Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As per usual, the sky above his head was a dull, smoggy grey that hung heavy with pollution and humidity and the lingering stench of a long summer night.

As per usual, the ground below his feet was a dull, worn-out grey that fused together with litter and pigeons and the gluey residue of discarded chewing gum.

And as per usual, Aoyagi was on his way to work, smushed between two shades of the same crusty, dusty color he’d been surrounded by for the past month.

The only difference between this morning and every other morning since the start of his new job? The dreadful pit stop laying mid-way between his apartment and his gardening shop.

In sight now, the store’s telltale dark-green sign loomed above him, its white highlights shaping the body of a macabre creature with scales and and two tails and unbelievably long hair. Onoda, the wonderful, fact-filled kid he was, had insisted that it was, in fact, the telltale figure of a mermaid -- but what kind of horrific mermaid could duplicate its tail like that? If anything, it could only be a bad omen.

Dragging his the heels of his feet against the pavement, Aoyagi shuffled his way to the glass doors of the Starbucks. Was there any way out of this? Maybe he could ask Onoda to do it for him, just this once, and then he’d do all of them, he would promise, and Onoda really did seem to like this place... But then again, Aoyagi wasn’t one to run away from something he wasn’t fond of -- at least, that’s what he kept telling himself -- so he sucked up a breath, exhaled his last remaining thoughts of abandoning the task, and swung open the door.

The stench of coffee really was overbearing.

It hit him in the face as if he'd walked into a solid wall of java beans. He shuddered as he felt it permeate his clothes. He knew it would linger for a while, that not even the hundreds of smells of the city could drown out this one, terribly strong stench.

Brushing back the hair in front of his eyes -- damned “miracle product” never managed to actually keep his overgrown bangs from falling in his face; Makishima was right, he really did need a haircut, but that would mean re-dyeing his hair for the second time in three weeks and he really didn’t want to go through all that trouble again -- Aoyagi examined the small shop. Circular tables meant for two lined the wall of a window next to the door. Most of them were pretty clean, but crumbs and remnants of previous customers’ breakfasts littered a few unlucky surfaces. Well, nobody was going to sit at any of those tables, so maybe they were pretty lucky after all.

At least a half a dozen people stood in the twisting line to the cash register. The wait would almost be worse than actually ordering the coffee.

Almost.

Aoyagi inhaled deeply, feeling the caffeinated air fill his mouth and nose and lungs and flow through his system like poisonous water being soaked up by a plant’s roots, and stepped into the line of exhausted, over-worked coffee addicts New York was famous for.

A three-toned text alert rang through the air; Aoyagi felt a vibration against his thigh.Silently laughing at the number of people checking their phones for a new message, he pulled out his cell from his apron pocket and swiped its shattered screen, the little banner indicating a new text waving to him from behind the broken glass.

6:37 AM
Tadokoro: Hey Aoyagi, what’s the hold up? Everything okay? You got the list of what everyone wants, right? Makishima’s especially grumpy today, so try and get here soon. We know it’s your first time doing the coffee run, but we could all use a little pick-me-up right about now! Good luck in there! See you soon!

6:38 AM
Aoyagi: !! Got the list. Long line, see you in 15.

Finally moving forward in line, Aoyagi scrolled up through his conversation with his boss and retrieved the list of everyone’s orders. They seemed simple enough. A grande black coffee for Tadokoro, no cream or sugar; a tall caramel macchiato for Onoda; and a…venti peppermint iced latte with one shot of espresso for Makishima? What the fuck was that supposed to be? Oh well, regardless of how ridiculous the coffee was, it was Aoyagi’s job to bring it to his coworkers, and he wasn’t going to let them down on his first try. At least he could appreciate how each drink reflected the personalities of the people who ordered them- something strong and simple for Tadokoro, something small and sweet for Onoda, and something unnecessarily extravagant (and expensive) for Makishima.

Putting his phone away, he memorized their orders and further examined the store.

All around, people went about their own business. Aoyagi stood in line while the world continued on with no regard to him. Honestly, despite the myriad of books written with the sole purpose of explaining the unique attraction of coffee shops, Aoyagi never quite understood the real reason why so many people would spend this much money on burnt coffee -- or this much time standing in line to buy them. The way that people gathered here like flies around a carcass was pretty disgusting, to say the least.

“I can help the next customer over here!”

Aoyagi snapped his head up and to the left, saw the barista calling to him to him, felt his heartbeat accelerate, there it goes again, and quickly made his way past the Please wait Here sign over to counter.

Ordering food really was the bane of his existence. He couldn’t even look the employee in the eyes, and it didn’t help that this guy’s hair was to die for. From the corner of his vision, Aoyagi could see the loose curls fallen from his ponytail that framed his high cheekbones, a few stray ringlets bouncing against his forehead.

Augh.

He hoped his accent wasn't too strong -- he hadn’t been in the States for more than a few months now and English still felt strange against his tongue. Talking wasn’t exactly Aoyagi’s specialty, and it didn’t help that he was in a new world where everyone and everything went by so fast and before he knew it he was swallowing up his words because nobody had the time to hear them and decipher what he meant behind those thick quirks of his that plagued him like a bad taste in his mouth he couldn’t quite wash away.

