Chapter Text
Oikawa pushed into the warmth of the coffee shop, a flurry of snowflakes following him in. He shut the door quickly behind him, slamming it a little harder than he meant to. The bell above him clanged loudly, but then slowed to a gentle chime.
The smell of coffee washed over him, and any snowflakes that were clinging to the fabric of his coat instantly melted away. He pulled off his hat, tucking it under his arm as he took off his gloves. He would’ve kept them on if it weren’t for the fireplace by the entryway that proved to be the reason for the warmth.
Oikawa walked in further, glancing around. He had thought he might recognize it when he walked in, but it really was a cafe he hadn’t been to before.
Warm lights were hung along the perimeter. Soft music was playing, and a quick glance around showed every booth was empty.
The booths were interesting to Oikawa. Like it might have been a diner before it was a coffee shop. Now, the only food available seemed to be various baked goods behind a glass counter, none of which he was there for.
He walked forward, eyeing the menu. It was a large chalkboard, the items written so neatly it almost looked like it was printed on. Separated from the dozens of coffee options was exactly what he was looking for: hot chocolate.
Now that he had found his objective, he allowed his eyes to move lower.
There was a snow globe on the counter, by the register. And suddenly he noticed them everywhere, as centerpieces on the tables, and on every window sill and shelf.
The last snow globe he had seen was the one at his grandmother’s house that no one was allowed to touch. It was weird seeing so many of them within reach.
“Welcome,” the man behind the counter said. “What can I get you?”
“A small hot chocolate, please.” Oikawa’s words were polite, but his nose was wrinkled slightly.
“Sure.” The man turned his back to make it, and Oikawa crossed his arms, allowing himself to show his distaste more openly now that he wasn’t looking.
They were really the only two people in there? If the barista was a woman, it wouldn’t have mattered. But Oikawa’s past experiences with men left him preferring not to be alone with one. He glanced at the door, waiting for someone else to walk in. Then he pulled his wallet out when no one did, getting the money ready so he could walk away from the counter as quickly as possible.
“It’s okay,” the man said.
“What?” Oikawa’s heart was pounding as if he had somehow read his thoughts. But of course he was talking about something else.
“It’s a dollar twenty-four,” he said, sliding the cup toward him. “It’s on me.”
Oikawa scoffed, putting two dollars on the counter. “Actually, it’s on me. Keep the change.” He grabbed the cup and started heading toward the door, but stopped when he remembered how cold it was out there. Besides, wasn’t he going to stop running? Wasn’t he going to stop letting other people win?
He sighed, going over to sit at the booth in the farthest corner instead, not looking at the barista. He had briefly registered that his nametag read “Ushijima” but that wasn’t information he ever planned on using.
The snow globe in front of him had two penguins holding hands and smiling up at him. Oikawa found himself staring at their stupid faces instead of drinking the hot chocolate that he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore.
It’s on me, kept repeating in his head, a phrase he had heard too many times before.
The only time people bought him drinks was when they wanted something else from him. This wasn’t alcohol, though. It was hot chocolate. And Oikawa bought it himself. Even so, it sat in front of him untouched as he thought about how he wasn’t.
He knew now who he was. And never again would he let anyone try to change his mind.
He grabbed the cup and brought it to his lips, suddenly determined to not let his past ruin this for him like it had ruined so many other things. He took a small sip, his eyes darting over to Ushijima as he did so. Oikawa was tense, waiting for him to come over and ask him how it was or start a conversation about something else.
But Ushijima hadn’t looked at him since he sat down. He had his back to Oikawa again, wiping down the counter. And Oikawa found that he was actually able to relax, just a little.
The music was nice. The whole atmosphere was nice. Snow continued to fall outside, but the coziness of the cafe made Oikawa actually happy that it was winter.
The heat from the hot chocolate seeped through the styrofoam cup, warming his hands. He took another sip, enjoying looking around at all the snow globes. The guy obviously had a collection. His house must’ve been full of them, too, and Oikawa had a sudden desire to see for himself. But then he caught himself. No way would he ever go to that man’s house. Or any man’s house, for that matter.
He knew he was being bitter, but that’s how things had to be. Bitterness was a safeguard. It prevented him from getting hurt.
When he finished the hot chocolate, he stood up from the booth. He hesitated before leaving, then put a dollar in the tip jar.
“Thank you,” Ushijima said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Oh, it’s not for the mediocre hot chocolate. It’s for the decor.” And then he walked outside into the cold before Ushijima had a chance to respond, the bell clanging as the door shut behind him.
.
.
The entire city was white. Oikawa’s office building was taller than a lot of those around him, so all he could see were white roofs meeting gray sky. He stared out at the bleakness, forgetting his romanticized view of winter that the cafe had somehow managed to give him the night before. He was back to reality, except this reality now included some unwelcome thoughts about a certain man in a purple apron.
“Is something wrong?” Kiyoko asked. She was sitting at the desk across from him and had stopped typing on her computer. It wasn’t often that she let things interrupt her work. Even if something came up, she could easily multitask. But something about Oikawa’s expression made her give him her full attention.
She was the only friend he had, coworker or not. It made sense that she was attuned to him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to deny it.
