still not far off. Yubel decides to walk to work that day even with the brisk chill in the air and the chance of precipitation-- yes Judai, I have my gloves and my earmuffs -- as the shop is only three-fourths of a mile from their apartment. She stops at Starbucks on the way there for a peppermint mocha, and she finds herself somewhat disappointed when Johan isn’t the one serving her (it’s a girl with long blond hair instead, whose nametag reads “Asuka”) until she realizes what she’s thinking. At that point she reminds herself of her beautiful Judai, and how she could never betray her soulmate with a different lover.
When she arrives at the shop Ms. Emi’s son is restocking the oil shelves, as a number of customers had come in looking for scents to warm them up as of late. “Hello, Shou.” She raises a hand in greeting. Emi’s son, Shou, turns when he hears her words and the doorbell, waving at Yubel in return. “Hey!”
Nothing really out of the ordinary happens that day, and Yubel finds herself slightly miffed by the time her shift is over. She strips off her apron and throws on her coat and bag, leaving with only a “see you tomorrow” to Ms. Emi (Shou had retired upstairs to practice on his piano).
It’s another week until she sees Johan again-- coinciding with the beginning of the accelerated winter semester. She walks into her philosophy in literature classroom, a small space with only eight tables for the students, two seats at each. She sits at an unoccupied one near the back of the classroom, by the window.
Only once the professor shows up and mostly everyone is present (which isn’t that many people, probably only about fifteen or twenty) does she realize that she knows no one here, something unusual for a philosophy major in a philosophy class. Just as the man teaching (an elderly one, with a bald head and bifocals) stands to take roll does a familiar blue head duck into the room, apologizing for his punctuality to the professor. Yubel realizes dimly that it’s Johan, the enigmatic Starbucks barista and boy in pursuit of his dreams. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until he catches her gaze, smiles brightly, and scurries over to take the seat beside her.
“I never caught your name.” Is the first thing he says to her that day, when the professor has packed up and left while his students move sluggishly to do the same. Yubel looks over and blinks at him, then her common courtesy kicks in. “Yubel.” She says, extending her hand for a shake. What Johan does next completely bewilders her, however-- instead of merely shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and plants a quick peck on her knuckles, then lets go as if it’s nothing. “Johan.” He says, grinning politely. I know, Yubel thinks before she realizes how creepy that would sound.
Yubel’s face turns peony pink, coloring her skin a shade of raspberry jam. Before she can even begin to process what she should say next, Johan fills the silence for her. “Hey, you remember those crystals you sold me the other day?” He asks, slight embarrassment dusting his features.
“Yes, what of them?” Yubel answers mechanically, mouth on autopilot. Her mind is still stuck on the feeling of Johan’s warm lips against her fingers. Johan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, quiet for a moment as if debating the words he’s going to say next. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding creepy, so,” he pauses to laugh at himself, biting his lip before continuing, “I think I’ve been dreaming about you.”
Yubel feels like she might faint. “Come again?” She asks.
“Not like anything gross!” He quickly corrects himself, waving his hands in front of him. “I don’t even know if it’s you , per se, it’s more of a dragon than a person, but you have. The same face, so I just assumed…” He rambles on, shoulders slumping in the idea that he made things awkward. Yubel sighs inwardly-- she wonders offhandedly why her heart is beating so fast if Judai’s not around. “I’m going to give you one chance.” She says, finally regaining her composure as Johan looks up to meet her eyes again, seemingly surprised by her change in expression to one of slight amusement. “To ask me out with a better pick up line than that.”
Later that night, when Yubel is wrapped tight around Judai’s sleeping form, she dreams, too.
Yubel wonders if she will ever see Judai again. Space is cold, so cold, and she has no one to turn to to keep her sanity intact. She feels her wings shiver with the frigid temperature here, and wraps them around herself in a makeshift cocoon in a last ditch attempt to hold onto the little warmth she has left.
“Hey, you.”
At that childish voice, she looks up, peeking through the cracks in her Yubel-sized bungalow. She can only see teal blue from where she sits now, curled up with her knees pulled up to her chest.
“Are you okay?”
Yubel doesn’t answer. She wraps her arms tighter around herself and instinctively shies away when the voice comes closer.
“Are you cold?”
The shiver that runs down her spine and into her toes can’t be hidden, then.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do anything to help you.”
It’s fine, she thinks. Nobody but Judai could help me now.
“Can you tell me your name? Why are you out here?”
“You have too many questions.” Yubel hisses, betraying her facade of wordless. She moves her wings ever so slightly so that she can make out a teal blue eye, peering through the spaces where her wings meet.
“I’m sorry. Should I leave?”
No, Yubel wants to say. Don’t leave me alone.
“No.” She mutters.
Don’t leave me alone is what she hopes to imply.
“Why are you all alone out here?”
I was discarded, she thinks. No, I was abandoned.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“What’s their name?”
“Judai.”
“What’s your name?”
“Yubel.”
“My name’s Johan. It’s nice to meet you.”
“...Nice to meet you, I suppose.”
“So the reason you wanted to remember your dreams was because I was in them?” Yubel asks skeptically over a peppermint mocha, a week after Johan’s little stunt. The man in question nods, taking a sip of his cappuccino. “Don’t act like that was a pickup line again.” He groans.
Yubel hides a giggle behind her mug. “I’ve been having some dreams too, actually.” She mentions offhandedly, and almost snorts at the stars that instantly appear in Johan’s eyes. “Really?!” He exclaims, then shrinks back, realizing how overzealous he sounded. “Yes, really.” She confirms, sipping her coffee. “As a matter of fact,
“you were in mine, too.”