Work Text:
"Futakuchi!"
Kenji doesn't bother looking up from his sketchbook at the sound of Kamasaki's voice. His roommate is always yelling at him about one thing or another, and lately it's been over the littlest things, like if Kenji leaves his dirty clothes strewn about the room, or if he left a trail of water going into their room from his shower. Whatever it is, he's sure Kamasaki is overreacting.
Kenji over-exaggerates a tired sigh and glances up at his friend with a disappointed expression. "Looks like you found me again. And I thought my hiding place was pretty good this time." He gestures around at the enclosed area behind the science building. He thought it was a mostly obscure place to hide, especially since he was certain Kamasaki didn't even know this area existed.
Kamasaki is frowning hard, and Kenji resists the strong urge to tell him he'll get wrinkles if he keeps doing that. "You're easy to find—you never go off campus."
Kenji raises an eyebrow, and Kamasaki smacks his forehead with his palm.
"Shit," he groans, clearly regretting what he'd just said. "Just—forget about that. Our class is starting in a few minutes and I don't want to be late."
"Miss Oshiro loves me," Kenji announces smugly. "She won't care if I'm late."
"Well, I care, dumbass," his friend snaps back, taking his wrist in a firm, almost painful, grip and dragging him to his feet. He doesn't let go until the two of them have stepped inside the art room. Kenji rubs at his wrist and mutters profanities under his breath while Kamasaki greets the art teacher.
"Good morning, Miss Oshiro," he says, bowing slightly.
"Morning, boys," the middle-aged woman sings happily. "It's good to see you on time today, Futakuchi-kun." She gives a pointed look at him, and he grins sheepishly.
"Sorry about that," he says. "I was drawing earlier, though, before class started."
She hums thoughtfully before saying, "I did notice that you're always practicing. May I see what you've been working on?"
Kenji nods and flips the cover of his sketchbook open. He rifles through the pages slowly enough for the teacher to see, while Kamasaki peers over his shoulder and frowns curiously at his work.
Miss Oshiro points at one of the drawings—an un-colored sketch of a student sitting on the lawn in the west quad, his head tilted back and the sunlight washing over his face.
"I like this one very much," she says, studying it with a small smile. "Your use of lighting is incredibly beautiful. Do you like drawing people?"
Kenji shrugs nonchalantly, flushing from the compliment. "I guess so. People are just so interesting, you know? Every single one is different and beautiful in their own way, and it makes me feel like I want to draw them all to portray their differences."
Miss Oshiro nods. "How very artistic of you."
"Well, he is top of the class," KamasakI says, and he almost sounds begrudging, but his eyes flit with approval.
"Futakuchi-kun, please continue to draw every person that catches your eye," the teacher says, holding out his sketchbook to him. "Continue to capture their beauty."
He takes his book from her hands and nods firmly. "I will."
• • •
Now that Kamasaki has found his hiding place, he's on a mission to find a new one. Fortunately, his roommate made the mistake of mentioning the possibility of escaping to places outside campus, something Kenji had not thought of before.
He brings his sketchpad along with him when he goes hunting for somewhere new to hide. As he walks the streets a block away from the university, he realizes not many of these shops would be good for spending extended amounts of time at—there's an automobile repair shop, a clothing store, and a cooking store, but none of those seem suitable. When he crosses the street to the next block, the first shop on the corner is a café. Kenji peaks in through one of the large windows, spotting plenty of open tables. It's good enough for him. He pushes through the front doors.
There's a calming yet lively aura to the place. It's bustling with just enough customers to make it feel comfortable, not too crowded or empty. Within seconds, a tall boy wearing an apron with fluffy-looking hair has appeared in front of him where he's standing in the entrance and is smiling a little too big.
"Welcome to Seijou Café," he chirps, friendly and energetic. "Take any seat you want—as long as you're not stealing another customer's chair. You can even join a stranger's table, if that floats your boat." He leans in closer and puts a hand near his mouth, as if divulging an important secret. "Trust me, I've seen it happen before. Awkward."
Kenji stares, bewildered, at the boy. "I'll take your word for it."
From across the room, a shorter boy with dark hair that has emerged from the back room yells, "Oikawa, stop harassing the customers!"