He pulled his gaze away from the window, trying to be indifferent. “What? No. Everything’s fine.”
But Kiyoko didn’t look away, her sharp eyes analyzing. “Are you sure? I doubt those reports are making you think hard enough for you to be making that face.”
Oikawa sighed, pushing the stack of papers away. It was true that he had been doing it for so long that he could do it with his eyes closed, and he had never been able to hide the truth from her for very long. “They’re not. I’m thinking about something else.”
Kiyoko typed a little bit more, then looked up at him again. “I know you like to come to conclusions on your own,” she said. “But if you want to talk something through, I’m always here to listen.”
“Thanks, Shimizu.” He knew she was there for him. Of course he did.
But there was really nothing to talk about. The whole thing was stupid, anyway. Just because the guy hadn’t lived up to his terrible expectations didn’t mean he wouldn’t at some point.
So what was the point in thinking about the possibility that he could be different? Ushijima was exactly the same as the rest of them. He just hadn’t shown his true colors yet.
“Ugh,” he said, coming out of his head enough to become more aware of the things around him. “Are those flowers from Tanaka?” The vase was sitting on her desk, overflowing with colorful flowers. Of course Tanaka would give her a whole vase and not just the plastic wrapping.
“Aren’t they pretty?”
“They’re pretty, sure. But what does he want from you in exchange for them?” That’s all it was, Oikawa was sure. Flattery for his own gain. It made him sick.
“Nothing,” she said easily. “Nothing at all.”
He knew he was being difficult. They had been dating for a few years now, plenty of time for Oikawa to have warmed up to him. But the thing was that he didn’t want to.
Men were all the same. They hurt his sister. They might end up hurting Kiyoko. They had hurt him.
Tanaka wasn’t different. Sure, he made Kiyoko happy and seemed to treat her right, but that could change at any moment.
Tanaka was the same as the rest of them. And so was the guy at the cafe.
But as much as he was set on this, an unfamiliar unease was settling around his resolve. Because the truth was that his experience at the cafe hadn’t been a bad one.
Oikawa sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to let it go until he went back there, just to make sure the guy was as awful as he knew he must be.
But it was harder than he thought to go back. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could’ve gone wrong, and how going there again would just increase the chances of something happening.
But with a cafe as cozy as that and a barista with a voice as gentle as Ushijima’s, Oikawa realized it was hard to imagine being there and feeling anything but safe.
.
.
Kiyoko sat in her apartment, looking out at the city. She was curled up with a book, but she wasn’t really reading. Her thoughts had been on Oikawa lately. Tanaka was doing laundry in the other room, and she was about to go help him even though he told her to rest, but then she heard him coming toward her.
She was immediately engulfed in warmth as Tanaka covered her with a blanket, fresh out of the dryer. The cozy heat made her close her eyes, but she still reached her arms out for him. He snuggled in next to her, holding her tight. And it was in moments like those that Kiyoko understood what it meant to be perfectly content.
She was quiet as she soaked in the moment, but then she leaned up and kissed him, smiling as she pulled away. “I love you,” she said.
Tanaka smiled back. “I love you, too.”
They had been dating for a few years now. Tanaka had a ring, but he was waiting for the perfect moment. He would never rush anything when it came to Kiyoko. He cherished every second, because each second spent with her was always better than the last.
He knew how lucky he was. And he would never stop working to make sure he deserved it.
“You’re thinking about something,” he said, noticing the slight crease in her eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Kiyoko said, leaning against him. “I’m thinking about Oikawa.”
“Is he okay?”
“I think so. But…you know how he’s still wary of you?” Tanaka frowned slightly, nodding. “I was worried that he’d be wary of every man until he warmed up to you. But if he never warms up to you, then…”
“I think it’s different with me,” Tanaka said. “I think it’s because of how much he cares about you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. As much as it makes me sad that he thinks I would ever do anything that would hurt you, I think he would be this way no matter who was dating you. So when it comes to Oikawa learning to trust men again, you’ll just have to not include me in that, okay?”
Tanaka knew Oikawa’s story. He was there when Oikawa was at his highest point, and he was there to watch him fall. He witnessed all this from the background, as his relationship with Kiyoko grew. And now that he was closer to her than he’d ever been, he couldn’t help feeling close to Oikawa, too. Close enough to know that Oikawa didn’t want to be close to him.
Kiyoko sighed, leaning into him more. “But that makes me sad.”
“I know,” Tanaka said, kissing the top of her head. “But I think you should also be happy that you have two people in your life who love you as much as we do.”
“I am happy. I just want Oikawa to be happy, too.”
“He’s happy when he’s with you. And when he figures things out, he’ll be happy all the time. He just needs someone to show him that not all men are the same.”
“Yeah,” Kiyoko said. “I wanted it to be you.”
“It’s not gonna be me,” Tanaka said gently. “But don’t worry, Kiyoko. I promise there will be someone.”
They were out there, somewhere. Maybe near, maybe far.
Maybe making coffee in a little cafe, looking around at all the snow globes and waiting for the right person to come along, too.
.
.
A little over a week later, Oikawa made his way back to the coffee shop. Unlike his first visit, the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the snowy ground.
