Chapter Text
Five in the dining area. Two in the cafe seating outside. One in the bathroom, and one more at the bar.
Even after all these years, Toge can’t stop himself from unconsciously sizing up a situation- even if the situation in question is as simple as figuring out how many people he needs to clear out of the coffee shop before he can close. Nine isn’t a great number. Turning off the music and loudly locking up the register might effectively give half of them the right idea, but that’s if he’s lucky.
Maybe he shouldn’t have let Miwa leave early after all. Things seemed pretty dead, so Toge figured he was okay to break Nanami’s golden rule of never letting the cafe operate with only one worker on shift for the last few minutes. Now, he’ll be stuck trying to awkwardly shoo away nine–
“Iced americano, no cream, no sugar.”
Ten. Ten different customers.
Toge looks up, startled. Blue eyes greet him. His gaze flicks to the entryway next, finding the familiar copper bell that hangs over the door. He swears it didn’t chime. Toge turns back to the interloper, feeling himself getting more aggravated by the second. Dark hair. Muscular build. Easy smirk.
White shirt, splashed red.
To Toge’s credit, he doesn’t react. His face doesn’t change, his heart rate doesn’t spike. At the very worst, he could be accused of looking for a quarter of a second too long before starting to tap in the order.
Unfortunately, Toge knows well that even the smallest slice of a second can matter- and, more importantly, so does his new customer.
He laughs, a warm and gripping sound that pours effortlessly into the room. Everyone is looking at them now. “My daughter,” he explains breezily, “She’s going to be an artist someday, I swear. Right now she’s perfecting her splatter technique, can you tell?”
Toge nods curtly and unceremoniously flips the point of sale machine on him, making a point of staring directly into this man’s eyes as he’s forced to navigate the tipping prompt. He looks up at Toge gamely as his fingers hover over the touchscreen. He’s clearly trying to gauge Toge’s reaction to him, and Toge gives him absolutely nothing to go off of. He doesn’t care what this guy does. All he cares about is that he gets to go home tonight.
It’s not finger paint. It’s blood. Fresh blood by the looks of it, slashed across the white fabric in a neat, clean spray.
Cardholder Yuuta Okkotsu tips twenty-five percent, the highest option. Toge makes an iced americano.
Toge gets the sense that Kento knows a lot more than he lets on.
At first, it made Toge uncomfortable, but he wasn’t in a position to turn down a job offer. Something about Toge must have seemed just desperate enough that Nanami didn’t even bother calling the fake-ass references Toge listed on the application. He just threw an apron over and started training him on the spot.
Toge repaid the kindness by making himself indispensable. He wasn’t in the business of owing anyone anything. He didn’t just make drinks faster than everyone else, he also streamlined several of their processes and quietly took over some of the administrative responsibilities. It bothered him too much to let things continue to run inefficiently.
Kento took it in stride. He seemed relieved enough to not have to do certain things himself anymore, even remarking that he might be able to take a vacation now that he had someone like Toge on his staff. Toge began waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. “What’s a smart kid like you doing here? You could be doing more.”
Toge’s not really sure if that’s true. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to do more.
Kento never said anything like that, though. He let Toge have the run of the place. He came up with new responsibilities for him every time he got bored. Putting him in charge of inventory. Training new hires. Updating their signs each season. Even caring for the growing collection of plants in the front window.
Instead of asking about Toge’s past, he grabbed a shovel and helped him bury it.
It’s taken two whole years, but Toge has finally gotten to the place where he can call Kento a friend. The tone of their texts shifted from strictly professional to a sort of wry camaraderie as they make jokes about work. Toge is the only one at the cafe who’s met Kento’s very tall and very annoying boyfriend. A couple of months ago, Toge was even invited to their apartment for dinner. Getting there only took twenty minutes of walking, but getting ready took two full hours of fumbling with a tube of concealer.
