Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nobody transfers schools to make friends. 

Yuuta is wholeheartedly aware of this when he rolls on to campus for the first time. He’d been something of a screw-up in high school, so he hadn’t even bothered applying to any high-level colleges the first time around. It didn’t take him long to realize that college was different. You got to do whatever you wanted all the time, could devote yourself to any one subject. Yuuta never cared much for his regular academics, but with music? Suddenly he was an A+ student for the first time in his life. 

So here he was, a year later at a prestigious conservatory he’d only learned the name of a few months ago in a big city he’d never visited before. It was a dream, but something of a nightmare, too. He didn’t know a single person here, and the rickety studio apartment he’d leased was hardly helping the matter. His only solace was his workload, which kept him too busy for much of a social life anyway. Maybe that was the case with everyone here- they were so dedicated to their craft that they didn’t need friends. He knew it was unlikely, but it was a comforting thought.

What wasn’t making him feel better? The shit coffee they served at the dining hall. He’d thought at an institution as fancy and expensive as this they could at least afford something name-brand, but Yuuta could hardly complain- with a sleep schedule like his coffee wasn’t just a routine, it was a necessity. And since he was too inept to make his own, he'd drag himself down to the cafeteria every morning to tolerate the muck for as long as it took him to find a will to live and head to class. 

It takes a month before anyone takes pity on him and teaches him otherwise. 

“You know you don’t have to drink that crap, right?” a girl says, appearing behind him. Yuuta recognizes her- A freshman viola player from his orientation group. Kugisaki was her name. “The coffee place next to the main theater takes meal swipes. Just go there.” 

Yuuta nearly spits out his coffee- if that’s what you could even call it.

“Wait, seriously?” he squeaks, voice cracking from disuse. He clears his throat as the girl laughs and tosses her hair behind her shoulders. 

“You really didn’t know?” she asks, clearly smug. “King Salmon Coffee. It’s right down the street. Has this dump totally beat- the only people who still come here are oafs like my friends who want to eat full-sized pancake breakfasts every morning.” 

“Kugisaki!” one of them calls- another first year with sleek black hair. He stands next to an aloof boy with dyed pink hair and a Cello case nearly as big as he is. “We’re gonna be late!” 

“Ugh, gotta run,” she complains, rolling her eyes and gesturing to the dark-haired boy. “Violinists. So entitled.”

“Thank you!” he calls as she flits away. The second she and her friends are safely out of sight, he stands up and drops his cup into the trash can. Goodbye dirt, he thinks with a smirk, see you never.

King Salmon Coffee was not at all hard to find once Yuuta knew what to look for. Embarrassingly, it’s only a block away from his new place and he’d never once noticed it before- an impressive feat considering it had a flashing pink fish logo in its front window. Yuuta had always been a bit of a space cadet, but this was taking it to a new level. In his defense though, who thought it would be a good idea to name a coffee house after seafood? Certainly that was asking for confusion. Yuuta decides not to care as he throws the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder and pushes the front door open. 

Surely, this is what heaven feels like. 

A welcome bell chimes over his head and a wave of dark roast hits his nose as warmth covers his body. The whole thing is so beautiful he could cry. The homey, wooden interiors are lit with soft lamps and a flickering fireplace in the back corner. Everywhere he looked were students sunken into velvet-covered chairs, chatting with ease while they sipped from disposable cups hand-stamped with neon pink fish logos. Yuuta felt like he'd just stepped into a freaking amusement park. 

Genuinely misty, he walks up to the counter and pulls out his freshly minted student card. He’s staring up at the menu like a kid in a candy store when he hears fingernails tapping impatiently at the counter. He looks down to meet the gaze of a small boy with the whitest blonde hair he’s ever seen and a dark navy face mask. 

“Purple,” he blurts. The boy, unamused, blinks at him. Twice, three times. “Your eyes, I mean- are they purple? I’ve never seen anything like that, are they real?” 

Instead of answering, the boy swiftly and deliberately looks at the line forming behind him before flashing back to Yuuta. The gesture, which could only be a request for Yuuta to hurry it up, is so sharp and practiced it could be mistaken choreography. Yuuta is so entranced that he nearly forgets what he’s doing. 

“Sorry- that was so rude of me. I just- I’ll- can I get a plain latte?” he stammers, trying to get himself together. A bored expression on his face, the boy takes the end of a sharpie and points to three different sized cups, tapping on each of them individually. It takes Yuuta a painfully long time to figure out his meaning. “Oh, what size? Um… a medium, I guess?” 

The boy swiftly picks up a pink-emblemed cup and poises his sharpie against the bottom of the cup, pausing briefly to look up at Yuuta’s face before scribbling something in. He hands it to a girl with an edgy green ponytail and scans Yuuta’s student ID wordlessly before motioning him along. Yuuta’s head spins, but his feet move to the pick up window.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Even though the place is packed, the kids behind the counter clearly had everything down to a science. The girl who was handed his cup moves in such a quick flurry, Yuuta can’t even keep sight of her. The drink is finished in what must be record time. 

“Coffee for-“ she makes a face and squints at the bottom of the cup before looking up and scanning the room. Her eyes finally land on Yuuta and she addresses him through tight lips. “Medium latte, yeah?”

“That’s me!” Yuuta tells her, eagerly accepting the cup with both hands. She turns her back to him cooly, not sparing him as much as an extra second. There’s an uneasy look on her face, but he ignores it, opting to take a long drag of his coffee instead. 

The piping hot liquid burns the inside of his mouth and all the way down his throat, but Yuuta doesn’t care- he’d inject it into his veins if could. It takes everything in him not to chug it right there and then. He manages to get out the door with it, but the rich, smokey espresso drink really stands no chance. The caffeine is just starting to hit him, euphoric and fuzzy, when he remembers to check the name at the bottom of the cup. How had the barista girl figured out who he was? He nearly chokes on his last sip when he finds his answer.

In a small, neat script reads the phrase: dark circles.

Oh, Yuuta realizes with a start, yikes. Maybe he’d gotten a little less sleep last night than he’d thought. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about that. At least the boy behind the register had noticed something about him. He’d take that as a small win in the war that was his new addiction- King Salmon Coffee and the mysterious purple-eyed boy behind its register. 

He comes back every single day for two weeks straight, even when the weekend team comes in and the lines are practically out the door- it’s worth it. It’s only on his second round of Sundays that he realizes with a startle that that cashier actually talks to him. Yuuta finds it oddly disturbing, despite the fact that it’s the norm. When the perky girl with blonde pigtails smiles at him and asks his order, tacking on some weird pet name at the end, he genuinely flinches. He misses purple-eyes and his seemingly unwavering no-nonsense interactions. 

So Yuuta embarks on a mission. It’s happening without his permission- the antics start before he’s even aware of his new goal: he wants to talk to the cute weekday cashier. 

