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Business is slow these hours. It’s too late for anyone to have their morning coffee, and it’s too early for anyone to need any dose of caffeine to continue the day. Today is Suguru’s first day, and he’s scrolling on his phone, waiting for his shift to end in fifteen minutes, while his co-worker, Utahime, who is also his upperclassmen in college, is arranging the new batch of pastries on the shelf.
“Ugh, that guy is coming again.”
Utahime’s bitter tone catches Suguru’s attention. He has known Utahime for quite some time, and he has never heard her speaking of someone in such an ill tone.
“Who is it?”
“We call him ‘the cake guy,’” Utahime sneers, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to deal with him. You do it.”
Before Suguru can protest, Utahime leaves the counter and the pastries, forcing Suguru to continue the unfinished work. The bell chimes in as ‘the cake guy’ arrives, entering with such grace and elegance that Suguru stops working, watching how his pearl-white hair sways as he walks and sky blue eyes shimmer underneath his sunglasses. Suguru is left dumbfounded, and when he realises it, the prince-like man is already in front of him.
“Good morning! I’d like some of your double chocolate cake to-go, please,” he cheerfully says, glancing over Suguru’s chest, and winks. “Getou-kun.”
Suguru pretends his heart didn’t skip a beat, and plastering his best customer service smile, he types in this customer’s order into the screen.
“Would you like to add some drinks with it?”
“Nah,” he smiles, giving Suguru his loyalty card. “I’ve never seen you around before. You’re new, right?”
“Yeah, I just started today,” Suguru answers, “That will be 500 yen.”
Suguru glances at the name listed on the screen. Gojo Satoru. Oh, so this is the annoying friend that Shoko keeps talking about.
“Gojo-san, right?”
Gojo nods, grinning. “I’ll make sure to see you more often then, Getou-kun.”
Suguru isn’t sure how to reply to the blatant flirting from beautiful customers since he has zero experience behind counters. He ends up chuckling softly to humour Gojo as he puts the cake into the box.
“Here you go. Please come back soon.”
“I’ll most certainly will,” Gojo beams, leaving a generous amount of money in the tip jar that sends Suguru’s eyes as wide as saucers, “See you!”
With that, Gojo leaves, and Utahime emerges back from the doors.
“He’s not that bad,” Suguru mentions, undoing his apron as he inserts the tip into his pocket. “I don’t get why you hate him so much?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen him much yet,” Utahime grumbles, narrowing his eyes over Gojo’s back as he crosses the street. “He’s unbearable. If not for the constant money he puts for us, I wouldn’t even think to serve this guy.”
“If that’s what you say then,” Suguru shrugs, and with Nanami arriving for his shift, he leaves.
“You’re eating that for lunch?”
Satoru scoops up the last bits of his chocolate cake and relishes in the balance of bitter and sweet dancing in his tongue as he looks up to Shoko. “Not really. I have something to do for lunch, so I guess this is brunch?”
Shoko sighs and takes a seat across from him. “You’re going to die from diabetes, and I’m not even going to feel sorry for you.”
“Speaking of diabetes, there’s a new guy working there. He’s hot,” Satoru mentions, chuckling to himself. He admits that he’s not really into men with buns, but when Satoru first laid his eyes on Getou, he swears that this man is the embodiment of perfect with his beautiful smile, handsome face, and broad shoulders - god, Satoru can only imagine how his body would be underneath those baggy clothes he wore. “I think I’m going to go there more often.”
“You go there literally five days a week for cakes.”
“I can say the same to you. The only difference is that you go to izakayas.”
“So, what’s his name?” Shoko asks, completely ignoring Satoru’s remark.
“Getou. I don’t know his first name yet,” Satoru says. “He looks like he’s around our age, though. You think he’s also a student?”
Looking around for any professors, Shoko takes out a cigar and lights it up. “Oh, I know a Getou. There’s one in my English class.”