The boy, Oikawa, gives a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that, Iwa-chan! I'll try my best not to next time."
The scowl the other boy gives him reminds Kenji of the look Kamasaki often gives him. He moves past the boy, clutching his sketchpad tighter, and finds refuge at a booth by the large windows. As he settles in, he takes several moments to observe the rest of the staff members, and notices that all of them appear to be quite young, around his age. There's a dark skinned boy with a buzz cut at the cash register. Farther down the counter is an angry looking boy handing out pastries and drinks. His hair is dyed a strange pattern in black and he's wearing eyeliner. There are two guys working the coffee machines, one with strawberry blond hair and the other with dark, slanting eyebrows. They whisper periodically to each other while making drinks and snicker every now and then. One waiter with spiked hair disappears behind the kitchen doors as another emerges balancing two full-sized plates on each arm. An interesting place, Kenji thinks to himself.
He barely registers there's a person standing directly beside him and misses whatever it is they say to him. He startles slightly, which is embarrassing, and instinctively places an arm over his sketchpad, just in case. He squints up at the person, a small-looking, silvery-blond haired boy wearing an apron and holding a pad of paper and a pen. His eyes are a hazel color, but when Kenji looks closer he can make out flecks of green and gold within the irises. Although they're hard to see, he has several small freckles scattered across his cheeks. It's hard to pinpoint a specific characteristic, but something about him is incredibly beautiful.
"Sorry, did I surprise you?" the waiter says, looking genuinely concerned. His eyebrows draw together in worry.
"Not at all," Kenji insists, somewhat embarrassed.
"Okay," the boy says, and smiles kindly. "Anyway, is there anything I can get you?"
Kenji contemplates this for several seconds before responding, "Just a decaf coffee, I guess."
The boy—whose name tag reads Yahaba—raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure? There's a lot of good stuff on the menu. How about one of our cinnamon lattes? They're one of the best in town."
Kenji smirks at that and folds his arms complacently. "Sure, why not? But if I don't agree, I expect a refund." He gives his best agitating smile, the one that makes Kamasaki look like he wants to punch him in the face.
Yahaba simply smiles. "Coming right up."
Kenji watches his back as he leaves. Yahaba's attitude threw him off just enough to make him wonder more about him. He didn't respond to his snarky comment like he thought he would. Kenji has seen people ignore him, get angry or annoyed, even laugh. But he doesn't think he's ever encountered someone who's played along.
Within several minutes, Yahaba returns with a white porcelain cup on a matching saucer. "One cinnamon latte," he says as he places the cup on the table in front of Kenji.
"Thank you so much," he replies, voice dripping with overly-gracious sarcasm. He wants to see this kid react—he wants him to get angry.
"You're welcome," the boy says calmly, and Kenji squints at him as he leaves to take another table's order.
Kenji busies himself drawing the two staff members at the coffee machines, the boy at the register, and the guy who had greeted him at the door. When one of the kitchen staff, a boy with longer dark hair and a plain expression, sweeps the floors with a broom, Kenji draws him as well, along with the spiky-haired boy who comes out of the kitchen to wipe down tables.
By the time he's finished drawing the short boy that appears to be in charge of all the staff, the sun is hanging low on the horizon and most of the customers have left. He knows he should be going too, before Kamasaki starts berating him about being missing, but there's one person he hasn't drawn yet.
The waiter from before, Yahaba, passes by his table holding a tray of empty cups, and Kenji swears he sees him grin.
"You've been here for quite some time, huh?" he says.
"Just enjoying some alone time," Kenji replies evenly.
Yahaba's eyes flicker to his sketchbook. "You're an artist?"
Kenji shrugs and smiles, mostly to himself. "I'm an art student at university, so I guess you could say that."
Yahaba studies the drawing he'd done of the short boy. "You're very talented. That looks exactly like Iwaizumi, our manager." He points to the next page over and says, "You even managed to capture Oikawa's charm." He chuckles softly before speaking again. "So, where's the drawing of me?"
Kenji stares at him, taken aback by the question, and eventually finds the voice to respond as cynically as possible, "Unfortunately, I didn't get around to you."