On day 17, a Monday, he purposefully goes in a little later than normal. The morning crowd has all but dispersed so he can ask a few random, thoughtless questions without being in the way. The cashier fields the questions effortlessly, pointing to random items and words on the menu with complete confidence and specificity. Eventually, he gets tired of the game and starts making the latte Yuuta hasn’t even ordered yet himself, letting the green haired girl take over the register while he listens to Yuuta drabble. It’s even better than his day 1 drink. If this guy was that good at making coffee, why were they letting him handle the ordering?

Yuuta has the rest of the afternoon off, so he decides to settle in and lurk for a little while. He wills himself not to look at the cashier, he doesn’t want to be creepy after all, but he does sit close enough to listen as he flips through an exercise book. He doesn’t learn much, but he does learn that Yuuta certainly isn’t getting any kind of special treatment- the boy hadn’t spoken so much as a word to anyone in more than an hour. 

There’s something comforting about it, listening to people talk around him as they’re forced to work around his silence. He owns it so completely, no matter who comes in. Yuuta has fun imagining his reactions as people ask stupid and thoughtless questions. It’s practically lulled him to sleep by the time closing is about to come around, when a gruff old man comes in and starts ordering. 

“I’m sorry,” he jeers loudly, in a tone that is not apologetic at all. “Can’t you just talk? What are you, mute?” 

And just like that, Yuuta is on his feet. His shoulders and spine have stretched out to their full extent, ready to hop into action. He wasn’t going to sit here and listen to the sweet checkout boy be ridiculed- already Yuuta knew he didn’t deserve that. 

As it turns out though, Yuuta needn’t have bothered getting worked up. Before he can even gauge if he needs to step in, green-haired girl has jumped to the register and all but used herself as a human shield. By the snarl on her face, Yuuta can tell she is highly capable of ending this fight on her own.

“And what are you, stupid?” she sneers, face deadly serious. “We’re done brewing for the day. We ran out of everything. Get out.”

Yuuta is too distracted to appreciate the effort. He’s too busy staring at the cashier’s face- his near translucent skin had flushed up around the edges of his mask, red and splotchy like a water-color sunset. Yuuta doesn’t realize he’s staring until he notices purple eyes boring back into his. He makes an active effort to close his agape mouth, clearing his throat and nodding curtly. If the other boy has a response, Yuuta doesn’t see it. He’s too embarrassed by his obvious overreaction- clearly the boy had no need for Yuuta’s brutish show of protection. He picks up his book and slings his guitar bag over his back, beelining out of the shop without a second look. 

He stays away for what feels like the longest week of his life. Cafeteria coffee is even worse than he remembered, instant even less palatable than that. But when he finally sheepishly wanders in, he swears he sees something flicker in the cashier’s eyes. And his latte doesn’t say dark circles anymore. He’s been promoted to Sleepy Guitar Guy. 

Ridiculously, it makes his heart sing. 

Chapter Text

It goes on that way for two whole weeks. Yuuta comes in, fumbles all over his words as he orders his usual, and the cashier scribbles his new nickname in a small, neat script that Yuuta would make a font out of if he could. 

Seeing the words Sleepy Guitar Guy on his cup every morning brings him such continual joy, he almost forgets his quest. He’s so overwhelmed with the light of being seen, the glory of recognition flickering in purple pupils that at first he doesn’t even consider pushing his luck- he’s happy to come in, get his coffee, and watch the world get a little bit brighter once he has. At least for a little while, that is. 

As it turns out though, Yuuta is greedy.  

He wants more. He thought he could be content with a medium, but now Yuuta wanted a large. He won’t be happy until he’s the cashier’s goddamn favorite customer- till he was coming in every morning and not just getting a spoken pleasantry, but a whole chat about the goddamn weather. It would all start with one word- then the dominos would fall. 

So the next week, day 32 by Yuuta’s count, he decides to come in a little late. He’s off this afternoon- a practice period for an upcoming assignment- so he’ll be able to really take his time. When he gets to King Salmon, he lets a couple beat him to the door and hangs around outside for a minute or so while they order. If he waits just a little longer, he’ll have the cashier’s full attention, which was crucial to his plan’s success. 

The plan in question, was pretty stupid though. Basically, Yuuta was just going to ask him as many pointless, tedious questions as he could think of until someone got in line behind him and scurried him along. He was hoping it would come off as more of a challenge than an annoyance. Even if the other boy didn’t say anything, Yuuta would be epically extending their contact for the day and, even better, he’d get to watch the cashier’s dancer-like limbs paint the little shop with a sequence of points, nods, and expressive glances.

When he finally walks in, a little bell jingling over his head as he does, there’s no one at the register. Yuuta decides not to worry about it, knowing that their morning rush is over. While he waits, he leans his elbows on the front counter, rehearsing possible questions. And what types of syrups can you add? Is there a limit on additions? But what’s your most popular drink? 

“Oh. It’s latte boy,” Yuuta’s spine snaps up in shock, torn away from his daydream as he realizes that the eyes looking back at him aren’t purple, but hazel. He blinks at the green-haired barista for a stunned moment before the disappointment settles in. Maybe he waited too long and the cashier had already finished his shift? So much for his master plan. 

“Let me guess,” the girl says, reading his face. “You were expecting Toge?” 

Fireworks go off in Yuuta’s chest, flickering a shining light all the way into his eyes. 

“Toge?” he repeats back to her for confirmation. He had to be sure it was real, that he hadn’t imagined the exchange.  

“Inumaki,” she corrects, eyes narrowing. “To you, that is.” 

“Inumaki,” he amends dutifully, still unable to believe his luck. Inumaki. Purple-eyes had a name. It had been bothering Yuuta for quite some time that he didn’t know it, but he wasn’t sure it was even possible for him to find out with the way things were going. Besides leftover coffee cups each day, Yuuta didn’t have any tangible proof that these interactions had been real- but now? He had a name.

“Are you gonna order or what?” green-haired girl asks, pulling Yuuta’s head back out from the clouds they’d ascended to. 

“So he’s not working today?” he asks, knowing full well that he’s pushing his luck to the absolute max. But if she was willing to answer, he was going to pump her for as much info as he possibly could- even if it meant pushing back his caffeine fix a little longer. 

She scrunches her eyebrows at him as she inspects him from head to toe. Yuuta can’t help but shiver under her withering gaze. 

“He’s out for the next hour,” she tells him. Yuuta exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t know how, but for some reason he had actually passed whatever test she’d just put him through. “The opera kids have their juries this week.” 

Yuuta finds himself dumbstruck again.

“I’m sorry, did you say… opera?” The girl laughs at his confusion.   

“Yup. Hard to believe, I know, but Toge’s the best goddamn vocalist here,” she tells him, obviously proud of her friend. Yuuta had of course suspected that the cashier- no, Inumaki- was a student here as well, but never once had he suspected he was anything besides an instrumentalist. 

“Wait, but- but he doesn’t even-” Yuuta stammers, faltering as he tries to make the revelation make sense. 

“He’s on a permanent self-imposed vocal rest,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Supposedly regular talking puts too much strain on his throat.” 