It was supposed to be a personal victory, proving to himself that he could go there again. He’d order another hot chocolate, maybe find out if his expectation of how men always treated him would be fulfilled the second time around.
All in all, it was going to be a brief visit just so he could finally stop thinking about the whole thing.
He definitely hadn’t expected Ushijima to remember him.
“Back for more mediocre hot chocolate?” he asked as soon as Oikawa walked in. A friendly smile played on his lips, but that didn’t keep Oikawa from feeling immediately anxious.
Ushijima’s words could definitely be interpreted as flirty. But that was what he came there to prove, right? That he was just like every other guy?
He decided to put on a brave face and play along. “Oh, did you take that personally?” he asked, deciding to take an extra step and sit down at one of the stools at the counter. “I hope not. Everything’s mediocre to me if it isn’t the best.”
Despite his anxiousness, he actually did feel kind of bad that his offhand comment had stuck with him.
Ushijima nodded at this explanation. “I’m sorry your standards are so high,” he said, sounding genuine.
Oikawa just shrugged. He was making a show of really studying the menu even though he knew he was going to order the same thing again. His heart was pounding faster than he would’ve liked. He was waiting for Ushijima to hit on him, now that they had established a conversation.
Would he walk out, if he did? Or would he just take it?
No. He wasn’t going to take anything he wasn’t comfortable with. Not anymore.
Ushijima cleared his throat. Oh god. Oikawa thought. Here we go.
But he actually looked a little worried. “I’m sorry if I offended you last time,” he said. “Or hurt your pride, or anything like that.”
His words surprised Oikawa, but he recovered quickly, eyes narrowing. “Can’t I buy my own hot chocolate?”
“Of course you can. You just seemed…bothered, somehow. And I didn’t want it to be because of me.”
“Well it wasn’t,” Oikawa said. “So you can stop worrying about it.”
Ushijima nodded slightly. He put his hands in his apron pocket as if he were looking for something, then pulled them out again having found nothing. He chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to look anywhere but at Oikawa. In the end, he wasn’t able to let it go.
“Then why haven’t you come back?”
Oikawa looked away from the menu, a little irritated. He met Ushijima’s eyes, and was surprised by how gentle they seemed. But it didn’t matter. “Look,” he said. “I know you must be desperate for customers, but no one owes you a second visit.”
Ushijima frowned slightly, trying to figure him out. “But you’re here now.”
“I know I’m here now! But I’m saying I didn’t owe it to you.”
“Right,” he said. “Of course not.”
Oikawa huffed, turning his attention toward the snow globe in front of him instead. There were tiny buildings inside, a replica of some foreign city. “Look, can I just have another hot chocolate please?”
“Of course.” His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’ll try to make it better this time.”
“No, it was fine how it was. Don’t be dramatic.” And as Oikawa glanced up one last time before Ushijima turned away, he almost thought he saw him smile.
Despite his initial anxiousness, Oikawa found that it was slowly falling away. He was doing it. He was conquering a situation that could be considered a weakness of his. He still couldn’t trust Ushijima, of course. But the sick feeling in his stomach that was usually present was nowhere to be found.
He glanced around the cafe as Ushijima made it. There were no other customers there again. Oikawa wondered if it just happened to be a slow time, or if the place really didn’t get a lot of business. There should have been lots of people there with how it was decorated. Or maybe the snow globes were only interesting to Oikawa. And Ushijima.
He thought about asking him how he came up with the theme, but then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to want to talk to him at all.
“What name should I write on the cup?” Ushijima asked.
Oikawa frowned. “You didn’t write on it the first time.”
“You didn’t seem in the mood to be asked.”
“And you think I’m in the mood now?” Ushijima started to say something, but Oikawa just sighed. “It’s Oikawa. Need me to spell that for you?”
“No, I think I can manage.”
Oikawa didn’t know why he even needed his name in the first place. It wasn’t like there was a queue of people. A part of him was worried about Ushijima’s intentions, but the most logical part of him knew he was probably just trying to build rapport with his customers. Not like Oikawa was going to become a regular.
Ushijima finished making the hot chocolate, carefully setting it on the counter in front of him.
This time, it had whipped cream with chocolate syrup drizzled on top, and a single marshmallow in place of a cherry. It looked delicious, but of course Oikawa couldn’t not make a scene about it.
“What, did I accidentally order the deluxe hot chocolate instead?” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m not paying extra for it.”
“You don’t have to. I just wanted to surprise you.”
Oikawa wrinkled his nose in immediate suspicion. Ushijima was quick to notice.
“Or I can make you a regular one, if you’d prefer that,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you if you wanted the extra stuff before I put it on.”
Something about his reaction made Oikawa feel bad. He took the cup in his hands, sighing. “Well, then, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, now would it?” And he took a drink.
.
.
He was going to go right home. He really was.
But the string of lights that were hanging along the outside fence were off now. Which was strange, because they had been on when Oikawa walked in, and he hadn’t taken his attention off Ushijima the whole time.
He followed the cord, and sure enough, it was still plugged in. Other lights were still on around the building, just not that section. Which meant that one of the tiny bulbs was broken and took the rest of the bulbs down with it.