Yahaba continues to smile easily. "That's a shame. You should come back again so you can finish. I'll even pose if you want, like a model."
Kenji isn't sure if he's being mocked, or if this guy is serious. Something tells him it might be both.
"I'll think about it," he says, closing his sketchbook.
"Are you leaving?" Yahaba frowns slightly, his eyes flickering to the untouched cup on the table. "You didn't even try the latte."
"Oh...well," Kenji says, and can honestly say he feels a little bad. "I got a bit too absorbed in my work."
Yahaba smiles once again. "I understand. I'll have a fresh one made to go."
"You don't have to—" Kenji begins to say, but the boy has already turned around.
"Makki, Mattsun!" he calls, and the boys at the coffee machines turn their heads at the same time. "Can you get me a cinnamon latte to go?"
Less than two minutes later, Yahaba comes striding back towards the table with a white to-go coffee cup extended in his hand. "Here you are."
Kenji stands up and takes he cup quickly. "Thank you for, uh, this. I'll be taking my leave, then."
"Wait—you didn't even tell me your name." Yahaba stares expectantly at him.
He hesitates before responding, "Futakuchi Kenji."
Yahaba nods and says, "I'm Yahaba Shigeri. Come back soon, Futakuchi." And then he smiles one last time.
With his sketchbook under his arm and the coffee cup in the other, Kenji makes a beeline for the doors. He spends the walk back to the dorms not thinking about Yahaba.
Kamasaki is in his face and begins grilling him the moment he steps into the room.
"Where the hell were you?" he demands. "After class you just disappeared. You've been gone for four hours!"
"Sorry, sorry," Kenji says, smiling lazily. "I was just doing some things."
Kamasaki narrows his eyes. "What kind of things?"
"You know," he says tiredly, waving a hand dismissively. "Things."
Kamasaki frowns at him, his gaze flickering to the coffe cup in Kenji's hand. "And what's that?"
"What, this?" He holds the cup up and shakes it, feeling the liquid slosh around on the inside. "It's just something I grabbed when I was out. Gotta keep hydrated and all that."
His roommate sneers. "Nice try, smartass, but I know you probably found a new place to hide. I'll find you, you know."
"Please do," Kenji simpers, collapsing into the chair at his desk. "In the meantime, keep your voice down—I'm trying to study."
Kamasaki hits his forehead with his palm. "Gah!" he cries in exasperation, and flops facedown onto his bed. Kenji smirks and takes a sip of the latte.
It's really good.
• • •
Okay, so, he returns to the café the next day, but it has nothing to do with the waiter Yahaba. Nothing at all. He just wants to keep away from Kamasaki and draw. That's all.
When he steps onto the building, Oikawa is the first to spot him and greet him.
"Oh, it's you!" he announces grandly, slinging an arm around Kenji's shoulder. "Yaha-chan warned us that you would probably come back. I think he was secretly hoping you would." He leans in closer when he says that last bit.
"What?" Kenji says, overwhelmed.
"What did I say about harassing customers, dumbass?" says the manager, Iwaizumi, as he comes up from behind Oikawa and smacks his head.
"Ow! Iwa-chan, you're so mean!" Oikawa complains.
"He wasn't really bothering me," Kenji speaks up, mostly because Oikawa reminds him of himself—a curious person that says whatever comes to his mind, sometimes without meaning to.
Iwaizumi's eyes are trained on him, not exactly harsh but intimidating nonetheless. "Let me know if he does anything stupid."
Kenji salutes jokingly and says, "Will do."
He and Iwaizumi share a look of amusement before the manager pulls a protesting Oikawa away. Kenji sits down at the same booth as the day before and not-so-subtley scans the shop for the silver-haired waiter. He spots him come out of the kitchen doors with a tray in his hands. Their gazes meet for half a secone, and Kenji is certain he sees him giggle. He waits anticpatingly as Yahaba serves several tables before making his way over.
"Hello again," he says, smiling as if he finds something funny. "Can I get you anything?"
Kenji bares his teeth in a smile of his own. "You know, one of those cinnamon lattes might be nice."
"Oh, you liked it?" Yahaba's expression suddenly turns serious as he stares hopefully at him.