Yuuta takes a moment to consider this- it made sense of course, but he’d never heard of anyone doing anything quite that extreme. It would be like Yuuta avoiding paper with his left hand so he didn’t have to play with a paper-cut (which admittedly, did annoy the hell out of him) if he accidentally nicked himself. Maybe he didn’t know enough about it though- Inumaki’s voice was his actual instrument, and Yuuta was certainly guilty of babying his guitars to ensure the best possible sound. 

When he looks up the green-haired girl has turned his back to him, fixing up his coffee. Somehow, she feels his eyes on her without looking back at him.

“Medium latte, right?” she asks. “You were taking too long.” 

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, fumbling to pull out his wallet so she can scan his student card, which she does wordlessly as she hands him his drink. He takes it gratefully, still in a daze from the embarrassment of riches she’s just provided him with, information-wise. He pictures what he’ll say to Inumaki when he sees him on Monday during the morning rush. There must be a way for Yuuta to use what he’s learned in a way that’ll get him closer to his goal without seeming like a stalker.

“Well?” the girl behind the register- Inumaki’s friend- demands huffily, reminding him that he’s still standing at the counter like an idiot. He startles, almost spilling his steaming drink, and thanks her before walking back out to the street. Yuuta barely feels the cold air snap at him.

What comes after is what seems like the longest weekend of Yuuta’s life. He practices on his guitar till his fingers won’t move anymore, but it does nothing to pass the time. Instead he’s forced to sit in his bed and wait it out, daydreaming about what his quiet, empty apartment would be like if Inumaki ever came to visit him. If he looked up quickly, he could picture the boy reading a book on the opposite side of the bed, back pressed against the wall. Or he could peak into the kitchen and see Inumaki glaring at him as Yuuta joked that he should make them some coffee. When he wakes up Sunday morning, he imagines hearing the shower running and the faint sounds of vocal warm-ups, wishing he had a voice to populate the fantasy. 

Yuuta tries to shake the thoughts away, reminding himself he doesn’t actually know this person- he just felt like he did. Maybe the other boy was just humoring him by playing along with his little crush, or worse- maybe everyone who frequented that coffee shop had a crush on him and Yuuta was nothing but another lovesick patron that he and the green haired girl laughed about after closing. It wasn’t entirely unlikely- how could you not be a little bit in love with a cute boy with mysterious purple eyes who kept you in coffee each day? 

But instead of deterring Yuuta, the idea of it just makes him try even harder.

When the weekend is finally over, Yuuta makes sure that he’s one of the first patrons of the day. When he walks in he can hear the whistle of all the machines whirring and working hard to start the day- a sound usually covered by all the loud college kids bustling around the place. Everyone in here today looked too groggy to even say a word, but Yuuta is wide awake. So is his favorite cashier it seems, as he’s already darting around behind the counter in perfect rhythm. 

His eyes flicker when he sees Yuuta approach the counter and immediately moves to meet him. Nowadays, Inumaki doesn’t even wait to hear Yuuta’s order- which normally thrills him to no end- but today he’s after more than a little recognition.

“Just the latte is fine,” he says leaning in and smiling ever so slightly, the next word in his mouth tasting like the most delicious of secrets, “Inumaki.” 

The other boy is so startled that he actually drops the cup as he’s writing on it. Flustered, he tries to catch it in mid-air, but just winds up dropping the sharpie he had in his other hand as he flips the cup back into the air and still manages not to catch it. His eyebrows shoot up in the most adorable bout of frantic surprise. Yuuta feels like he’s watching a cute puppy video as the boy awkwardly recovers both items, blushing as he throws the first cup into the trash can. 

When he grabs a new one, he carefully holds the sharpie towards the bottom before looking up at Yuuta expectantly. 

“Oh- you want my name?” Yuuta asks, hoping he’s able to hide how thrilled he is even by a little bit so he doesn’t come off as totally nuts. You’ll have to ask me, he wants to say- but no. That seemed cheap. He wanted Inumaki to talk to him because he wanted to, not because he had to. Yes, Yuuta would have to continue to play it cool- at least for now. “Well, I won’t lie to you… “sleepy guitar guy” is really growing on me. It’s probably better than my real name.” 

Yuuta flashes him his most winning smile, and he swears he sees the pink in Inumaki’s cheeks turn to red. That damn mask- Yuuta wished he could chant a magic spell and make it disappear. Quickly, the other boy scribbles something on to the cup and passes it off, not making direct eye-contact with Yuuta as he scans his card. Yuuta makes sure to keep smiling easily, like this is the most normal interaction the two of them have ever had, even though secretly the anticipation of reading what’s written on that cup is killing him. 

When green-haired girl finally finishes making his drink, she laughs as she spots Yuuta and reads what Inumaki has written.  

“Sorry about that- I think that message was meant for me.” She says, handing it to him and turning back to the front of the store as Yuuta reads the cup. It says: Maki you are so dead. Maki- was that green-hair's name? “We’ll see about that, Celine Dion!” she yells to him teasingly. 

Yuuta sees Inumaki literally duck as they both look over at him, as if he could somehow physically dodge their attention. Yuuta and Maki both can’t help but laugh a little.

“Aw, I think he likes you!” She says loudly, clearly in hopes that Inumaki will hear it. Now it’s Yuuta’s turn to hide his face, because this gets him blushing too. 

“Bye, now,” he says to nobody in particular as he makes his way out of the store, purposefully going slow so Inumaki won’t think that Maki has scared him off. He wanted to make sure there was no mistaking his interests, especially after he’d put himself out there like that. 

Yuuta gives them both a couple days to recover before coming back in after that, and it only proves to him that absence does in fact make the heart grow fonder. Both for Inumaki and King Salmon’s lattes. He can only hope that the sacrifice was worth it. 

When he finally does come in Thursday afternoon, he watches Inumaki steel himself as Yuuta approaches the counter. Yuuta can’t help himself from smiling at him- how could he? The other boy doesn’t seem put off by it though. Instead, he meets Yuuta’s eyes directly for a long moment before flipping his eyelashes and reaching for a cup.

“Hi, Inumaki,” Yuuta says as sweetly as possible. “I was hoping that instead of a latte today…” He stops to take a steadying breath. Inumaki gives him a soft, questioning look. “You could just make me your favorite drink?’ 

Inumaki stares at him for a long moment, considering, then writes something on the cup. Yuuta sees a glimmer in the other boy's eyes and checks off his win for the day. He’s doesn’t need anything else- nor does he expect it- which makes the next bit all the sweeter.

“Tea.”

Yuuta’s heart skips a beat.

Fuck church bells. Fuck pre-show orchestra tunings, fuck April rain tapping on rooftops, and fuck every song The Beatles have ever written. This, right now, is the most beautiful sound that Yuuta has ever heard. The pure tone of Inumaki’s voice changes gravity as Yuuta knows it- he can actually feel himself being pulled in. He’s sure it takes him entirely too long to collect himself, but he doesn’t care and Inumaki’s eyes were still on his, so clearly he didn’t either.

“Tea? J-just tea?” Yuuta sputters. 

“Honey.” Inumaki clarifies. Holy shit.

