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Kenma had decided, long ago, that he would never take a date – that is, if he ever went on a date - to the university’s one and only coffee shop. A trip to the campus Starbucks never felt like a date. It was too noisy – packed with exhausted kids drugging themselves with caffeine and pounding away on their laptops as they rushed to finish assignment that were due in forty-five minutes, or less.
Kenma had decided, long ago, that he would never take a date to their campus Starbucks, and he was okay with that. Kenma didn’t even like Starbucks coffee, for Pete’s sake. He had no explanation as to why he was there. Well, he did, but he had no plans of admitting how Kuroo had kicked him out of his dorm room (he couldn’t believe he had gotten kicked out of his own goddamn dorm room – not Kuroo’s, but his own goddamn dorm room) and told him to go take advantage of the “swaggy campus scene instead of sitting inside and playing computer games”, tacking on an unnecessary “and solitaire? Really Kenma? Really?”. So, yeah, maybe he knew theoretically why he was in Starbucks, but he wasn’t very happy about it.
He had figured free wifi was better than a sunburn.
But Kenma didn’t drink coffee, and yeah, Kenma had grabbed his laptop bag, but he never waited until the hour before class to do homework, so now he was sitting in the one and only campus coffee shop, tucked away in a corner booth, with absolutely nothing to do.
He figured (read: hoped) the employees wouldn’t kick him out for loitering, but he figured (still read: hoped) looking busy would keep them off his tail. He rummaged through his laptop bag, pulling out and placing on the table what he had coined as “Kenma’s College Essentials™”, and they were: a black PlayStation Vita, and its four foot charger, which had been gratuitously wrapped in sparkly washi tape by Kuroo back in high school. He turned on the game system, almost subconsciously setting up his file of Final Fantasy Tactics (a staple of his gaming collection) and resuming the game from the last saved point. He smirked a little when he realized he had previously saved the game right before a boss battle, and he was revving to start it up again and kick some rpg ass. From what he remembered about the walkthrough, this was a bit of a challenging level, but he estimated it would take him less than half a dozen trials to get through it.
Seven minutes into his escapades, a light on the corner of the device began blinking orange, a sign of low battery. Kenma paused his trial, placing the game system gingerly on the ceramic tabletop. He picked up the charger and ducked his head under the table he was sitting at, looking for the plug so he could power up his dying handheld.
Except, there was no outlet.
Kenma suppressed a groan (or, at least attempted to) and hopped back up, whipping his head around in search of another outlet. Normally, he wouldn’t go through the effort to move tables in order to continue a game (who was he kidding, yes he would), but he knew Kuroo would still be in his room, eating the food in his mini fridge and restricting Kenma’s access to His Own Goddamn Dorm Room (Kenma thinks it’ll be a while before he lets this one go). So, he swiveled a bit in his chair, allowing himself a better view of the Starbucks’ interior, and hopefully of an open outlet.
He found one, after what felt like eternity (but was only, probably, like three minutes) and nearly squealed in joy. He was close to defeating this level, and he didn’t want his Vita to die before the boss was beat.
He looked up from the outlet to the table set in front of it and felt his relief drain out of him instantly.
Across the room from him was the only outlet in the entire store – completely unoccupied and taunting Kenma with its two open plugs.
Across the room from him was the only outlet in the entire store – and the table in front of it was occupied.
Kenma felt an acute anger rise in him. The table was occupied by someone who wasn’t even using the outlet. This is ridiculous. The occupant was sitting at the table, no laptop or anything, with a cup of coffee and a packet of paper in front of him. Who even gives out physical homework anymore? Didn’t this asshole’s professor care about the environment?!
Kenma had half a mind to get up and push the occupant out of his seat – but then Kenma remembered that he was in public and the occupant was someone he had never met and he, himself, was not he hulk or even someone possessive of a relatively average upper-body strength, and he probably couldn’t push that guy out of his chair, anyway.
