Chapter Text
In Shu’s humble opinion, being a barista isn’t so bad as what people perceive it is. Sure, his shift starts at 7 in the morning, but could you blame him? With all of his classes starting during the afternoons, his shift isn’t as bad as what Mysta feels about it. Shu thinks coffee making is relaxing, both the smell and the routine it goes through. Crush, grind, pack, and pull. It’s all second nature to Shu and he loves it.
Shifts covering half of his days from Wednesdays to Saturdays, he really does not think it’s all bad, even if his friend Ike Eveland complains about it every time he remembers it. He catches up to his classes, does all the work on the other days he has time, and still finds the time to indulge himself in different hobbies— it isn’t all that bad.
Is what he would like to believe.
Catching up to his classes builds up so much fatigue in him that when he wakes up the next day, he feels it to his bones. All of his requirements are crammed, not really paying attention to any rubrics his professor gives. And the ‘me-time’s he has promised to his friends and to himself were all complete lies and was only used for more backlogs. But it isn’t all that bad, Shu insists.
He needs to work, he needs to. There aren’t enough choices to pick.
It’s all in routine now. It’s already engraved in his mind. Why would he change it any more or any less?
Hearing his alarm blaring in his right ear, he shoots up his bed and checks the time on his phone. 5:31 am. Time to prepare for work.
Shu goes into his usual routine: shower, brush his teeth, eat a light breakfast, and go to his workplace. He dries his hair, too lazy to style, only clipping his left hanging bang with a hairclip Vox gave him on their second year. Getting the cookie he got from the cafe yesterday, he sets out for work.
Arriving at his workplace, he opens the door and greets his manager with a small smile, silently still grateful at the fact that they offered Shu a place in the cafe despite the time constraints his schedule gives. Shu starts to prepare himself for the day, knotting the apron laces into a ribbon on his back, straightening it as he walks towards his dearest coffee machine that he got attached to.
He checks his watch to look at the time, 7:01 AM, Ike should be here soon.
And as he expected, Ike Eveland walks through the door as he always does every Wednesday.
Ike Eveland is an enigma for Shu Yamino. He walks with grace, light on his feet, soft but calculating eyes always ready to observe, voice exhibiting a soft lilt, his signature blue scarf that Luca gifted to him hanging on his neck– everything Shu sees is wonderful. But under those, Shu cannot pinpoint what Ike is. His friend often reminds him of a cipher; code needed to crack him, and Shu, to this day, still does not know how to answer this complex code. Interesting, Shu adores him so much.
Ike shoots him a clumsy smile, scarf almost slipping down his shoulder. “Good morning, Shu.” Shu receives the greeting with a breathless grin, reciprocating it with one of his own. “Good morning, Ike.”
“What would you like for today?” Words come easily out of Shu’s mouth, hovering over the counter to punch out Ike’s order. His eyes travel from the counter to Ike whose face was still showing an easy smile. He sees Ike take his wallet out of the pocket of his coat, replying: “I’ll just take a large Iced Americano, Shu. I wouldn’t want to stress you out this morning with a complicated order,” Ever considerate Ike Eveland. Shu is so lucky to have him in his life.
“Ike,” Shu sighs, fondness leaking out. “You know this is my job, right? Don’t worry about it.” Ike just gives him a giggle and a shake of the head, and Shu understands the action as insistence. He can’t fight against that; not with Ike Eveland.
“Just take the order, Shu.”
“Fine.” He taps the cash register as Ike hands him the payment. Shu looks back to him before turning around to face the espresso machine.
Get the beans, crush and grind, pack, and insert in the machine. Shu efficiently does these steps with careful hands to avoid any mistakes with tamping the grounds. Hearing the machine do its job, he smells the scent of coffee surround him and his shoulders automatically drops, calmness overtaking his system. Before taking the shot of espresso, he glances at Ike, who was tapping profusely at his phone with a fond expression. He’s probably talking to Luca, Shu thinks with a smile on his face.
Assembling Ike’s Iced Americano with chilled water and ice, he thinks about how Ike and Luca’s relationship evolved into something adorable, after some months of circling around their feelings. While pouring the water into the cup, he remembers how Ike was beaming after Luca confessed to him, albeit accidentally– which was very Luca-esque, if Shu would say so himself. Adding the espresso, he also recalls how Luca’s face looked when he realized what he said to Ike and how he confessed in front of everyone: very very red. Shu stifles a laugh whilst he adds the ice in the cup, grabbing a cover to fit, not bothering to get a straw, knowing full well Ike has a metal straw somewhere stored in his bag.
“Here’s your order,” Shu turns around to face Ike again, takes tissues along with a cup holder, and hands him the drink. Ike, as he always does, smiles at him.
“Thank you, Shu,” He drags out the last letter of his name, ending it with a low giggle.
“Have fun today, alright? I wouldn’t want to see you more stressed than you are right now.” Ike starts, catching Shu’s eyes with his own. Shu’s face freezes as his fiddles with his hands behind his back. He notices Ike’s face contort into a small frown, but when he blinks, it’s exchanged with a blank expression. Shu feels fear creep up his limbs and averts Ike’s eagle-eyes, regretting it the moment Ike leaves in his line of vision.
“Shu,” He feels Ike step forward and clasp his arm, wordlessly grateful that he was the only customer inside. He turns his head again to meet Ike’s eyes, shock bleeding on his face as he sees Ike fondly smiling at him. “I’m– we’re here, Shu.” What Ike says is final, he does not add another word and expects Shu to understand. And understand, Shu does, he understands it so much that it hurts his heart. How can he ever repay these actions?