“One grande black coffee. One tall caramel macchiato.” So far, so good. “And one, uh, venti -- peppermint iced latte with -- with a shot of espresso.” The words fumbled around his tongue before leaving, catching in the roof of his mouth and hitting his teeth and vacating in uneven syllables. He really hoped nobody thought any of those orders, not to mention that last one, were for him: he couldn’t stand to be thought of as some frivolous guy who ordered fancy drinks just for the hell of wasting five bucks.

But, surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly based on what Aoyagi had previously noted, nobody seemed to care. They were all probably too wrapped up in their own problems; who would spare a moment to judge what the anonymous kid next to them was ordering? Not even the barista seemed to mind, his fake, corporate-demanded smile still plastered onto his face.

“Alright, so that’s one grande black, one tall caramel macchiato, and one venti peppermint iced latte with a shot of espresso. Whew! What a mouthful.” Aoyagi could hear the grin in the barista’s voice. He spoke quickly and with the agility of someone who talked for a living, which probably wasn’t that far off from the truth.

“Can I have your name, please?”

“Come again?”

The barista chuckled, but it didn’t seem like he was mocking him. It was more amused, like the laugh of someone who’s just solved a puzzle . “Your name, so we can make sure you get the right order. You can even give an alias, so long as it’s something you’ll recognize.”

Aoyagi nodded in understanding. Should he give a fake name? Something that didn’t seem as complicated as his real name? Or maybe just his first name, that one wasn't complicated, and Americans usually went by that one, but it still felt weird to say it...  Especially since it was loud in the store, it might be hard to hear correctly, they would probably misspell it or make it sound even stranger than it already did to a foreigner, it was probably simpler to just make something up, but --

“Aoyagi.”

Shit, it came out of his mouth, just like that, he couldn’t help himself, he felt so claustrophobic in there and there were too many people and he needed to get out of there as fast as he could because he knew the barista was laughing at his name even though he couldn’t hear him anymore and his ears were ringing and he just wanted to get his coffee and go back to his flowers where he could shower in their perfume and get rid of the horrible lingering smell of caffeine.

Fuck. He needed to calm down. Things were never as bad as they seemed. He glanced over to the barista, who didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. Grabbing three cups and a pen, the guy behind the counter began scribbling something down intently.

“A-o-ya-gi.” His name resonated in his ears as the barista wrote it down, breaking it up into syllables. He said it correctly, that had never happened before since he got to New York, nobody had ever gotten it right so quickly.

“Okay, your current total is eleven dollars and eighty six cents. Will that be all?”

“Y-yeah. Thanks.”

Eyes to the ground, Aoyagi took out his wallet and handed the barista his debit card. He looked up at his name tag.

Junta.

Nice name.

Junta swiped his card and handed it back to Aoyagi as though it were second nature to him. No, not as though. It was second nature to him. Poor guy must’ve worked a few hundred morning shifts just like this one. Aoyagi’s heart lurched at the thought of being just one more customer in the infinite line of coffee-drinkers Junta encountered every day: he probably only got his name right because he’d heard it before, not because there was some connection between the two. That would be ridiculous.

Well, in any case, it wasn’t exactly like he’d be seeing him again, and daydreaming never solved anything anyways.

Stepping away from the cash register, Aoyagi stood at the opposite end of the bar, waiting for his order to be ready. He ran his fingers over the cracks in his phone. He people-watched and studied the other baristas and looked at the way Junta danced his way around the counter, picking up empty cups and handing them to the next person down the coffee-making assembly line and ringing in customers and handing them change without so much as a single doubt of his calculation skills. His hands moved especially fast, at a pace the rest of his body struggled to keep up with. It was hypnotizing.

Aoyagi’s ears turned up, much like a dog’s, when he heard different vocal chords calling him-- or rather, what he assumed was supposed to be him.

“Ayaigi? Order’s ready!”

Aoyagi couldn’t help but grimace. What a beautiful butchering of his name. The voice that said it this time didn’t have a hint of the care that Junta’s did, even if the latter was fake or forced or only there because of corporate regulation. It was a bitter sound that pierced the air and melted into caffeinated brews and left a sour taste in his mouth. Biting his cheek, “Ayaigi” grabbed his drinks and dodged idle customers sipping at their overpriced coffee and pushed the doors open with his back as he walked out the store.

So long, Starbucks.

---

He returned to the shop as quickly as he could without spilling his co-workers' coffees all over his freshly-washed work clothes. The walk back to their store was short, lasting only about 5 or 6 minutes, even though Aoyagi was especially cautious with the three drinks he held in their carrier. When he arrived he was greeted with a heart smile from Tadokoro and, finally, a conversation in his native language.

“That was fast!”

“Mm, the line went quicker than I thought.”

Aoyagi shuffled over to the counter where Tadokoro stood behind the cash register and dropped the cardboard container. The sweet smell of sugary Starbucks drinks permeated around them, ephemerate and sticky like nectar dripping off a flower petal, before being overwhelmed by the aromas of dozens of different floral arrangements hanging throughout the store. Aoyagi smiled in relief. He had finally escaped the bitterness of the morning’s previous quest.

