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On the first Friday of December, it snows so much that Genya can barely see a foot in front of him— which is sort of problematic when your main mode of transportation is a motorcycle.
That’s how Genya, who is terrible at directions to begin with, ends up making slow circles around the surrounding blocks of his tattoo parlor, trying desperately to read the snow-obscured street signs through his frosted helmet. It’s a terrible idea— he should’ve just closed the shop! No sane person would ever leave the house in this weather— and within about ten minutes, his fingers are so cold he thinks they might just outright fall off.
After another five minutes of circling, hopeless confusion, and feeling like his whole right half is going numb, Genya decides to take shelter in a cafe that lights up a corner of the street he was currently on. The sign reads “KITSUNE COFFEE,” and through the fogged up windows he can just barely make out the outlines of a few baristas making coffee. The sight makes the core of his bones seek warmth— he was willing to give up a good chunk of his life for a hot cup of coffee right now.
When finally he walks in after fumbling with parking his bike, he looks like a soggy punk band reject: his jeans are soaked from the knees down and his hair, usually sort of spiky, lays deflated.
The cafe is quite homely, and looks to have been designed with a forest scene in mind and occasional nods to traditional japanese styles. Little paper cranes decorate the bar counter, which seems to be the main seating area, and drip from the ceiling in randomly spaced intervals. Even the staff, Genya looks to a peachy-haired boy who’s smiling brightly at another employee, are dressed in hakama.
Speaking of employees, the cutest boy Genya had probably ever seen in his life smiles at him from behind the register. There’s a flicker of something behind the cashier’s eyes, but Genya blinks and it passes like a phantom.
“May I take your order?” Sunshine boy says sweetly, and Genya’s heart flutters in his chest. He glances briefly at the chalkboard menu but can barely comprehend any of the words, dumbed by both the cold and the overly radiant boy in front of him.
“Uh— I, um—“ Genya says very eloquently, and immediately snaps his mouth shut for fear of appearing any stupider than he probably already did. To his mortification, it draws a laugh from the cashier. Two seconds before Genya is about to turn on his heel and run all the way home, sunshine boy says apologetically, “I know, our menu is kind of overwhelming for new customers. I can help you choose something if you’d like?”
He quickly thanks whatever deity watches over him and nods. The cashier, Genya squints at a little nametag that reads ‘Tanjirou’, brightens at that. “Personally, I think today would be a good day for our spiced mocha! It’s a limited time holiday drink that we designed to warm you up on cold days like this.”
Genya nods again, “Yeah that’s good,” he says, though it comes out a little more curt than he was meaning it to. “...Thank you.” He tacks on quickly as he hands Tanjirou his credit card, hoping to not seem as ill-mannered as he probably looked. The gnarled scar across his nose, mohawk, piercings, and various tattoos definitely weren’t doing him any favors in his attempt to seem friendly.
“No problem!” Tanjirou hums, the smile on his lips barely wavering the entire time they spoke. “It’s always fun to give recommendations to customers,” He says and it’s genuine. The warmth in Genya’s chest expands at that.
“Can I get your name?” Tanjirou asks, and Genya really can’t process anything when the boy speaks because he’s too entranced with the way the hanafuda-style earrings dangle from his ears. He wonders distantly who did the piercings, and wants to ask if he wants any more.
“Sir? Can I have your name for the order?”
“Genya!” He abruptly snaps out of his daze, hoping intensely that Tanjirou didn’t notice his starting, “Shit, it’s Genya.”
“Okay then Genya-kun, have a seat! I’ll bring it over soon.” Tanjirou returns his card swiftly— Genya convinces himself that he imagined the lingering brush of their fingers— and turns to pick up a mug.
Watching Tanjirou’s back, Genya shuffles over to a seat at the bar counter. He tells himself that it was just because he wanted to sit down quickly, but really, he just wants to be able to watch Tanjirou work. The way his lithe fingers move across the machines reminds Genya of water currents— it’s all unbroken, swift movements that carry him across each lever. Before Genya realizes what he’s doing, he has his sketchbook in his lap, pencil moving broad strokes against the page.