The only confirmation Ike receives is an unsure nod and a shaky smile.
The hands that held Shu’s shoulders travels back to Ike’s side, noticeably clenching on the fabric of his coat. He gives Shu a curt nod which melts into a dim smile that still holds affection. Ike Eveland can’t get mad at Shu Yamino, much to the latter’s obliviousness.
If Ike was to be honest, he, and anyone from his friend group, cannot get mad at Shu Yamino for the life of them. A few pleading looks from the tri-color haired man would weaken their defenses, no matter how grave the situation may be. They trust him too much— and that’s the problem.
They trust him so much that nobody from them really knows what Shu Yamino does in his own time.
Is he well? Is he doing fine in his studies? Does he take care of himself?
These questions run around Ike’s mind frantically every time he sees Shu, because every time he sees him he’s reminded of tired eyes and the time Shu fainted during their sophomore year. Ike would rather have the choice to drop writing than to ever see his friend like what he was last year.
Ike shakes his head, looks at his watch and is briefly washed over by frustration as he remembers that he has a meeting for the school magazine. He curses, glancing at Shu who was still looking at him, now with worried eyes as he realizes that he must’ve spaced out after Shu gave him that shaky smile he was, unfortunately, familiar with.
“I need to go,” Ike points his thumb behind him, gesturing to the door. “I have a meeting in 3 minutes, so I, um—“ He hastily pats Shu’s cheek before waving him goodbye.
Shu sucks in the breath he’s holding when Ike turns back to him, “Don’t forget the meeting we have later at 4 PM.” He nods to his writer friend and waves him back. A ‘Bye, Shu!’ is heard in the distance, the bells hanging from the door chiming as it closes.
Shu would be lying if he said he was ready to face Ike in his primest silent rage. That would be just challenging a serial killer on the run, as bad of an analogy it is.
Heaving a deep breath, he unclasps his hands from each other, blinking as he faces the espresso machine again. Grabbing the portafilter still on the machine and tapping off the excess coffee grinds in a spare container, Shu lets himself loosen up again. If seen in an outsider’s perspective, one would say that the view they are seeing is just a barista enjoying his job. And Shu does, even with the amount of other responsibilities he has.
He hears the bells ring again, composing himself as he turns around. He sees–
Shu sees a boy, probably around his age, almost trip while opening the door with only his shoulder. Well, maybe because he’s holding a laptop and iPad on one hand and a plethora of books on the other. Also, an apple pen hangs from his right ear, view slightly obstructed by his dark purple hair.
Messy, Shu thinks, seeing how the boy’s hair curls in every direction.
Recovering from almost tripping, the dark purple haired boy steadies himself before going out of balance again, a book sliding from his hold.
Clumsy too, Shu notes. Not like Ike.
“Are you alright there?” Shu begins. “Need any help?” He hears a string of curses come out of the boy, though coming a lot softer when it’s said by the voice Shu hears. It was raspy, deep, but smooth; a type of voice that can lull a child to sleep. Definitely the opposite of Ike, Shu concludes.
“Ah, no need,” He sees the boy stand up from picking up the book that fell from his hand. Delicate hands hold the book frame back to its original position, smoothing out the pages that crumpled when it fell down.
When the boy looks up, Shu has to double take as he meets a pair of indigo eyes. He blinks, one, two, three times before coming out of his delusion. His eyes are… sleepy, to say the least. The longer he’s staring, the deeper the abyss goes. Shu doesn’t understand this feeling– it’s strange.
Shu observes the boy one more time: he walks like he has weights strapped on his feet, the pair of black converse shoes (that look like it will fall apart soon enough) dragging itself on the clean hardwood floor of the cafe. He only wears a grey turtleneck–clearly too little coverage for the current climate–with three gold necklaces decorating his neck. And when he finally comes up to the counter, closer to him, Shu notices the black studs on both ears, finding it plenty attractive. Simple and straight-to-the-point; Shu likes it.
An easy smile comes up to his face, mind quickly changing objectives from observing to welcoming the new customer.
“What can I get for you?” His voice comes out a bit too low and shaky. Maybe because of the cold weather?
“...Hi,” The boy replies. “Yeah, I, uh…” He continues, stumbling over his words, eyes wavering back and forth from Shu and the menu behind him.
“It’s all good, take your time.” Shu tries to keep the conversation relaxed despite seeing the other boy shift his weight on one foot to another every second he stays silent as he thinks about what to order.
About 10 seconds in, the boy’s eyes noticeably widens, his previously sleepy eyes brightening.
“You serve affogato coffee here?” The boy inquires, slightly leaning over to the counter, mouth taking an O-shape. Shu swears he saw sparkles on his eyes.
“Mhm,” He hums, acknowledging the question. “We do offer affogato coffee! Would you like that?”
“Yes, please!” The boy’s face unveils a small smile, and heavens above, it was one of the cutest smiles he has ever encountered. Shu reckons Vox would be fond of this boy.
“Alright,” Finger sliding down the monitor, he punches the order. “Anything other than that? We have pastries available at this time of the day, so maybe you’d want something to eat? Since it’s morning and all.”
The day boy perks up, stance changing to a straighter one. He clutches the things in his arms before replying: “Um, no thanks.”