Tadokoro took an aggressive swig of his drink before slamming it down with a satisfied sigh. “Okay! Who’s ready to sell some flowers? We’ve gotta flip that sign to Open in less than half an hour!”

Makishima, ever the drama queen, rolled his eyes as he disinterestedly stirred his bizarre latte before taking a hesitant sip and grimacing -- but only slightly. He had an image to conserve, after all. “They always put too much peppermint in… it’s supposed to be subtle, but they think that because they call it a ‘peppermint latte’ it has to be all in-your-face.” Still, despite his complaints, he continued to drink his expensive concoction.

Onoda popped up from behind the door to the back room. “Ah, you’re back! Thanks so much for running out for us!” He scampered up to take his drink and took care to eat all the whipped cream off the top before tasting the actual liquid. His expression was a weirdly happy one that resembled the face he made when talking about anime.

Aoyagi nodded, relieved that everyone was satisfied; he wouldn’t have to go back to that dreadful store for the rest of the day.

But there was no time to relax, so he went to the back room, picked up the hose from from the right-most wall, and started the day’s chores.

There wasn’t much to do. It was already Thursday, and the new flower arrangements celebrating the start of the coming season wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Summer was ending quickly, and Aoyagi secretly fantasized about the moment he could wear scarves and trendy autumn clothes and school uniforms, like the students in those adventure novels that attended schools for witches and wizards and who knew, without a doubt, where they belonged in their supernatural world of magic and petty drama and fantastical adventures.

Turning back to the menial world of minimum-wage jobs and part-time work, Aoyagi began watering the rows upon rows of flowers before the mid morning sunlight dried them out. The perennials were on the right; he started with those, passing the phloxes and daisies and coneflowers relishing in their feast. Then came the biennials, the annuals, the imports and exports… Honestly, he could have spent all day holding that hose, growing his own sanctuary of life within glass walls.

There were other things to tend to, though, so he put back the hose, slowly wrapping it around the holder, watching its snake-like figure curl up into itself.

A chime sounded as someone entered the door. It was too early for the intruder to be a regular customer; the sign on the door wouldn’t turn to Open for another ten minutes at least.

Aoyagi peered out of the back door, just to get a glimpse of who their guest was, and smiled softly when he recognized the shoulder-length, gleaming purple-black hair and highly arched eyebrows of their store’s favorite customer.

Toudou had come to visit. And he was so loud, Aoyagi didn’t even have to step out of the storage room to hear what was going on. He leaned back against the now open door, and tuned into the conversation.

“Hey, Maki-chan! What great deals do you have for me today? I just need something spectacular to spruce up the inn. Nothing more beautiful than me, of course, we can’t have that, but you know, something that’ll really bring out my eyes. The girls love that! And if not, I’ll just be telling those new guests of mine what a better flower shop the one across the street is. Those tourists, they gobble up that stuff like sweets.” He flashed a grin so white it had to be fake, maybe with that new paste Aoyagi saw the ad for on TV.

“Toudou,” Makishima responded from behind the register, irritated and despondent, “we don’t open for another twelve minutes. Come back when we’re ready for you.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Tadokoro added with an air of suspicion, “we’ll have something ‘spectacular’ for you, but later. Now, you should leave”

“Tch. Be that way. But you know, Maki-chan, Tadokoro, I’m only trying to keep you guys on your toes. Without competition, business atrophies! You should thank me for all of the hard work I go through for you.”

“Toudou, you own an inn. You don’t even sell flowers,” Tadokoro retorted with an exaggerated sigh, “what competition could you possible be stealing from us? Please, just go and come back later.”

Toudou laughed as if he was hiding some important secret.

“Alright, alright, you win this time, I’ll give you guys some peace. But I’ll be back soon, Maki-chan,” he added with a devious smile, “and I expect something even more beautiful for all this trouble you put me through! Bye, then!”

Toudou flipped his hair, like the movie star he probably thought he was, and strutted out the door. Aoyagi felt his coworkers’ silent cheers at his disappearance.

No longer needing to hide his presence -- even though everyone knew he was there all along -- Aoyagi came out of his hiding place, and silently began counting inventory.

But he could still hear snippets of his bosses’ conversation, not that he meant (or even wanted) to eavesdrop. Evidently Onoda was having the same problem, humming loudly, too loudly, to himself as he swept the floors to keep out the noise.

“Yuusuke,” Tadokoro implored, getting up now to wipe down the countertops, “what will it take for that guy to stop bothering us? It’s tiring.”

Makishima sighed. “I don’t know -- really, I don’t. And don’t give me that look.” Aoyagi couldn’t see Tadokoro face from there, but he assumed it was something between distrust and annoyance. “It seems,” Makishima continued, “that one of us is just going to have to go out of business before this ends.” Makishima absentmindedly played with the ends of his hair. He was, finally, visibly ticked off.

It took a lot -- too much, in Aoyagi’s opinion -- for Toudou to bother Makishima. Wasn’t it obvious that Toudou was too friendly for anyone’s good? That his motives obviously couldn't have been beneficial to anyone but himself? But Aoyagi digressed. It wasn't his business and he shouldn't get involved. They were old enough to deal with his own problems, he assured himself.

