Work Text:
Daichi didn't recall being the kind of person to be left without words by the sight of someone.
Still, that was exactly what happened to him when he met that young poet.
He would always come at the same time of the day, exactly when there was half an hour for the sun to set. It's not like Daichi knew this because he was a kind of creep or something, it was just that his shift always began at a similar hour. So, he would always take his order.
The young man he knew was named Sugawara was always immersed in some kind of book when he saw him come to the coffee shop. He would always carry a little brown notebook made of leather, and would stop his reading from time to time to write down something on it. Though, his almond eyes would never lose the concentration on whatever he was reading.
He appeared to be a simple young poet; dressed sophisticatedly in what Daichi could describe as light academia style (he wasn't an expert in fashion, though, so he might have been biased by the fact that he was a poet), his silver hair always looking fluffy and soft but never uncared-for, and he would always order the same thing. Daichi would smile at him everytime he took his order, since he had this little game in his head where he guessed his order before he even spoke. He always got it right.
Sugawara seemed like such a nice person to Daichi; even the way he talked resembled the voice of those who spent hours reading poetry outloud. The few times they had spoken, Daichi had gained the strengh to ask him what he did and make a simple comment from time to time on how he always saw him coming to the shop, and Suga would simply smile brightly and answer in a way that most of the time left Daichi wanting to know more. He had discovered Suga was a poetry student in a nearby college, and the shop was near his house so he always came after studying to read a couple of books in order to quiet his mind.
There was this one day where Suga seemed specially invested in his reading. His face light up with a smile everytime his eyes moved horizontally through the verses on a slim blue book, and his hand wrote carefully on his small notebook without moving his sight from his reading. Daichi, after entering through the door and puting on his apron to begin his shift, felt suddenly a pair of eyes drift towards him. He knew whose eyes those were, and he felt a faint shade of pink rise to his cheeks.
Suga looked at Daichi for a couple of seconds before quickly writing something down on his notebook; his golden eyes now concentrated on what he had written down on the notebook. It was an idea for a poem he felt he might need later. As he did this, he noticed something that made his heart feel warm.
The sun was now setting. Suga's favorite part of the day was exactly that one: feeling the hot rays of the afternoon sun on his skin and his face, so bright that he had to put his hand over his right side of his face in order to prevent his eyes from hurting. He always chose a table next to one of the windows to get a perfect view of the sun, being this one of the few things that could take his whole attention due to how much joy and peace it made him feel. If there was something in this world that could be considered pure beauty, it was definitely the sunset. Suga smiled at the thought of his admiration for the sun being cheesy (this was a topic that was often written about in poems), but still, there was not even a drop of emotion taken away from his expression.
Daichi was observing this whole scene from behind the counter, a couple of meters away from where Suga was sitting. He felt suddenly as if his eyes were trapped by a curse, or a blessing, and he wasn't able to look away from the young poet who the sun made look like someone who had come out of a sonnet.
He was in awe.
He took this as his opportunity to look at Suga closely; he noticed how the golden light of the sunset made his soft silver hair shine, and his soft pink face looked like someone who was in love with the world, perfect in mind and soul. Daichi noticed his beauty mark next to his left eye and his silver eyelashes made it almost look obvious that he was born to be an artist, and he could've swore his deep almond eyes were reflecting the golden light that carelessly caressed his face too.
He had never been left without words by the sight of something, let alone by the sight of someone; actually, Daichi always considered himself someone who was pretty straight forward and confident about his emotions and making friends. But this was different. He was frozen in his place, like the poet in front of him had something in his eyes that was able to control whoever saw him in that state of artistic purity.
He had never seen someone irradiate such passion and emotion, not in such an artistic way. Daichi felt how his heart started beating so fast each second that he spent looking at Suga, his eyes moving to how his hand rythmically tapped the top of his book, wondering how it would feel to be touched by such soft-looking hands. The fact that he studied poetry did not only indicate he knew about verses and rhymes and metaphors; it looked like his knowledge of art and sensitivity was engrained in his soul too.
Daichi really couldn't stop staring.
That was, until he noticed a small grin come to Suga's lips and he was forced to look away; or else, he would've lost all of his composture.
Daichi was suddenly brought to earth by a small touch on his shoulder from his boss, indicating him to go deliver the cup of coffee that had been resting on his hands for the last couple of minutes. He concentrated his view on the cup he was carrying, and drew his course towards the table of the young poet who was still looking outside the window.
Suga felt his presence, and his eyes met Daichi's deep brown ones. He offered a serene "thank you," making Daichi flinch by how soft and lovely his voice sounded. He was convinced this man was from a book of poetry or something.
He went back to the counter and noticed how Suga closed his eyes at the sweet smell of the coffee he had om his hands. His heart felt warm.
The young silver haired man felt like he had just gotten a fresh breeze of inspiration, feeling that kind of adrenaline he always felt when he knew some verses had the potential to become a good poem. After a while of reading, writing and drinking his coffee, Suga turned his view to his notebook once more and quickly wrote a note. His heart was beating fast as he did this.
After paying for his coffee, he took the piece of paper out of the notebook and apporached Daichi, whose eyes widened by the sight of Suga directly walking towards him. The poet offered him a shy smile before handing the piece of paper, now folded in half, to him.
Without saying a word, he rushed (casually though, he didn't want to look weird) towards his table and quickly packed his things, leaving through the door with his hands shaking with emotion; Daichi being left with a confused smile on his face that hid the euphoric feeling that was devoring his heart. He eagerly opened the note, his eyes quickly reading through the neatly written words.
He felt a sweet smile crawl to his face and a soft heat colored his cheeks pink, as he looked over to the door where the author of the note had left through a couple of minutes ago.
Daichi was left wondering what kind of beautiful poems Suga wrote. Though, his heart skipped a beat when he realized he was about to be given a glimpse of it.
"To the sweet barista who always smiles at me whenever he takes my orders.
I have an idea for a poem and would like you to help me with it, are you free tomorrow? If you want to, of course. Let me know! :)
-Sugawara, the guy who always orders the same."
And he had left his phone number.
Daichi laughed. He was happy, he was excited.
He was glad to work there, in that café, at the same hour that the sun set.