"It was...nice," he settles on, because he definitely isn't about to admit that the drink was far more delicious than any coffee he'd had before.
Yahaba nods, looking just the tiniest bit smug. "That's good to hear." And almost in the exact same way he did the day before, he turns and shouts, "Makki, Mattsun! One cinnamon latte!"
The two boys glance at each other, mumble something inaudible, and nod back at Yahaba.
Looking satisfied, he turns back to face Kenji. "So, why did you come back?" he asks, eyes dancing with mirth, and it almost seems like this is a set up for some evil practical joke. But then again, it's probably just be Kenji being paranoid.
"Well, you know," Kenji muses, attempting a casual tone and expression, which he's pretty sure isn't working. "An artist such as I must finish their work, and, unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to draw you the previous day." The casual tone he initially meant to adopt somehow works its way into something that sounds fake-pretentious.
Yahaba laughs, light and good-natured, and honestly, what is with this kid and why is he impossible to faze? "So you do want to draw me?"
Kenji smiles right back. "If you'll let me."
Yahaba gives a quick affirming nod, and then turns to call out to one of the waiters walking by. "Kunimi, can you take my orders for just a little while?"
The dark-haired boy blinks, expressionless, at him, but doesn't protest. "Sure."
"Thanks!" Yahaba is pretty much beaming as he sits down at the table across from Kenji. "So, what should I do?"
Kenji flips open his sketchbook and twirls his pencil around several times for good measure. "Just stay like this and look natural."
The other boy complies, shifting in his seat for several seconds to get comfortable, and then settles with his hands on the tabletop and an easy smile on his face. He stays silent while Kenji sketches the outline of his face and marks the correct proportions of his features. Shining eyes. Small nose. Soft lips. (And, okay, it's not like Kenji knows for sure that his lips are soft, although they look extremely so, and he can't help but be a little curious to see if they feel the same as they look.)
"How'd you get into art?" Yahaba asks out of the blue, and Kenji raises his head to stare at him. The other boy adds quickly, "Sorry, am I supposed to keep quiet and not move?"
Kenji slowly shakes his head. "No, it's fine. I always liked art as a kid and I've been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil. I was a pretty crappy artist in elementary and middle school, but I started improving in high school and taking it more seriously. It's just a hobby I really enjoy."
Yahaba is nodding thoughtfully. He doesn't speak, and Kenji wonders what he's thinking.
"What do you do, besides befriend customers at a coffee shop?" he decides to ask.
Yahaba shrugs slightly. "Not much. I'm a political science major, but I've always been interested in psychology."
"I see." Kenji traces back over the lines of the other boy's jaw, darkening the shadows and lightening where need be.
"I have a friend who's into film," Yahaba continues. "His name's Ennoshita. And I have a friend, Akaashi, who plays the violin. Sometimes I feel jealous of people who are so gifted in the arts, because I can't do anything creative to save my life." He laughs a little to himself, but his eyes don't light up like Kenji has seen before.
"Well, it goes both ways," Kenji says as he darkens the lines of Yahaba's nose. "Sometimes I get jealous of people who are intelligent and insightful, when all I can do is draw stuff. So don't be too upset and make your eyes light up again, so it'll look better in the drawing."
Yahaba actually does laughs then, light and breathy, and his eyes shine.
"Perfect—now keep them like that," Kenji instructs. There's a brief moment of comfortable silence, albeit for the bustling sounds of the shop and Kenji's pencil against paper, when Yahaba speaks.
"You know, you're actually a lot better at cheering people up than you look," he comments.
Kenji pauses and looks up from the drawing to squint at him. "Am I supposed to be flattered or offended by that?"
Yahaba laughs and shakes his head. "No, I meant it in a good way, trust me. I mean, when you came here yesterday you were all snarky and sarcastic, and I thought you just enjoyed getting a rise out of people for the fun of it." He grins. "But you're actually a pretty nice guy."
Kenji scrunches up his nose. "Thanks. I think."
"It's a compliment," Yahaba assures him.
Kenji fills in his eyebrows meticulously, careful to get each strand of hair in place. "So you knew I was trying to irk you, and that's why you didn't fall for any of the things I said?"
The waiter nods. "Yeah. I mean, I do study psychology. Figuring people out is kind of what I do."