Their place was nice, but sparse. The furniture was new. The walls were bare. Toge couldn’t find anything that suggested it had been moved in from another residence. Toge couldn’t help himself. He looked at everything too hard, harvesting as much information from each object as he could.
The only personal touch his scouring eyes managed to find was a framed photograph on the fireplace mantle. Kento and Satoru were both ten, maybe fifteen years younger, and both of their arms are slung around two different dark haired boys around their same age. Toge didn’t even try to hide his interest. He picked the photo right up to get a better look, if only to examine Kento’s truly tragic teenage hairstyle.
“Old friends,” Kento explained through a cough. Satoru offered a tight smile. They offer Toge a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc and never speak of it again.
Toge hasn’t felt uncomfortable around Kento ever since. Two minutes in the apartment confirmed to him why Kento had offered Toge a job that day. It was abundantly clear why he didn’t care that Toge was running away from something.
Kento Nanami was running too.
Toge isn’t surprised when Yuuta waltzes back in a couple weeks later. He sort of just knew that he would be back. If anything, Toge’s just shocked that it didn’t happen sooner.
It’s an hour before close this time around instead of a minute, and Yuuta has to wait in line behind a couple of young women wearing suits as they carefully consider the menu. Yuuta passes the time by scowling at the single blueberry muffin left in the display case, everything else completely picked over after a long day. Toge could hurry the women along, but he doesn’t. He lets them chit-chat for a moment as they leaf through their selection of teabags.
Kasumi will be happy, at least. She’d never admit it, but she’s still slightly afraid of their espresso machine. Making two hot teas is more her speed.
“Iced amer–”
Toge clicks the button a second too fast, and Yuuta cuts off abruptly as he watches his order pop up on the screen prematurely. Iced americano, no additions, four dollars even. A knowing smirk spreads across Yuuta’s face.
“You remembered my order,” he murmurs, leaning in. The cafe is busy enough that no one can hear them. It’s unlikely that anyone is even paying attention as Yuuta rests a hand on the counter and leans closer. “I must have made quite the impression.”
Toge generally makes a point of not remembering names or orders, but it’s not every day that someone walks into his coffee shop with freshly-spurted blood staining their clothes. To Yuuta’s credit, today his garments are clean as a whistle. Toge doubts that was an accident.
“I’ll have to bring my daughter here sometime,” Yuuta muses, remembering his cover-up story from the other day. “I’m sure she’d enjoy…” His eyes flick back to that sad, lonely muffin. “Your offerings.”
Temper getting the better of him, Toge reaches under the counter and comes up with a coupon. They’re leftover from some fundraiser that Kento had agreed to do for Satoru’s kid’s school, good for one free children’s hot chocolate. He slams it down and slides it across the counter, not breaking eye contact. Toge doesn’t care if a customer is rude to him, but he won’t tolerate an insult to the cafe.
Yuuta’s eyes flick up after he reads it, piercing Toge with blue. He really is handsome, unfortunately. Worse, he knows it.
“Oh you are just so considerate,” Yuuta teases, feigning gratitude for a child that they both know is fictitious. “But if you really wanted me to come back that badly, you could have just asked.”
And come back he does. After that, Yuuta Okkotsu comes into the cafe every day for a week straight.
Toge only dreams in his old life. It’s like he’s learned a new language since then, but his mind hasn’t caught up. He’s not imaginative to think up anything other than dark, smoke-filled rooms and reams of his father’s shoddy paperwork. He can’t picture his hands without a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He can’t invent a familiar face that hasn’t been properly inked. He can’t envision a world in which he does anything without immediately looking over his shoulder afterwards.
It’s no wonder Toge is so tired all the time. Even in his dreams, he’s running.
Recently, Toge has realized that he doesn’t really have any hobbies. He goes to work, he comes home and goes through the labor of keeping himself alive- groceries, cooking, hygiene maintenance- before falling straight into bed. On his days off, he goes on walks if he’s feeling up to it. He finds himself in strange corners of the city, and turns back home the second the sun starts to set.