Sketched hands decorate the page— some unscrewing bottles of spices, some wrapped around handles of espresso machines— all with characteristic callouses around each fingertip. Then he starts on hair, and curled ends of maroon turn to eruptions of flames under his pencil.
Genya is halfway through some sleeves of hakama, violent ocean waves crashing across the edges, when a cup is slid in front of him. He looks up to see Tanjirou, head tilted in curiosity, and snaps his sketchbook closed. He prays to every single god that Tanjirou didn’t see what he was sketching.
“You’re an artist?” The boy asks, curious, and completely oblivious. His eyes are bright with wonder as he looks up at Genya, smile at his lips even wider than before. Genya’s heart stutters in his chest at that.
“Sort of,” He murmurs, pulling the coffee closer to him and avoiding Tanjirou’s gaze, “I do tattoos. And piercings.” Looking closely at the mug, Genya notices an intricate looking snowflake drawn in milk foam atop his mocha. It’s more impressive than anything he could’ve done.
“Ohh, that’s so cool!” Tanjirou gushes, “I’ve been meaning to get a tattoo, but I just couldn’t find a place I liked...” He rolls up the sleeve of his hakama suddenly, and Genya is slightly surprised at how jacked the barista was— he had extremely muscular biceps.
“I wanted one right here,” Tanjirou motions from his shoulder down to his elbow, and then, to Genya’s great embarrassment, flexes. He was seriously jacked. “That moves when I flex!”
The request is so ridiculous that Genya has to look up to examine the boy’s expression. To his surprise he finds that Tanjirou is dead serious, glinting eyes determined. At that, Genya can no longer suppress the laugh that bubbles up from his chest.
“Like the sailors with—“ He snorts, laughing around the words, “With the moving mermaid tattoos?” Genya can’t help but double over, shoulders shaking.
“Hey! I was thinking more of like, waves or something!” Tanjirou pouts, crossing his arms. But the downturn of his lips quickly twitch back into a gentle smile, unable to resist. The sight of Genya’s laughter blooms a soft warmth in his chest, and Tanjirou leans forward to rest his elbows on the side of the counter opposite to him.
Genya’s wide smile melts quickly into a more awkward one, and he quickly rips his gaze from the barista to the coffee in front of him. They weren’t all that close, but it was still way closer than he was used to being to someone so— so attractive? So adorable?
That was strange of him to think, considering he’d been up close to his fair share of muscular young men at the tattoo shop. But he’d never really seen them in the same light as Tanjirou— sure they were attractive, but they were his canvases, people he was about to ink. And to them, Genya was just their tattoo artist, no more personal than a dentist or hairdresser. This— whatever this interaction between barista and customer was— seemed a lot more personal. Intimate, even.
The thoughts just frustrate him further, and he hurriedly picks up the cup to distract himself.
As he takes a careful sip, his eyes widen. The dark chocolate mocha blended perfectly with hints of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove, as well as the barest taste of ginger— it was unlike anything he’d ever tasted.
“How is it?” Tanjirou asks, leaning in to get a closer look at Genya’s expression.
Genya struggles to find the right words to sound as sincere as he felt. “It’s really good,” He settles on saying, hoping his words sound genuine as he desperately avoids eye-contact. Genya adds on, as he smiles with as much heart as he could manage, a soft “Thank you. For the help.” Outwardly displaying emotions were never his strong suit, but smiles should be universal, right?
(Besides, a feeling deep in his chest told him to thank him for more— and as much as he dug, he wasn’t sure where the surge of gratitude stemmed from.)
There’s a beat of silence, and Genya looks up, confused at the lack of a response. He finds a strange expression on Tanjirou’s face— something like nostalgia and endearment? His eyes looked incredibly distant at that moment, like he was looking directly into a past no one else could understand— but it disappears within the next moment. The sunshine smile is back, but Genya can’t quite shake the feeling of unease.