‘That guy’, more creatively dubbed “this asshole”, was, as Kenma looked closer, a male student who – from his short and skinny build, was most likely a freshman or a sophomore (like himself). He had orange, curly hair that had been clipped short enough that only the very tips of his hair had any real wisp to them (Kenma actually really liked how that look accentuated the back of his neck [was it possible to find the nape of a stranger’s neck attractive?]). The boy turned his head (Kenma tried not to assume the stranger could sense him staring) and Kenma immediately felt intimidated.
Not because of anything bad in his visage – there was no scowling, or large, dark, ugly scar, or eyepatch with a skull and cross bones stitched onto it – no, Kenma was intimidated by how good this asshole across from him looked.
He seemed to have recently grown out of his boyish pudge: he had defined cheekbones, but still a rather muted-looking face. Kenma allowed his eyes to trace down the profile – from his partially obscured forehead to his gentle sloping nose, past his soft lips (turned up in a pout as he looked down at the work he had in front of him) and resting only after they had followed down the curvature of his neck. If Kenma squinted (which he would never admit to doing) he could just make out a sprinkle of freckles adorning the beautiful stranger’s face. He almost forgot he was pissed at the guy.
Almost.
Looking back on it, he’s not sure what made him do it. He figured it was just that, somehow, the fact that this guy was just So Good Looking pissed him off more than the fact that he was just So Fucking Annoying. He thought that, maybe, the fact that he was stuck in this God forsaken Starbucks for who knows how long (Kuroo knew, that asshole), and the fact that he didn’t even like coffee, and the fact that his game was dying and he had nothing else to do, mixed with the fact that, well, the nicest looking guy he had seen in a while was sitting next to, but not fucking using, the only plug in this God forsaken fucking Starbucks was just too much for him to sit back and take, so he found himself packing up his shit, standing, walking across the room, and plopping down in the open seat across from this asshole who wasn’t utilizing the best gift on God’s green earth – electricity.
When the events of the last minute finally caught up with him, Kenma froze.
The guy across from him had looked up when Kenma crashed down on the open chair (honestly, who wouldn’t react to a stranger sitting down aggressively at their table in Starbucks?), but Kenma didn’t move.
Kenma, in his state of faux rigor mortis, figured he had two options: he could plug in his PlayStation Vita, un-pause his game, and just never look up from his screen in hopes of making the best out of this incredibly awkward situation, or he could continue to sit there – unmoving and avoiding the curious gaze of the infuriatingly attractive guy across from him, until the tension got to be just too suffocating, and Kenma would undeniably end up hightailing it out of Starbucks and begging Kuroo (on his hands and knees) to let him back into His Own Goddamn Dorm Room so he could die of embarrassment away from the public eye.
He did neither of these things. For some reason – he swears at this point his body was acting completely without his control – Kenma looks up, makes direct fucking eye contact and says, rather simply and anti-climactically, “Hello.”
“Um, hi?” Shit, his voice is nice.
“I need to use this,” Kenma stopped and cleared his throat, finally realizing what he had been doing. “Yeah, I need to, uh, use this plug. It’s the only one in here and you’re not, yeah you’re not using it, so I’m going to use it. Sorry.” He tried his best not to sound sorry.
“Oh, um, that’s fine. Do you want me to move, or?” Fuck, he’s so nice. Kenma gaped at the fact that this stranger was being so nice to him. Why did he have to be so genuine and concerned? Why was he making it so hard for Kenma to stay pissed?
“No, it’s fine.” The guy stopped packing away his excessive pile of papers. “I’m just going to sit here, I don’t need the table or anything. Really, I’m just in need of the outlet, so I can plug in my charger. You’re not in my way. Sorry about just barging over.” This time around, he actually was pretty sorry.
The guy looked across at Kenma - really studied him - the way an analyst would scour a particularly large data set that was in possession of a single fatal flaw, and Kenma tried not to move. He tried not to shake, or relay just how nervous he was suddenly feeling.
The guy straightened out, an easy going smiling alighting his face, and Kenma felt himself letting out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.
The guy across from him stuck out his hand. “Hinata Shouyou!” He said, chipper as a lumber jack. Kenma slowly extended his own hand, allowing it to be vigorously shook.
