Chapter Text
By the time you enter the small, dingy coffee shop, most of the tables are empty. The large window looks mesmerizing with the dark street behind it. You feel a little out of place visiting a café so late in the evening, like you’re hours late for your morning cup of coffee.
The welcome bell chimes. A few gazes snap up to you as you walk in, and you stiffen.
You wander to one of the many available tables, then dig out the book you keep stuffed in your school bag. You’re worn down from the day, between classes and work, and want to give yourself a (small, but mentally active) break.
Within a few minutes, a presence approaches from behind. You glance over your shoulder, already expecting Goro.
“Hey,” he greets coolly.
“Hi.”
He stops closely beside you, also weary from the day. The close proximity betrays your intimacy with him, even without touching nor saying anything affectionate to indicate it. Just as you scan him for any nonverbal cues, he scans you.
Goro keeps his hair short now. You always pry and ask if he’ll ever grow it out again, but he brushes you off with an inconclusive answer each time. You still like his short hair, anyway, but you miss being able to play with it.
He offers in his quiet voice, “Do you want a drink? We haven’t shut down the espresso machines yet.”
You hesitate. “You don’t want your free drink?”
He shakes his head and his lip curls up in distaste. “No. I plan to go straight to bed.”
“Oh, then… yes, please.”
He knows your coffee order by now and doesn’t need to ask. He vanishes again to the back of the shop.
You try to read, but your brain feels clogged. You only get through one page before a coffee cup slides onto your table.
You blink up at Goro. He sips some water and stalls beside you, apparently eager to take a break, himself.
“Thank you,” you murmur and accept the cup.
He just makes an affirmative noise and says, “We’ll be done in the next hour, if you feel like waiting that long.”
“I can wait.”
“Are you sure? You look tired.”
You manage a smile, and wish to say how hypocritical he sounds. “I am. Just a long day.”
“Was work okay?” he presses.
You nod and bump his leg with your foot playfully. “How are you?”
“I’m all right,” he answers – it’s always his answer, “evening shifts are a bit slower than mornings. I don’t particularly enjoy closing tasks, but…”
He trails off when one of his coworkers asks him something from behind the counter. With the dwindling audience of customers and the joy of nearing the end of their shift, the staff seem to care less about being noisy.
Goro returns his attention to you as soon as he’s able. You giggle at the guarded look on his face, and it instantly melts.
“What?” he prompts.
You shake your head dismissively. “You look done with everyone.”
He doesn’t answer but cuts his eyes at you in a way that proves your point – he is done with everyone. You smile.
He’s much better at dropping the mask now, at his young but cynical age of 22. You prefer him this way.
He gets called back to help clean. He gives you another look, downs his cup of water, and wanders off again.
One of his coworkers plays oddly upbeat music through the wall speakers. This café typically plays slower tunes, but this is likely meant to push them through the last bit of the day.
You sit up straighter in your seat (you’ve been slouching, and you always forget to catch it) and attempt to focus on your book.
A few pages in, a staff member passes by while sweeping. You shift a little to offer her space, just to find that she’s already staring at you.
You think maybe it’s because you’re in the way. But you test her and stare back, and she promptly looks away to return to her cleaning.
Strange, but not unusual. You’re used to prying stares much like hers. You just can never differentiate what they mean.
You skim another paragraph. In your glimpse, you can tell she’s pretty – brunette, makeup neat despite the messy barista work, cute pins on her apron…
She asks, “Are you waiting for Akechi-kun?”
“Mm-hmm,” you answer.
“Are you guys going out after this, or–?”
“No. Just going home.”
“Oh.”
You fidget and try to focus on the characters on the page. You think you understand what the problem is.
She wipes a counter and asks, “Are you a student at Gunma? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Yeah, I am…”
“Really? What year are you?”
“Fourth year…”
“Oh, that might be why I haven’t seen you.”
You don’t answer and she thankfully takes the hint to leave you alone.
You must admit that you’ve followed Goro’s lead and don’t bother to mask around strangers anymore, either.