Kenji snickers at that. "I wouldn't say you have me figured out. You hardly even know me."
Yahaba seems to mull this over. "True, but I can take a pretty good guess. I know what kinds of things you'll say—in fact, I knew you were going to say something like that."
There's really no other way for him to take that statement than as a challenge. While he wracks his brain for something to say that Yahaba wouldn't expect, nor would he expect of himself, one thing worms its way to the front of his mind, and he knows he has no other choice but to go with it.
"I want to let you know," he says calmly, "that I think you're very beautiful."
Yahaba's eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but quickly closes it again, and Kenji can all but cheer silently to himself in his head because he finally managed to render this guy speachless.
The silence is finally broken with Yahaba's laughter, and he smiles shyly. "You really think so?"
Kenji hums. "I enjoy drawing the faces beautiful people."
Yahaba doesn't speak for some time as he gathers his thoughts. "This might sound crazy, seeing as how we only met yesterday, but—" A pause, then, "—would you like to go out to dinner with me?"
Kenji sputters, the line he was drawing for Yahaba's hair veering off. The other boy apears to be surpressing a giggle, and Kenji curses him. Just when he thought he'd got this guy, he somehow managed to get him back.
"That sounds nice," Kenji settles on. Calm and casual.
Yahaba grins. "Great. Would you mind sticking around here until six? That's when my shift is over. We can leave after that."
Kenji nods in agreement. "Sure." He busies himself with fixing the stray line on the drawing so that he won't think about how pretty Yahaba looks when he's excited.
"How's the drawing coming along?" the waiter asks.
"Fine," Kenji replies. "Just needs some shading and stuff and it'll be done."
"Wow, that's so good!" a loud voice says into his ear, and his pencil spasms out of control once again.
"Oikawa, you shouldn't scare people like that," Yahaba says, sounding stern, but his eyes are full of amusement.
Oikawa smiles and rubs the back of his head. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help it. That drawing is just so wonderful!"
Kenji feels himself blush. "Thanks."
"You were drawing all of us yesterday, weren't you?" Oikawa asks, leaning closer with wide, curious eyes.
"Yeah." Kenji turns the page back in his sketchbook to where he'd drawn the spiky-haired and expressionless waiters serving tables.
"Oh, that's so cool!" Oikawa crows. "But why do you have Yaha-chan sitting down all formal to draw him? Is he special?" He grins smugly, as if he's figured out all of Kenji's secrets just by looking at him.
"What? No." Kenji folds his arms defensively.
Oikawa laughs and sings, "If you say so," and he all but skips away.
There's a stifling silence that follows, and Kenji scrambles to break it. "Um, so, it's done, I think." He taps the sketchbook with his pencil.
"May I see?" Yahaba requests.
Kenji pushss the book closer to him. He turns it so he's looking at it the correct way, and studies the drawing for several minutes in silence. Finally, he looks up at Kenji and smiles.
"It's incredible," he says. "I've never seen such a life-like drawing. You're something special, Futakuchi."
Kenji resists the urge to hide his burning facd in his hands and mumbles a, "Thank you."
Yahaba slides the sketchbook back over and scoots out of the booth. "Well, I have to finish my shift, but after that we're free to do whatever we want. I know a pretty good ramen place a few blocks down."
"Yes. Sure. Um." Kenji almost wishes Kamasaki were here to hit him over the head and tell him to stop being an idiot.
"I look forward to it," Yahaba says sincerely, smiles one last time, and leaves. Kenji barely has time to breathe before Oikawa is back at the table and sliding into the seat across from him.
"Does someome have a date with Yaha-chan?" he chirps teasingly, resting his elbows on the table and putting his chin on his hand as he stares expectantly.
Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe. What's it to you?"
Oikawa chuckles. "After you left yesterday, he wouldn't stop talking about you. 'Did you see that cute guy that was just here? Do you think he'll come back? I really hope he will!' It was too adorable."
Kenji squints suspiciously at him. "I'm not sure if I should believe you."
Oikawa looks hurt at first, but recovers quickly. "Well, if you're going to believe anything I say, it should be this—Yaha-chan really likes you."