“Are you okay—“ Genya starts, reaching out instinctively to touch the boy’s wrist. But Tanjirou cuts him off abruptly— his eyes flick momentarily to Genya’s pinky finger?— words tight and smile even tighter.
“I’m glad to hear that!” There’s a tremor at his fingertips that Genya hadn’t noticed before. Tanjirou makes a show of checking his watch and turns quickly on his heel, “Ah, I left the cookies in the oven for too long! I’ll be right back.” In a whirlwind, Tanjirou disappears into the back room.
He’s left staring at the closed door in complete confusion, and an unexplainable ache in his chest. Had Genya said something wrong?
Before he has time to think too much about it, an employee with peach-fuzz hair and a scar that rips across his cheek appears in front of him. The name tag reads ‘Sabito.’
“Here,” Sabito slides a plate with a small, powdered sugar dusted crossaint next to Genya’s coffee. He looks at it, confused for a moment, when the man winks, “On the house— for putting up with our Tanjirou’s terrible flirting.”
At that, Genya’s worries are thrown to the wind in favor of erupting into a full-bodied blush, pink ticking the tips of his ears all the way down to his cheeks. “That— He— He was flirting?” He blurts, surprise taking control over his tongue. Sunshine boy was interested in him?
Sabito, the name tag reads, has the audacity to cackle, “Giyuu, I think this kid is even denser than you! And that’s saying something.” Genya isn’t sure whether to be offended or not, especially when Sabito looks at the other man with such tender eyes. “Are you kidding? He flexed for you. Not to mention the googly eyes he was making when you first walked in.”
Genya, who has literally never been hit on in his life, isn’t sure how to respond. He’s sure he’s making a face that borders on constipation at this point.
“I’m filing for a divorce.” Giyuu, the employee with cold blue eyes, deadpans, but there’s a ghost of a grin on his lips.
“Aw don’t be like that!” Sabito croons, wandering over to throw his arms around a suddenly very flustered Giyuu’s neck, “We don’t even have kids yet!”
“You’re a handful enough.” Giyuu mutters, a blush spreading up his neck as his eyes flick to Genya, then to Sabito. He struggles for a bit in the embrace, but ultimately goes limp as he resigns himself to being squeezed. The scene makes Genya shift on his barstool, not really sure if he was allowed to witness this amount of affection. He settles with picking up his cup again, sipping the coffee in an attempt to look casual and unbothered.
“Can you guys please be gross somewhere else?” Tanjirou, his savior, appears from the doorway of the back room carrying a tray of steaming cookies. To Genya’s relief, the unease from before seems to have dissipated. Instead, he simply looks a bit exasperated, but continues kindly, “Preferably not right in front of Genya-kun’s coffee.”
Sabito throws a quick salute as a red-faced and slightly apologetic looking Giyuu begins dragging him to the backroom, “Dibs on best man!” Sabito calls as they disappear into the doorway.
Tanjirou, remarkably, looks unaffected as he shakes his head. He heads toward the display case of pastries, and begins lining the cookies up one by one. “Sorry about them,” He sighs, “Sabito-san’s a bit... loud. And Giyuu-san can’t really say no anymore.”
“That’s okay,” Genya is still a little red and overwhelmed. Desperate to make small talk, he says, “They... must be really close friends?”
All at once, Tanjirou’s freezes in his place, his cheeks puffing up. Genya’s about to ask if something happened when the boy bursts into peals of very cute, very attractive laughter. “Close friends!” Tanjirou wheezes, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Genya can’t quite comprehend what’s funny until a few moments later, when he blurts, between bursts of laughter, “They’ve been married for like five years!”
