Chapter Text
Your pastel, strawberry-shaped alarm blares you awake with a start.
Hidden behind baby-pink plastic and soft green accents, that thing is far more terrifying than it looks—almost as bad as your mother’s slipper.
Almost.
You swing your legs off your bed, which matches your alarm far too well—blush sheets, sage pillows, stuffed animals scattered in every direction.
Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you grab your electric toothbrush, spitting out toothpaste with a sound that reminds you a little too much of an elderly Asian man.
The taste of mint wakes you up just enough to get through the day.
In the kitchen, you reach for your favorite mug—yes, strawberry-themed—and begin making your usual drink.
Strawberry matcha.
Layered carefully, almost artistically—matcha, milk, strawberry—each level precise and clean.
And then, without a second thought, you gulp it down in seconds, leaving faint streaks of green and pink at the corners of your lips as you shuffle back to your room.
・❀・──────・❀・
You love books.
That doesn’t mean you love going to work.
But it pays. There are endless novels within reach, and best of all, you can wear whatever you want.
That alone makes it worth it.
You pull on the outfit you picked out the night before: a white fleece sweater with soft pink stripes, sleeves long enough to swallow your hands. A pale green skirt with ruffles brushing mid-thigh. Black Mary Janes with a slight heel—just enough to give you a little extra height.
(Not that you’d admit you like that.)
You add leg warmers—spring isn’t quite warm enough yet—and clip soft pink barrettes into your hair.
Then comes makeup.
You sit at your vanity, opening a drawer that is, frankly, a disaster. Products spill over each other, barely contained.
You should organize it.
(You won’t.)
A quick routine—cushion foundation, blush, brown liner, a touch of contour, a few extra beauty marks, and muted red gloss. You finish with an excessive amount of setting spray, tossing the gloss into your bag for later.
With a small sigh, you grab your keys—your strawberry keychain swinging—and lock the door behind you.
The library is a thirty-minute walk.
You pass by the usual scenery, cherry blossoms that are soon to bloom, the friendly neighborhood cat lounging in a sunny patch of grass, the cafe where you spilled a latte down your shirt and had to run home and change, making you thirty minutes late to work. Your shoes still faintly reek of caffeine. Just thinking about it runs a shiver down your spine, and you visibly shudder. Never again.
As you turn the corner, the library’s entrance greets you. You push open the rusty antique doors and are immediately greeted with the smell of paper and must. Perfect.
Your card beeps on the reader to indicate the start of your shift, one of the few modern things in this relic of a place. You settle down in front of the computer, stretching your legs under the table and booting up the computer.
Your coworker sitting in the swivel chair next to you rolls over with a lopsided grin.
“Hey [Name]! Fancy seeing you here this morning!”
You look over at him with a sigh.
“We see each other every day, five times a week, Yuji. Nothing quite fancy about it anymore.”
The familiar click of heels comes from behind you.
“Leave her alone, Yuji, it's way too early for this.”
Holding a cup of coffee in one hand is your other coworker, rubbing her face with the other in what seems like both fatigue and annoyance.
Yuji spins around to face her, grinning with a small pout on his lips.
“Hi to you too, Nobara! It’s not that early.”
You lean backwards over your chair and let your hair cascade over the back.
“G’morning Nobara. Rough night?”
She groans, dragging her hand down her face.
“Freaking finals are going to be the end of me. Whoever told me fashion majors do nothing and just have an easy pass lied through their teeth. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO MAKE FIVE TOTAL PIECES WITHIN TWO DAYS? And don’t EVEN GET ME STARTED ON–”
She walks off to the break room to get more coffee, never stopping her rant on the way there.
You sign into your computer with a yawn and start organizing files full of PDFs, book requests, and who knows what.
About an hour in, you're two seconds from grabbing Yuji by the shoulders and shaking him into putty — when you hear a small ahem from across the counter.
A boy, somewhere around your age, stands in front of you — for how long, you're not sure. You've been breathing through your mouth. Your posture is comparable to a shrimp.
With a splutter and surprised, huh, you immediately swap to customer service mode with a gentle smile.
“Hi, can I help you with anything?”
(You inwardly curse yourself in your head. Of course, he needs your help. Why else would he be here?)
He’s tall, with sharp green eyes and dark, unruly hair that looked like he'd long given up on taming it.
“Hello, I was just wondering if you had any copies of The Remains of the Day? I was hoping to borrow it.”
The book immediately pops into your head; it’s one of your favorites. You spring up and start walking to the other side of the counter to guide him through the library.
“Of course we do! It’s actually one of my favorites, the themes are so complex yet beautiful, I’m glad you wanted to read it.”
He follows behind you shortly, trailing your footsteps.
“Yeah, it’s been on my to-read list for a while. I’ve heard some great things about it. Do you have any other recommendations while I’m here–”
He peers down at your nametag, with a strawberry sticker you slapped on the corner. “Too boring by itself,” you called it.
“[Name.]”
You light up a little — book recommendations are basically your love language.
“Of course! If you’re already reading about morality and tragedy, I really recommend Never Let Me Go. It’s not as hard of a read, but it still has the concepts down to a T. Do you want me to grab that for you, too?”
He nods, quick and precise, seemingly pondering what you said.
You grab a book stool and pull it over to reach the higher level of the bookshelf and pull out The Remains of the Day, before lugging it over to another aisle to get Never Let Me Go. You hand the books to him, a small triumphant grin on your face for successfully helping him.
“Here you go! Do you want me to check them out as well?”
He nods again, and with each step you take back to the counter, you take him in tow.
It’s not long until the books are scanned out under his name, and you see his profile on the screen, Megumi Fushiguro. You hum quietly to yourself and hand the books back to him with his receipt.
“Thank you for visiting, Megumi! Have a nice day!”
“You have a nice day as well [Name].”
And with that, he steps out of the antique doors and onto the sidewalk.
Yuji swivels over to you, this time with Nobara following shortly after.
“Who was that? He looked interesting.”
You shrug, a carefree expression on your face.
“Dunno. Just met him. I helped him get some books, and that's all.”
Nobara taps her chin.
“Never seen him before. Maybe he’s new in town. Hey, since our shift’s almost over, you guys wanna get ice cream after this?”
You and Yuji cheer in unison before hurrying up to finish your work.
You don't think much of Megumi.You shelve the interaction the same way you would a returned book — neat, in its place, not worth dwelling on.
You'll probably forget by morning.