“Tea and honey. Okay. Okay!” Yuuta tells him jovially. “Wait- that does have caffeine in it, right?”  

Inumaki throws his head back to laugh at Yuuta’s panic- and literally never mind what he said about Inumaki’s speaking voice ten seconds ago: this was the new best sound. He’d let Inumaki have a laugh at his expense literally any day. It makes his heart squeeze and his cheeks ache from a smile so genuine that he didn’t even feel it spread on to his face. 

Finally, he passes off the drink to Maki and Yuuta walks over to the pick-up counter with what must be the doofiest fucking grin King Salmon Coffee has ever seen. 

“Psst.” He hears Maki try to grab his attention. He looks up at her, and then to Inumaki, whose back is turned. “Bulletin board.” She whispers, eyes fierce, as she fastens the lid on Yuuta’s cup. It takes Yuuta a second to react, but when he does he easily finds what she’s talking about. There’s a little bulletin board with various posters for school clubs and events, but mostly the announcements are for student’s recitals. He scans through them quickly till he finds what he’s looking for. 

*PANDA’S PIANO RECITAL*

Friday @ 7 PM, Shibuya Hall

Featuring the compositions of Satoru Gojo and Masamichi Yaga

Special Guest: Toge Inumaki

It takes everything him not to tear the flyer down and take it home with him. He comes back to collect his tea.

“We’re having a party after. Find me and I’ll take you,” she says, handing him the cup. “Do not tell Toge I told you.” 

Yuuta pretends to zip his lips before taking a sip of his tea. Hot. Way too hot. Maybe he had to let it cool? He wasn’t well-versed on tea drinking etiquette, but he was damn well about to be. He’s already on the street when he remembers to check what his name is today on the cup, but he finds that there’s no name at all. The only thing written is a colon and a parenthesis. 

:)

Chapter Text

The concert is well-attended, so it takes Yuuta to locate Maki. 

Considering how many student recitals occurred at their school on a nightly basis, Yuuta is impressed. He’d attended recitals for entire studios, sometimes as many as 20 students, that were as packed as this one. Well, perhaps ‘packed’ was a generous term- the concert halls at school were so small that pretty much any event seemed popular- but it was a good-sized crowd nonetheless.

Maki is hiding in the back corner, distracted and texting when she finally looks up and sees Yuuta. She waves him over within a second, the large black case hanging on her back swaying as she does. 

“Wow, what instrument is that?” Yuuta asks, genuinely curious. The case looked more fit for a dangerous weapon than an instrument, but Inumaki’s fiery friend seemed like the type who would be capable of wielding either. She makes him wait for the response, leaving him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as she finishes her text.

“Alto flute,” she answers simply, like no time has passed at all. “You came!” 

Yuuta tries not to worry about the accompanying cackle as she leads them to a couple of reserved seats in the second row. It’s then that Yuuta spots Inumaki- he’s sitting on the stage in a chair set off to the side. His spine is rail-straight and there’s a serene look on his face- his whole face, Yuuta realizes with a start, complete with a crisply cut jaw-line and soft pink lips. If Yuuta had anything to do with it, all of Inumaki’s face masks would mysteriously go missing in the morning. 

He’s absolutely staring and he knows it, but Yuuta can’t tear himself away. He’d been waiting to see Inumaki’s face unobstructed for so long that he isn’t even sure this is real. The excitement bubbles in his chest and up into his head, tugging upward at his cheeks and brow. 

Eventually, the boy looks over and spots Maki in the crowd, greeting her by making a little face, a cute expression of boredom that doesn’t quite hide his pre-performance nerves. When his eyes wander six inches to the right and land on Yuuta's, he actually jumps in his seat, all the color draining from his face. Bashfully, Yuuta supplies a little wave to the other boy as he watches his neck creaks slowly back to Maki with eyes that could kill. She responds with a toothless, shit-eating grin and two thumbs up. 

Yuuta feels slightly guilty as Inumaki’s gaze shifts back to the blank wall in front of him, shoulders up to his ears in residual shock, but it does nothing to deter him. He makes himself comfortable as the lights start to dim and everyone claps for the main-act to take the stage. 

The guy from the poster takes a humble bow in front of the piano before sitting down to play. Yuuta realizes with a twinge of embarrassment that this guy, Panda, is one of the weekend baristas that Yuuta had never thought to look twice at, simply on the principle that he wasn’t Inumaki. 

The piano playing is inarguably good, but such is the case of most of the piano-majors at their school: most of them had reached levels of excellence that were practically inhuman long before they arrived here. What really distinguishes Panda, though, are his musical selections and incredible range. His performance is so good that it almost distracts Yuuta from the task at hand. Almost. 

He barely takes his eyes off of poor, unsuspecting Inumaki the whole concert. But when he does in favor of the main act, if he isn’t mistaken, he feels the corners of Inumaki’s eyes latch to his in the darkness. Perhaps that’s just a delusion, but it’s one that Yuuta will take with both hands and swallow greedily- much like he would a drink from King Salmon. He can practically feel the warmth flooding his chest, radiating through the rest of his body. 

And then, in a single breath after a long series of songs, Inumaki has stood and taken center stage, nestled in the crook of the concert grand. 

His shoulders are pulled back, presenting himself to the audience with poise and confidence. The stance would seem perfectly natural to most, but Yuuta can tell there’s a guardedness to it, one that he’d seen glimpses of in his early days of visiting the shop. Even though they were far from a lazy morning slouched over the front counter, Inumaki no longer hidden inside a crisp mask and the folds of an oversized sweater with thick rolled-up sleeves, Yuuta still gets the sense that he’s armoring himself against the world as he steps on the stage.  

Yuuta is worried for a moment- worried for Inumaki that is. Yuuta was familiar with this specific brand of nerves, that reeling feeling that pulls and constricts deep in your chest the moments before a performance starts. It was an unavoidable reality at a school with a performance regimen like theirs. Still, Yuuta had never noticed it on someone else before, never watched it happen in real time- but with Inumaki he has no trouble identifying every moment of it. His face, unmasked, was an open book, written in a language that Yuuta has managed to learn against all odds. The piano starts and one last, almost imperceivable bout of tension twitches through his arms. Yuuta sits straight up in his seat. 

But then, Inumaki opens his mouth and it all falls away. 

The clearest of voices bursts through the hall. It bounces against the back wall and back at him, a sword piercing through on both sides. Inumaki’s armor has dropped, giving way to a version of him that Yuuta has not yet seen, one Yuuta can’t quite believe is real. It’s difficult for him to equate this person- so open and vulnerable and raw- to the one he’d seen every day prior, but here he was: sharing himself with such sincerity, the core of him on full display. It’s impossible for Yuuta not to lean in, like a string had formed in the middle of his collarbone and attached itself to the boy on stage. 

He sings like he’ll die if he doesn’t. The power in his voice only unlocks as the song goes on, showcasing not only his masterful vocal technique with each build, but the clear depths of his emotional understanding of the piece. Yuuta feels a tear prick at his eyes as the pureness of it washes over him, but he ignores it. He’s not willing to waste even a moment to wipe it away.