People bring a lot of pain with them, and you’re beyond entertaining superficial connections just to get hurt again. Your therapist wants you to reconsider this disillusioned worldview, but you feel a little more agency like this – exhibiting control, when you’re often the one controlled.
A few slow pages later, Goro approaches you again.
You look up at him just as he combs his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Seeing him in a physically demanding, low-paying job is still odd. But not in a bad way – your tummy knots up when you get to see him so ragged and overexerted, uncaring of how ‘not pretty’ he looks.
“Ready to go?” he asks and adjusts his grip on his work bag.
You nod and begin to pack up.
He adds, quieter, “Thank you for waiting.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted to see you.”
“You’d see me at home, anyway,” he points out.
“I know,” you concede.
His mouth tugs up into a rare fond smile. You pull your bag onto your shoulder, take your coffee, and push in your chair. A few joints crack at your sudden change in position.
He usually doesn’t initiate touch after work – he grumbles about needing a shower – so you lean into him and walk carefully with him to the door.
His arm settles around your back. “Missed me?”
“Mmm,” you hum unclearly.
He hugs you closer and holds the door open for you. It’s still dark outside and a little chillier on the walk to the bus stop, but it just gives you an excuse to hug closer to Goro. You peek up at him curiously.
He catches your stare and raises an eyebrow. “What?”
You hum and hesitate, sipping your coffee. “I don’t think your coworker liked me.”
He pauses to process your words, then replies, “Ah. I did see her talking to you. Did she say something?”
You squeeze his arm as you walk, silently reassuring him. “Not really. She just asked if I was waiting for you.”
“That was it?”
“Mm.”
He sighs. “Sorry about that. I suspected she had a bit of a crush on me. She started complaining about bad dates and acting… strangely around me.”
“I can’t blame her. I would act crazy around you, too.”
He leans over and attempts to nip at your nose like it’s a reprimand. With your walking, it’s easy to squirm away and giggle, though you still lean into his arm just the same.
He says quieter, “She’s fine, other than that. She didn’t seem happy when I first mentioned you.”
You should be jealous; you are, a little. You’re still a bit worried that Goro’s affection for you is all fabricated. He feels too good for you.
To cope, you joke, “You have a secret work fling?”
Goro immediately deadpans, “Obviously not,” but you’re still laughing. You feel him relax.
You make it to the bus stop. Only one student stands there, scrolling on his phone, so the bench is empty. You tug on Goro’s wrist gently and he looks back at you.
“Sit down for a minute?” you say.
Goro comes back and sits on the bench without complaint. You plop down beside him, pressing your thigh close to his. It’s mostly so you can rest, but you’re sure he also needs it after being on his feet for a full shift.
You cradle his hand and pull it to your lap. You still hold your coffee in the other.
“You said your coworker started acting weird around you?” you ask.
Goro hums, distracted by the passersby and headlights of the loitering cars. “Well, first she would bring up her bad luck with dating. Someone else there teased her about it frequently. Then she found out I wasn’t a student– most people here assume I am.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And I suppose that was enough to pique her interest. It’s… subtle, but it’s always quite obvious when others are attracted to me. It’s a hassle, really.”
“Okay, okay,” you wave him off. You’re indescribably happy to hear him laugh for the first time all day. “Rubbing it in my face?”
“Rubbing what? You were the one who asked.”
You giggle, “I hate sharing you.”
“You’re not,” he replies easily. “My choice is always you. You should know that by now.”
Breaking away from the lighthearted script, you confide, “I still get… nervous sometimes, that… I mean, she was really pretty, so…”
You trail off and fiddle with his thumb. He senses the shift and looks at you carefully.
Goro mumbles, “No one could compare to you. It’s not even a question for me.”
“Sorry to…” you backtrack, “I mean, thank you for… reassuring me.”
You look up just in time to see him smile softly at your correction. The screech of the bus’ brakes approaches where you sit.
“Always,” he murmurs, like it’s a given.