He’s better than he used to be. The first few weeks, Toge didn’t sleep at all. He was too convinced that one of his uncles or cousins would show up at his door with a baseball bat, or worse. Jumpy, Noritoshi once described him. It was more generous than Momo’s description, who insisted he had “psycho eyes” for his first two months on the job. No one at the cafe has ever accused him of being laidback, that’s for sure.
Now, two full years later, Toge feels strangely settled. He doesn’t get the sensation that someone is breathing down his neck with each step he takes anymore. If his old life was going to show up on his doorstep, it would've already happened by now.
Toge really did it. He accomplished the impossible- pulled off the ultimate hat trick and disappeared without a trace. Anyone else in his position would be flying high off the thrill of survival, sucking every possible pleasure out of life until the nectar ran dry. Not Toge, though.
All the caffeine in the world at his fingertips, and all Toge ever wants to do is sleep.
Quitting cigarettes was easier than Toge anticipated. Without someone handing them to him all the time, he quickly lost interest. He never liked the smell of smoke, and he hated the act of going to the store and asking for them. The only problem was the withdrawals.
Yuuta Okkotsu starts coming into the cafe regularly. Toge sees him nearly every day, and always after noon. Toge is home by eleven one day after switching shifts with Noritoshi so he could get to an early morning grad school exam, and Yuuta whines about it the next day. I came all the way here and you weren’t even here, he complains. The other guy didn’t even know my order. I had to physically say the words Iced Americano. And he left room for milk.
Noritoshi drinks his coffee black and would never do such a thing without being explicitly asked, but Toge guesses that Yuuta simply tacked that bit on for dramatic effect. The rest of what he was saying was very deliberate, though. Yuuta wanted Toge to know that he didn’t just stop by for a caffeine kick. He comes here for Toge.
Toge was addicted long before he understood what was happening. He was unconsciously looking at the door in free moments. It gave him the same feeling as idly fiddling with a lighter in his pocket- just something to do, nothing he really cares about. Scratching an itch in his brain to get it to shut up for a little. In no time at all, he was thinking about Yuuta walking in the way he used to think about his next cigarette break.
The difference was, quitting Yuuta Okkotsu wasn’t something Toge could choose for himself. Yuuta either came in, or he didn’t.
And then one day, he just didn’t. He stopped coming in for four days in a row, and Toge was beside himself. He was irritable and distracted and fucking pissed. He loved his job. He could turn off his brain and keep his hands moving for hours without having to worry about anything. Now, he has to think. And he has to think about Yuuta Okkotsu, of all things.
It’s like watching a fog clear as Yuuta stumbles in twenty minutes before close on day five. His dark circles are more prominent than ever and he’s swimming in an old, faded shirt with the sleeves pushed up. Toge feels at ease for the first time in days. Yuuta looks right at him and smiles.
“Had to go out of town for a bit,” he tells Toge when he gets to the counter. “Miss me?”
Unfortunately, yes. It feels like he’s been working underwater for days. Yuuta is brisk, cold air against his face, and Toge is sucking it in with fervor.
Toge can’t put his finger on what it is about Yuuta that makes him feel particularly alive. Maybe it’s just something to break up his day. Maybe it’s the idea that an attractive man goes so out of his way to flirt with him every day. Maybe it’s the promise of danger. Toge’s been deprived of danger for a long time now, after all.
Whatever it is, It’s such a good feeling that Toge doesn’t say anything about the blood caked under Yuuta’s fingernails.
“Looks like there’s a lull,” Noritoshi observes. “I’m going on break. Come get me if you’re swamped.”
Toge nods dutifully, psyching himself up to take on the morning crowd by himself. When he’s not mentally calculating what time Yuuta is most likely to stop by and how to be on register when he does, Toge is doing his job, he swears.