So this was the real Inumaki. Yuuta isn’t surprised at all. He thinks back to the day they met, when he first felt the gravitational pull to the purple-eyed boy. Even then he knew there was more than met the eye, unseen layers beneath the cool surface- a molten core, solid and red-hot. He should feel satisfied- the mystery is solved, after all- but he doesn’t. This has only sparked a hundred more questions, an ever deeper desire to get dragged into orbit. 

It goes too quickly. Yuuta can tell the song is close to its end, the sweeping crescendo ringing so loudly it threatens to break the rickety, wooden concert hall to pieces. He doesn’t want it to end, but he prepares himself for it. But then, as if directly answering Yuuta’s prayers, one last section is tacked on to the end to ease them into the finish. Inumaki’s voice has dropped to the equivalent of a whisper, and everyone in the crowd holds their breath as his soft, silky voice glides through the final passage. When the last note has been sung, Inumaki’s body crumples with relief, his shoulders and chest collapsing forward.

The audience is riotous, confirming Yuuta’s suspicion that he was not the only one riveted by the performance. He doesn’t realize he’s jumped to his feet until he realizes that no one else has stood up to clap, so he plants his butt back in the seat as quickly as possible, not wanting to steal any of the attention. Inumaki smiles sheepishly, not knowing what to do with himself in face of the applause. He turns back to Panda and shrugs, as if to apologize for stealing the spotlight. Panda can only laugh, flashing him a good-natured grin before launching into one last riotous performance to close the show. This time, everyone gives a standing ovation.

“He’s good, right?” Maki says in his ear, disrupting his trance. Dumbfounded, Yuuta can only manage the slightest of nods. She smirks triumphantly. “I told you so.” 

He’s so glad she did. He quickly thanks her for inviting him, but she’s disappeared, off to talk to someone else in the crowd. Panda and Inumaki have already hopped off the stage, swarmed by fellow classmates expressing their congratulations before dipping. Yuuta waits patiently for the crowd to thin.

Inumaki’s cheeks twinge pink when he sees Yuuta standing nearby, a rose color that matches his lips and stands out on his skin like paint on canvas, but he slowly makes his way over. Their eyes dance between the floor and each other as he approaches, too awkward to fully meet at the same time for more than a split-second. 

“You were amazing,” Yuuta blurts. He can’t help himself. Inumaki’s brow twitches upward with doubt. “I mean it. I could listen to you sing that song a thousand times and not get tired of it. It was otherworldly- I was completely under your spell.” 

Yuuta mentally chides himself for saying something so cheesy, but Inumaki doesn’t seem to mind. The corners of his lips twitch and Yuuta smiles back plainly till he hears metal clattering behind him. The crowd has cleared out and Panda has started stacking the chairs.

“Need any help?” Yuuta asks, but his body is already moving toward the first row. Panda cheers, relieved to not have to do it all himself. Foolishly, Yuuta thinks he might impress Inumaki by taking a few chairs at once, but Inumaki follows his lead and takes just as many. It becomes something of an unspoken race- who can get their side done quicker. Inumaki is quick and clever, playfully cutting in front of Yuuta to get to the chair rack first. 

When they turn around to do the last couple of sets, Maki had reappeared and picked up both their slack at once, effortlessly walking by both of them with a sky-high stack of chairs like it’s nothing. They can only laugh. Inumaki rolls his eyes as she lifts the stack over her shoulders, flexing as she does it. Even Panda, who looks pretty damn strong himself, looks bewildered by it.

“Can we go now?” she asks boredly, collecting her things. They motion for Yuuta to join them.The four of them walk together to their apartment- Panda, Maki and Inumaki are all roommates as it turns out- with jackets pulled tight against the cold night air and remarkably quick footsteps. Yuuta is lucky he’s able to keep up with them. 

The party Maki touted was less of a party, and more of a post-concert hangover hangout as it turns out. The only other people they’re expecting are a girl Maki has been talking to and a couple of her friends. 

“If either of you embarrass me in front of Nobara,” she warns her roommates, reaching a double bottle of cheap white wine out of their fridge, “There will be consequences. Remember- I know where you sleep.” 

Panda isn’t paying attention and Inumaki makes a show of pretending to zip his lips. Maki lets out an exasperated sigh and starts pouring drinks. She offers one to Yuuta first, which he takes politely. 

“You always seem to be making me drinks!” He jokes, but Maki does not seem amused by it, so he moves on quickly. “Inumaki, did you want-” He starts, but when he turns around the other boy has disappeared down the hall.

“He doesn’t drink.” Maki explains, taking a sip from her own cup. “Dries him out too much. Told you he was dedicated.” 

She shifts her attention to Panda, leveraging his drink until he promises to be on his best behavior. Left to his own devices, Yuuta slowly putters down the hall toward Inumaki, who leans in the doorway. He doesn’t look up, as if he already knew Yuuta would come after him eventually. 

“Is this your room?” Yuuta asks. He nods, taking a step back as Yuuta brushes past him and through the door. 

The room is small, but still spare- completely neat and tidy. The only place with any clutter is the top of his dresser which even from across the room Yuuta can tell is an absolute shrine to Inumaki’s vocal health. The first thing he spots is a large humidifier, pumping cool mist into the room toward the bed. Next to it is some sort of facial steamer and little plastic boxes containing various lozenges, cough syrups and vitamins. Absent-mindedly, Yuuta has wandered over to the display and picked up one of the bottles, which says it contains capsules of something called “slippery elm.” He puts it back down carefully.

That’s just the first half of the dresser. On the other side is a full-scale tea making operation: an electric kettle, various flavors of honeys, a large assortment of tea bags, and a crisp white mug with a small black design on the lip that Yuuta couldn’t make out. Perhaps they were little snakes? Yuuta thumbs at one of the paper wrapped bags of tea. 

“Throat coat?” he asks, curious. He looks back at Inumaki, fully expecting to not get an answer, and is surprised to find a look of panic on his face. Yuuta instantly gets the impression that not many people had been in here and the other boy was clearly feeling exposed by all the scrutiny. 

“You should see my collection at home- extra guitar strings, nail clippers and files- classical guitar players need all sorts of random things. Not to mention all the actual guitars I own. Can’t say my stuff is quite as well organized as yours though,” Yuuta says, hoping he’s put the other boy at ease. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Inumaki’s face and posture soften. Yuuta breathes easier. “I guess I should have known you’d have your own barista set up.”

Inumaki breathes out a laugh and ambles across the room, lifting himself onto his bed and crossing his legs neatly. Yuuta stands his ground across the room, despite the obvious desire to close the distance. He’d pushed his luck enough tonight, had half-expected to have his party invite revoked after showing up. 

“So,” Yuuta ventures carefully. “Maki says you don’t talk at all. Is that true?”

A shadow falls across the other boy’s face. Hesitantly, he opens a mouth, as if he feels duty-bound to offer an explanation.

“It’s okay,” Yuuta jumps in. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It doesn’t bother me.”

