Work Text:
How did it come to this?
That was the question that lingered in Wakatoshi’s mind as he wandered around his not-so big house. He could hear the shuffling of multiple feet, trying to be discreet just outside his door where his bakery was located. The cash register was there. So was his cellphone, because he forgot to bring it with him. Of course, the telephone was also there. He was also complacent that it would be safe there because he made sure everything’s locked. He thought he did.
His grandmother would come here once the sun was up, and he could not let her see an empty cash register.
Should he go out? Confront them?
He could. Though, he could not take the risk. What if they have guns? He’s outnumbered. He could not believe he’s saying this but he’s defenseless when he’s out there.
Wakatoshi sat on the couch beside the door that separated his house and shop. This time, he truly was confident they would not come here because the door was hidden enough from plain sight. He leaned on the backrest, biting his lower lip as he put his arms over his eyes. He could feel cold rushing up his nape because he was only wearing a black boxer short, and his white shirt that’s too thin and obviously came from when he was young.
He’s sleeping, for heaven’s sake. He could not be prepared for something like this.
An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he listened to the footsteps, and could only predict what’s next to happen. His mind was already thinking things through, and ways on how he could recover from the incoming loss.
He was about to let things happen when he heard even more footsteps. And they’re even closer. As if they were right outside the door.
He removed the arms on his eyes, standing up from where he’s at. He picked up the defense item he could easily grab earlier. There were no lights, making him almost get the bread knife, fortunately he wasn’t as unfortunate as he thought he was.
As if there’s even more bad luck than being burglarized.
Holding his breath, Wakatoshi stood just in front of the door, preparing to welcome whoever could open it with the knife. His fist clenched, eyes darted to the door, and when the footsteps got even more closer, he let go of the breath he was holding. Finally, the door opened, revealing the person who dared to commit theft in his bakery.
However, Wakatoshi didn’t realize he could feel betrayal at this age when he realized how familiar that curly hair, and intense yet soft dark eyes once it landed to him. His eyes landed on the gun in his hand.
“You?” he muttered, hands clenching on the knife even tighter, wary of the gun pointing to the ground.
—
“The usual?” Wakatoshi didn’t realize he was smiling as he said that. He could not even look at the screen in front of him, and continued staring at the customer that had become a regular since a month ago.
Kiyoomi, was what he introduced himself, tilted his head, a small smile could also be seen from his lips. “Can you recommend something new today?”
“Oh.” Wakatoshi’s brows went up, quite confused because he’s already used to Kiyoomi ordering the same Americano and their original cookies, yet he still answered. “Since you want something new, do you have allergies from Strawberry Milkshake and Red Velvet Crinkles?”
Kiyoomi scoffed, as if he was taken aback from the suggestion. Snickers left his lips. “No, I don’t.”
Wakatoshi grinned, looking away and started typing on the screen. “Then, Strawberry Milkshake and Red Velvet Crinkles for Kiyoomi it is.”
The curly haired man shook his head in disbelief as he paid for it. He gave him one last glance before going back to his seat. If only there’s no customers lining up, Wakatoshi would have stared at him longer.
Wakatoshi never, he repeated, never used his position as the owner of the coffee shop to enjoy privileges his employee could not. Privilege such as taking a break while still on shift, and giving his job to another person just to talk to someone.
“Kenjiro, can you take my place on the register, please?” he requested as he removed the apron leaving him with his black long sleeve button-up shirt, and slacks. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, emphasizing the watch he has on his wrist.
Kenjiro, from the dishes, looked back at him before nodding. “Sure, Sir,” he replied.
“He’s here, eh?”
That was Tendou, a friend and the head chef of the pastries. Although he was having his back on him, he could already hear Tendou’s smile.
“Yeah. I’m taking advantage of the fact that we do not have as many customers as always,” he explained, as a matter of fact.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Tendou slapped his back. “Enjoy talking, 'Sir' Wakatoshi!”
He didn’t mind Tendou’s retorts, and instead went out of the kitchen. He smiled curtly to the employees who he bumped into, and even to some customers who he had eye contact with. Finally, he made his way to the person he wanted to talk to since he stepped inside his shop.
“Hey,” he started, standing behind the person.
Kiyoomi who was scrolling through his laptop as he bit from the crinkles looked up at him. “Oh, hey.”
“Can I sit there?” he pointed at the chair in front of the man.
He shrugged. “Help yourself,” he replied, voice low and soft.
So he did. He sat in front of Kiyoomi, and wow, he just realized he didn’t really know what to do next. He just found the courage to finally talk to him, and now he had it, he forgot what to do.
“Aren’t you on duty?” It was Kiyoomi who started the talk, much to his dismay. He wanted to do it first, but oh well.
Wakatoshi looked at the register, his “duty”, which now had Kenjiro. He could see the way his brows were furrowed, because Eita seemed to keep on saying things they could not hear. Well, Eita’s not busy, meaning the shop’s not really busy just like what he told Tendou earlier.
