Chapter Text
The sweet, sweet smell of mini cookies blasting out from the oven…
…Did absolutely nothing to mask Tadashi’s despair at the moment. He sat there at the front counter, a culinary instruction packet right in front of him with no customers in sight in the bakery his mother had given to him before he had started college— and he sighed a heavy one, flipping the page with his chin about to lay itself on the table.
Tadashi figured out quite easily that he had been getting less and less sources of customers due to the fact that another raging competitor was just a 15 minute walk away. (He visited it once, and then embarrassingly stormed right out because damn did they have a crazy good business going on.) Despite the tight circumstances, he didn’t want to fail his mother and did not contemplate once on handing the business back to her.
Although… his sleep schedule would lighten up a bunch if he did…
This is basically culinary, Tadashi, he reasoned with himself, perking up, just specialized in pastries.
Yeah, he could keep telling himself that as he halfheartedly slipped out of his seat to grab mittens and take the hot industrial-sized tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven— it actually did calm him in a way, and Tadashi smiled as he placed them onto the baking table in the middle.
With a whistle, he began taking a couple at a time and slipping them into the display case that held up different pastries with parchment paper. It made him forget for a moment that he could momentarily go bankrupt in a couple weeks.
Tadashi was glad he got to pick his own music. Oldie summertime songs were—
A familiar bell rang and immediately Tadashi’s eyes shot up to the door.
Oh, a customer.
“Welcome,” Tadashi laced his voice with his best polite tone he could offer, “What could I get you?”
The man’s eyes floated up to the menu above. “Do you serve just black coffee?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I’ll just take a small of that, please.”
Tadashi nodded, and he had to admit it was still invigorating to serve customers even though he had served plenty within the last couple months of majoring in culinary. As stream poured out from the coffee maker, he took a small peek at the man.
Mmm… blonde hair, not too messy with glasses that framed his face neatly, a simple beige coat against pale skin. Tadashi squinted. He seems to be a college student. Probably majoring in something smart.
He took the piping hot coffee and served it, looking down at the register, “Okay—“
“Actually,” the blonde started, finger pointing slightly at the display case, “are those fresh?”
Tadashi followed his finger. It fell to the chocolate chip cookies he was in the middle of displaying before this. He nodded, “Yeah, they are.”
“I’ll take one.”
After a happy transaction, the blonde customer took no time on staying any longer— he politely nodded, took the coffee and the singular warm cookie, and left without further word.
Tadashi smiled wearily. He’s definitely doing an arithmetic major.
He blinked and looked down at the counter. The man left his receipt.
Tadashi took a mental note to remind him if he ever came back.
Tadashi decided quite quickly that he was not going to fall into financial debt over his bakery anytime soon.
Primarily because that unknown blonde man with glasses came here everyday, right before the earliest classes start, to get himself a pure black coffee and a random pastry of his own liking. The routine was modest and humble. Tadashi enjoyed their small interactions, no matter how little or quiet he was, no matter the stare the man gave him.
He was brewing the man’s coffee in the early morning when he asked to break the silence, “Are you in college?”
“Oh… yeah.”
“What major?”
Tadashi brought over the steaming cup and shuffled through the display case. The man quickly replied, “Biochemistry.”
I was right. “You must be smart, hm?” He laughed easily, handing him another cookie and the man pursed his lips, paying.
“…You can say that.” He quickly moved on, “Could I— could I study here for the time being?”
Tadashi blinked. “Oh, ah… yeah, that’s fine. I’ll have to go for classes in a couple hours though, like always.”
“It’s fine.”
The man was unreadably quiet as he sat down with his steaming coffee and cookie, and in the corner of Tadashi’s widening eyes he pulled out two textbooks, a laptop, and a small stack of papers from his bag and began to study.
Biochem seems hard. Tadashi tilted his head as he went and cleaned the machines with a damp towel. How does he do it?
As time went on, he felt as if he were prancing around the blonde at this point, forgetting how to breathe because he wasn’t so sure when to make any noise. He squared his shoulders and glanced at the clock.
Fifteen minutes… Tadashi reached out to call over the blonde, “I’m leaving soon.”