Which didn’t matter. Not to Oikawa, at least. Ushijima would figure it out for himself, he’d find the broken bulb, and the lights would be fixed. Again, not Oikawa’s problem.
He started walking down the sidewalk, but found that he couldn’t get very far without stopping. It was annoying, really, how fast his brain worked. But as he thought about it more, did Ushijima really have the time if he seemed to be the only person running the whole cafe? And did he even know how to find a tiny broken bulb?
Oikawa could do it quickly. He’d fix it in exchange for the fancy hot chocolate, and then they’d be even. Oikawa wouldn’t owe him anything.
He sighed, starting at the end, and checked each and every bulb.
By the time he finally found the problem, he was so cold he could barely feel his fingers. He was shivering as he turned away from the fence, but it was worth it because the lights were shining brightly again. Oikawa liked to win, and this definitely counted as a victory.
Just as he was about to leave, the door opened.
“Oikawa?” Ushijima asked, coming out onto the front step. “What are you doing?”
Great. Oikawa had hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He sighed, resting a hand on his hip. “What does it look like I’m doing? I fixed your stupid lights.”
“What? Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’. Just say ‘thank you’ and go back inside.”
But Ushijima walked down the steps toward him. “Thank you, yes. Of course,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “But Oikawa, it’s freezing out here.”
“I’m not cold.”
“You’re shivering. And there’s snow on your eyelashes.”
“Why are you looking at my eyelashes?”
There was a sudden gust of icy wind. Oikawa had to take a sideways step to keep his balance, but he tried to act like it didn’t faze him.
Ushijima wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his coat closer. He knew they needed to get out of the weather, but he was trying to figure things out. “I just…I don’t understand why you did this for me.”
“Look, you surprised me with a fancy hot chocolate, and I surprised you with fixing your lights. That’s it.”
“That’s not the same,” Ushijima said, a troubled expression on his face. “This took you so much longer, and you did it in the cold.”
“Is everything a competition to you?” Oikawa asked, crossing his arms. “Besides, I don’t know how long it takes you to find a broken light bulb, but it didn’t take me long.” It felt like forever, actually, but he’d never admit it.
“Can you please come inside so you can warm up?”
Oikawa shook his head, turning away. “I need to get home.”
“Wait.”
Great. He was going to keep nagging at him, trying to persuade him, like every other guy who had persuaded him to do things before. Oikawa’s heart was pounding as Ushijima went back inside, wondering what he could possibly try to bribe him with to get him to stay.
“Here,” he said when he returned, holding something out for him. “You can warm your hands with these as you walk.”
He gave Oikawa hand warmers. He thanked him again for fixing the lights and wished him a safe walk home. Then he went back inside, respecting Oikawa’s decision without trying to talk him into anything different.
And Ushijima would never know how much that meant to him.
.
.
Oikawa’s visits to the coffee shop began to be more and more frequent. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t find anything about Ushijima that was even the slightest bit bad, which kind of made him feel like he had lost somehow.
But he came to realize it was a loss he could handle.
Sometimes they’d chat a little bit, Ushijima having absolutely no ulterior motive other than making sure Oikawa was content. And Oikawa was working his way through the menu, trying a different drink each time and then heading out into the cold just a little bit warmer than he had arrived.
Oikawa’s hopes weren’t all the way up, of course. But it was nice knowing that, at least for now, Ushijima was an exception to the men Oikawa held a distrust for.
He rested his chin on his arms as he leaned on the counter, looking at the snow globe that was sitting there. “This one’s different.”
It wasn’t the miniature city anymore. Instead, it held smiling snowmen in colorful hats and scarves.
“I move them around every once in a while,” Ushijima explained. “So they all get a turn on the counter.”
He made it sound like they were living things. Like they actually cared where they were placed. As much as Oikawa would’ve joked about it if it had been someone else, somehow it was really sweet when it was Ushijima.
He stared at the snow globe, at the snowmen who were forever inside. And suddenly he was feeling sad.
He could’ve kept this to himself. He could’ve thanked Ushijima for the drink and left. But he was thinking about more than the snow globe. He was thinking about himself, about his situation. And despite how long he’d been carrying the weight of it alone, somehow he knew Ushijima would be happy to help lighten it.
“Do you know what I think?” he said quietly.
Ushijima leaned his broom against the counter, giving Oikawa his full attention. “What do you think?”
Oikawa trailed his finger along the glass, staring at the snow that had settled at the bottom. “Snow globes catch your eye until you realize there’s glass you can’t get through. The parts you want to touch are untouchable, so you lose interest.”
Ushijima nodded slowly, really taking in what Oikawa had to say. “That might be true for some people,” he said finally. “But these snow globes aren’t here because I’ve lost interest. They’re here because I like them.”
Oikawa looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes. “Even though you can never touch what's on the inside?”
“Of course. That’s why I cherish them.”
Oikawa didn’t say anything. He looked down at the snow globe again in a new light. There was a feeling of hope in his heart that he wasn’t used to.
If Ushijima was able to cherish snow globes, then maybe someone would be able to cherish Oikawa, too.
.
.
Back at home, Ushijima walked past his shelves of books, eyes glancing over the spines. He minored in English in college, so he was familiar with literature and all the symbolism that came with it.