“Kozume Kenma.” He remembered to say before their hands separated.
“Nice to meet you, Kenma!”
“You too, Shouyou.” Kenma figured, if Shouyou was just going to forgo formality and dive right in, he might as well do the same.
Shouyou, that’s a nice name.
“Kenma? Didn’t you need to use the outlet?” Shouyou asked, returning to his classwork. Kenma bristled a bit, then reached in his bag and grabbed his charger, plugging it in under the table and attaching it to his PlayStation.
Should I be embarrassed about what I’m about to do? Kenma let the question float around his mind, unanswered.
As he un-paused his game, the only thought going through his head was Fuck It.
Kenma figured Shouyou would laugh – at best he would hide a snicker behind his hand in a way that made it even more obvious he was laughing. Kenma ventured it would take him less than a minute to regret his decision to play at the table of this young, freckled Adonis, and that soon he would be hunched over (more than usual) with red cheeks and a tight grip on his game.
But the laughter never came.
Kenma looked up, his thumbs still moving deftly across the controls even as he looked away from the device, and was surprised to see Shouyou looking at him, eyes curious, but not patronizing, his own schoolwork forgotten.
Kenma coughed to get rid of the lump that had suddenly appeared in the base of his throat.
Shouyou’s eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips and back up so quick, Kenma thinks back on it later and swears he had been hallucinating.
“What game are you playing?”
“Final Fantasy Tactics. Do you play?”
“Me? No, but a couple of my friends do. You any good?”
Kenma debated puffing out his chest and exclaiming that he was actually more than just a little good, but committed to a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders, instead.
“Do you play any other games?”
“A few, I guess.”
“Do you have a favorite?” He did, but he wasn’t exactly aware of Shouyou’s ulterior motive in any of this, so he just shook his head, sparing a glance downwards to see what his next move should be.
Later, when he was looking back on this encounter and swearing up and down that everything had probably been one giant hallucination, Kenma wonders what could possibly have occurred in the six point two seconds in which he wasn’t watching Shouyou, for when he had looked back up from his game, the boy had jumped from his chair, hands gripping his orange curls as coffee slid across the table – dowsing his pile of papers – and dripped over its edge.
Kenma scooted his chair back, instinctively moving his Vita out of harm’s way.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I am so sorry! Shit. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but you should seriously move your stuff out of the way.”
“It’s a little late for that, I think.” Shouyou said miserably, shooting a forlorn glance towards his stained and soaked pile of papers. He had finally dropped his hands from his hair, but they still hovered mid-air, as though he were awaiting another disaster that would require a good hair gripping.
Kenma watched as Shouyou assessed the damage, picking up the top sheet of paper tentatively, only to grimace when the wet paper ripped down the middle.
“Shit.”
“Um, excuse me, but could you grab some napkins from the trolley behind you?” Kenma had just about the worst timing ever. “There’s coffee dripping down my leg.” It turns out he hadn’t scooted back far enough.
“Oh shit, yeah! Sorry!” Shouyou’s awfully fond of the word shit. Shouyou twisted his body and grabbed the whole container of napkins, gently setting it in the coffee puddle on their table and pulling some out to hand to Kenma. The blond was acutely aware that at least half the population of this crappy campus Starbucks was staring at them, but he had a bit of trouble focusing on being nervous about that when all he could focus his nervousness on was the fact that Shouyou had just knelt down and begun wiping the coffee off of Kenma’s shin and sneaker top.
“Um.” Kenma began, but held his tongue. He really didn’t want coffee soaking into his socks.
He sat and let Shouyou finish dabbing the napkin to soak up cooling coffee. Kenma knew if Kuroo was here in the shitty Starbucks instead of taking up residence in His Goddamn Dorm Room, the wily bedhead would be flabbergasted over how Kenma let someone who was practically a stranger touch him.
For some reason – one that Kenma refuses to associate with the duality of Shouyou’s soft yet highlighted features and the fact that Shouyou excretes kindness from every orifice – Kenma didn’t feel put off or horrified with a “stranger” touching him. He wasn’t scared, or anxious. He was only on the verge of blushing and acutely aware of the lingering warmth of Shouyou’s hands on his leg.