“Really?” Satoru screeches, shaking Shoko’s shoulder. His plan to reprimand Shoko that it’s a smoking-free place evaporates in the heat of the moment. “What’s his name?”
Shoko clicks her tongue as she slaps away Satoru’s hand. “Went out drinking with him a few times too. He’s a great company. High tolerance, unlike you.”
“You never tell me about him?” Satoru demands an answer. He does not appreciate being left out, especially on men who check all boxes of his criteria. “Hey, you must have his number, right?”
Shoko pulls out her phone, scrolling on her contacts as fast as she locks it back up, and smirks. “If you think I’m gonna spill anything, you’re hoping for too much, lover boy.”
“Shooooko,” Satoru whines, “Come on.”
Shoko only cackles before she sneaks away from the area at the sight of her professor, leaving Satoru dry in desperation of his curiosity.
Suguru was pulling an all-nighter to finish his assignment, and he only had one hour of sleep. Being a bit grumpy when he arrives at the cafe at six to open up is understandable, and Utahime is kind enough to brew him a cup of strong caffeine.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks. Please pay your respects to Professor Gakuganji.”
“Thank god his class is only mandatory for one semester,” Utahime mutters in sympathy and pats Suguru on his shoulders. Everyone knows that Gakuganji has a knack for putting close deadlines to his ungodly assignments, and no one knows how that almost-eighty professor hasn’t retired yet or how he could return their papers in only two days. “You can do this. Three more months to go, and you’re a free man.”
“Can’t wait for that time to come,” Suguru sighs, finishing his coffee. The caffeine would suffice until noon, and for now, it’s enough to wake him up to be functioning properly for his morning shift. He lowers the chairs from the tables, wipes the tables clean, and checks the logistics for today while Utahime deals with the food and beverages. They open exactly at seven, and in just minutes, students, salarymen, and even mothers have formed a line in their humble shop. Mornings have always been one of their busiest time, and they can only take a breather when the clock hits nine-thirty.
When Suguru peeks through the window, he sees a familiar mop of white hair waiting to cross the road with some books in his hand.
“Does Gojo-san always come at this kind of hour?”
Utahime pays her thanks to the customer she is serving and immediately clicks her tongue as soon as the customer leaves. “Yeah. That guy is a freak-”
“Utahime~! There you are~” a sing-song voice calls. Gojo is waiting on the cashier with his bright, million-dollar smile. “I knew you were hiding from me yesterday! Is that how you treat your new recruits? How mean.”
“Then let this be a sign for you to stop coming on my shift,” Utahime fumes, throwing him an incredulously nasty glare that Suguru has never seen. A new customer enters and stops behind Gojo, and in an instant, Utahime’s livid expression is contorted into her best customer service hospitality, albeit with a residue of irritation twitching on the corner of her lips. “What would you like to have for today?”
“Whoa, that’s a great acting skill you have there. You should change your major to theatre,” Gojo snickers, looking over the display shelf. “I’ll have the red velvet for today. And oh,” he says, looking over Suguru’s position on the counters, “Is Getou-kun over there in charge of drinks today?”
“Yes.”
“Then add a small ice chocolate for me.”
Gojo raises his sunglasses up as he sends him a wave and a grin. Suguru is caught off guard with the sight of Gojo’s face without the accessory - perfectly chiseled face with a sparkling youthful look - and feeling his face warming up, Suguru pretends to cough and waves him back. Utahime and Shoko can give Gojo all the worst ratings, but then again, they’re not people who Suguru can trust when it comes to men because Utahime and Shoko only have eyes for women.
Here he is, on his second day of work, getting flushed over serving a certain blue-eyed customer whose complexion can send his blood rushing.
“Would you like some whipped cream to go with it?” Utahime asks, breaking Suguru off his reverie.
“Yeah, with sugar on top,” he hums, inserting some cash into the tip jar. “And Utahime? Try not to work your ass off too hard. I know you’re having trouble with Yaga’s class, and my offer for tutor still stands, yeah?”