Shu nods but does not really acknowledge the rejection in his mind. He hesitates before coming down to a decision.
“I’ll serve your affogato coffee on your table,” He pauses, observing the boy’s eyes once more. He really can’t pinpoint what those eyes remind him of. Shaking his head, he recites the amount to pay, the boy giving him the money, albeit clumsily as he fishes out some bills from the pocket of his sweatpants. He thanks Shu, making sure to make eye contact again, before heading out to find a table he’s comfortable with.
Shu huffs, pointedly following the boy’s figure to take note of where he sits. The boy settles down on the corner of the café, and Shu personally commends him for picking the most comfortable spot.
Facing the espresso machine again, he does the same steps to making an espresso shot, coffee overtaking his senses once again. He gets a wide transparent mug and sets it down on the counter.
“Affogato…” Shu starts. “A shot of espresso and a scoop of ice cream,” He whispers to himself while walking towards the freezer, recalling the recipe for the coffee mentioned.
He opens the freezer, cold immediately rushing through his hands, and grabs the vanilla ice cream pint inside. Going back to the counter, he picks up the scooper and rinses it with warm water, the steel of the scooper heating up. He scoops efficiently, instrument gliding through the ice cream easily, and lifts it up to add the ice cream to the empty mug.
Shu hums, smiling to himself when he scoops another ball of ice cream to put into the mug. A gift, perhaps, to the poor boy that looks like he would collapse from over-studying any time soon. No one will know anyway, it’s the least that Shu can do to a fellow student.
Getting the shot of espresso from the tray of the machine and a teaspoon, he sets it on a tray with the ice cream filled mug, ready to serve. He looks back to the pastry shelf, grabbing a croissant, and puts it in the tray as well.
Shu picks up the tray, moving through the exit of the counter and walks towards the boy. He was now typing something on his laptop, table full of opened books and an iPad showing some anatomical figures. Shu figures he was studying medicine, though he doesn’t know which specialization.
Indigo eyes travel from the laptop to Shu, the previously sharp and focused eyes turning into wide and naïve ones. He straightens up, picking up some of the books lying waste on the table to make room for his order.
“Here’s your order, one affogato coffee,” Shu places the tray on the table gently, slowly bending to make sure the contents don’t slip. He looks at the boy whose face is emitting a confused expression. The dark purple haired boy points at the pastry innocently sitting on the tray, a bewildered noise coming out of his mouth.
Shu, instead of answering immediately, softens his customer service smile to a more personal one. “You look tired,” He begins, hand comfortably supporting his weight as he settles it on the table. “The croissant and extra scoop of ice cream is on me, don’t worry.” Feeling his hair clip slip, Shu lets his other hand tuck his hair back, hand previously on the table coming up to grab the slipping hair clip.
“Oh.” The boy dumbfoundedly says, eyes dead set on Shu’s face. He snaps out of it, thanking Shu a total of 4 times before smiling.
“Do you want me to pour the espresso? Or do you want to do it yourself?”
“Ah! Um, yes, sure–” Reply fumbling over, he casts Shu a sheepish smile. Shu only nods, taking the shot glass and delicately pours the espresso inside the mug in a circular motion, carefully making sure that the liquid passes through all the gaps.
After pouring the espresso, he sets the shot glass down to the tray again, glancing at the boy who was watching the espresso mix in with the vanilla ice cream. The boy’s face shows a tiny smile, just reaching his eyes by a smidge.
“Thank you so much,” The boy says, breathless.
Oh. Shu doesn’t know how to reply to that. Gentle, grateful, and so, so, so vulnerable. He only musters a ‘no problem’ and a curt nod before awkwardly sliding out of the boy’s space, peeking again to catch a glimpse of the boy mindlessly swirling the teaspoon in the mug, espresso and ice cream at the bottom perfectly blending into a nice warm, brown color.
He walks until he’s back at the counter, patiently waiting for more customers to come. Shu kills time with washing the shot glasses and scooper he used, wiping the counter with a washcloth, and taking the portafilter again to put the coffee grinds in the container.
After 40 minutes of waiting for new customers, Shu stretches his back which was numb from sitting too long. He stands up, checking his watch that says 8:12 AM, and starts to prepare for the onslaught of customers he will encounter once 8:30 AM hits.
“He’s still there,” Shu murmurs to himself, eyes finding the boy still typing something on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed, tongue sticking out through his teeth. He blindly reaches for his affogato coffee, which was halfway finished, and sips on it, oblivious that some of the affogato was on his cheek and upper lip. He goes back to typing, occasionally tapping on the backwards key a little too hard.
Noticing the boy had some ice cream on his face, Shu tries to get his attention. He taps the counter– no reaction. He knocks on the cabinet— still no reaction. Letting out a sigh that ends with a chuckle, he walks a few steps closer, just to get in range, and calls the boy.
“Hey,” Shu bellows out, not exactly shouting.
The boy looks at Shu from the hood of his laptop, face fixing itself into an expression of small surprise.
“Yes?”
Shu gestures to his own cheeks and upper lip, thumb running over the soft surface. The boy, realizing that he must have something on his face, burns up in embarrassment, cheeks and ears covered in a rosy color. He quickly picks up a tissue Shu put on his tray earlier, wiping the ice cream off of his skin. Before Shu turns back around, he hears a groan— no, more like a whine, and sees the boy furiously patting his red cheeks.
Cute.
