Chapter Text
Being a barista at a local café didn't exactly correlated with Megumi's dreams, but tuition and dorm rent wouldn't pay themselves, much to everyone's dismay.
It's not like Fushiguro hated his job. His boss was nice enough to make sure his schedule wasn't too strained, and the payment was good enough. More so, Tsumiki used to work there and recommended him, essentially getting him the job, so who was he to complain?
The atmosphere was rather calming, and the interior suited his taste. The earthy tones weren't too bright nor too dark, keeping the place cozy, and few decorations consisting of dolls and paintings weren't too overwhelming nor looked cheesy. He felt a bit flustrated, but mostly proud, as the paintings consisted of stuff he painted. The owner, after asking to see his profolio, had grown fond of his art and asked if he could hang few of his paintings in the café. Hell, if he wanted the owner would allow him to do a whole exhibition of his art without batting an eye. So, he never felt unwelcome there.
Getting to know the locals wasn't as bad as he had thought, either. Obviously, there were some who were oversharing and constantly talked his ear off, mostly old ladies who just needed someone to talk to, but he grew to somewhat enjoy it. Or just tune off while looking interested. But most importantly, nobody intruded into his personal life. He was asked from time to time about his studies or mood, but everybody seemed to respect his privacy when they saw he's not much of a talker.
So no, he didn't mind pouring hot jasmine tea for the old ladies who came to relax chat, or quickly making coffee for people who were rushing to work but would die without their caffeine. But he didn't want to work there for his whole life.
Much to everyone's surprise, Megumi was an artistic soul. His classmates back then often took him for a type to be into mathematics and physics, and while he wasn't bad at them, the art class was what really caught his attention.
Drawing comics, sketches, painting portraits or landscapes, or even photography. Animations where you could feel the artist pour their whole hearts into them and more. Something about them made his monotonous everyday light up. The moment he picked up the pencil, he was in his own world. Quiet peace that didn't occur him often. If he could, he would always draw and create.
That's why, after high-school, he had chosen to major art. Everyone told him that it was a bad idea, that his future would be more than uncertain. Fushiguro wasn't dumb, he knew how artist were treated, especially with the rapid A.I. development. But he was already unhappy with his life, so he would rather chose something he actually enjoys and at least try, and not just give in and chose something that's guaranteed to get him a place in cooperation. He didn't need to be more miserable than he already was.
He had thought about going into animation, but it was way too time consuming, which he had to keep in mind while he was still studying, and much to Megumi's despair — he hit an art block. Again. So working as a barista in a small café shop wasn't that much of a bad choice.
The spiky haired man was currently preparing takeaway americano for a blond man, who looked as if he had the worst day at work ever. That's at least what Megumi had thought when the man first came to the café, but after few days of his frequent visits, he realised that's just how he looks. Or he really hates his job. Maybe both.
“Here's your coffee, Sir,” he placed the order on the counter.
The blond nodded in acknowledgement, murmuring quick ‘thank you’ and adjusted his glasses. He placed calculated amount of money, took his order and left.
The young man went back into his routine consisting of observing people. There wasn't a lot of people at this hour, just few old ladies and a couple. He used to discreetly draw costumers during such peaceful hours, but lately he didn't have afflatus for it.
He ran a tired hand through his dark hair before staring to the side, where one of the windows was located. He was thankful for how the café was built, as it nicely cancelled the noise of cars coming from the outside. Seeing a colourful billboard outside remined him of a upcoming deadline for a poster project, which earned a exhausted sigh from him.
His head snapped forward as he heard the little crystals located above the door ding, indicating a new costumer.
Inside walked a young man, about his age. He was dressed casually, in a baggy orange hoodie and loose sweats. He immediately walked up to the counter, and eyed the menu along with pastries that were on display.
“Would you like to order?” Megumi inquired after few minutes of the man just standing there.
The pink head immediately snapped up, almost clumsily. He gave the barista a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry. I got lost in thought and didn't notice you there.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow but just nodded. He couldn't help but be taken aback by the man's cheerful demeanour that seemed to radiate in kilometers off him, but didn't seem to suit the scars on his face.
“So?”
“I would like a caramel latte,” he stopped in thought before continuing, “and that peach shortcake.”
“For here or to go?” Megumi inquired.
“To go”
“That will be 2376,95 yen,” the dark head typed in the cash register.
The other man nodded and took out his card, holding it to the terminal. After the payment succeeded Megumi turned to go to prepare the order.