Maybe that was why he inferred that Oikawa’s snow globe conversation wasn’t just about snow globes.
He tried not to make assumptions about people. But it seemed evident that Oikawa had had a bad experience with somebody. And Ushijima had a feeling he knew, at least in general, what it had entailed.
He had been asexual for as long as he could remember. He had been in the dating scene before, with people who didn’t understand the way he was.
And maybe that was what the snow globes had been. A way to cope with the missing relationship in his life. Things to take care of, to spend his time with.
Things to love.
It would be nice to love a person, because a person could love him back. But of course he knew that wasn’t something everyone was guaranteed. And he knew the way he loved wasn’t embraced by everyone, and so it was better not to get his hopes up. He was at peace with who he was and was grateful for everything he had. A loving family, his own cafe, a snow globe collection that brought him joy.
But meeting Oikawa reminded him of everything he used to be. Angry at the selfishness of others. Suspicious of everyone who might want more from him. And sad that the love he sought wasn’t sought by all.
Oikawa was dealing with more, he could tell. And Ushijima could only hope to prove to him that not everyone was like the person who hurt him. There were people out there who would love him for who he was. The world could be gentle, and kind, and loving in a way that each person needed.
Bitterness was hard to overcome once it had sunk in. Ushijima understood this, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth overcoming. Just like life, hearts were changeable. Hearts that were once hardened to the world could become soft again. Hearts that were once closed could open.
And people who were once hurt, could heal.
.
.
The cafe wasn’t usually busy. There had never been more than a few people in there at the same time as Oikawa. But one day, he got out of work early and headed to the cafe to find a much different atmosphere.
It didn’t take long to figure out why. There was a group of teenagers sitting at one of the booths, talking and laughing and having a great time, by the looks of it.
Ushijima was behind the counter like always, but he seemed more tense than usual.
“Wow,” Oikawa said, sitting down at the counter. “I thought this place was reserved just for me.”
Ushijima smiled. “It did seem that way, didn’t it?”
“That, or you were going out of business. But I guess you do get other customers.” He looked over his shoulder at the kids, wrinkling his nose. “Though I think you could do without them.”
“They were very polite when they ordered.”
“Okay? They’re not being polite now.”
“They’re fine. I’m glad they’re enjoying it here.”
But Oikawa noticed how often he glanced over at the table, making sure they weren’t doing anything they weren’t supposed to. The noise from the booth seemed to be getting louder each minute.
Ushijima set a drink down in front of Oikawa.
“Oh, did I order this?”
Ushijima’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted.” He went to take the cup away, but Oikawa grabbed it before he could.
“It’s perfect,” he said, trying to alleviate some of Ushijima’s tension. He took a drink. The warm coffee was exactly what he needed. “But you know what’s not perfect?” He continued a moment later. “The ambience. I only come here for the ambience, and it’s being disrupted.”
The corner of Ushijima’s lips turned upward. For the most part, he was attuned to when Oikawa was joking.
“I mean, seriously. Don’t you have a rule on noise?” It wasn’t even that they were being that obnoxious. Oikawa just hated for Ushijima to be even slightly uncomfortable. And he knew that if the teenagers left, so would the tenseness in Ushijima’s body.
“No. I only have rules about safety.”
“Well, you should make new rules. Do you have a pen and paper? I can start writing them down for you.”
But Ushijima stayed where he was. “They should be leaving soon.”
“If it isn’t right now, then it isn’t soon enough.” Oikawa took another drink. He remembered being a teenager. He knew he acted the exact same way when he was out in public with his friends. But the thing was that he wasn’t the exact same person anymore. “I’m going to go talk to them.”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
Oikawa sighed. He’d listen to Ushijima, of course. But he desperately wanted to take matters into his own hands.
Ushijima disappeared into the back room for a moment, the music becoming just a little bit louder. But he’d have to turn it up a lot more than that if he wanted to drown out the noise.
Oikawa was actually getting used to it. But then he heard a clink of glass followed by laughter, and he whipped his head around to see what they were doing, his heart pounding.
“They’re messing with the snow globes.”
Ushijima’s forehead was creased. “I chose to put them there,” he said. “So I can’t be upset if people touch them.”
“Yes you can,” Oikawa said, standing up. He could tolerate the noise, but he could not tolerate that. He paused briefly to see if Ushijima was going to protest, and when he didn’t, he went over to the booth. “These snow globes are really fragile. Do you realize that?” He picked it up. “And they’re really special to the owner. Maybe he wouldn’t do anything if something happened to them, but I would.”
“Sorry,” one of the kids mumbled.
Oikawa carried it to the counter. “I think it wanted to be by the register, anyway,” he said, making sure it was nice and straight before looking up at Ushijima. The look on his face surprised him. Like he was almost close to tears.
“Are you okay?”
Ushijima nodded. “Thank you for doing that.”
“Of course.” He would hug him if there wasn’t a counter in between them. But Oikawa knew that wasn’t the only barrier.
The kids left shortly after. Ushijima was back to his usual self, and Oikawa was happy to see it.
He had gotten there earlier, so he had been there longer than he had before. But he found himself not wanting to leave.
“When do you close?” he asked. There was a sign outside listing the hours, but he hadn’t memorized it.