The man was engrossed in his papers, and Tadashi saw his wrist frantically scrambling over the paper. He smiled weakly and said again, “Ah… excuse me?”
“What–? Oh, sorry.” The man quickly began closing his books. “I’ll get going.”
“Oh, it’s… alright.” Tadashi’s words faltered.
The man took his things, and with a weary expression, plugged headphones back into his ears and proceeded to walk to the entrance when the barista hastily called out, “Wait!”
The blonde turned and expectantly stared at him.
“What’s your name?” Tadashi asked. His hands gripped the counter.
…
“Tsukishima.”
And he left, the bell on the door ringing warmly in his ears. Tadashi tilted his head.
Tsukishima.
Over the span of a week or so, Tadashi figured out a lot of subtle ways to talk to Tsukishima, and just from observing, he already knew most of his personality. They had gotten closer indeed, but it was merely just a customer-to-worker relationship and Tadashi respected that– although, it wouldn’t hurt to know when his classes were or if he had a sibling. He didn’t want to press too much. Tsukishima would just come in, order his regular dark coffee and sometimes sit down to study inside, bow, and then leave politely with minimal words. His gaze was a little steel and cold at first, but— maybe he was just imagining it— that stature seemed to melt and soften gradually as the days passed.
He took it as a chance to finally shake hands with Tsukishima.
The morning air was dewy, wet and glistening due to the watering of plants he did thirty minutes ago as Tsukishima came in with a slight bow and proceeded to order. Tadashi smiled— his eyes would light up, albeit if only a little, whenever he ate something sweet.
”I got macarons in,” Tadashi offered, “Want a box?”
”Oh, it’s fine.” Tsukishima declined.
”It’s on the house,” The barista rubbed his wrists as he began to open a container and slide some macarons in, “Um… I don’t think anyone’s gonna come in and get this, anyway. Or anything at all.”
He laughed quietly, handing the box to the blonde and turning on the coffee machine, “It’s just your usual, right?”
”…Yeah.”
The steam of the machine blew out into Tadashi’s face, and he winced and backed away— in the corner of his gaze he saw Tsukishima twirling his headphone wires with the touch of his fingertips with pursed lips as he watched.
“I see you don’t get a lot of customers, no?” Tsukishima prodded suddenly.
Tadashi’s stare whipped to his, “Oh— yeah,” He admitted bashfully, pulling down the lever on the machine and inserting the cup, “There’s another shop down the street that always has a lot of patrons every day. I think that’s why it’s… a little empty, right now.”
A little? Tadashi sighed internally, The entire cafe is vacant except for Tsukishima.
“I don’t think that’s right.”
”Hm?”
Tadashi went over and gave the man his coffee, as he continued, “Do you advertise?”
”I try to run a business without that.”
”That’s a little reckless.”
Tadashi smiled wryly, “I don’t feel like becoming a big hotshot anytime soon, Tsukishima. I’m a culinary student who just likes to bake. I think it’s best if I stay humble for a little bit more.”
Tsukishima took his food and shrugged, “Well, that cafe down the street shouldn’t have as many customers as it does.”
The blonde took a seat. Tadashi’s palms dug deeper into the counter and he leaned forward slightly, tilting his head, “Why not? Does their food not taste good?”
”Their coffee is watery.” Tsukishima wrinkled his nose, and Tadashi laughed at that, “They don’t seem to care whether or not the pastries are made in-house or not.”
”I see.” The barista faltered, “So, am I better?”
”…Yeah.”
Tadashi let out a warm chuckle, letting more silence befall them as Tsukishima pulled out his textbooks and began to study.
This time, Tadashi noticed he wasn’t wearing headphones this time around. Did he enjoy his music choice?
It was flattering.
He hummed along quietly as he counted money from the register and scribbled down the income onto a notebook page.
“Tsukishima,” He called out, “when’s your birthday?”
“Hm?” The blonde looked up, “My birthday? Why do you need it?”
“I like giving things to people on special occasions.” Tadashi smiled, “I could bake you a cake for your birthday!”