Before Kenji can react, he's standing up, wishing him good luck, and is gone. He doesn't know what to do, other than sit and think. (He mostly questions every life decision he's made up until now, and how all of that has someone led up to this.)
Yahaba appears sooner than expected, without the apron on. "Sorry for making you wait. Ready to go?"
Kenji stands up a bit too eagerly and says, "It's fine." He inhales deeply in an attempt to clear his mind and calm himyself. "I'm ready."
• • •
"And then they said if we didn't be quiet we'd be kicked out," Yahaba is saying, trying to stifle his laughter. "But by then we couldn't stop laughing, you know?"
"So what happened?" Kindaichi demands.
Yahaba shares a look with Kenji before replying, "They may or may not have asked us politely to not return to that theater."
"Impressive," mumbles Kunimi, and Watari nods in agreement.
"In our defense, it was a really horrible movie," Kenji speaks up, waving around the hand that isn't twined with Yahaba's. "We couldn't not make fun of it."
Yahaba laughs softly. "I'm pretty sure the other people didn't enjoy or stellar narrations."
Iwaizumi is looking disapprovingly at them with a frown on his face. "I never thought I'd see the day Yahaba turned into a delinquent."
"I'm not delinquent," he protests. "It was just some fun."
"Yeah, lighten up, Iwa-chan," Oikawa chirps, poking the shorter boy's cheek.
"So this is your—what? Tenth date?" Hanamaki says.
"It's about time they get married," Matsukawa adds, and Oikawa oh's in the background.
"As if." Yahaba laughs and gives both of their shoulders a light shove. "And it's the ninth, by the way."
"Maybe we can move in together after we graduate," Kenji muses aloud, playing with the other boy's fingers absentmindedly as he thinks.
"Really?" Yahaba is staring wide-eyed at him. "You really want to?"
Kenji smirks at him. "Duh."
Yahaba uses his free hand to pull him in by the back of his neck and place a kiss on his lips. Hanamaki and Matsukawa aw while Oikawa screeches.
The sound of the café doors swinging open makes all of them turn their heads. Kenji chokes when he sees Kamasaki barging towards them.
"Futakuchi!" he yells, hesitating slightly to take in the scene of all the staff members crowded around at the counter.
"You found me again?" Kenji groans.
Kamasaki already looks annoyed with him. "Did you forget that you brought a take-out coffee cup back to our dorm a while ago?"
"Ah, that's right." He looks over at Yahaba and smiles. "Remember? That was the day we first met."
Kamasaki's gaze flits between the two of them uneasily. "So you're Yahaba?"
The silver-haired boy nods. "And you must be Kamasaki. It's nice to meet you."
A beat of silence, and then his roommate says, "I can't believe you can put up with this dumbass—"
"Hey!" Kenji protests, offended.
"—but he's always in a good mood thanks to you."
Yahaba looks extremely pleased with himself. "I'm glad." He kisses Kenji on the cheek softly, causing him to redden.
Kamasaki clears his throat pointedly. "Also, I came here to tell you we got invited to some party."
"Really?" Kenji stands up straighter. "What time?"
Kamasaki checks a message on his phone. "Eight."
Kenji lookd at Yahaba and the rest of the boys. "You guys want to go to a party?"
Oikawa begins to holler and Iwaizumi punches his arm. Hanamaki and Matsukawa glance at each other. Kyoutani stays silent with his arms crossed, and Kindaichi, Kunimi, and Watari all smile at each other.
"Why not?" Yahaba smiles at him and squeezes his hand. "It'll be fun." He looks at Hanamaki and Matsukawa when he says, "Can we get a cinnamon latte to go?"
As everyone scatters about and the two begin to prepare the drink, Kenji nudges Yahaba's shoulder gently and says, "Why ask for a drink now?"
The other boy shrugs with that smile Kenji is all too familiar with. "I thought it was a good time. They remind me of you."
Kenji fiddles with the hairs at the base of his neck. "I'm right next to you, stupid," he says affectionately.
Yahaba simply smiles and squeezes his hand again. "I know. And I'm glad."
(With Yahaba's head nuzzled against his neck, they walk a pace behind the rest of the boys and take turns sipping from the coffee cup.)