“When the last customer leaves.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” Ushijima said, drying off a mug. “If the last customer’s you.”
Oikawa smiled, but then he forced it away, narrowing his eyes. “What do you plan on doing once we’re alone?”
“The same thing I’m doing right now.”
“And what are you doing right now besides wiping down a counter that’s already clean?”
“Enjoying your presence.”
The fight left Oikawa immediately. “Okay,” he said, looking at his nails as if that wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him. “That’s fine, then.”
Ushijima smiled. “Do you want another drink?”
“Can I have a hot chocolate please?”
He wasn’t going to stay too much longer. He didn’t want to keep Ushijima there after he’d already been there all day. But he just wanted to soak in the moment, the comfort of the cafe and the comfort of Ushijima.
It was pointless trying to deny it. Ushijima made him happy. He made him feel safe.
A little bit later, Ushijima turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed’, and Oikawa found that he wasn’t worried.
They sat by the fireplace, a comfortable distance apart, and listened to the soft music as they drank their hot chocolate. Somehow the atmosphere of the cafe had become even more perfect. There wasn’t anywhere Oikawa would rather be.
There were snow globes lined up on the mantel, and Oikawa thought of something as he looked at them. “So what do you do in the spring?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“You know. Aren’t snow globes a winter thing?”
Ushijima pointed at one. “That one has a dolphin in it.”
“Okay? It’s still a snow globe.”
“Well, then…I guess I bring a piece of winter into every season. Kind of like what you do.”
Oikawa made a face. “What do I do?”
“You brighten every room. Even when you leave, it’s still brighter. It’s like a piece of you stays, just like a piece of winter stays in each snow globe.”
“Wow,” Oikawa said, looking away as warmth crept into his face. “You’re definitely making that up.”
“I’m not making that up. You have that effect. Even if you don’t mean to.”
Oikawa thought about this, of everyone who was turned away by him because of the things he would never do.
“Maybe you’re the only one who feels that way,” he said quietly.
Ushijima’s voice was soft. “If I am, then I’m lucky to be that person.”
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Oikawa couldn’t concentrate at work. So many thoughts were running through his mind, and it was hard to make sense of it all.
He realized that the truth could be scary sometimes, even when it was good. And maybe it would take voicing it to finally accept it.
“Maybe he’s not as awful as I was trying to make him be,” he said, slowly moving his desk chair back and forth.
Kiyoko nodded. “Most people aren’t.”
So what was he supposed to do now? Oikawa stopped moving his chair, leaning onto his desk as he thought about it. “I feel like I should do something for him,” he said finally. “Something nice.”
“Okay,” Kiyoko said. “If you need help with anything, let me know.”
“Actually, can you send me your sugar cookie recipe? I think I’ll make those.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind making them for you.”
“No, that’s okay. It’s more meaningful if I make them.”
He didn’t know why he wanted it to be meaningful. Probably because Ushijima was meaningful to Oikawa.
When he made it home after work, he immediately started baking. He was humming along to the music, in a great mood because he couldn’t remember the last time he had cared about someone new.
He honestly hadn’t thought it would ever happen.
He was almost finished with the dough when the front door opened and his nephew ran in. Oikawa’s sister and Takeru were staying with him for a while, and their company was really nice. He didn’t want them to ever leave.
“Hey Takeru. Where’s your mom?”
“Dropped me off. She’s going shopping or something. I think she’s buying Christmas presents.” He climbed up on a stool across from him. “What are you doing?”
“Making cookies. Want some dough?”
Takeru wrinkled his nose. “Why are you making cookies? The things you make never taste very good.”
Oikawa would usually have yelled at him for that, but he wasn’t usually in this great of a mood. “Okay, well, I’m actually following the instructions this time, so they’re going to taste great.”
“Who are you making them for?”
“Myself. And you, if you’re nice.”
“I am nice.”
Oikawa started rolling the dough into balls and lining them on the cookie sheet. Every time he glanced up, Takeru was staring at him. “What?” he asked finally. “Do I have flour on my face?”
“All over. Plus, you’re humming a lot, Uncle Tooru.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Oikawa said, wiping his face with his arm. “Am I not allowed to hum in my own kitchen?”
“You’re just not usually this happy. It’s weird.”
“I’m this happy because my favorite nephew is here!” he exclaimed, ruffling Takeru’s hair.
“Stop,” he said, smacking his hand away. “That’s not true.”
“It is too.”
“Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”
“No.”
“Did you decide that you actually do like that really pretty girl you work with?”
“No. And no more questions. Just eat this and tell me if it tastes good.” He handed Takeru a spoon of cookie dough, and he only hesitated a moment before eating it.
“Well?” Oikawa said, leaning closer. “Is it good?”
Takeru licked the spoon clean. “I don’t know yet. I need to eat a little more to know for sure.”
And Oikawa grinned as he got him more.
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.
Oikawa was excited as he walked up the front steps to the cafe the next day. The cookies turned out better than expected, and he was happy to give Ushijima something back after all the drinks he had made for him.
There was another feeling, too, besides excitement. He tried to ignore it, but he had butterflies at the idea of Ushijima smiling because of him.