The relief is palpable, felt in the air and evidenced by the relaxed set of Inumaki’s jaw and shoulders. He shuts his mouth gently, clearly grateful for the reprieve. Then, much to Yuuta’s surprise, he tilts his head and nods toward the empty spot next to him, beckoning him over. Yuuta approaches slowly, somehow worried that Inumaki might spook, and sits gingerly on the smallest edge of the white sheets, head swimming.  

“I probably talk enough for the both of us,” Yuuta laughs, suddenly feeling self-conscious about it all. “Not on purpose! But, you know. I live alone and I don’t really have a lot of friends here so I don’t really get an opportunity to talk to people very often so when I finally do talk it just like, explodes out of me. Like I was saving it all up and I didn’t even realize! Then I start rambling, and I can’t stop- it’s actually pretty embarrassing, usually people’s eyes start glazing over and then I start apologizing and-” 

Suddenly, lips are on his. Sweet and quick, brushing just close enough to stop Yuuta’s jabbering in its tracks. But Inumaki has pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as he leaned in for it, using the reclaimed space to study Yuuta’s face. Yuuta blinks at him, stunned. Mortification washes over Inumaki’s face, and Yuuta realizes the other boy has somehow interpreted Yuuta’s gleeful surprise as disinterest. 

Yuuta has no choice but to show him he is mistaken. 

He closes the distance between them again, initiating the next kiss himself. This kiss is neither sweet nor quick, instead it is desperate- and neither of them show any signs of pulling away any time soon. Maybe the conversations they’d had up until this moment have been untraditional, but right now their lips were communicating with perfect clarity. 

Their chests press together, impossible closeness for a first kiss, and yet it still doesn’t feel close enough. Yuuta snakes a gentle hand around the small of Inumaki’s back to hold them both steady and Inumaki weaves his fingers through Yuuta’s hair, his thumbs resting on the tops of Yuuta’s cheeks. The gesture feels deliberate, like Inumaki has been waiting to do it for weeks. 

Could it be that all this time, Yuuta’s crush hadn’t been unrequited after all? 

He wants the kiss to last forever, but obviously it can’t. When they finally come up for air, both of them are gasping, lungs completely depleted. If it’s painful, Yuuta doesn’t feel it. He’s too busy taking Inumaki in- the purple shade of his eyes is even more brilliant up close, even with the fringe of his silvery hair falling in front of them. Inumaki seems perfectly content to do the same, reverently brushing a thumb over Yuuta’s lips.

“Oh, thank god,” Yuuta breathes, his whole body tingling. “I thought I was crazy. That this was totally one-sided. But-” 

Inumaki shakes his head vehemently. 

“Since the second I saw you. The very first second,” Yuuta whispers. Slowly, Inumaki presses two gentle, purposeful kisses to either side of his lips, as if to say: me too. Kisses are so much better than words, Yuuta thinks. It just took meeting Inumaki for him to figure it out. 

The door flies open with a clatter and Yuuta and Inumaki fly away from each other, the snow globe moment they’d been living in shattering around them. 

“But I wanna meet your friends!” a girl whines, before stepping in. Her eyes go straight to Yuuta. “Hey! I know you!” 

If either of you embarrass me infront of Nobara, Maki had said. Of course- Yuuta should have put it together sooner, but better late than never. 

“Inumaki, this is Nobara Kugisaki.” He says, before turning sheepishly to the boy. “Kugisaki is actually the one who recommended King Salmon to me. I may have never come in if she hadn’t.”

Inumaki glows with the realization. He jumps off the bed and greets the girl by throwing his arms around her and squeezing. She looks at Yuuta with wide eyes. 

“Nice to meet you, too?” She says, unsure. “Maki! Your friends are weird!” 

Inumaki and Yuuta laugh as he releases her and she backs out of the room. Yuuta wonders if Maki and Kugisaki met at the King Salmon, as well. Perhaps they’d also spent the last few weeks flirting at the counter. It’s a nice thought, but even if it isn’t true, Yuuta is beyond grateful to both of them- the two people who set this whole thing into motion. It seemed fitting that they might be together as well. 

“Should we re-join the party?” Yuuta asks, rubbing the back of his head. “I- I kinda wanna meet your friends, too.” 

Toge laces his hand through Yuuta’s with ease and leads them back to the main room, where Maki, Panda, and Kugisaki’s group are gathered around a table at the kitchen. Maki raises her eyebrows suggestively when she sees them and Inumaki swats at her, but his eyes are still smiling. 

The night settles into a pleasant fuzz of wine and laughter. Kugisaki and her friends are wild, even despite the grumpy dark-haired boy's attempts to keep them in check. The conversation flows easily and Inumaki holds Yuuta’s hand under the table the whole time. Yuuta can’t remember the last time was at a party- the last time he’d hung out with anyone who actually wanted him around. He can’t think about it too much or his eyes start to get misty. 

But all good things must to come to an end. Panda still has to work tomorrow. Kugisaki decides to spend the night and tells her friends to go home. She and Maki have shut themselves in Maki’s room, a lock clicking definitively behind them. It’s just Inumaki and Yuuta now, hovering by the door. Yuuta knows it’s time for him to go- they’ve skipped too many steps tonight- but the excitement hasn’t quite ended. Inumaki reaches for Yuuta’s phone and punches in his number, and Yuuta feels a whole world of possibilities open as he does.

And to make matters even better, when Yuuta looks down at the contact info it just reads: Toge. The two of them were officially on a first name basis. 

Yuuta feels the need to take the win and run before anyone can change their minds. He opens the front door to go, but Toge catches his wrist. 

“Your name,” he says softly, face flushing.

Yuuta chuckles. Of course- Toge doesn't know his name. No one at the coffee shop had ever asked him, they knew him only by his distinguishing features and various nicknames.

“Yuuta,” he replies with a beaming smile. “But… will you still call me ‘sleepy guitar guy’ from time to time?” 

Toge balances on his tiptoes and places a kiss on Yuuta’s lips.

Yes. 

Chapter Text

These days, Yuuta seems to always have his hands full. Admittedly, that’s because most of the time he is hunched over his guitar- tirelessly at work with both hands as finals draw closer and closer. Music school, as it turned out, is no joke. Sometimes he feels like he's practicing around the clock. However, on slightly more exciting occasions, Yuuta finds himself happily busy with other things- one hand holding a fresh cup of coffee and the other laced snugly between Toge’s fingers. 

They’re on day 101, since Yuuta likes to keep track.

The whole thing feels a little too easy: falling in love at first sight (and falling even deeper with each subsequent first, from word to kiss) and sliding effortlessly into a new group of friends. Yuuta resists the urge to look over his shoulder as much as he can, still feeling as if he’s gotten away with something. The truth is, he’s never really had friends before- people he could talk about music with and, for some reason, actually seemed to want him around. 

And even though Toge is technically his boy friend, he feels just as much like a best friend. The combination is delightful, thrilling, and entirely distracting. It’s good that Toge is serious about his studies, or Yuuta would have trouble reminding himself that he needs to be too. 