Utahime grits her teeth. She’s losing her composure. “No. Please wait for your drink on the counter.”
Suguru places the cake on a plate and puts it on the counter where Gojo rests his chin on his palm as he watches Suguru work and asks, “You attend Jujutsu University, right?”
“Yeah,” Suguru replies, pouring some ice into the cup. “You too?”
“Mhm. I’m a business major. How about you? I never see you before.”
“Genetics. We’re in a different building, so maybe that’s why.”
“Ah, that explains why Shoko knows you.”
“Shoko? As in Ieiri Shoko?”
“Yup! That alcoholic is my friend since high school.”
“Right. She talks a lot about you,” Suguru says, placing his ice chocolate on the counter. “Here’s your ice chocolate, Gojo-san. Enjoy.”
“Satoru,” he says, grabbing the drink. “Call me Satoru, kay? No last names and no honorifics.”
Suguru blinks twice, unsure how to respond, before nodding hesitantly. “Okay then… Satoru.”
The grin that Satoru delivers is bright enough to blind Suguru’s eyes.
“You told him to call you by your name, yet you haven’t even got his name yet?” Shoko wheezes. She’s been laughing non-stop for a minute now. “What a clown!”
“Look, I really want to ask him for it, but whenever I try to, I just get all nervous, okay?” Satoru whines, getting more embarrassed by the second. He’s been returning to the cafe for the last three weeks, and while they’ve been talking quite enough - heck, Satoru knows that Getou has two younger twin sisters who attend junior-high nearby and he worked on a supermarket as a cashier before working here - but he hasn’t obtained Getou’s name nor his phone number yet. “I didn’t know you both are that close! Who would’ve thought that he would tell you that?”
“Oh my.” Shoko wipes the tears on the corner of her eyes and continues laughing. “Let me tell you something, Gojo. You’re a coward. ”
“How could you do this to me, Shoko,” Gojo gasps, dramatically holding his chest. “You wound my fragile heart.”
Shoko rolls her eyes. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you’re not going to find any here.”
Satoru presents her his best puppy eyes and pout, only to receive a jab to his stomach in return.
When Friday comes along, Shoko invites Suguru to drink out again. They’ve established a routine nowadays - eight p.m., usual izakaya, bar stools. Suguru always shows up on time, but somehow, Shoko is always there first. It’s like she spent her whole afternoon chatting lazily with the workers behind bars, waiting for him with a stein of draught beer and edamame.
“Yo, Shoko,” he greets, sliding into a vacant seat beside her. Shoko hums in reply, exhaling a breath of smoke, and offers him a cigar.
“Thanks, but I bring mine,” Suguru mentions, pulling out his own box and lights one up. “Are you gonna apply for the exchange?”
“Nah. I have enough workload clawing on my back as it is. You?”
“I’m thinking about doing it next semester instead,” Suguru says. “Don’t wanna miss the twins’ birthday.”
“You dote on them so much,” Shoko points out as she drinks her beer, “Let me meet them someday.”
Suguru chuckles. “Funny how Satoru said exactly the same thing last week.”
A flash of something akin to playfulness or mischievousness passes through Shoko’s usually flat look, and it sends shivers to Suguru’s spine. There’s nothing good out of this Shoko.
“Hey, Getou. What do you think of Gojo?”
“Uh, Satoru? I think he’s… quite fun? Although I personally think he’s kind of a dork,” And drop-dead gorgeous. “He has a nice smile, I guess?” And the body of a Greek god. “And he tips nicely, by the way.”
“Well, I guess that’s what you’d say when you only know him for weeks,” Shoko shrugs, lighting up another cigar. “You know what people don’t know him for? A loser. I’m warning you, Getou. Consider me giving you a heads-up.”
There’s something implicit coating the way Shoko says it, but Suguru can’t seem to point out whatever lies underneath the vague quote.
