Work Text:
Working as a barista wasn’t exactly the most attractive part-time job to work whilst one was in college. It was better than having to retail (Matsukawa had had to do that in his first year and it was a hell he’d never wish on anyone), but it wasn’t easy, particularly considering how he had to work his shifts around his classes. Being a math and science major, most of his classes ended up being early morning or midday and it left him with only evenings free (and, more often than not, he ended up working until closing at midnight).
There were a few advantages to working on campus, though. One was the fact that it was right near his classes and right near the dormitories. Even for his one day shift on a Saturday, he was able to be lazy and take his time in getting ready before the five minute walk to the cafe. The second was that his friends liked to frequent the cafe during his quieter night shifts and his manager (a portly middle-aged woman from his hometown) was nice enough to let him spend time with them if there was no work to do. The third was the daily free drink regardless of whether he was working or not, followed by a heavy discount on any drink he got afterwards.
And the forth appeared without fail every night around ten o’clock, with strawberry blond hair and warm grey-green eyes and a pile of textbooks under one arm. He would always place his bag and books down on the same table (a small, low table with a single plush seat in one corner) before approaching the counter, by which time Matsukawa was already ringing up his regular order (a strawberry and cream macchiato in winter, or frappucino in summer, with one of their largest cream puffs).
There was always small talk between himself and Hanamaki (the latter having been keeping up his daily trips to the cafe at the same time every day since before Matsukawa had started to work there) and they’d become close enough to almost be friends. They rarely saw each other outside of the cafe, what with their differing specialties (Hanamaki was a journalism major, so his faculty building was on the opposite side of the campus to the labs that Matsukawa frequented) and their lack of free time (both being in their final year of their undergraduate degrees), but their bantering within the cafe space was always warm and friendly, and Hanamaki had even taken to waiting for Matsukawa to finish closing up so that they could both walk back to the dormitories together. Hanamaki had easily taken to calling the other a nerd (a nickname out of affection and awe, because the kind of things Matsukawa could rattle off so easily were things the journalist-to-be couldn’t even dream of understanding, and the barista always seemed to have a reason or explanation for any question Hanamaki had in mind).
It was only almost always, though.
For example, Matsukawa could easily explain away the fluttering in his chest and the lazy smile on his face that always appeared every time he saw Hanamaki arriving at the cafe. There was a chemistry there between them that made it so easy to be around him, and their humour always seemed to match up so well. Plus, Hanamaki wasn’t exactly ugly, even if something better could be done about his hairstyle. His smile was always bright and there was something about his laugh that vibrated in the barista’s bones, and, honestly, he was far from surprised when he finally sat down and thought about those subconscious reactions.
With the kind of guy that Hanamaki was, how could Matsukawa not develop a little puppy crush on him. Because that was all it was. A small crush that would never lead anywhere, because Hanamaki had never really responded to any of Matsukawa’s (albeit subtle) advances, and he had already made it clear that he had no interest in dating, not when he was planning on going overseas for internships after he graduated.
What Matsukawa couldn’t explain was the way his heart sank when he reached closing time one night and Hanamaki hadn’t even so much as walked past the front windows. He couldn’t explain why it sank lower and lower as every work day passed and the journalist still didn’t show up. By the end of three weeks of the same pattern, he had become numb to everything related to it.
A Saturday which happened to be the same day everything fixed itself.
Cleaning after the lunchtime rush, conversing offhandedly with co-workers as he cleaned up the machine, the cafe filled with only a handful of patrons spread out amongst the tables. And then a familiar head of strawberry blond and his heart almost leapt (almost, because he quickly caught sight of long black strands just behind him and linked hands with entwined fingers).
If Matsukawa was any colder or more curt than normal, Hanamaki didn’t point it out (though he supposed he wouldn’t, not with the way he was enraptured by the girl sitting opposite him when Matsukawa brought them their drinks). He only had a few minutes to stay and talk, but it was enough to learn just why he had disappeared like that: the obvious girlfriend, dates, new obsessions, a change in study strategy and a shift in his plans for his internship.
“One of the magazines in Tokyo offered me one for a year, so I’ll be there instead. It’s right near the hospital where Hanako will be, isn’t it?”
By the time Matsukawa finally clocked out and hung his apron in his employee locker, there was only a single thought floating in his head, haunting him every time he pictured Hanamaki directly that warm smile at him.
If I had asked him, would he have stayed for me?