Huh? Shu catches himself thinking. No way he just called some stranger cute. That’s weird, that’s absurd. Who would call someone cute in the middle of nowhere, especially someone who he knows nothing about? Shu would never— he cannot imagine himself saying it. It’s not like him at all.
His thinking is interrupted when he hears a chair being abruptly dragged, the boy that was previously studying was now standing up, looking at his watch with a worried expression. Shu sees him close his laptop and gather all his things, gulping the affogato coffee in record time, and grabs the uneaten croissant before breaking into a sprint.
“Thank you for coming!” Shu shouts just before the boy exits the café. His eyes linger on the table the boy used, melted ice cream still dribbling down the ceramic of the mug, teaspoon left alone just beside it. Shu guesses he must have been late to a class with the way panic settled on his face.
Not paying much attention to it anymore, he moves to the table with a washcloth and cleaning spray, ready to clean it for any mess left and for sanitary purposes. When he stands in front of the table, he notices two things on it: a pocket knife and a pen, ends similarly wrapped around with masking tape that has Japanese characters on it.
Shoto, it reads. Shu doesn’t know if it’s the boy’s name or someone else’s but he knows it’s his, judging by the same color scheme of purple on his things earlier. He picks it up and pockets it, mentally reminding himself to return it to the boy when he catches sight of him in the campus or the café. The two objects lie heavy on his pocket while he’s cleaning the table, as if it was gently asking him to not forget about the dark purple haired boy whose smile he fancies, even if he doesn’t know himself.
The bell chimes again, signaling that there was another customer, just before Shu finishes his cleaning. He hears whispers before a voice calls out to him.
“Shu!” A familiar voice settles in his ears. Turning around, he sees Fulgur Ovid with his boyfriend, Uki Violeta, whose eyes settle on him with a sharp glint.
“Fulgur, Uki!” Shu exclaims with a smile, ushering behind the counter to welcome them properly. “Good morning!” He greets Fulgur with a wave, happy to see him again as someone who frequents the cafe.
Fulgur Ovid, stepbrother of his friend Vox Akuma, and a sophomore friend introduced by Ike, being in the same course of Journalism and in the school magazine faculty, is one of the frequents of Shu’s workplace, coming every other day around this early in the morning to buy a large Matcha latte for his boyfriend.
Speaking of Fulgur’s boyfriend, Uki Violeta is another enigma Shu is interested in cracking. He doesn’t know why Uki always looks at him with a look he cannot discern, heterochromic eyes cutting and menacing for some unknown reason. But totally flips 180 degrees when he looks at Fulgur, all soft and very much in love. It’s strange but extremely fascinating, if Shu would say so himself.
An interesting pair; he still doesn’t understand how it happened but is happy for them regardless.
His eyes go from Fulgur to Uki, who is still looking at him with that unreadable expression, giving him a kind smile, hoping to erase whatever Uki’s thinking about him. “Good morning to you too, Uki.” Shu offers him a small nod before composing himself to his worker attitude.
“What would you like today?” He naturally asks, hands ready to tap on the monitor for the Matcha latte Fulgur always gets.
“The usual, Shu. I’ll take a large Iced Jasmine tea too.” Fulgur flawlessly says, voice not wavering one bit due to the fact that he does this almost everyday. Anything for Uki, he remembers the sophomore saying when asked about why he comes to the café frequently. Shu admires him for that, the scent of system and routine that Shu absolutely adores also coming from Fulgur.
“Alright, one large Matcha latte and one large Iced Jasmine tea.” Fulgur, digilent as ever, hands his payment over to Shu without hesitation, Shu naturally receiving it as well while tapping on the monitor. He hears Fulgur say thanks before hovering his hand over Uki’s waist who whispers to him, still in Shu’s range of hearing: “The Matcha latte you always get me is from here?”
Shu definitely does not know what to think about that. Coming from Uki Violeta, that sentence being a compliment or an insult is a full-on mystery.
Recipe booming loud on his head, he grabs a container storing their Matcha powder and a small bowl. Hot water on the ready, he scoops 1 spoonful of the powder and adds it to the bowl, green color decorating the plain white bowl beautifully. Shu pours the piping hot water, temperature warming his hands just right, whisk on his other hand prepared. Whisking matcha powder has been one of the more enjoyable and satisfying processes Shu has ever encountered while working in the café. It has been nothing but therapeutic for him, seeing the powder turn viscous and smooth.
Placing the bowl on the refrigerator for the matcha to chill, he prepares another cup for Fulgur’s order.
The tea bags of Jasmine tea are steeped in boiling water for a few minutes, the aroma of jasmine cancelling the coffee scent that decorated the cafe before. Shu removes the tea bags, carefully dangling it so excess liquid can drop off and puts it in a container for compost. He lets it cool down, setting the cup filled with ice beside it.
Coming back to Uki’s drink, he gets the matcha from the refrigerator along with some oat milk; Uki’s preference of milk according to Fulgur. He pours the oat milk about three-fourths full and then adds the matcha, making the cup a beautiful gradient of green to white. Shu does not mix it yet, letting Uki have the satisfaction of seeing the colors blend together. He does the same to the Jasmine tea, steeped tea transferred to a cup with ice, dribbled with some honey above it.
Pleased with his work, Shu places the two drinks on a tray with tissues and straws in it and serves it to the couple sitting a few seats beside the counter.