Today, he’s even doing it twice. Momo called out sick today, Aoi will only work weekends, Mai won’t pick up her phone, and Noritoshi and Kasumi were already on the schedule. Toge was really the only option. Kento offered to come in and take his afternoon shift since he’d be covering this morning, but, well. Toge wanted to be here after noon to see Yuuta, so now he’s working a double.
Noritoshi’s forecasted lull doesn’t last. Toge’s in a flurry as he takes orders and starts pouring shots, keeping an eye on the door as his line starts to pile up. If he doesn’t pick up the pace it’ll be out to the street in no time. He tries to put it out of his mind when a pair of sunglasses walks in. Toge can’t help the way his eyes flash frantically to the clock.
It’s 7:45 AM. There’s no fucking way.
But sure as daylight, Yuuta Okkotsu is standing in the doorway, backlit by the sun and wiggling his fingers as he waves to Toge.
Toge works faster. Where the fuck is Noritoshi?
By the time Yuuta gets to the front of the line, Toge has taken the orders of all three people ahead of him in line and started none of them. They’re all sharpie marks on white cups for Noritoshi to deal with when he gets back. Toge has other problems right now.
Yuuta Okkotsu is standing right in front of him, and he looks rough. He also hasn’t taken his eyes off of Toge since the second he walked in. Toge wouldn’t be surprised if he found twin scorch marks in his shoulder- that’s how hard Yuuta has been looking.
“Hey, hot stuff,” he greets. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”
One thing that Toge has learned about Yuuta is that he’s always in motion. He’s scanning the room. He’s tapping his fingers. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. It’s almost like he’s physically incapable of sitting still. Even when he’s leaning in over the counter to be closer to Toge, he bobs back and forth, in and out like a tide.
Today, he’s stiller than death. His fingers are splayed across the counter as he ducks closer. His body is stiff. Behind the shades, Toge can’t even tell if he’s blinking or not.
Jesus, it’s like he wants Toge to think he’s a serial killer. Even without the blood stains, the starter pack was all there. Iced americanos after noon. Baseball hats and iced drinks in all weathers. Now, apparently, sunglasses indoors.
Dimly, Toge registers Noritoshi moving behind him. He’s getting the other drinks started. Toge should be able to relax a bit now, but he doesn’t. Yuuta slides his glasses into his hair, revealing a nasty bruise beneath his left eye. The motion also reveals that the inside of his palms are stained with oily strips of black. Toge starts getting uneasy. Where the fuck has he been?
This isn’t funny. It’s one thing when Yuuta comes in here and it’s obvious to only Toge that he’s been out doing something nefarious, but this is just sloppy. Toge’s never felt like it was his business before, but that was before he showed up at the cafe looking like a fucking mess and started making a scene. People will be scared if they look at him too closely in this state, and for good reason.
“Rough night,” he explains, drawing out the words. People behind him are getting visibly agitated. “And of course, I had to drop my daughter off at school this morning. It’s so hard to be a parent.”
Toge rolls his eyes. They’re back to this, then? Not a fan of being lied to, Toge grabs a cold cup and starts processing Yuuta’s usual order. He doesn’t have time for this.
Yuuta responds by reaching across the counter and snatching Toge’s wrist. He moves so fast that Toge never even sees him coming.
“No americano today,” he corrects. “I’d like a red-eye.”
Toge raises his eyebrows. It’s not often that he genuinely wishes he could say something, but right now the words are you okay? come to mind. Red-eyes have a near lethal amount of caffeine in them. Toge was already pretty sure Yuuta was a killer, but apparently he’s a psychopath, too.
“Like i said. Rough night,” he says through gritted teeth. “And don’t let the girl make it. I want you to make it, okay? Only you.”
The girl- Kasumi, who tends to be working alongside Toge during afternoon shifts- isn’t even here right now, which Yuuta would know if he looked around for even a second. Toge nods anyway. Whatever’s going on with Yuuta right now, Toge doesn’t want to argue with it. Something about Yuuta is more manic than usual today. Dangerous.