“Ah, sorry Aoyagi, but do you think you could move, just a little bit? I uh, kind of have to sweep here -- it’s the last spot I haven’t done yet, and we’re about to open…”

Aoyagi looked up from his clipboard to see Onoda, one arm holding the broom, another awkwardly rubbing his neck. He nodded and stepped out of the way.

“By the way,” Onoda whispered, leaning in with the secrecy of a schoolboy trying to hide something from his teachers, “what do you think of that Toudou guy? I mean, he seems nice and all, but I really don’t know… What if something happens because of him? Like something bad”

So he wasn’t so oblivious after all. Kudos to him.

Aoyagi shrugged; it really wasn’t his business, and he didn’t want to worry Onoda any more than necessary. The kid was almost biting his nails to a bud in worry.

“Alright, Tadokoro exclaimed, thankfully changing the subject, “time to open up shop! Onoda, will you do us the honors?”

“Y-yes! Of course!” He was practically beaming, running to the door like that. It was kind of cute, in a childish way. Even Makishima was grinning, not that he would admit to doing such a thing if asked.

As expected, business wasn’t especially fast until the afternoon. None of the customers were out of the ordinary and no problems arose, so Aoyagi even managed to fit in a few moments of sketching as he took his shift behind the cash register.

“Hey, Yuusuke,” Tadokoro shouted from over the counter when a group of customers left, “have you noticed how good Aoyagi’s getting at drawing? Why, he should hang some stuff up in here before his art is worth a fortune!”

Makishima came around from the shelves lined with fertilizer and peered over the register. His hair brushed past Aoyagi’s face, making him almost sneeze.

“Huh, he is getting pretty good, isn't he.”

Aoyagi blushed. It wasn’t that he was opposed to compliments, or to taking his art more seriously, he just didn’t like feeling as though he were showing off his works. He didn’t create things for the attention it brought him, but rather because he just liked creating things, knowing they were his and that he produced it and that it existed. Plus, it felt as though drawing was little more a hobby right now, a way to pass the time. Maybe in a few years he could dedicate himself to it, wouldn’t that be fun, but for now there were classes to attend and bills to pay and shifts to take. For now, his online gallery, a website he shared with a few other artists he knew from forums around the net, would have to do.

On the bright side, he couldn’t smell the coffee on his clothes anymore. Maybe he’d be able to spend the money he would save on laundry on a few new markers; his green ones were running out of ink.

Soon his time behind the register finished, and all Aoyagi had to do before he could leave guilt-free, returning to his bland and monotone life away from the flowers and his coworkers’ lively banter, was rearrange the window display. If he left it for the next day, a Friday, he’d feel too rushed to thoroughly enjoy the process. He liked this part of the job the most, deciding which groups of flowers would go where and in what shape they would be arranged.

He admired a group of dark purple peonies with flashy violet highlights extending from the center to the edges of each petal. Those would look good hanging from the ceiling, he thought, and would go great in contrast with that group of bright pink broadleaf filarees over by the lilies.

Stepping up on the stool to hang the flowers, Aoyagi blew the hair falling once again into his face and laughed at the thought of asking Toudou to borrow one of his headbands for a while.

All of a sudden, he smelled something familiarly bitter in the air. It wasn’t as strong this time, just a faint, subtle breeze floating through the mix of perfumes. But where was it coming from? The caffeine evaporated from his clothes a while ago, and nobody else had made another coffee run since the morning…

Turning around and away from the window, Aoyagi searched for the source of the intruding odor. It didn’t belong in his store, in his sanctuary, and whatever -- or whoever -- brought it with them didn’t belong there either.

Ah. So that’s where the scent was coming from. Telltale dark, almost purple hair; but this time, Toudou wasn’t the intruder. No, the guy from the Starbucks he’d been to this morning, what was his name -- June? Junta! Junta, right, how could he forget, he had really liked the way his name sounded -- he was here, in his store.

But why? Buying flowers, Aoyagi supposed. Why else?

Aoyagi felt his face heat up. What if Junta remembered his slip up from that morning? What if he came here to embarrass him, remind him in front of the entire store that he was a major fuck up? But he didn’t seem like the type… but then again, who knew, with his fake smile and perfect hair, there had to be something malicious about him, right?

“Excuse me, can you tell me what type of flower this is?”

Aoyagi looked up and him and nodded sheepishly. Fuck, why did he have to go and act like some schoolgirl with a crush, blushing uncontrollably like that. And why was Junta asking him the questions? Onoda was closer to the door, and Makishima and Tadokoro were more visible, in plain sight at the counter, than he was.

And wait, was Junta pointing to -- a daisy? He didn’t know what a daisy was? What the hell?

“Daisy. It’s -- a daisy.”

“Oh, alright." A pause, as Junta looked at some more flowers. "And what about that one?”

He was pointing to a branch of orchids this time. Seriously? He didn’t know what an orchid was either? How clueless was this guy? Man, this made Aoyagi’s slip of the tongue seem like nothing in comparison to Junta's utter cluelessness. Still with a polite smile, though, Aoyagi dutifully answered.