“Here’s your order,” Shu says, placing the drinks on the table carefully. He eyes the drinks and smiles at the colors being made inside the cup. Truly mesmerizing.
“Thank you, Shu!” Fulgur grins at him, Uki following with a mumbled “Thank you”. Shu thinks it’s a win, considering that the heterochromic eyed boy never really talks to him, only glares, despite knowing each other for a while now.
He nods at the couple, walking back to his place behind the counter.
Shu never understood falling in love, much to his surprise. Sure, he might have fallen in love with his job and the routine behind it, but falling in love with a person? He doesn’t know anything about it. Looking at Fulgur and Uki, he thinks, how does one have feelings for another? How do you fit that person in your life without any restrictions? How do you even fall in love?
Is it just like how animated shows form it to be; all butterflies and rainbows? Or does it actually have other factors put in it for an individual to fall in love and feel that love? Are there any systems behind it, or is it just purely natural?
Shu thinks, thinks, and thinks.
He wonders how it would feel—falling in love and being in love—craving it after seeing couples like Fulgur and Uki thrive in their relationship. Will Shu enjoy it; holding hands, sharing kisses, making love— he doesn’t know.
He wants to know.
Chime of the bell ringing in his ears, he freezes, realizing that he spaced out for about a few minutes. He looks over to the door, a co-worker and some customers entering the café.
“Good morning, Shu,” His co-worker, the cashier of the café during his shift, finally clocks in just before the rush hour. Shu reciprocates the greeting with his own, moving from the monitor to the espresso machine, not being alone in serving customers now.
His mind wanders out from thinking about that topic, focusing on his job as customers pile over the cafe every minute. Shu has mixed feelings about rush hours during his shift, while he loves making drinks and serving customers, his social battery just runs out just before his shift ends. Fatigue just builds up and he still has class after working, not that he’s complaining as if he has a choice with the way he’s living now.
Before he notices it, it’s already 11:52 AM, a few minutes before the end of his shift. His manager pops out of the room behind the counter, saying that he can go to his classes now, reminding him not to worry about the cafe too much because another co-worker is coming to cover his position.
Shu insists that he could work another hour, remembering that his next class is still at 1:00 PM, but his manager would not take that as an answer, practically forcing Shu to get out of the apron he’s wearing.
Shu, not being able to fight against his manager, stores his apron and fetches his things to clock out. He bids a thank you to any God up there for making the café be inside his university’s school grounds, only a few minutes walking distance between his building and the café.
Exiting the café, he forces himself to be awake, already a lot of weight on his shoulders after a tiring shift. Shu drags himself, like a man with a thousand burdens, until he arrives at the building where his first class is located.
Truthfully, this class wasn’t really all that interesting, as it is one of the minor subjects he had to take, but Shu would pick his physics class over this subject any day. The professor in charge of this class, Shu thinks, has a voice that could make him sleep; in the worst way possible. He can’t focus, eyes heavy and words slurring in his ears, and next thing he knows, the class is already dismissed, half of the block standing up to leave to eat or go to their next class.
Shu stands up, groggily rubbing his eyes, consciousness still half asleep. He makes way towards the library to edit his thesis— the goddamn thesis that always keeps him awake until four in the morning. The same thesis that he had to revise about fifty times now due to it always being unsatisfactory for him. If there’s a subject he does not want to scuff, it’s definitely this one. Shu cannot imagine himself rewriting his thesis one more time, or else he might go crazy.
He makes a small detour, reminded of the fact that Mysta and Luca wanted to hang out with him for today, feet taking him to another building.
From what he can remember, Mysta and Luca both have a laboratory class today, so they were probably going to meet up after they are done with their laboratory. Shu waits on the ground floor of the building for several minutes before he hears Mysta’s signature laugh followed by Luca’s. Social battery immediately being restored, he feels giddy and excited to hang out with his friends.
“-the hell, man! That’s so weird!” Shu hears Mysta coming down the stairs behind him. “Weird?! What’s weird with the substance being piss yellow?!” Luca pipes up, arguing with Mysta. It’s probably a story from Luca’s class then, if the talk is about substances and chemicals.
“Mysta, Luca,” He clears his throat when he catches a glimpse of them, footsteps being audible enough for him. Shu watches Mysta’s face brighten up, eyes sparkling and smile blinding.
“Shu!” Mysta exclaims, running to Shu at full speed, attacking him with a bear hug. Shu can only hug him back, balance almost thrown off with the amount of impact Mysta’s hug did to him.
Mysta Rias, friend for over 5 years, is someone Shu utterly adores. Shu finds it endearing when Mysta calls the both of them brothers, insisting to everyone he meets that Shu is his platonic soulmate. If he was to associate Mysta with something, he would be a sweet candy of sorts. A bit overpowering at times, but leaves a lasting impression on you— definitely Mysta Rias in his perspective.
Shu feels Mysta clambering all over him before Luca joins the hug, big arms wrapping around the both of them. How is Luca this buff again?
Shu is reminded of the time he met Luca Kaneshiro for the first time during their first year in university, the taller blonde hitting Shu on the face with how hard he opened the door. After that predicament, Luca kept pestering him the whole day, trying to treat him to lunch as an apology, Shu finally giving in and agreeing after Luca followed him on his way to his dorm.
He only gives a gentle pat to the both of them, cherishing the hug they gave him.