“I’m on break,” he simply answered. He could see distrust in his eyes so he chuckled. Before Kiyoomi could say something about it, he followed, “how’s your something new, by the way?”
Kiyoomi squinted, wanting to say something, but he instead looked at his laptop again. “They’re… new.” He glanced at him. “And delicious. Quite unfortunate I only tried it now.”
“At least you already did. That’s an original recipe from Tendou, our chef.” Wakatoshi did not try to remove his eyes from him, and asked again. “Are you busy?”
“Right now?”
He nodded.
Kiyoomi looked at his laptop, shaking his head. “No, not really. I’m actually turning it off right now.”
“Oh.” That’s a relief. If he’s busy, Wakatoshi would have to leave. He didn’t know when the shop would be as free as today.
“Your… chef. He’s really skilled. I can’t believe I became a regular of something because I’m quite particular with food I like.” Kiyoomi once again took a bite from the crinkles.
From that comment, he couldn’t help but be proud of course. He’s used to hearing that from their customers, that they’re food and beverages were always great and consistent with the taste, but hearing it from him made him even prouder. Maybe, he wanted to really impress him.
“That’s so nice to hear, I was willing to give your money back if it didn’t suit your taste,” he joked. “Though, of course I was confident I wouldn’t have to do that.”
Kiyoomi's smile grew larger. "I should have said I didn’t like it to save money, then?”
Their chuckles were the only thing that Wakatoshi could hear after that. They were engrossed with the food topic, and how much Kiyoomi took a liking to their food. Just a month ago, Wakatoshi could not see himself talking to this god personified person, and now he’s listening intently to what he has to say.
Wakatoshi could still remember the day Kiyoomi entered his shop. Of course, he would. It’s not like there’s always someone who looked like God himself shaped him, walk here. As if God deliberately decided to put that mole on his forehead for added attraction. Other customers would agree with him in that sense with the way they stared at the man while he was ordering.
At that time, Kiyoomi was wearing a simple white long sleeve button-up shirt. His buttons were opened, revealing his collarbones. He was also wearing a black coat and slacks that time, but he didn’t have a tie on. He also looked like he’s in a hurry. This was the first time he saw someone this neat, yet also quite a mess.
“I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while. Is your chef, Tendou… the same Tendou Satori who won different pastry competitions? His name was quite loud in the Culinary department at my university when I was in college.”
His lips parted. He knew Tendou was quite popular in his university, but he didn’t know… “wait, you mean you went to the same university as him?”
“So, I’m right. Wow, how did Sir Wakatoshi get ahold of such a person?” he smirked.
Wakatoshi was stunned from his seat because of the joke, no, not because of the joke–nevermind. He scratched his forehead before he answered, “well, he’s a friend. Middleschool friend to be exact.”
“Oh–”
“Yes, and that’s me! His best friend actually.”
Both of them were surprised when a red-headed person wearing a chef uniform suddenly popped up behind Wakatoshi. Though, his surprise was even more evident than Kiyoomi who only looked amused.
“What are you doing here, Tendou?”
“What? Am I not allowed to check how my friend is doing?” Then he dropped a set of cheesecake on their table, winking at Kiyoomi. “I’m flattered you remember me Mr. Sakusa Kiyoomi from medicine. Are you a doctor now?”
Kiyoomi was staring at the food Tendou dropped in front of them. “Ah, no. I’m handling… business.”
“Ohh, interesting!” Once again, he pushed the plates on their plates so it wouldn’t fall from the table. “By the way, that’s in the house. That’s a new recipe I’ve been trying, still trying to perfect it though, so don’t expect much.” He looked at Wakatoshi. “Don’t worry, Mr. Owner, do your thing there, Eita’s in command.” Then he pointed at Eita who also winked at them, saluting even.
Silence ensued as they watched Tendou walk away from them. He even patted Eita’s back before going back inside the kitchen. When they could not see him anymore, they looked at the cheesecake in front of them.
Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “That’s… something.”
Wakatoshi could only smile shyly. “I’m sorry about him, he’s just, you know, worried I’ll mess this up.” He only realized what he said when Kiyoomi once again tilted his head, amusement was dancing in his dark eyes.
He didn’t realize Kiyoomi could be this playful for the amusement in his eyes not to falter even once. As if he knew something, and he’s more than pleased with what he knows.
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat, he wanted to look away from the smiling, teasing face of Kiyoomi but he couldn’t. Instead, Wakatoshi scratched his neck this time. “Well, he witnessed my failed attempts at trying to make longer conversations with you, so…”
He watched as Kiyoomi nodded his head, he could still feel the heat going around the two of them. “So, the Sir Ushijima Wakatoshi can fail at something, huh.”
“Of course, I’m a person,” he answered seriously.
Kiyoomi chuckled. “You succeeded now, what are you planning next?”