But Oikawa’s good mood came crashing down when he walked in. Someone was leaning over the counter in a far too friendly gesture to be some random customer. Even in that slouched position, Oikawa could tell he was really tall. The spiked up red hair didn’t help. He looked over his shoulder at Oikawa with such a knowing expression on his face that Oikawa was immediately on the defensive.
Ushijima smiled as he walked closer. “Hi Oikawa. This is my friend, Tendou,” he said. “He makes all the baked goods for me.”
Tendou stood up straight then, his full height towering over Oikawa. “Oh,” Tendou said, grinning as he noticed the crumpled bag of cookies in Oikawa’s hand. “Looks like I’ve got some competition.”
Oikawa felt his face heat up. “These aren’t to sell. They’re just for him. And I’m not a professional or anything, so stop looking at them like you’re trying not to laugh.”
But Tendou did laugh. “Oh my god. Your description was spot on, Ushijima. He’s grumpy and adorable.”
Ushijima cleared his throat.
“Right, right,” Tendou said. “You told me not to embarrass him. Well, don’t worry, Oikawa. I won’t embarrass you any more.”
Oikawa crossed his arms. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“Your face is just naturally flushed like that?”
“Tendou,” Ushijima said in a gentle warning.
“Fine, fine. I’m leaving. It was nice meeting you, Oikawa.” And he walked out into the cold.
Oikawa’s heart was pounding as he reclaimed his spot at the counter. He set the cookies down in front of Ushijima. “I made these for you,” he said. “Though your friend kind of ruined the moment.”
“Thank you, Oikawa,” Ushijima said. “This is so thoughtful of you. And I’m sorry about Tendou. I promise he means well.”
Oikawa shrugged. “It’s whatever.” He tried to put it out of his mind, but he just couldn’t. “So,” he said after a while, trying to be casual. “What’s the history between you two?”
“Me and Tendou? We’ve been friends since we were kids.” He paused, thinking carefully about something. “I think he liked me, at one point.”
“You didn’t like him back?” Oikawa wasn’t trying to be nosy. Well, maybe a little. But he was genuinely curious.
“Well,” Ushijima said. “I couldn’t give him everything he needed, so we stayed friends. But our friendship has always been strong. It’s not something that ever needed to turn into more.”
Oikawa nodded. “I’m glad you stayed friends.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Oikawa didn’t ask him what he meant by not being able to give him everything he needed. It seemed too personal. And so he decided to put it out of his mind, even though a part of him wondered if it was the same thing he wasn’t able to give other people, either.
.
.
The more time Oikawa spent with Ushijima, the more things he discovered. Not only about him, but about the cafe. He swore that back door hadn’t always been there, but he would’ve felt stupid if he had admitted that out loud. Instead, he walked over to it like he had always known, peering through the small window at the snow falling down.
There was a little outdoor seating area. At least, Oikawa assumed it was for seating. All the furniture must’ve been put away for the winter, leaving a small deck covered in a few feet of snow. The only part shoveled away was between the door and the steps leading down.
“Can we go out there?” Oikawa asked. It was another calm night with no other customers. Ushijima had just put up the ‘closed’ sign.
“On the deck?”
“Yeah. I just…I want to watch the snow for a little bit.”
Ushijima didn’t question why he couldn’t just watch the snow from inside. Instead, he grabbed his coat, following Oikawa over.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I had known you’d want to come out here, I would’ve shoveled more.”
“Please,” Oikawa said dismissively. “That definitely wouldn’t have been worth breaking a sweat over. This is just fine.”
“No, really,” Ushijima said. “I’d shovel anything for you, Oikawa.”
Oikawa’s heart fluttered in his chest, but he tried to play it off. “Because I’m a valued customer, huh?”
“Because I care about you.”
“Well,” Oikawa said finally. “That’s very nice of you. I’d ask you to come shovel my driveway, but I live in an apartment, so,” he shrugged. “I guess you’re out of luck.”
“Can I give you my number anyway?” Ushijima asked. “Just in case the maintenance people forget to clear a sidewalk. Or if your car is iced over and you really don’t feel like scraping it off.”
“Sounds like you just want an excuse to know where I live,” Oikawa said, crossing his arms. But he sighed, knowing he didn’t believe it. “What about the cafe? I don’t exactly see other workers running around who’d be able to cover for you.”
“I’d close it.”
Oikawa’s eyes widened slightly. “You would?”
“Of course.” He smiled softly. “I’m telling you, Oikawa. I’d do anything for you.”
Oikawa smiled back, but then quickly turned away, looking up at the sky.
He didn’t know how it had happened. But somehow, Ushijima had become a person he could have his back to and still feel safe.
“Thank you for being so nice to me,” Oikawa said quietly. The words were out before he could think about what he was saying. “I know I’m not always the nicest, but…I hope you know that I do want to be a good person.” He didn’t want the people who had wronged him in his life to continue to affect him. He wanted to be as kind as Ushijima. He wanted to be as good.
“You are a good person.”
“Really?”
“Of course, Oikawa. So please don’t think otherwise.”
“Okay,” Oikawa said. “And for the record, I care about you, too.” Then he turned away, crouching down. “I’m going to make a snowman.”