“I missed you so much!” Mysta exclaims, still holding Shu’s arms. The weather suddenly felt nice and warm, Mysta’s smile almost blinding him, a smile that can rival a thousand suns. “Me too!” Luca pipes up after Mysta, body swaying back and forth in excitement.
Shu looks at his friends with a soft gaze. He’s glad Mysta is wearing a big sweater and a scarf, considering he gets cold easily, and he laughs at Luca’s fur coat, a staple piece from the blonde’s closet that he never misses to wear during the winters. They look good, Shu’s so happy to see them alright.
“How are you both?” He asks, grabbing the both of them by hooking their arms together.
“Well, Luca just told this weird ass story about–”
“Hey! A yellow substance is very normal, not weird!”
“Okay, okay, calm down both of you…”
Shu only laughs at the rest of the story while walking to the library, Mysta and Luca’s argument about the chemical reaction of Lead Iodide being a vibrant color of yellow still fresh in his mind.
Stopping in front of the library doors, it’s not long when he hears Mysta whine. “Shu, I miss you already,” He says, pretending to wipe his tears, faux crying. His hold on Shu’s arms is tight— and it tests all of Shu’s rationality, tempted to just stay in the presence of his friends. But the thesis on his laptop is heavy, a bugging weight on his whole body, and Shu just can’t leave it alone, much to the disappointment of his heart.
It takes all his strength to get out of Mysta’s grip and move in front of them, facing both of his friends before giving them a nod and a wave. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” He tells Mysta and Luca, a promise to meet them the next day imprinted in his mind. Both of their faces light up, frowning faces replaced by widened eyes and excited smiles.
They nod at Shu with electrified energy, gesturing him to enter the library now. Shu chuckles, heart growing more fond of Mysta and Luca.
When Shu enters the library, he is immediately attacked by the smell of old books and the comfortable silence of students typing on their laptops. Hushed whispers are exchanged between groups of students studying inside, making Shu realize that this library was almost packed save for the couple of chairs left unoccupied in the middle of the place.
Too lazy to go to another place, he commits to the seat near someone alone. Walking over to that person, Shu asks them if they were saving seats for someone else. When the person lifts up their head, their expression visibly goes from a lour to a surprised one.
Ah.
It’s the boy from the café.
“Oh,” Shu helpfully blurts out, standing in shock when he meets those deep indigo eyes again.
Now that he has a closer look, Shu notices eye bags hanging from his eyes, his eyelashes being a bit too long for a boy, chapped lips, and wow— he looks extremely wonderful to Shu. The boy’s posture is remarkably awful, hunching over his laptop, his books are also spread out all over the table just like how it was in the café, and one earphone was clipped in his ear, sound pouring right through the other earbud— the entirety of it is oh-so perfect.
The boy looks away from him and focuses on clearing away some space for Shu, a silent acknowledgement of his question earlier. Those indigo eyes glance back at him, a healthy shade of red decorating his pale cheeks again, clearing his throat and pats the space in front of him, encouraging Shu to take a seat.
“I’m sorry if my keyboard is a little loud,” The boy breaks their silence with a conscious tone, eyes following Shu’s figure who was setting down his bag and laptop. Shu forms his mouth with an o-shape, before smiling, teeth and all.
“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t bother me that much.” He reassures the boy that was slightly out of view because of the screens of their respective laptops. Shu hears the boy hum followed by more typing noises, letting himself get comfortable with the temperature of the library. He wears his headphones he grabbed from his bag and let the music drown him into concentration.
The both of them sit in comfortable silence for an hour, only the noise of the occasional rage tapping on a key from the dark purple haired boy being heard. Classical music still playing in Shu’s headphones, he notices the boy slumping forward with sleepy eyes, looking like he’s almost ready to pass out.
— He did.
Shu feels panic set in his stomach, seeing how the boy’s chapped lips go pale and his breathing ragged. He immediately snatched his water bottle, still half-empty, and some efficascent oil Mysta lent to him when it was given to Mysta by his mom, coaxing him to always have that oil when he has headaches.
“Excuse me,” Shu says to the unconscious boy, sitting on the chair beside him, hand wrapping around the boy’s shoulders to prop him up. Shu takes a deep breath, though shaky with his nerves, thankful that some students are still minding their own businesses.
The boy’s head drops down to Shu’s shoulder, feeling hot breath fan his neck. It sends shivers down Shu’s spine, and the temptation to wrap his arms around the boy becomes bigger, and bigger, and bigger— until Shu tampers it down when he feels a brush of skin down his arm, the boy’s cold hands gripping his wrist laying on his shoulder.
The boy lets out a groan, deep and weak, scrunching his eyes before looking at Shu. He flinches hard, the noise of his necklaces bumping to each other ringing on both of their ears.
“What…?” The boy whispers, staring straight at Shu’s eyes.
“You passed out,” Shu says, worry lacing in his voice, eyebrows contorted into a frown while still being immersed at the indigo eyes gazing at him. The arm he wrapped around the boy’s shoulder comes down to the small of his back, petting the place gently like how you would do to a puppy.
The boy stays silent, still looking at him with his dewy eyes, and Shu feels like he’s being skinned alive. Those eyes are shaped like the sharpest and deadliest knife you can wield but it was staring at him with such delight— naïve and gullible, almost like a deer in headlights. Shu wants, wants, and wants—!
Silence settles between them, Shu hyperfocused on the hand that innocently laid on his thigh and the pressure it gives when the boy uses his leg to prop himself up. The boy stills before moving away from him, hands still awkwardly placed in the air where the boy previously was.
