Chapter Text
Kring!
"Miyuki!" he heard a man from the other end of the line. "Do you know what date it is?"
Who the hell cares about today's date? He thought.
Then he heard people scrambling in the background, another man offering the caller a cup of tea and coffee, which sounded like he was having both of them in one cup. He knew only one man who would go for that. He sat up quicker than his raging heartbeat after realizing who it was.
It was the president of the publishing house.
In a panic, he ended the call before he could beg for another extension. The calendar said it was the second of June. Exactly a week later than his initial extension.
From: Do Not Answer
Miyuki, I’ll give you until tomorrow. Or I’ll take matters into my own hands. You know what I mean.
It was the threat again. He jolted out of bed and ran for the nearest coffee shop. His apartment clearly didn’t give him one bit of inspiration for the past week, when he thought the change of routine might be good for his motivation.
"I never get writer’s block.”
It's a quote from his most recent interview. Eventually, he always finds a way to trick himself to do the things he has to do. That's what he always believed, and that's what got him through the years. It was the reason why he’s the president’s favorite.
To his bad luck, it wasn't true now. He had been going through a slump for the past year. Every time he opened his laptop, nothing came out. He could stare at the document for hours but still have nothing. Literal nothing.
But it wasn't true even then.
He was lucky to be under the guy who's probably the nicest in the industry. But even someone like him has limits, especially when it comes to their major projects. But there's also no way he'll give in to the president's backup plan.
“You just have to give me your first draft,” he said over the call, trying to give him a pinch of motivation. But if making the first draft was ever easy, he would’ve submitted it long ago.
In a rush, he got to the coffee shop with his half-combed hair and mismatched socks. His breath probably stinks, but maybe the breath mints can do the trick. At the very least, Miyuki has been going there every day to know that no one would give a fuck about that.
"Iced cappuccino with…" he paused, trying to read the labels. Maybe changing his glasses would be a good idea? What if it was part of the problem? "Oreo and banana bread, please."
He wasn’t really in the mood for some banana bread, but the cafe is still waiting for the deliveries so it’s that or nothing. And Miyuki was kinda starving.
The barista gave him a familiar smile, and he headed to the free spot in the corner. On every visit, he would order a different combination of drinks and bread, and choose a different spot, hoping there could be some kind of magic and he could trick his brain yet again to finally get some words moving.
The first twenty-five minutes will always be tough. He'd write a word or two, or maybe three when he was lucky. Only to delete it in the next five minutes. Then he'll write again, but delete it not too long after. It was a cycle.
So one hour later, he still had nothing.
“Is this seat taken?” He heard a voice from behind.
Miyuki felt his chest slowly tighten like the room was taking every air out of him. And just like a tape playing on rewind, he saw his younger self with cherry blossom petals raining on him. Some would get stuck in his hair, and he would pick them out for him.
“Kuramochi,” he said under his breath. He felt his vision blur like he can’t any more information other than the fact that his hair is now striking red.
“Of course, it’s not,” Miyuki managed to answer while clearing up the other half of the table and sneaking a quick comb in his hair. “Take a seat.”
His normal day in the cafe is hard as it is, spending thousands a week on his coffee shop trips and still having nothing ready for his first draft. He’s not sure if having his ex on the same coffee table would mean any motivation.
“How are you doing?” Kuramochi asked, inching closer to him. “You must be so busy these days.”
Busy writing and deleting things and wasting money on overpriced coffee . He thought.
“Uh, yeah,” he lied, feeling his toes curl. “Just some heavy workload on this project."
"Nice," Kuramochi replied. If he wasn't convinced, he didn't make it obvious. Just his eyes locked on him.
Miyuki wasn’t sure if it had been five minutes or an hour. Maybe the former? Because there was no way Kuramochi wouldn’t look away for sixty minutes straight.
"You dating anyone?" The question popped out of nowhere, but it sounded practiced.
He almost spilled the cappuccino that had zero hints of being cold, trying to go over the list of things he could say at times like this. “I-I do… when I have time.”
The last time he checked, this wasn't on the list.
“When you have time,” he repeated. “Cool.”
Miyuki saw his face painted with suspicion turn to what looked like pain.
His fans would say he always knew which were the right words to pierce someone's heart. And maybe the guy he left without saying anything could attest to that.
And before he knew it, the loud tint of red had long faded into the sunset. It was eight in the evening and Miyuki had nothing but "stupid asshole" written on his laptop.
He didn’t even get to—
A soft ring on the table caught his attention.
From: Do Not Answer
Send your first draft tomorrow evening. Or else.
“It’s just gonna be once, or twice. Or until you get to write again,” the president tried to reassure him over a call on one of those days when he didn’t hang up. “We just can’t postpone this any longer.”
“All I need is your name.” The president’s voice echoed in his head as he stared at the empty ceiling of his apartment.
But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
He checked his bank account, even though he knew the answer. He will never have that much money to break the contract.
A deadline he couldn't meet. An ex he wasn’t ready to see. Miyuki was definitely on his lucky streak.
If this was a nightmare, it’d be a good time to wake up.