Toge actually has him studying all the time- Yuuta is learning a new language, after all. One that speaks in the expressions that dance across Toge’s face, in flicks of his fingers and graceful extensions of limbs, in the shorthand scrawled on a dingy dollar-store whiteboard living on Panda and Maki’s kitchen table. Against all odds Yuuta has already started to feel like an old pro at deciphering it all, shrugging on this new aspect of life like an old sweater. 

There’s a snag of course, but only a small one. 

Yuuta has been accused of “stealing” Toge. Not by an ex-lover of course, but by his friends/roommates/co-workers, who you would think saw plenty of him as it was. Originally, Yuuta thought it was because Toge’s company was such a popular commodity- but that was only part of the issue. 

The main problem is that Yuuta’s apartment is right next to King Salmon. The one that Panda, Maki, and Toge share is decidedly… not. That being said, their apartment is much nicer than Yuuta’s, which is basically a bed, a closet-sized kitchenette and a futon that is constantly draped with a guitar and scads of sheet music. That’s why Toge and Yuuta had spent most of their time at Toge’s place, watching movies with the gang and taking advantage of the working oven to bake cookie dough bricks from the local grocery store. 

But then they all started to realize something: if Toge spent the night at Yuuta’s it would net him a full fifteen extra minutes of sleep in the morning- quite the commodity considering how early his shifts start. It was an idea that neither of them were opposed to, to say the least. They’d been talking about the possibility for weeks, but hadn’t found the courage to test it out yet.

Until tonight, that is. 

Winter is in full swing, so Toge’s main excuse to ditch Maki and Panda is to tell them that he’d be avoiding a freezing walk in the windy darkness, which would ‘strn th vcs,’ (AKA, ‘strain the vocal cords’ in whiteboard speak- a popular phrase Yuuta had learned quite early, and one that Maki seemed particularly unfond of). 

“If you wanna go canoodle with your boyfriend, just say that,” she grumbled as Toge bundled up a thick navy scarf methodically around his face and throat. 

‘Ur jst jls,’ he wrote back to her swiftly with mittened hands, leaning over the table and springing back to Yuuta’s side with record time. He doesn’t stick around to see Maki’s response, linking his arm into Yuuta’s and leading him out of the apartment. 

“J-L-S?” Maki calls after them. “Jealous? I’m am not-”

Toge slams the door with glee before she can finish the sentence, looking up at Yuuta with an easy smile. Unlike Yuuta, Toge never seems to be afraid of Maki’s wrath. Usually he’d worry about it, or apologize on his behalf, but today he can’t be bothered. Nothing was going to sour their outing for him. 

Yuuta had been cleaning the apartment all week in preparation. He’d gone through an entire roll of clorox wipes scrubbing every surface on the place over and over, just in case he’d missed something on the previous round. It was okay if he lived in semi-squalor, but Toge wouldn’t be subjected to that. Now, the place was cleaner than it was when Yuuta moved in- which wasn’t really saying all that much, but it was an improvement. The fridge was stocked and Yuuta had even gotten a kettle for Toge to make tea. 

The truth is, Toge has never even been in Yuuta’s apartment before. There’d never been a real need for it. And besides, it seemed different- decidedly less casual than heading to the group’s apartment to hang out. Just the two of them in a small, cozy space. 

Yuuta would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about how it was going to go over. There was a strong possibility that Toge would feel uncomfortable in the new space and never want to come back. Why would he, when things were so well set up at his own place? 

“Okay,” Yuuta says, stopping short at the door and blocking it with his body. “If you hate it and want to go home just let me know and I’ll walk you back- no questions asked.” 

Toge rolls his eyes, too familiar with Yuuta’s self-effacing tendencies to find them unflinchingly charming like he once did. He shoos Yuuta out of the doorway and snatches the keys from hands. 

“The lock is kind of sticky, actually,” Yuuta warns, “And you have to twist it backwards, I don’t exactly know-” But Toge has already figured it out, tossing the keys back to Yuuta and pushing the door wide open. 

One of the big selling features of Yuuta’s apartment was that it had built-in shelves. The previous tenant had classily filled them with trophies of their well-spent weekends: muddy sea glass beer and liquor bottles pressed tightly together like misshapen mosaic tiles. The building manager seemed scandalized by it, apologizing profusely when he showed Yuuta the apartment, but Yuuta thought it actually gave the place some character. He’d wondered how he’d fill the space when he moved in for quite some time before it finally hit him. 

Coffee Cups.  

Toge’s jaw drops and Yuuta’s stomach does a little flip as the corners of his mouth flick up. He’d sort of been hoping for that reaction. Yuuta wasn’t exactly a big drinker- when it came to alcohol, that is. Coffee? A completely different story. 

When he saved the first cup, it hadn’t really been on purpose. Lost in a caffeine-induced daze, he’d accidentally carried around the cup all day, clinging to it like a security blanket. When he realized it was actually long past time to throw it away, he spotted the bright little fish on the sleeve and the carefully penned nickname on the bottom and decided he simply couldn’t part with it. When he got home that night he placed it gingerly on the top shelf, right at the corner edge. The dim light from his lamp bounced off its bright white finish, almost like a little disco ball. 

And with that, a new ritual was born. Every time Yuuta got a new cup, he saved it all day so he could put it up for display with its mates. Eventually the sorting got more complicated- Yuuta had started grouping the ones with repeated nicknames and had started trying find special spots for his favorites (but then of course, at some point they all became his favorite)- but eventually he’d saved enough to create the effect he was looking for. Now, it was almost as overwhelming as walking in and seeing the last tenant’s empties. Yuuta had just found a way to put his own spin on it. 

He’d managed to save every single cup, too. If Toge touched it, it was up there. A hundred little monuments to their relationship, a physical representation from start to… wherever they were now. It certainly wasn’t an ending. They’d had moments as strangers, moments as unlikely friends, as crushes, as honeymoon-phasers, as official boyfriends - and it was all there. 

“The big section in the middle is all the “sleepy guitar guy” cups,” Yuuta explains to a rendered speechless Toge. “I probably have about forty of of those- which is funny, considering that at the time I thought it was the nicest thing anyone would ever write about me on a coffee cup. Little did I know.” 

Toge doesn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he steps toward the display as if being drawn by a string. He kicks off his shoes and jumps on to Yuuta’s bed to get a closer look. He’s wearing Yuuta’s favorite pair of socks- the ones with little rice balls. Had he worn them special for their first night here? Yuuta wants to think yes. 

Delicately, Toge picks up a random cup and inspects it. Yuuta lets him take his time with it, shutting the door behind them and kicking off his own shoes. When he turns back around, Toge has a second cup in his hands and is tracing the rest of them with wide, wild eyes. Yuuta recognizes the other cup he’s holding. It’s the very first one. After a long moment, he puts them both down and tugs at the piece of scarf covering his mouth.

“... All of them?” he asks gently, the hum of his voice somehow even more electric in the small space. 

“I couldn’t exactly throw any of them away,” Yuuta admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh! And I got you something- a little welcome gift.” 