A moment. Shu’s heart unconsciously cherishes the way the boy covered his face with his hands, the color of roses flaunting itself on his eyes, and the way his eyes flicker back to him like he’s a magnet. The hands that were in the air go down to grab the water bottle placed on the table and slides it down in front of the boy, offer hanging just above his head.
He looks at the bottle, looks at him, and accepts the offer.
Shu never felt triumph this satisfying before. He turns his head to not watch the boy drink water, prioritizing privacy over everything at this moment.
“Thank you–” The boy bends over to his side for their eyes to meet once more. “–again. You’ve helped me countless times today, and I– I don’t know how to repay you…” He fiddles with the hem of his top without thinking.
“Oh! No need, it’s perfectly fine,” Shu waves his hands in opposition. The boy looks back at his laptop, staring straight at it but his face full of expression. Shu cannot exactly pinpoint what expression he’s wearing, but it’s a beautiful expression nonetheless.
The sound of a phone ringing surprises them, the boy hastily grabbing his phone from the table that was vibrating nonstop.
“Hello?” His voice is as clear as day now to Shu Yamino, volume magnified for the phone to pick up the boy’s voice. Shu only stares at him, watching how he fidgets on his seat, the face that once held an unreadable expression morphing to one akin to a happy puppy. Their eyes meet again when the boy glances at him. Shu gives him a smile— as that’s the only thing his body can do right now.
The boy stands up, gathering all his things in his arms again.
(Shu wonders how much those strong arms could carry before giving up.)
“I gotta go,” His voice takes on an urgent note, almost ready to run out of the library if not for the man in front of him. “Thank you again!”
“Wait, take this.” Shu hands him the bottle of efficascent oil. “Make sure to use it if you encounter any headaches.” He finishes.
The boy takes it without any complaint, a delicate smile blooming on his face. He whispers another “thank you” to Shu and rushes outside the library, of course, without no stumbling on his tracks.
“Ah, I forgot to return these.” The pocket knife and pen still lay heavy on the pockets of his sweatpants.
He doesn’t bother to take the boy’s smile out of his mind. Perhaps, Shu Yamino made it so that it would encourage him to go through the day— for him to again have the opportunity to be in the presence of deep indigo eyes scrunched into slits and a smile so pretty it can make thousands fall over to their knees.
Perhaps he did.
When the time hit a quarter before 4:00 PM, Shu thankfully finished revising a part of his thesis, just in time for the meeting with the student council.
That too, Shu regrets, being in the student council for over 2 years now. He didn’t even remember how he got in there! The only thing he could recall is that Ike wanted to apply with him; and if he didn’t, Ike wouldn’t join too. It’s all blurry to him and frankly, he doesn’t even want to remember it.
Heading out of the library, he sees Ike waiting there, hands crossed in front of him. He notices Shu, gives him a wave and walks towards him.
“You didn’t answer any of my calls,” Ike exasperatedly says, eyes locked and sharp, though no vitriol in it. Shu rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly at Ike.
“Sorry! I had it on silent.”
“Can’t believe you didn’t answer seven of my calls,” Ike faux cries, huff coming out of his lips to further tease Shu.
This Ike is rare; the Ike Eveland that is childish, one that frequently cracks jokes out of nowhere, one that teases Shu Yamino until the latter turns red from embarrassment. This Ike is freeing, true, and genuine; it comes in like a breath of fresh air shaped like a hurricane; ready to break you down into your most vulnerable state. This Ike— is enchanting; Ike Eveland in his purest form.
Chuckles are heard from both of them, Shu bending towards Ike to bump him in the shoulder.
“Shut up, Ike.” Ike only hums as a reply, a giggle following soon after. Ike hovers close to him like he’s a heater, both of the fabrics their coats roughly rubbing each other. There is a moment; a pause, before Ike finally gives in and wraps his arm around Shu’s.
This Ike Eveland reminds Shu of a cat— a cat that has personality, one would say. Shu wouldn’t exactly categorize him as a tsundere (Ike would hate that) so he concludes on the closest equivalent: a cat. Elegant and a little grumpy most of the time, but affectionate and clingy at certain moments.
This is the certain moment Shu has the privilege to experience.
Maybe, Shu thinks, this is why Ike and Luca are so compatible; being the cat and dog pair and all.
“I even had to text everyone where you were, you know? Thank god Luca and Mysta dropped you here or else I wouldn’t have known where you isolated yourself again.” Ike complains, pout settling naturally on his face.
“Sorry…” Shu apologizes again. “It really was on silent. Also, I had to help someone in the library, a guy passed out,” He trails off, remembering the boy from before. Strangely though, he isn’t as annoyed at it as he did earlier, a weird sense of acceptance (acceptance of what?) settling within him.
“What? Is he alright now?”
“Yeah.” The reply is short— clipped, he doesn’t bother to explain without Ike asking anything, wanting the experience all to himself.
And if he notices Ike staring at him with a weird expression, he doesn’t comment on it.
Ike is smart enough.
Halfway through their walk, Ike briefs him with the agenda for the meeting, Shu bemoaning that he didn’t attend any of the previous meetings now that he heard that there was so many events that needs planning. He groans, Ike chiding him with a childish smile, though Shu knows that Ike is feeling the same way; being a student in various school organizations.