His hand stays snaked around Toge’s wrist as he punches the order in with his free hand. Toge does his best to ignore it.
“Are these people all regulars?” Yuuta asks. Toge doesn’t indicate an answer. “It’s like you're cheating on me. Are you telling me there are other iced americanos?”
Toge ends the conversation the same way he shuts down all of Yuuta’s advances- by flipping the tablet on Yuuta and forcing him to finish the transaction. Yuuta pretends not to see it. Or maybe he actually doesn’t see it. He’s so fixated on Toge that Toge’s not sure he’d see anything past the pin-prick size of his pupils as they stare into Toge.
His grip tightens. Toge looks pointedly down at Yuuta’s fingers as they dig straight to his bone. It takes a few seconds, but Yuuta finally remembers himself and releases his grip. He snaps right back into proper decorum so fast Toge gets whiplash, smiling politely and fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. It’s bursting with bills.
“I guess I just thought we had something,” Yuuta sighs. “I was even going to introduce you to my daughter. She was so excited to meet you. I’ve told you her name, haven’t I?”
Yuuta taps his card and leans in. His eyes go meteor-shower wild as he drops his voice to a whisper.
“Rika.”
All the blood rushes to Toge’s head. Not missing a beat, he turns around on his heel and gives Noritoshi a quick tap to let him know he needs to take over the register. He doesn’t even check to make sure Noritoshi finished getting them caught up on orders or not. A single bead of sweat runs down the back of Toge’s neck as he clutches Yuuta’s cup in his hands.
No. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. There’s no chance in hell that anyone who has anything to do with the most feared hitman in the entire country would be standing in his coffeeshop. It’s impossible. If Yuuta Okkotsu had any connection to the Rika, Toge would have been dead two and a half months ago when Yuuta first laid eyes on him. It would be crazy to think otherwise.
Yuuta’s fucking with him. Clearly. He’s some low-level criminal that managed to stumble across a name he shouldn’t have, and now he’s trying to get under Toge’s skin with it. If anyone doesn’t understand who they’re dealing with here it’s Yuuta.
But as he swirls the ungodly concoction of espresso and black coffee, Toge’s mind starts hatching an escape route. There’s an emergency exit in the break room Yuuta probably wouldn’t know about. It’s not much of a head start, but it’s something. Toge doesn’t even need to go back to his apartment first. He’ll get on a train, the first one he can, and he’ll get on it with nothing but the clothes on his back.
He’ll start over from nothing. He’s done it before. He can do it again.
“You’re distracted,” Noritoshi comments, watching Toge’s slow work as he starts pouring a cold brew. “Do you need to tap out?”
No.
Toge shakes his head, answering more than just Noritoshi’s question. He’s being ridiculous. This cafe is his life. He’s not going to abandon it at the first sight of trouble. He can’t do that to Kento. He can’t do that to himself. Fuck starting over. Toge’s not leaving this place unless Yuuta Okkotsu puts a bullet in his skull and physically drags him out.
He marches the red-eye up to the collection counter where Yuuta is waiting with a sinister smirk. His eyes are gleaming, lit by an invisible flame. Toge stares straight into them. He’s not afraid. He slams the coffee down and silently dares Yuuta to ever say a name like that in his presence ever again.
“You really are a godsend, Toge.”
Almost as if he’d heard Toge doubting his legitimacy a second earlier, Yuuta tips his head back and pours a healthy swig of the scalding hot coffee down his throat. He doesn’t even flinch. Like he didn’t even feel it.
“There’s just one more thing,” Yuuta adds sweetly, holding up a finger. “I’m gonna need you to take the mask off that pretty face of yours.”
Toge takes a big step backward, instinctively putting as much space between them as possible the second that possibility registers in his brain.
It’s all Yuuta needed to see.