Wakatoshi couldn’t help but also let out a low laugh because of the person in front of him. They were both a laughing mess at the table, not minding about other customers. It’s not like laughs like theirs, baritone and full, would be an interruption to others. Wakatoshi couldn’t recognize himself.
Though, he answered. “Probably, talk to you even further.”
—
That’s how they started, and he thought they were talking with… good feelings, so what’s happening here?
“You?” he muttered, hands clenching on the knife even tighter wary of the gun pointing to the ground.
Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, finally, for the first time Wakatoshi met him, he looked caught off guard. He immediately tried to hide the gun in his black jeans, but it was still peeking from his back, eyes not leaving him. “You’re awake?” he said, voice was quite muffled from the mask.
Wakatoshi’s eyes didn’t falter, he glared. “My house is being invaded, of course I should be awake.”
From his eyes, Kiyoomi’s stare traveled to the knife in his hand which he was holding as if it was his lifeline. “Are you… seriously going to fight with that, Wakatoshi?”
“I didn’t have a choice, didn’t I?”
Kiyoomi acted as if he didn’t hear the sarcasm. “You’re awake. Why didn’t you call me right away? Or the police?”
“Everything’s outside–and what are you even doing here? Are you seriously trying to burgle my shop?”
“Are you seriously believing I will commit burglary on you?”
“Are you—”
“Stop with the “are you seriously’s” , you two!”
He shouldn’t be surprised that Motoya, Kiyoomi’s cousin, would be here also. They’re really partners in crime, huh. Literally.
“And Wakatoshi, no! We’re not trying to rob you, they are!”
The three of them closed their eyes when Motoya opened the lights of his shop. When his eyes finally adjusted, there, he saw three men with black cloth over their heads tied together from their hands and feet on the floor. So, that’s where Kiyoomi was pointing his gun earlier. He looked back at Kiyoomi who was still looking at him with a stern face, but his eyes remained soft… and concerned.
“We were… near the area and we heard something suspicious inside. When we realize your shop’s door was open, we knew something’s wrong–”
“Let’s not lie, Motoya.” With furrowed brows, Kiyoomi looked him in the eyes. “We were part of a… you can call it a violent organization.”
“Huh?”
Kiyoomi sighed, breaking their eye contact.
Then he explained. He, and Motoya were once members of a gang. Kiyoomi was the leader, not by choice, but by default when his father died. Though, he already quitted three years ago. Tonight, Motoya heard from a member he still had contact with that a low-rank member of a different organization was planning to literally burglarize this shop because someone from Wakatoshi’s employee said they will help them with the doors and security. The two, Motoya and Kiyoomi acted on their own, and tried to solve it without involving Wakatoshi, but unfortunately, he woke up.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He put down the knife from his hand, and stared at the three men on the floor. “But, why do you look mad at me?” He turned his head to Kiyoomi.
“I’m not,” Kiyoomi replied.
Motoya grinned. “Well, that’s my cue to leave. I’m gonna send these three to the boys, and maybe Wakatoshi can recognize who’s his employee by tomorrow–no, later, ‘no?”
When Motoya walked away, dragging the three men from the rope that’s keeping them together, the silence was deafening. Wakatoshi walked closer to Kiyoomi who was leaning on the doorway. “Are you okay? Did they have guns?’
Kiyoomi nodded. “They did, but we’re fine.” There it was again, the silence. But it’s not the silence they’re used to. It was awkward. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“I am.” He nodded. “And I am not seriously planning to attack them with a knife, Kiyo. You don’t have to be so worried about that.”
With that, Kiyoomi seemed relieved. He pushed himself from the doorway, and let Wakatoshi pull him to his chest. “I’m sorry we’re late. You shouldn’t have woken up. We’re planning to tell you tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “No. Actually, thank you.”
They remained in that position for a few more minutes. The cold was completely forgotten because Kiyoomi was warm enough for Wakatoshi.
“Hey, why are you more concerned that I’m mad at you, than the fact that I was literally a gang leader?” Kiyoomi whispered, head on Wakatoshi’s shoulders.
That put a smile on his lips. “Of course I was concerned by that. I’m a mere business owner, and you’re a gang leader. How do I fit?”
“But that’s in the past.”
“Exactly,” he retorted. “I don’t want anything from the past ruin… this present.”
Kiyoomi went silent again.
“And I’m thinking how young you were. It must have been hard, leading an organization like that. Did you even like doing it?”
It took a while before he was answered. Kiyoomi must have really thought about it. “No, I didn’t.”
Wakatoshi automatically embraced him tighter, like he’s not still close enough. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”
Without answering, Kiyoomi pulled from the embrace and walked inside his house. Wakatoshi ran to the entrance of his shop, making sure it’s more secured before doing the same to the connecting door to his house. He looked back at Kiyoomi who seemed more than familiar inside it, of course he was, and jogged as he followed.
"Well, I was nine…"