“Orchids”

Junta smiled brightly. It wasn’t the forced, obviously fake one from before. This one was genuine, and his eyes shone in excitement too. He looked like a little kid in a foreign country , amazed by everything around him.

“That sounds pretty! Do you like those flowers? Or is there something else you prefer?”

Aoyagi thought for a moment, tapping his index finger against his cheekbone.

“Orchids are nice, but I like those -- the dahlias -- more.” He signaled to the peach-pink flowers sitting a few counters away. “They have more color, they shine brighter.”

“Ooh, those are pretty. I’ll take some! In a bouquet, please.”

Aoyagi nodded again. He handed Junta the requested bouquet, and smiled as his client walked over to pay for it. He made eye contact with Makishima, who gave a questioning raise of the eyebrows in his direction, and quickly went back to his flower arranging.

Aoyagi heard the chime of the door’s bell as Junta walked out the door, and saw him wave an over-exaggerated goodbye when he saw Aoyagi in the window. Aoyagi, in turn, gave a slight smile -- but was this one just a polite, work smile? or was it genuine? -- and a small wave in return.

The window arrangement complete, Aoyagi descended, once and for all, from his stepping stool. He wiped off his hands and went to the backroom to collect his stuff. Finally, he was free to go, and he wanted to upload the day’s new sketches.

“Wait, Aoyagi,” Makishima called.

“Hm?”

“This is for you, from the guy that just came in. You know, the cute one with the high cheekbones that made you blush?”

Aoyagi stared blankly at Makishima. What was he supposed to say? That he knew that guy from fucking up his coffee order? That he couldn't help but blush everytime they interacted? Instead, he walked over to the cash register and nodded as Makishima handed him a slip of paper. He could look at in when he got home; he didn’t want anyone to ask questions if he opened it here, it was much safer to look at the paper within the privacy of his own room.

“Thanks.”

“Watch out there, Aoyagi,” Tadokoro teased, “it seems you've got an admirer on your hands!”

Hopefully he won’t end up like Makishima’s admirer, Aoyagi thought to himself. He gave a small laugh, just to indicate he wasn't too embarrassed by Tadokoro's comments.

"Well then, see you tomorrow."

"Have a good afternoon, Aoyagi," Makishima said with a devious grin, "and give that boy a call, wont you?"

Onoda perked up from his footrest, seated in front of the succulents. 

"Huh, Makishima, what are you talking about? What boy? Anyways, Aoyagi, have a good one! See ya later!" 

Aoyagi nodded, ignoring Onoda's invasive questions, and walked out the door. 

--

Once he was a few blocks down from the store, he felt safe enough to read the slip of folded paper without any intrusion. Walking away from the middle of the sidewalk, he leaned against the wall of a nearby CVS and opened up the message. 


Today I saw hundreds of flowers in your store, but none were as stunning as you, Aoyagi. 

                                                                                                    - Junta        212 - 555 - 2453                        
        
PS: Stop by the shop again sometime, I'll have something great for you! It'll be even better than that venti peppermint latte of yours ;)


Holy Shit. Ho. Ly Shit. Aoyagi covered his face with his hands, feeling the heat steam from his cheeks. He could no longer say that Junta was good with words, not after something that cheesy. Admittedly, though, it was pretty cute. 

Folding the paper back up, Aoyagi carefully put it back in his pants' pocket for safekeeping and continued the trek to his apartment.

He passed by a few Starbucks on his way back, but the unconscious grimace that used to creep up onto his face at the thought of them didn't appear anymore.

Feeling the note in his back pocket, Aoyagi coudn't help but smile. Even though anything caffeinated still smelled terrible, maybe coffee-shops weren't so bad after all.   

Chapter Text

Teshima awoke from his half-conscious state to the sound of a vibration against his desk. Evidently he’d fallen asleep while finishing his summer homework. He grimaced at the terrible taste in him mouth; all he wanted to do was brush his teeth, wash his face, and go back to sleep.

His phone vibrated again.

Sleep could wait.

Somewhat aware of his surroundings, Teshima fumbled around in the dark of his room until he felt the cold glass of his phone. Sure enough, he had two unread texts.

01:45 AM
212 - 555 - 9431: hey

01:47 AM
212 - 555 - 9431: !

Teshima’s heart skipped a beat. Either Aoyagi had finally texted him after twelve hours, or he was going to have one weird conversation with whoever was on the other end of that number.

01:46 AM
Junta: hey!! this is aoyagi, right?

01:46 AM
212- 555 - 9431: yeah. call me hajime

Alright, at least that settled something. Hajime. It had a nice ring to it.

01:47 AM
Junta: well that’s a relief! you should stop by again soon.

01:48 AM
Hajime: !

Man, this guy was not big on words. Which was fine -- Teshima found that personally, he talked a bit too much, he could do with fewer words -- but what on earth was an exclamation point supposed to mean? Had he creeped out Hajime?

Maybe Teshima was coming on too strong… But if Hajime weren’t interested, he wouldn’t have messaged in the first place, right?