“Wait”
He turned back around, only to find the man leaning on the counter, his face uncomfortably close to his own. Fushiguro wasn't a man to get flustrated over nothing, but the way the stranger had gotten so close to him made his heart skip a beat. And to make it worse, he couldn't help but noice little details about him. How his scars on his eyebrow and in the corner of his mouth weren't that deep, but still deep enough to scar. How he seemed to have little, barely there freckles adorning his nose, mixing with his slightly tan skin tone. Or how his brown eyes seemed to almost glow at him, so warm and inviting, somehow reminding him of times in the middle school, when he just wanted to lock himself in his room, but Tsumiki would come and give him warm cup of chocolate, nursing one herself, and they would just sit in silence. Despite never admitting it, it helped him more than she could ever imagine. But why was he thinking of it now?! He gave himself an internal whiplash, he wasn't someone who just got lost in strangers. Yet, he couldn't help but notice an almost distressed look in the man's eyes.
“Can you lean closer for a moment?” the pink haired man whispered.
Despite himself, Megumi relucantly leaned closer.
“Can i have sprinkles on my latte?” he looked almost as if he was about to throw up from stress.
Megumi gave him a blank look. That's what he was asking him about? That's what he had to whisper, making sure nobody but him heard that?
He wanted to give him some snarky response, but in the end settled on a nod, “Yeah.”
The costumer immediately lightened up, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulder, his eyes softening.
“Really? Thank god. Last time when I visited other café they gave me a nasty look when I asked for sprinkles,” he sighed in relief, leaning back.
Fushiguro decided not to comment on that, just pointing at the sprinkles.
“Which ones?”
“Oh, the rainbow ones, please!”
He nodded and finally went to make his order. After few minutes he came back with the caramel latte, the foam decorated with rainbow sprinkles. He found the stranger tapping on the counter, looking excited. He placed the cover on the side so that guy could admire the colourful adornments. The barista placed it down before fetching a slice of the peach shortcake, putting it carefully in a takeaway box.
“Here's your order,” Megumi placed everything on the counter.
“Thank you! Have a good day!” the guy took his order and left.
The spiky haired man took a rag and wiped the counter as his shift was coming to an end, but not without looking out the window to see the pink haired guy jog down the street.
He sighed, feeling annoyed with himself. He couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling igniting inside of him, faint but distinct. Something about that man's cheerful demeanour made his day just a tiny bit better.
Strangely, he felt his will to draw comeback.
He blinked and turned around as he heard his boss, Yaga Masamichi, appear behind him, probably having finished the paperwork. He was a middle aged man, with a rather bulky built and beard. Megumi couldn't recall if he had ever saw him without his sunglasses.
“Have you got his number?” his superior asked bluntly.
Megumi bristled, getting a bit defensive, “What? No, why would I?”
Mr. Masamichi just shrugged, “You seemed interested in him. Thought you two would get along.”
The younger man rolled his eyes, “As if. I don't need another overly cheerful annoying dude in my life. Gojo is already too much to deal with.”
The older man leaned his hand against one of the decorative dolls, one of the largest in the café. It resembled a panda. During Megumi's first weeks of working here, he had come to notice how fond Yaga seems to deal with the inanimate object.
“Suit yourself. But I think a friend would do you better,” the boss exhaled. He turned his attention to the doll, checking if its state is as pristine as it always was.
Megumi felt the urge to say something biting, but he swallowed it down, “Yeah, whatever.” He took off his apron and bid goodbye, finishing his shift.
He headed to the bus stop, sitting down on a bench there. He scrolled through his phone mindlessly. The man bit his lip, feeling a bit of regret that he hadn't at least asked the guy about his name. For whatever reason, he couldn't get him out of his mind, especially his eyes and smile. The expressiveness of them just made him want to draw him more.
He turned off his phone as the bus arrived. The ride wasn't long, after less than 10 minutes he got off. He headed towards his residential building, quickly making his way through the streets. He climbed up the stairs and finally reached his door, unlocking it.
The very first thing that met him were his two, overly eager dogs, climbing up his legs. A small, tired smile appeared on his lips. He petted their heads and sluggishly pushed them forward to be able to close the door. Thankfully, his landlord didn't mind animals, although he had to pay a bit extra to be able to keep them here. But Megumi rather pay than have his dogs anywhere that's not with him. His dorm was rather simplistic. The only thing that set it apart were bunch of drawings on his desk, a few artistic posters that inspired him, and it being almost pedantically clean. Otherwise, it was pretty plain.
After washing and eating some leftovers, he laid on his bed. He reached for his sketchbook, untouched for at least a week, and flipped it open. He grabbed a pencil and started sketching the stranger he had met today. Though, he had quickly realised that he doesn't remember how the man looked like exactly. The only thing that he could recall were his eyes and mouth, and the rest was like looking through the fog. He groaned in frustration and set the sketchbook away, laying on his back.
He unlocked his phone to check his schedule for tomorrow.
Figure drawing.
Could be worse, he thought. He turned off his phone, running a hand down his face. His dogs climbed onto the bed, sprawling across him like a weighted blanket. He closed his eyes, exhaustion taking over. The last thing he thought of before falling asleep was that dumb thought, that maybe, just maybe, he will meet that stranger again tomorrow.