”You don’t have to. I’m pretty sure I have a lot going on the week of my birthday.” Tsukishima murmured, checking his watch and beginning to clean up, wiping his lips from the macarons.
“But— but I want to!” Tadashi hurriedly rushed on, “Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just shove your birthday away, right?”
Tsukishima locked eyes with him, and Tadashi saw they were a glorious amber, “I guess so.”
”So when is it?” Tadashi called out as Tsukishima proceeded to the door, holding the remaining amounts of his coffee.
The blonde turned his head.
“September 27th.”
The bell rang again, harmonizing with the music for a slight second, and Tadashi felt as if he were suddenly pulled closer, nearly inches away from Tsukishima. He had a new, humble goal in mind— not to save his business, not to advertise, not to create new recipes,
but instead, to reach Tsukishima’s birthday, which was set exactly a month from now.
“You can study here even if it’s closed if you’d like. I know your classes are later in the night, right?”
”Why would you do that?”
“Because we’re so close now, Tsukki!”
“…Yeah…”
Tadashi swung the key in front of him, setting it down on his table filled with papers, textbooks, and god knows what kind of chart he was illustrating on the paper he was working on— he chuckled and slipped away to the back counter, putting on a pale yellow apron, wrapping it around his waist and tying it behind his back, “Just don’t give it to anyone else.”
“Of course I won’t,” Tsukishima muttered, “But I don’t need it. It’s fine.”
”I don’t want you having the hassle of trying to find a good spot to study outside or in the university,” Tadashi frowned, “You have so much stuff and it’s better if you just come here for one full trip instead of making your way back to your dorm. I get to teach you some baking, as well.”
Tsukishima spread out his materials more to make some arm space, sighing airily, “Do you really trust me like that?”
”Isn’t it nice to be trusted?” Yamaguchi mumbled, “I’m so used to you being here I expect it everyday. Of course I’ll be able to give the key to you.”
Tsukki fell silent as he drank his coffee, licking his lips gingerly.
Yamaguchi found himself blanketed in the silence, and he stole his glances from the blonde— he looked engrossed, almost too engrossed— with furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders as he dug into his biochemistry papers. Although, through all of this, Tadashi noticed how nice his eyelashes were. How they almost touched the frames of his fitted glasses, which sat on him quite nicely— Tadashi was sure he saw an alluring, attractive advertisement for it.
Ah, and his fashion was formal but humble. A dress shirt with a thin coat pulled right over, his cuffs still showing with a couple bracelets right before his watch.
I’m staring. Tadashi thought. Then he wildly thought, Shit, I’m staring.
Why am I staring?
He pursed his lips, refraining from getting any redder like the oven in the back, and he exhaled, turning away and stacking some trays up as if his freckled face wasn’t flushed at the moment. I’m so strange.
Was it strange, really? The question itched in the back of his mind.
Despite him and Tsukki having completely different schedules and buildings, he had felt as if something had sparked inside of him, and now every gaze was beginning to turn electric and popping.
He turned the music up ever so slightly and was covered by another wave of silence once more.
Tadashi glanced at his display case then to Tsukki, “Do you want something on the go once you leave?” He asked, squinting and examining the pastries.
“You don’t need to coddle me.”
“I—I’m not coddling.”
Tsukki let out a dry, humorous flat laugh, eyes a little weary having been under the pressure of a digital screen and multiple textbooks, “Then why?”
The blonde went up to the counter and stared as Tadashi prepared some warm donut holes for him, tossing them into a bag with some powdered sugar pampered right over and handing the crunched bag to him,
“Because we’re friends, Tsukki.” Tadashi said.
…
Tsukki smiled, and his shoulders eased.
“Friends. Thanks.”
He took the bag and walked to the door, uttering something again, much louder, “I’ll be taking the key!”
He swung it in between his fingertips.
Tadashi blushed and quickly yelped, “R—right!”
Tsukki left. Another day was over.
He should be glad Tsukki was still here and coming in on a daily basis. It showed that Tadashi wasn’t as annoying as he thought he’d be.
Because we’re friends, Tsukki.
So why was there this hard hitting ache in his heart?