01:49 AM
Junta: i mean, only if you’re interested of course! no pressure, haha

Wow, did he sound like a loser or what.

01:50 AM
Hajime: !!

Two exclamation points. That’s what people usually ended their sentences with when they were excited, right? So maybe this was a …?

01:50 AM
Junta: yes?

01:51AM
Hajime: yes

01:51 AM
Junta: cool. what time works for you? i work until 2, so if you come a bit before then we can head out together

01:52 AM
Hajime: 2 is good

01:52 AM
Junta: nice. see you then!

01:53 AM
Hajime: yeah ^^

Teshima covered his blush with his hands, reveling in the sensation of fingers digging into his skin. Hajime used a fucking smiley face. Not just any, either, but one of those ridiculous one middle schoolers used. Holy shit, this was too much. He really was too cute.

And Teshima was going to go out with Hajime. On like, an actual date.

Okay, well, maybe not a date, but it was something. Jumping out of his chair (and his sleepiness), Teshima ran to turn on the lights and began jotting down ideas for where the two of them could go the next day. Hajime was into flowers, so maybe central park -- oh, but he would probably be tired of them after dealing with them all day, so maybe something completely different was better. Maybe a Broadway show? Teshima could probably find tickets to one of the last showings of Newsies if he if he looked in the right places, Hajime would probably appreciate something as cool as theater, but could a movie br better? Or they could go to a nice restaurant, or...

Teshima yawned as exhaustion got the better of him. Sleep would probably be the most productive thing he could do. Planning was pointless if he was too tired to actually execute whatever he'd come up with.

With a sigh, Teshima tuned out the lights and forced himself to sleep, knowing that an an exciting -- though daunting -- day lay ahead of him.

--

The air was chilly, too cold for a late-summer morning. As he entered the shop, Teshima felt a chill run down his spine as the cool air stuck to his skin like dew on grass. Nobody else had arrived yet. They wouldn't open for another hour.

Not even Shingo Kinjou, their branch manager, had arrived, which struck Teshima as odd -- if not a little worrisome. Their branch was facing a lot of competition lately, especially from the store just a couple blocks down from their own, and Kinjou had been adamant on letting everyone know that “we all have to work together to ensure our success!”

In other words, everyone had to work twice as hard to make sure they were on par with their neighboring stores. Teshima didn’t mind though; he’d always been a hard worker. And he enjoyed the banter he had with customers as they bought their coffee and he loved seeing their smiles as they walked out satisfied with their drink. However, he could go without the snooty customers who knew a foul attitude would get them free coffee. But he digressed; every job had its downside. All in all, working behind the counter was pretty enjoyable. And the money wasn't bad either.

Teshima went to the small room adjacent to the counter and carefully put down his bag before putting on his apron. It was just a bit lighter than the dark green that he had seen Hajime wearing. From his messenger bag he pulled out a carefully wrapped bouquet and a small vase. He turned on the faucet, put some tap water in the vase, unwrapped the flowers, placed them in the container, and put the vase next to one of the cash registers. The sharp smell of blooming dahlias spread throughout the store, pleasantly reminding him of the previous day’s outing to Hajime’s shop.

It wasn’t like he meant to act like a complete stalker and enter the guy’s store just a few hours after he saw him for the first time. He was more of a scientific kinda guy, not really known for being touchy-feely, and Teshima didn’t even believe in anything as ridiculously nonsensical as love at first sight. No, the infamous coup de foudre, as the French were so fond of saying, was nothing more than that: a flash of emotion that vaporized as suddenly as it appeared.  

Teshima had experienced it before, too. Like most kids, he’d had his fair share of school-age crushes on various classmates, so it came at no surprise when Teshima felt his heartbeat suddenly increase when he first heard Hajime’s voice. It was deep, like the slow rumble of the sky just before a thunderstorm, but it wasn’t as harsh; no, it was definitely more mellow, more like the crashing of waves against a boat about to depart. It had that same choppy feel to it, as if a sudden change of the tide could pull it away. Even when Aoyagi had fumbled his order -- not that Teshima even remembered what he had ordered at this point, just that he had messed it up -- his voice was still there, still breaking against the metaphorical over-filled boat of customers they both had to deal with.

Would that make Teshima the captain of the boat in that case, reassuring the passengers that everything was okay even though the boat was sinking? Probably. There wasn’t much Teshima could do when he found himself struck by the current but ride the tide and hope the boat wouldn’t sink.

He was trying not to sink. Right. That’s why he loitered at the street corner as if waiting for the light to change, and huffed up a breath when he saw Hajime hanging flowers in the window. Ah. There were those waves crashing against him again, his heartbeat accelerating, maybe with adrenaline but probably with something more child-like, his drive telling him that he had to keep pushing forward, because that’s what the captain does, because he’s in charge of his own course and he may as well sink faster instead of hanging in unsure limbo.

So he walked up the steps into the store, nodding politely at the employees behind the register, and headed straight for Hajime. Despite how well-prepared Teshima usually was -- for everything, really -- he didn’t have any idea of what to say to Hajime, not really. So he asked about the store’s inventory, something he was sure Hajime would know about..