Genya, for what seems like the hundredth time, feels blood rush to his face, “Oh... That... Makes a lot of sense.” Maybe Sabito was right in calling him dense, looking back on it, there’s no way he should’ve interpreted that interaction as anything other than romantic.
He picks up his cup again to take a long, embarrassed sip of mocha, only to find his cup empty. The face of disappointment he makes draws a laugh from Tanjirou, who silently takes the mug from in front of him, shoulders shaking from suppressed laughs. So many embarrassing things happened today at once, and they just kept piling on! Genya wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
“Should I get you another one?” Tanjirou asks as he puts the cup into a sink at the back.
Genya considers staying, but a glance outside tells him that the snow had finally stopped. Though he doubted he’d be getting any walk-in customers today, he decides reluctantly that he should probably get back to the shop.
“No, I should head back now,” Genya says, getting up from his barstool. The croissant Sabito gave him lay untouched, and he’s considering wrapping it in a napkin when Tanjirou takes the plate in a swift movement.
“That’s a shame, I liked talking to you!” Tanjirou, straightforward as ever, says brightly. He moves quickly, taking a small paper bag from the counter and placing the croissant inside of it.
“Oh I—“ Genya’s emotional constipation knew no bounds, “Liked talking to you. Too.” His words are chopped short and he can’t bring himself to look up as he takes the bag from Tanjirou. This time, he’s sure their fingers brush, and he hovers for a breath before turning to leave.
“Genya-kun!” Tanjirou calls as he cracks open the door. He turns to look back, and is surprised to see those liquid eyes filled with endearment. It makes his chest glow hot. “Come back again soon.”
He gives a short, gruff nod and hurries out the door.
As he approaches his motorcycle, black scribbles across the pastry bag catch Genya’s eye. He looks closer, and almost goes lightheaded as he realizes it’s a phone number. Next to it, theres a little heart.
A small smile rugs at the edges of his lips. Maybe good things could come out of snow days after all.
-
“You really turned up the sunshine charm with him,” Sabito teases, poking his head out of the backroom. There’s a bruise on his neck that looks suspiciously like a hickey, but Tanjirou knows better than to ask at this point. “I can’t believe you flexed for him!”
Tanjirou’s smile is cold, much like Shinobu’s when she’s getting ready to rip someone a new one, “Sabito-san, I learned from you and Giyuu-san that it’s best to be straightforward. Or else we end up stalling for ten years before a confession.” Sabito clutches his heart at that, pretending to be wounded.
“Besides,” His voice grows sad, “I would rather not wait another lifetime,” Tanjirou’s eyes unfocus, looking distantly into the leftover foam in Genya’s cup as if it held every answer he so desperately needed.
“He doesn’t look like he remembers you,” Sabito says quietly, and he smiles sadly, “I’m sure this time you guys will get it right.”
(Tanjirou isn’t so sure— he recalls lifetimes when they woke up side-by-side, perfectly happy, only to have it ripped away at the last moment. The universe wasn’t on their side. It would never, ever be on their side. Sabito is just lucky that, unlike Tanjirou, he didn’t remember every previous life.)
“Not everyone remembers each time,” Tanjirou whispers, careful to keep his voice low, “Though I think remembering is more of a curse.”
The universe wasn’t kind, and it never would be to the fated, but Tanjirou believed that the little red string around his finger had a plan much bigger than himself. And he held that spark of hope close to his chest, let it nip at his fingers and burn scars into his skin, because that was all he had left.
Sabito opens his mouth to respond, but Giyuu appears from the back room, disheveled with multiple bruises creeping up the side of his neck.
“What are you two talking about?” Giyuu was another blessed with total ignorance— and at times, considering what happened to Sabito before, Tanjirou thinks it’s better that way.
“Just convincing our Sunshine boy that Genya-kun definitely had a thing for him!” Sabito hums, and Giyuu gives him the flattest look before turning to Tanjirou.
“Are you blind?” He asks, looking exasperated.
“I really don’t want to hear that from you, Giyuu-san!”