The air around them changes. The rest of the coffee shop is still in full swing, machines roaring with life and customers buzzing around in every direction, but Yuuta and Toge stand in a pocket of perfect stillness.
Fuck. He knows.
Yuuta tsks, breaking the stalemate by shaking his head. He looks genuinely disappointed by this development.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Toge,” he advises. “From now on, you’re going to listen to me very carefully, do you understand?”
Toge is too stunned to indicate a response, but Yuuta doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps talking as if Toge was nodding along actively, voice smooth and sultry as he tells Toge what he’s meant to do. He speaks like a current- strong and calm and destined to get his way.
“Now this is a place of business, and I don’t want to make a scene,” Yuuta explains, “So here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to go sit down at that table to enjoy my coffee. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be ready to leave with me.”
Toge stands frozen in place. As Yuuta stares him down, Toge sees every noteworthy feature he noticed about Yuuta when he first walked into the cafe that day more prominently. Muscles, height, athletic build. Manic behaviors. Deep dark circles and wild, wild eyes. Everything about him spelled out the worst kind of danger, and Toge willfully ignored all the signs. Worse, he leaned in. He practically encouraged Yuuta’s interest in him.
“Come quietly,” he says softly, wickedly, “Or you’ll force me to do something we’re both going to regret.”
He lifts his coffee cup a few inches into the air before he turns away, as if to cheers a special occasion. Toge supposes that for him, it is. Stumbling across the lost Inumaki isn’t something that happens to a person every day.
Toge is so, so fucked.
Yuuta sits at the table in the back corner and Toge starts busying his hands, churning out drinks at an unprecedented rate. He means to work on auto-pilot so he can figure out what to do, but instead he soothes himself with the familiar gestures. He pulls shots. He pumps vanilla. He scoops ice. He loses himself in the rhythm.
Fifteen minutes go by and Yuuta hasn’t so much as lowered his gaze. Toge tries not to look at him. He needs to come up with a plan. Kasumi shows up. She’s early, just wants to hang out in the break room until her shift starts. Fucking perfect. Another person implicated in this. More witnesses. More victims.
Toge needs to get out of here. He needs to draw Yuuta as far away from this place as he possibly can. But how?
When they hit the thirty minute mark, Yuuta makes a big show of standing up, throwing out his coffee, and walking to the bathroom.
This is his chance. This is the first time since Yuuta walked in this morning that he’s not tracking every single one of Toge’s movements. Toge’s hand goes to his back pocket, grazing his phone. He could easily get an SOS text out to Kento before Yuuta returns.
Can he really do that, though? Morally, can he really get someone who’s shown him such kindness tangled into a mess like this? Even if Toge wanted to be terrible and ungrateful, the hesitation costs him. Yuuta is already back. Reinforcements aren’t coming. Toge’s on his own.
The clarity comes all at once.
What is he doing? He needs to leave. He can figure out a plan once he’s on the other side of things. If he gives himself up now, everything here will remain safe and orderly. No one has to see him dragged out of here kicking and screaming. There'll be no mess, no fuss. To his co-workers, it’ll just seem like he left one day and simply never came back. Isn’t that the best case scenario?
Besides, he can handle himself. Yuuta is just one guy– one guy who hasn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours and clearly has no plan. Toge can still come out on top here. This could all be a misunderstanding, even. Yuuta likes Toge. They wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t.
Toge’s putting the finishing touches on one last latte when Noritoshi taps his shoulder insistently. His face is drawn, jaw dropped. Toge follows his gaze to find smoke billowing into the room, pouring out of the bathroom area at an alarming rate. Patrons have just started to notice. Toge watches their faces as they gasp in horror and start dashing for the exit, a flurry of spilled coffee and frantic limbs. At the center of the madness stands one figure, smiling serenely and waving at Toge with twinkling fingers. Toge can’t believe his eyes.
Yuuta Okkotsu just set his fucking coffeeshop on fire.