The front door opened with a creak, violently dragging Teshima back from his recollection of yesterday's events.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Kinjou. Ready for another great day?”

Kinjou chuckled, taking off his sunglasses as he approached the back room. “Yeah, sure.” He sniffed the air questioningly before glaring -- almost accusingly -- at the flowers on the counter. “Did you put those there?”

“Ah, yeah. They smell nice, don’t you think?” Teshima could feel his palms sweating as he scratched the back of his neck. Kinjou's eyes really were piercing.

“Yeah, they do,” smiled Kinjou as he picked up a washcloth and began wiping down tables, “nice choice." Teshima felt himself relax. "Hey, Junta, did you get the letter from management?”

Teshima squinted. “No, what letter? Everything’s alright?”

“They want us,” Kinjou practically laughed, “to switch things up a bit. Just to see what happens. You know, new business techniques and all  that.”

“Mhm…”

“Anyways, they’re thinking that if we reduce competition between branches, sales will increase for the company. So we’re going to be working with the 8th street branch a lot more from now on."

"8th street? That's the one with that blond manager guy, yeah, the one who always says at meetings that he's 'strong and can handle any task given to him' or whatever?"

A sigh escaped Kinjou's mouth. "Yeah, that's the one. The guys above want us to work with them more closely, so some of their employees will be coming here and vice versa." He was checking the registers now, making sure everything worked right as he continued his exasperated explanation. "Starting tomorrow, one of theirs will be coming here and one of ours will be going over there."

"Wh-- seriously? We have to go all the way to 8th street? Man, that's pretty far away..."

"It's what they asked of us, so we'll do it. No use complaining to corporate. I'll let you know who goes where and when once the others arrive." Kinjou's telltale smirk returned. "And I'm sure we'll become a better team because of it."

Teshima broke into a grin, reassured by his manager's words. "Yeah, alright. Sounds good."

The door slammed open. There goes our conversation.

“Hey hey hey, guess who's here! Shoukichi's here! Kakaka, who's ready for another great day of filling up people's orders? We're gonna be so fast today there won't even be a line! And everyone's gonna remember Shoukichi Naruko as the best barista in New York! Who's with me!!"

"Good morning, Shoukichi," the other two greeted.

Naruko flashed an enormous grin in their direction...

And then his grin turned into a grimace when he looked at dahlias sitting on the counter.

"Hey, perm, aren’t those flowers from that gardening store on 17th street? That red and green wrapping is the one they use! Yeah! Yeah, they totally are from there! What, you trynna get Sakamichi’s attention too, huh? Well, I’m the best one for him, so don’t even bother!”

Teshima lifted his head from his hands and looked up.

“Ah, Shoukichi. Hi. Yes, you’re right, the flowers are from there. And I guess it’s true that Sakamichi works at that store, but I didn’t really go there for him -- trust me." Teshima hadn't even registered that Sakamichi Onoda worked there, even though he had thought that Hajime's apron looked familiar, and then there was that short kid wearing glasses at the store who had his backed turned to Teshima when he walked in, that had to have been Sakamichi, but Teshima hadn't put two and two together until Shoukichi mentioned it.  "I just thought I would stop by and see what they were selling since it was on my way home! You know, because it’s almost the end of the season and all.”

Well, that wasn’t completely false. Teshima hadn’t gone in because of Onoda, and it was on his way home.

Shoukichi was still looking skeptically at him though, fingers tentatively running through his bright red hair.

“Alright, whatever you say. But lay off Sakamichi, okay?” his voice was little more than a murmur now. “Besides, he’s too young for you anyways.”

Teshima bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to chide his coworker for worrying too much. Instead, he nodded sympathetically and got up to rinse out a few dirty pots laying around.

“Thanks."

--

"Junta," whispered Shoukichi from the brewing station "let me take the register for a bit, will ya? Sakamichi's s'possed to get here soon."

"Oh, uh, okay. Sure."

As much as Teshima wanted to stay behind the register in case Hajime came back, he knew how much Sakamichi meant to Shoukichi and wanted to let them have a shot at a relationship too. Besides, Hajime probably wouldn't come in that day, since he seemed so uncomfortable in the store earlier.

Just as Shoukichi had predicted, Sakamichi came in right on time. Teshima smiled at his coworker's blush, recognizing his embarrassment. It was kinda cute on Shoukichi. Wel, in any case, it matched his hair pretty well.

Teshima listened in on Shoukichi over the whirring of the coffee brewer.

"Hey, Sakamichi, good morning! What can I get ya today? The usual?"

"Ah, Shoukichi! Good morning! Yes, the usual is fine."

"Alright, sounds good. That'll be eleven ninety six then! Your order'll be out soon."

Sakamichi flashed a flustered smile and adjusted his glasses before getting out his wallet. Despite his apparent geekiness, Sakamichi was charming in his own way with his oversized glasses and eager attitude. And he got along pretty well with Shoukichi, which was a feat in itself -- not everyone had the energy necessary to keep him engaged. 

"Ah, um, Shoukichi," he began after moving out if the line, "thank you for being so friendly with me for so long! I really appreciate it."

