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Roshuuto Douzen is at Mobmart. Begrudgingly. He always waits for the sun to go down to beat rush hour (waiting for rush hour to end still counts as beating it). Douzen only needs one item, so he really doesn’t see the point in waiting in line for half an hour. He enters the store and heads straight to what he needs.
There’s a wall showcasing various gift cards. He scours it, eyes glancing over all the different brands. Moblox. H&Mob. Amobzon. Finally, his gaze lands on it: the last card selling what he’s looking for.
2800 V-Bucks.
Douzen lunges for the card, but catches something else. It’s not the smooth plastic he was expecting. It’s something warm, and rough. Douzen looks over and notices for the first time that another man was standing next to him.
“Excuse me,” the man said, and pulled his hand back in surprise.
“Don’t worry about it!” Douzen smiles to hide his annoyance. He grabs the card again, succeeding this time, and is ready to walk towards the checkout when he hears the man clear his throat.
“Actually, I believe I grabbed the card first.”As Douzen turns to face him, he feels something crackle in the air. The other man is staring back with the most piercing blue eyes he’s ever seen.
“Well, even so, I was standing there first. So it only makes sense that I get the card.”
“... I was standing here before you entered the store.”
Douzen decides to ignore the increasing static in the air and get a better look at the stranger. He’s slightly shorter, but has a strong build. He’s wearing a tailor made suit that Douzen can practically smell the money dripping from. His piercing blue eyes are only complemented by his red hair and bushy eyebrows.
Douzen can make this work.
“What’s your name?”
“Suzuki.” Douzen waits for him to finish the sentence, but he never does. Guess it’ll just be Suzuki for now.
“ I am Roshuuto Douzen. And I can give you this card, if you take me for drinks tonight.”
He smiles in a way he thinks must be irresistible. Suzuki only stares with his terrifyingly blue eyes, then walks towards the checkout without saying a word. Douzen finds it cute how flustered he is.
For the entire time spent at self-checkout, and the entire drive in Suzuki’s car, Douzen has butterflies in his stomach. So many butterflies, in fact, that it doesn’t fully register where exactly Suzuki is taking him until they arrive. His smile falls upon stepping out of the car.
“Suzuki,” he says, exasperated. “This is a coffee shop.”
“Yes,” Suzuki answers with a hint of annoyance. “They serve drinks here.”
Douzen is disappointed at first, then laughs. He didn’t expect someone so stoic to have such a sense of humor.
His disappointment returns when nothing at this shop is alcoholic. He instead opts for an iced tea with oat milk. He winks at Suzuki, who either didn’t see or didn’t care. Suzuki just orders a single croissant. Makes more sense than drinking coffee so late at night. They take their orders to a table in the otherwise empty cafe.
“Soooo,” Douzen tries to break the ice, “tell me about yourself! What do you do for a living?”
Suzuki seems taken off guard by this. “Well, I… do a lot of community service, I suppose.” He’s trying to look anywhere but Douzen’s face. “What about you?”
Sore subject, Douzen thinks. “I help those in need as a psychic. The strongest in the solar system, in fact,” he smugly performs the introduction he’s rehearsed a million times over. “I even have a max spiritual level of 200,” he adds on, deciding to use the new term he learned that day.
This seems to amuse Suzuki, who’s smiling just slightly. “Spiritual level, huh? What do you suppose mine is?”
“Ehh, commoners like you don’t really have spiritual levels,” Douzen says before taking a long sip of his tea. This makes Suzuki’s smile only grow. Douzen nearly chokes on his drink.
As they continued to talk about this and that, Suzuki dropps a bomb as if it were nothing.
“ Wait,” Douzen interrupts, “you have a son?”
“Er, yes,” Suzuki says, confused. “That’s… who the gift card was for. Although, he isn’t living with me these days. I only see him every other weekend.”
Ahh, Douzen is relieved. Divorce.
“How old is he?”
“He’ll be thirteen in December.” The older man is so much softer while speaking about his son. It‘s enough to make Douzen swoon.
“Ah, my kid is around the same age!” Douzen lies.
“Oh?” Suzuki gives a surprised look, before it turns to understanding. There’s a beat of silence.
“Has there… been anyone else?” Douzen prompted breathlessly.
“No,” Suzuki once again focuses his attention elsewhere. “I haven’t really had time for dating since… well, since my wife left. I was focusing more on my, er, work.” The man is staring at the croissant-less napkin in front of him.
Right. Suzuki had finished his croissant. Douzen had also finished his beverage, but was still sucking on the straw to stall for time. Surely no one noticed the change in sound.
“Well!” Douzen stands up suddenly. “This was a fun night, but I think I’m ready to head home.”
The two of them exit the cafe. Douzen can see the only employee glaring at them, and as he walks through the door Suzuki forgot to hold open, he catches a glimpse of the sign. The cafe closes at nine. It is currently ten thirty.
Suzuki enters his car, and Douzen follows.
“What are y-” he starts to say as Douzen makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat.
“You’re driving me home, aren’t you?” he teases, already fastening his seatbelt. Suzuki turns to face the road but Douzen sees his eyebrow twitch as Douzen enters his address into the GPS.
The drive to Douzen’s apartment is short, but the atmosphere is tense. The static from before has returned. Neither of them speak the entire time.
When they pull up to their destination, Douzen turns to face the driver.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says, smiling as warmly as he can. “We should do this again. What’s your number?”
“Why do you need my–” Suzuki starts to say before stopping mid sentence. His eyes go wide. He then slowly and deliberately says, “I don’t have a phone.”
“Oh– well what about–”
“It’s getting late,” he interrupts. “You should probably head inside.”
Douzen steps out of the car, expecting to be walked to his apartment or at least to the front gate. But the second he shuts the door behind him Suzuki’s car is already driving off.
Roshuuto Douzen isn’t getting a second date.