Kenma’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
From: Kuroo
Alright my lil’ bud, it’s been an hour. Feel free to return.
Kenma almost didn’t want to go back.
He wanted to keep sitting there, with Shouyou, laughing internally as the redhead mopped up his spilt coffee and striking up conversation when the floor under their feet had been sufficiently dried.
He almost didn’t want to go back, so he didn’t.
When the coffee had been wiped up (a little blond barista had hurried over a minute into Shouyou’s ministrations, bearing a mop and bucket and a flighty, wobbling expression) and everything had been settled, Kenma waited a solid thirteen point seven seconds before he looked up at Shouyou – a mix of flustered, ashamed, and dismayed – before he burst out laughing.
“Kenma! What’s wrong?”
Kenma was wheezing now, a newfound energy buzzing through his veins and vibrating every bone in his body. Shouyou was so invigorating, so lively and clumsy and energetic. Shouyou was so endearing, and suddenly Kenma wished he wasn’t a stranger. Kenma wished this wouldn’t end when Shouyou inevitably left for class like every other cramming college student in this Blessed Starbucks. Kenma wished he had the courage to reach out and tap Shouyou’s hand and get his attention and get his number and just get him, but he couldn’t do that – wouldn’t do that – and a small part of him, cowering in the back of his mind, wondered where the courage from earlier had gone.
“Oh shit!” There he goes with that shit word again. “My class starts in twenty.” Shouyou recited, when Kenma’s laughter had finally died out. “You’re so cool Kenma! I’ll see you around, right?” Shouyou looked so genuine – so invested – as he gathered up what he could of his soaked and stained papers. Kenma wanted to say yes, hell the campus couldn’t be that big that they would never see each other again, could it? (Kenma wasn’t entirely sure, seeing as he had never made it a thing to exit his dorm room and explore for “fun”, but he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t).
“I hope” he answered, truthfully.
Kenma suddenly loved coffee. Or at least, that’s what it seemed to Kuroo, who had heard Kenma say “I’m going to Starbucks, do you want anything?” at least once a day – although, on Monday he asked twice – for the past week. Kuroo didn’t mind, not when he had unrestricted access to Kenma’s room to do things like nap and study, two things he could not do with his own annoying, squawking roommate who was awake for nineteen hours every day with no exception and didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space or quiet time.
Kenma did not, in fact, suddenly love coffee. Nor did he suddenly realize he was in love with Kuroo and wanted to shower him with free dark roast – a theory Kuroo had come up with on Wednesday.
Kenma did, however, find himself compelled to walk to, or walk by (and Not peak in the windows – do you hear me: Kozume Kenma does Not peek in windows; he is not that desperate.) the Blessed campus Starbucks on a daily basis. He will tell everyone who does not ask that he is most definitely not looking for a redheaded angel named Shouyou, but at the same time, if you see the redhead send him a telepathic message alerting him of the angel’s presence.
A week later he runs into Shouyou on a sidewalk that is simultaneously nowhere near the campus coffee shop and quite near the campus coffee shop (for the campus, as Kenma had finally learned, is not actually that big) and he will admit, just this once, that he had been searching this campus like an analyst would scour a particularly large data set for a single fatal flaw because he thinks Hinata Shouyou might be his fatal flaw, and he wouldn’t let the chance to find out slip through his fingers again.
When Kenma saddles through the door to the shitty campus Starbucks at half past eleven on a Thursday morning, he notes the horde of exhausted kids drugging themselves with caffeine and pounding away on their laptops as they rush to finish assignment that were due in forty-five minutes, or less, and he is thankful that he never waited until the hour before class to do homework.
And even though Kenma had decided, long ago, that he would never take a date to their campus Starbucks, when his eyes lock onto the only outlet in the entire coffee shop, and drift up to see a boy with wispy orange hair and a smile that rivalled all the stars in the sky, Kenma figured (always read: hoped) that Shouyou would take him up on a date in their one and only campus Starbucks.