Onoda's eyes were sparkling in enthusiam. Naruko's cheeks were reddening by the second. And Teshima's grin widened as he watched for his coworker's next move.

In nervousness, or maybe in some futile attempt to remain casual, Shoukichi rubbed the back of his neck as the rang up the change for the next customer.

"It's no big deal, really! I uh, like spending our mornings together like this!"

Sakamichi was apparently completely oblivious to the underlying meaning to Shoukichi's words, or maybe he was purposefully ignoring it, but either way Sakamichi beamed another huge smile in Shoukichi's direction as he turned to grab his order.

Teshima resisted the urge to nudge Shoukichi as Sakamichi waved out the door. Instead, he continued to monotonously brew orders as the morning's dose of drama walked out the door.

--

Teshima trudged though rest the morning, all the while trying to find something fun for him and Hajime to do once he finished working.

"Hey Shingo, if you were gonna take someone out on a date in the city, what would you do?"

Kinjou raised an eyebrow at Teshima, but didn't push the subject.

"I'd most likely take them somewhere that pertains to their interests, but you can never go wrong with a nice dinner, I suppose."

Right. Dinner.

At three in the afternoon.

Teshima sighed.

"Alright, that works I guess. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Shingo smirked after a second. "If you don't mind my asking, who's the hypothetical date? Someone related to those flowers, perhaps?"

At the mention of the infamous plants, Naruko perked up.

"So you are interested in Sakamichi! What the hell, Teshima, you said you didn't like him."

"No, no, shit, it's not with Sakamichi, that kid really does seem like a high schooler, but..." Teshima lowered his voice in fristration. "I guess there is someone else that works there that's kind of cool."

"Huh? That would justify the flowers then! But who? Not the green guy, not the bear... Aha! There's that quiet guy! The blond one! It's gotta be him then, right? Right?"

Teshima side-eyed the wall in defeat.

"Yeah, that's him. Congrats. You guessed it."

"Man, why didn't you just tell me before! I give great advice, Junta. Okay, so, I've seen that quiet guy drawing a whole bunch. He's probably studying to be an artist or something! You should do something around that."

Shingo nodded. Evidently artsy guys deserved artsy dates. Neat.

"Shoukichi, that's actually... pretty good advice. Thanks."

"Uh huh, don't mention it! Anything for a friend."

Right, okay. At least Teshima had some faint idea of what to do once Hajime showed up, and with the help of his handy dandy smartphone he could search something up quickly enough.

Time to start multitasking.

--

"Hey, Junta, I think that's your quiet guy right over there."

Looking up as he handed a customer back their change, Teshima saw that yes, Hajime was in fact there -- though he didn't look especially happy. But that might just have been his personality.

Knowing that Hajime was there, though, that he’d really wanted to come see Teshima, that was enough to make the barista smile.

“Don’t worry,” Naruko insisted in a hushed tone, “I’ll take over the register. Go get 'em, tiger!”

“Thanks. Be right back.”

Naruko gave a wide thumbs-up at Teshima as he started on the next customer’s order.

Teshima waved from a few feet away. “Hey, Hajime! You’re here!”

He looked down at his watch. It was only two forty five, so Hajime would have to wait a bit before they could leave. “You’re a bit early though… I don't get off for a few more minutes.”

Aoyagi nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Teshima anymore. No, his gaze was a bit lower than Teshima’s eyes.

The flowers, shit, right, he was looking at the flowers.

A small murmur came from Aoyagi. “Nice...”

“Yeah! They’re the ones you sold me yesterday, aha…” Aoyagi nodded again. “Well uh, wanna sit down for a few and I’ll be right there?”

Another nod.

“I’ll have someone bring you something to drink if you’d like!”

“Sure. Breakfast tea is good.”

“Okay, you got it! Hang tight and I’ll be out before you know it.”

Aoyagi smiled again, albeit less genuinely than the last time, as Teshima pointed to an empty table close enough to the counter. He watched Aoyagi as he strode over to his seat and took out a book.

Teshima turned again to Naruko, who replied with a smile and an over-enthusiastic pat on the back, before going back to work and busying himself once more with the seemingly endless onslaught of customers in front of him. Though in his concentration, he failed to notice the redhead making his way over to Aoyagi’s table with the tea he’d asked for.

Naruko's grin widened as Aoyagi looked up from his novel. Surprised to see someone other than Junta, he stared questioningly at Naruko.

"Hey! You're that guy that perm talks about, right?"

It took a second for Aoyagi to register who he was talking about. But before he could reply, Naruko burst out again.

"Do you like guys with perms? He's told me it's natural, but something about it just doesn't seem right about that hair, you know?"

Aoyagi was still staring at Naruko, eyes half-covered by his hair.

“Haha well anyways, you work at the same store as Sakamichi, right? Say hi to him for me!”

“Okay, I will,” Aoyagi smiled.

“Well then, I gotta get back. Have fun on your date with perm!”

Snickering, Naruko jogged to the register, leaving behind a slightly confused Aoyagi. Not wanting to ponder on something as trivial as a coworker’s banter, however, he went back to his novel and waited for Teshima to finish his shift.