Both souls are tired. It is only right that they help each other out, being tender-hearted and for them to sink in the ocean that is empathy. If one was to drown, the other has to drink for them to stay alive— to survive. Shu would gladly drown for Ike. For all of his friends.
(Even for that dark purple haired boy who looked so wonderful, perfectly imperfect— a human who looks like it has been painted by Shu’s own calloused hands, a real tableau of Shu’s heart.)
When the door of the student council room opens, Shu is met by Elira Pendora; senior, the President. She shoots him a warm smile that is incredibly familiar to him, for all the times that they spent together until the kiss of midnight or even the brink of dawn.
“Shu! Hey, you’re back!” A purple haired girl chirps just beside the door. There he sees Selen Tatsuki, senior, Elira’s sister; the Vice President. Enthusiastic as ever, she gives Shu a side-hug, an action of comfort, Selen knowing that Shu haven’t attended any meetings because of his tight schedule with uni and work.
Shu commends these two for being so responsible, and it also helps that they’re sisters, knowing each other like the back of their own hands. And speaking frankly, the student council wouldn’t be right without the presence of those two.
He feels someone softly nudge his waist, head quickly whirling to who the suspect was.
“Shu.”
There stands Petra Gurin, the secretary of the student council, and the one person that Shu regards as his older sibling, even if not related by blood.
Petra Gurin for Shu Yamino is a grounding force, someone who would always be there to bring him back to the surface— the tank of oxygen Shu Yamino needs once in a while. The baby blue eyes he is well acquainted with fixates on him with relief, and Shu doesn’t refrain himself from coming to Petra and giving her a hug.
Petra chortles, sound alike to a chirp of a bird, before patting Shu on his head, composition making an image of an older sister and a younger brother. Shu can’t help it, it’s been weeks since he has heard from Petra; both of them being so busy with their own responsibilities.
“Nee-san,” The Japanese phrase falls out of his lips naturally, like it’s always been threatening to spill from his stitched mouth. Petra simply hums, careful hands still stroking his hair— and Shu feels weak, eyes getting wet from pent up stress and frustration. He’s trembling like a leaf but he doesn’t care, only focusing on the warmth his sister gives.
If the people seeing him right now judge him for it, then so be it. But Shu knows that they won’t, the group of people here are capable of secrecy, each individual important enough to Shu for him to show some weakness.
Shu sniffles, akin to a baby. Petra is still patting him, but now at his back, a small hand providing him the biggest wave of comfort he could ever ask for.
“What’s this? Shu Yamino crying? Who are you?” Petra banters with him, fond smile painting her face.
“Me? Crying? I hardly even know her!” Shu jokes back, a laugh cutting his hiccup, his hand wiping off any sign of tears on his eyes and cheeks.
Finding the whole predicament embarrassing after a few moments, Shu fixes himself up and sniffles once again, hoping to stop the emotions from running over him another time. Ike also comes beside him, sticking himself closer to Shu than he would a normal day, a terrified expression on his face. He sees him mouth “You okay now?” and Shu only nods, coyly smiling at Ike.
The remaining people in the room: Enna Alouette, Sonny Brisko, and Rosemi Lovelock, leaves the situation as it is, only thankful that Shu Yamino expressed himself once again, after a few weeks of little to no communication.
Elira clears her throat, sound cutting through the soft ambience, mood immediately changing into a serious air.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s discuss all the events for this month…”
The meeting was adjourned about two hours and a half in, Elira and Selen needing to dismiss themselves for a family dinner that night. Sounds of stretching are heard from the people around Shu, even hearing Sonny and Enna crack a few joints, a despaired grunt coming from the latter.
Shu is exhausted after the non-stop talking and planning, bones of his body almost ready to collapse. Ike’s presence beside him is heavy, the want of laying his head on a pillow strong and unrestrained in his mind. And so he gently places his head on Ike’s shoulder, the scarf his friend is wearing providing a cushion for his head. Shu closes his eyes and lets Ike also lay his head on top of his, taking a breather for the exhausting day.
“We haven’t hung out for so long, Shu.” Ike says, voice low for only him to hear.
Shu bobbles his head from Ike’s shoulder, a sorry excuse for a nod, before humming in response: “I’m sorry,”
“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Ike breaks the ice, the question he’s aching to ask Shu finally coming out with his own voice.
Shu chuckles, mouth forming into a sad smile. “No,” He tells the truth— no use in lying when it’s Ike Eveland questioning him.
He hears a sigh come out of his friend, a tinge of frustration coloring his air. Ike doesn’t say anything, no word, no sound, no nothing— and Shu appreciates it, the message within that huff of air clear on his mind.
“Let’s go home?” Ike asks.
And Shu follows.
Entering his dorm room, Shu is instantly reminded of the two things in his pockets. He grasps it, playing with the pocket knife idly before setting it down on his desk, the purple of the objects bringing color to Shu’s plain desk set-up. It’s a stark difference from the all neutral colors of Shu’s furniture.
It’s a good color, he thinks. It fits his room quite well.
(Would the dark purple haired boy fit him too?)
Shaking his thoughts away, Shu lays on his bed, body sinking to the soft mattress. He exhales, burying his face more on the bed, smell of his scent, coffee, and freshly washed linen assaulting his nose.
Coffee. The café. Affogato coffee. The boy earlier— what the hell?
Him again? Shu is clueless at the decision of: if he should be annoyed at himself or the subject of his thoughts for always being on his mind.
Ugh. His head hurts.