Satoru feels like shit. He pulled off an all-nighter last night, and he’s about to do it all over again today. There’s just a lot in his schedule - quizzes, unfinished assignments, and his part-time job as a tutor - twenty-four hours is not enough, and if he has to keep this up, sugar won’t be able to keep up with his body’s metabolism anymore. That’s how Satoru finds himself coming to the nearest cafe from the campus building with books on his left hand and a laptop on his right.
There’s nothing good about him right now - dark eyebags, disheveled hair, and even his white shirt have some ketchup stain from the burger he had for dinner - he certainly didn’t expect to be seen like this in front of his favourite barista who’s sexily making coffee behind the counters.
“Hello, Gojo-chan~!” Mahito greets, as happy as ever. “Long time no see! You mustn’t leave me with Sukuna alone every night, you know, I’m agonised.”
If it isn’t for Getou greeting him with a smile and wave, Satoru would’ve punched Mahito in the face already. Getou’s presence alone has a calming effect on the turmoil inside his head, therapeutic to his worn nerves.
“You’ll manage.” Satoru rolls his eyes, turning his attention to Getou instead. “Getou-kun! I didn’t know you’re working night shifts too.”
“I’m covering up for Sukuna tonight,” Getou replies, taking the cashier instead of Mahito, much to Satoru’s delight. “What will you have today?”
“A cheesecake and a hot latte.”
Getou eyes him in amusement, and Satoru snorts. “Don’t look at me like that. I need some caffeine.”
“You? The person who can’t even stand tiramisu?”
Satoru makes a point to pout. “Even I have some bad days. But seeing you here now makes things better.”
He sends Getou a wink, and he grins. “That will be 1000 yen.”
Satoru pays him with his loyalty card. Mahito looks at them back and forth and comments, “What’s up with you both?”
“Being saved from the desert by the oasis that Getou-kun offers me,” Satoru dreamily says, “He’s a sight for sore eyes.”
“What the hell did I put myself into,” Mahito mumbles, turning his attention to a new customer walking in. Satoru ignores his remark and fetches his order, admiring the cute, grumpy cat latte art that Getou created.
“Oh! This is so cute! You made a picture of Megumi! I’m not sure I can drink this.”
“Consider it a revenge for that one time you were scratched until you bleed,” Getou confides, winking.
His heart hammers loudly in his chest, and his face warms up because fuck, Getou winked at me- he looks so fucking divine- and Satoru hides it with an obnoxious laugh that earns looks from the other customers. “You’re right.”
Satoru quickly takes his orders to a random table near the corner and pulls a seat with his back facing the counters because he physically and mentally cannot face Getou with the mess he is now. He slices his cake and buries himself in the sweets and the work piling up on his laptop as an attempt to throw the image of Getou’s smile and wink away from his mind. Satoru doesn’t realise how much time passes until half of the lights are turned off, and when he looks to his back, the chairs are neatly tucked into the sparkling-clean tables. There is no Mahito nor Getou on sight, and Satoru almost rises up from his seat to stomp his way to the staff area to demand explanations when the chair across him screeches as Getou sits on it.
“On the house,” Getou says, pushing a paper cup towards Satoru, the smell of chocolate lingers in the air. “Don’t work yourself too hard. I’ve made it extra sweet, just like you.”
Satoru’s supposed to bite off Getou’s corny pick-up line, but his tongue is rendered impliable, and no words come out while heat accumulates on his cheeks. Suguru chuckles and opens the lid, revealing a cup of hot chocolate with whip cream and sugar on top.
Satoru’s favourite drink. How sweet.
“If you’re not going to be the one who asks me out on a date, then I will.”
Getou grins, and with a tap on Satoru’s shoulder, he leaves and disappears behind the staff-only door.
When Satoru turns the cup around, he finds a phone number with the characters ’Suguru’ written on it, and Satoru almost chokes on his own saliva.
(He only leaves when Mahito shouts and shoos him out of the cafe and skips through the night with his special hot chocolate in hand).