And then Ushijima was at his side, making one beside him. Snow continued to fall gently.
Oikawa was falling, too.
They went back inside after a while to warm up, then came back out with hot chocolate in their hands.
“Don’t you love how snowflakes sound when they land?” Oikawa asked quietly. “And when you shake a snow globe, it makes a sound, too.”
Ushijima nodded thoughtfully. “I think snow makes one of the gentlest sounds in the world.”
“So do you.”
“Hm?”
“Every time you do that,” Oikawa said. “When you say ‘hm’. It’s so…nice.”
“Oh,” Ushijima said. “You sound nice too, Oikawa. Every word you say.”
“Every word I say? Are you sure about that? Because sometimes, I don’t think I’m very nice.”
Ushijima shook his head. “The truth doesn’t have to be nice. I appreciate that you speak your mind.”
They went back inside a little bit later. It was getting late, but Oikawa didn’t want to leave. His eyes moved around the cafe, looking for an excuse, and they landed on the staircase in the corner. He had noticed the staircase before, but he hadn’t really thought about it.
“Where do the stairs go?” Oikawa asked. It wasn’t just an excuse anymore. He was actually really curious.
Ushijima set his empty hot chocolate mug on the counter. “The space is there so I can expand seating if I need to, but I haven’t gotten to that point yet. So, I store all my snow globes up there instead.”
“Wait, really? Like how many?”
“Hundreds,” Ushijima said. “I wish I knew the exact number.”
“Can I see them?”
Ushijima smiled. “Okay.”
But then Oikawa stopped himself. “Or if not, that’s okay, too. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”
Ushijima understood his hesitation. “I would’ve offered to show you on my own, but I didn’t know if it would interest you. I would be very happy to show you.”
Oikawa smiled. “Good. Because I’m very interested in seeing them.”
Oikawa led the way, feeling the excitement of a child exploring a new place. The light switch was at the top, so he was heading up into darkness.
“Careful,” Ushijima said from behind. “The stairs are kind of steep.”
Oikawa was careful. But even if he wasn’t, Ushijima was there to catch him.
He made it to the top, and Ushijima joined him, flipping on the light switch.
Oikawa thought he was exaggerating with the number. But there were literally hundreds of snow globes, all lined up neatly on shelves. The room was arranged like a little library, with the shelves one after the other in the middle of the room and along the walls. But instead of books, they held something much more fragile and beautiful.
Oikawa had never been in a room with so many breakable things. And he had never been in a room with anything that had been loved so much.
“This is…” he began, his voice coming out quietly as if speaking any louder might disturb the moment. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
There was a slight color to Ushijima’s cheeks as he smiled. “I’m happy you think so. I think so, too.”
Oikawa walked between the shelves, slowly looking at each one.
Each snow globe contained a little world encapsulated in glass, perfectly protected so that no one on the outside could touch what was within. Oikawa could cry at how meaningful that was to him.
Ushijima walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. “Is it okay if I turn the lights off again for a minute?” Ushijima asked. “The way the streetlights shine through them is really beautiful.”
“Yeah, sure,” Oikawa said, though he wasn’t sure anything could make the sight more beautiful.
But then it did.
Light refracted through the snow globes, dappling light everywhere. It was magical. Especially with the way the light shone on Ushijima.
Love wasn’t an emotion that Oikawa was used to. But there was no other way to describe the way he was feeling.
When Ushijima turned the lights back on, it was like waking up from a dream. Oikawa was speechless for a moment until words finally came back to him.
“I’m honestly mind blown, Ushijima. I feel like I shouldn’t even be seeing this with my own eyes.”
Ushijima laughed softly. “I know they’re happy that you’re looking at them. I’m usually the only one who comes up here.”
Oikawa remembered what Ushijima had said earlier about wishing he knew how many there were. It was something that would take a long time for one person. But with Oikawa there, they could do it.
“Let’s count them,” Oikawa said. “So then you’ll know the exact number.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If I start on this side, and you start over there, it shouldn’t take us too long.”
“Okay,” Ushijima said, his smile lighting up his whole face.
And together, they counted every single one.
.
.
Oikawa saw snow globes every time he closed his eyes. Snow globes and Ushijima. And he realized there wasn’t anything to fight anymore.
He couldn’t concentrate at work again. One of these days he’d pull himself back together, but it would probably be after he made his decision. He was thankful that Kiyoko was there to help him make it.
“What if I want to make a jump that I once swore to you I would never make again?”
Kiyoko didn’t stop typing. “You’ve sworn a lot of things to me, so you’ll have to be more specific.”
“I like him, Shimizu.”
She turned away from her computer, smiling at him. “That’s great.”
“Not really.” Oikawa leaned onto his desk, resting his chin on his arms. “It’d be better if it stayed like this. Not knowing if I’m going to be let down in the end.” He sighed. “But I just can’t stop thinking about the ‘what if’. Like what if he could like me back for who I am? It’s scary, Shimizu. Because I want to know, but I also don’t want to get hurt.”
“There’s always a risk when you open your heart to somebody,” Kiyoko said gently. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not a risk worth taking.”
“So you think I should tell him how I feel?”
“You don’t have to rush into it.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But when you’re ready, yes. I think you should tell him.”
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