Yuuta had stashed a small white board on top of the fridge. The bookstore only had pink, so pink it was. He suspected that Toge wouldn’t mind. He hands it to Toge, but Toge barely looks at it, throwing it down on the bed and bouncing into Yuuta’s arms. 

“All of them,” he repeats, a murmur into Yuuta’s chest. 

“What can I say? I was yours right from the beginning,” Yuuta tells him, unable to contain his smile. 

“Even the mean ones,” Toge says, his voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. 

“Oh, especially the mean ones. The mean ones are my favorite.” Yuuta tells him, though they both know it's a lie. He likes the sickly sweet ones that make Maki roll her eyes and charmingly pretend to vomit in her mouth as she passes it over at the counter. “But hey- I don’t want to be the one who breaks your vocal rest, okay? That’s what the whiteboard is for. I think I’m getting good enough that I don’t even need Maki and Panda to interpret anymore.” 

Toge pauses, considering this. Yuuta worries for a second. What if he wasn’t as good at interpreting it all as he thought? What if things were different without their buffer? Maybe Toge wouldn’t have as much fun without them. But then Toge continues, hesitantly. 

“What if… I took the night off from vocal rest?” He inquires quietly, thoughtfully. “I… I don’t have to sing tomorrow.” 

“Are- are you sure?” Yuuta asks, stunned. This may already be more words than he’s gotten from Toge all month. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” 

“Just don’t tell Maki and Panda?” 

“What, you don’t want them to get J-L-S?” 

That earns Yuuta a playful swat, but Toge doesn’t protest when Yuuta pulls him right back into the embrace. 

“Can I ask you something?” Yuuta starts, not sure if he’s crossing a line. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but… I sort of have this dream for us.” 

Toge, interested, quirks an eyebrow at Yuuta. 

“If you’re really on vocal rest… and you can say no,” He continues. Toge rolls his eyes, silently willing Yuuta to stop beating around the bush. Before going on, Yuuta feels his eyes drifting to his guitar, hanging off the edge of the couch. “Could we play something? Together?” 

Yuuta wishes he had a picture of the way Toge’s face lights up when he suggests it. He’d told Yuuta once that Maki and Panda were beyond sick of hearing him sing after being subjected to several concerts and practice sessions. Yuuta had no reason to feel that way though, and was still desperate to hear Toge’s voice as much as he was willing to share it. 

A shining smile spreading across his face, Toge agrees enthusiastically. 

It takes them a little while to figure out what they should play- the overlap of their respective genres not nearly as broad as they’d imagined. Eventually, Yuuta just starts naming random popular songs he’d learned to play over the years in hopes that Toge would happen to know one of them.  Funnily enough, the first one he recognizes is one of the very first songs Yuuta ever learned to play. 

The two of them sit across from each other, crossed-legged on Yuuta’s bed. The anticipation is practically brimming out of them- Toge’s knee bouncing and Yuuta’s fingers twitching over the strings. He can only pray he remembers the tune as well as he’d hoped. This would be their first time making music together. He wouldn't mess it up.  

“Are you ready?” he asks, just to make sure. Toge nods eagerly. 

Once the permission is granted, Yuuta does what he does best. His muscle memory takes over, hands and fingers gliding up the neck of the guitar as he gently picks at the strings. The intro of the song echoes throughout the apartment as Toge starts to sing, clear and true. 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

It takes Yuuta a second to notice that the music has dropped out. He’s so entranced by the earnest purity of Toge’s voice, the practiced motions of his lip, that he doesn’t even realize that he’s the one who’s stopped playing. The song has been dead on Yuuta’s strings for more than a minute by the time Yuuta recognizes the pouty furrow of Toge’s brows. 

“Yuuta,” he beckons, “Keep going.” 

***

The next morning, a brawl breaks out the second Yuuta enters the shop. 

“Oh, no,” he can hear Maki yelling. “No way. I’m on register today. You don’t get to switch jobs just ‘cause your boy toy walked through the door!” 

But Toge is too fast for her, snatching a medium sized cup out her hand while she’s too busy scolding him. She retaliates of course, grabbing the pen off the counter and dashing out of reach. By the time Yuuta gets to the counter, they are full-on fighting, a storm of limbs and sharp yelps. 

“Um… guys?” he tries. They don’t even look up. 

“Yeah, I’m not going near that,” Panda calls, catching his eyes from the other end of the counter- pretty much as far away from the pair as he can get. “But good luck!” 

When Yuuta turns back, the two of them have reached a stalemate. There is a brief moment of fragile peace as they stand silent and frozen, the pen perched just above Toge’s head. Maki is using every centimeter of height she has on Toge to her advantage, which Yuuta is sure drives him crazy. Clearly, she was not taking Toge’s night away from home as well as they’d hoped. 

“You’re not going to make that deeply sleep deprived, sad sack you call a boyfriend wait any longer for his latte than he has to, are you?” she says calmly, with the same tenderness she would with a child. 

“Actually I-”

“Shut up,” Maki tells Yuuta pointedly, not even bothering to look over. “Think of Yuuta, Toge. He wants his coffee.” 

Yuuta can see the conflict churning in Toge’s head as he considers his options. Finally, as they wait with bated breath, he makes the decision to give in. He nods at Maki mournfully, handing her the win. Smug, she finally starts to lower the marker.

The next bit happens almost in slow motion.

Maki, victorious and smirking, she has no idea what’s coming for her as she lowers her hand. In one swift motion, Toge pulls down his mask, jumps three inches into the air, and bites Maki’s wrist. 

“Fucker!” she yelps. Yuuta’s jaw has dropped three stories. 

She drops the pen on reflex and Toge catches it mid-air, racing away from her so he can fill in the bottom of the cup. Yuuta and Maki can only watch, still aghast.

“We, umm…” Yuuta tries to explain. “We have a thing with the cups.” 

“This is a place of business, Okkotsu,” she fires back, brandishing her wound. “Get it the fuck together.” 

Woof. Not much Yuuta can say to that. 

“Yeah… I’m not saying that out loud,” Yuuta hears Panda remark, effectively rescuing Yuuta from having to continue the conversation. Toge has finished making Yuuta’s drink in what must be record time and has handed it to Panda at the pick up counter. He grimaces as he reads it, and Yuuta’s mind goes tingly with the possibilities of what it could say. He abandons his spot at the register- Toge and the gang are long past swiping his meal card when he comes in- and all but trips over his feet to get to the drink. As he grabs it, a blushing Toge jumps behind Panda for cover. 

Yuuta has never been hungrier to read three words at the bottom of a cup in his life. He practically vibrates with excitement as he takes it. He doesn’t even worry about the fact that Panda won’t make eye contact with him. This is the first cup he’ll be adding to the collection that Toge knew was being saved for prosperity. There had to be something special written on it. He’s already started calculating a place of honor for it on his shelf. 

Shameless, Yuuta wastes no time. He reads it right then and there, the message tucked inside a loopy, hand-drawn heart- almost as if Toge had carved it into the bark of a tree.

It says: Yuuta + Toge forever.