pairings. barista megumi × gn! student council reader
genre. barista/cafe and college au, reader’s POV, slight swearing
word count. 4k
aki’s notes. here’s part two my loves!!! im actually so giddy, my heart was going doki-doki the whole time !!! i hope you guys enjoy the parallels and the fic overall <3 mwa! rbs will be greatly appreciated 🫶🏻
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“good morning, shimizu-san!”
you cheerfully quip, closing the door of the office behind you. as student government president, administrative work wasn’t required of your position. but, as a student assistant hired by your university, you’re here to do your job—for financial independence.
“good morning,” she delightfully returns your consistent morning greeting, before handing over the list of students that might be coming in today.
“here are all the students,” she points at the piece of paper, showing only three, “that have made an appointment.”
grabbing it, you thank her and walk over to your desk, perusing the names. as you settle in your chair, organizing your file bins, the door of the office opens.
“hey!” you look up, happily greeting the student in front of you.
“hi,” he pauses, taking a step forward, then another, “i’m here to pass my forms?”
your face lights up at the recognition of what needs to be done, so you stand up and reach a hand out, coaxing him to give the papers.
“oh! okay. can i have a look, please?”
he hands them over and you smile up at him before looking at the documents. you diligently cross reference and double check every information, in case a student fills them out wrong. seeing as these were all fine, you looked at his name and then at the list.
fushiguro, megumi: new student.
“you’re new here?” you ask, smiling up at him, only breaking eye contact when you settle his documents in the proper file bins.
“yeah.”
“oh, that’s great! welcome to the university of tokyo,” you quip and he smiles. well, kind of.
“i’m the student government president, from class 4,” you introduce yourself, slightly bowing before him, “but you can just call me by my name. no need for formalities.”
bowing, he returns the introduction, “fushiguro megumi.” and as he stands up to his full height, you’re now only realizing how tall he was—as well as his good looks.
“i tend to facilitate newcomers’ information,” still smiling up at him, you inquire, a little curious with his situation, “and i can’t help but notice that you’re here on a scholarship grant?”
he forces a smile and you doubt yourself for prying his personal information and in a way to release tension, you blurt out.
“you’re a smart guy!”
it takes him a while to reply and when he does, all he says is;
“yeah,” running a hand through his hair, “it’s just my sister and i. so, i need all the financial help i can get.”
as student government president you had a knack for reading people’s body language. as he shifts his weight, you’re awfully aware of how uncomfortable he is with conversing regarding this topic.
“oh, i didn’t know,” you quietly say before finally deciding to drop it. “well, if you ever need anything i’m here.”
he presses his lips in a thin smile, bowing once more before leaving the office. the atmosphere remains tense even without his presence, but as if on cue, shimizu-san pricks the air.
“he’s quite the boy, no? i think you’ll be seeing him often.”
startled, you look at her and there’s a knowing smile on her face as she looks at you. with her teasing look, there’s an opportune contender on your side—your heated cheeks.
“i’m sorry?” you laugh, albeit embarrassedly. you’re not sure what she means by that and she clarifies.
if you can even call it “clarifying” with how she just repeats it.
“i’m just saying, you’ll see him more often” she continues, before nodding her head at the next student by the door. “you have another.”
looking at her inquisitively and working so hard for the gears in your brain to make it make sense, you lay your eyes on his documents again.
name: fushiguro, megumi
old/new: new student
section: class 4
oh.
you smile to yourself, before greeting the next student—blissfully unaware, not knowing what serendipity was brewing just right under your nose.
~; 5 months later
just five months ago, you were top 1 in class 4. well, was, up until fushiguro megumi came by to sweep that position off your feet—but, there’s nothing to it. seeing as he was a student on a scholarship grant, you understood certain measures fushiguro took. and it’s funny, almost silly—because as competitive and cunning as he is when it comes to academics, you never took him for a guy to be a class representative during events.
well, he had no choice. you could almost say he took the offer from your teacher begrudgingly.
the professor practically had to beg on his knees just for him to accept the offer and it was an amusing sight to see fushiguro battling between the heavens and the earth to just say one simple word,
“okay”.
pocketing your phone, you open the door of the coffee shop that’s just a few blocks away from your university. it rings and you look up at the cute bell hanging just above the door before a voice captures your attention.
“hi. welcome to—”
there he stands, with his barista apron, cap and all. fushiguro was wiping the table, stopping mid-way when your eyes meet and he stands there for a while. making you wonder...
i dont think he knows how long he's been silent for. so you speak up
“fushiguro, hi!” and you could visibly see the way he comes back to his senses, “you work here?”
taking a step towards him, he neatly folds the towel he was using and sets it aside. he stands up straight and looks at you expectantly.
“yeah, i started last week.”
“really?” you smile, before pursuing the menu chalkboard just right behind him. finally picking a drink from the array of options you look back at him.
“i always see you around,” you pause, voice quiet, “it’s nice.”
his face looks almost surprised and by the way you know him; he’s an introvert, but with the most expressive eyes—as if it does all the talking for him.
"i mean we are classmates and class 4 representatives" he says, and you laugh.
“haha yeah,” biting your lip and titling your head, “makes sense."
but it also doesn't, because what you mean by around, you mean everywhere. at the library, cafeteria, parking lot, the school field, the room by where you’re in during competitions and now the cafe you always go to...
but, these are just coincidences, surely. however, what stands out the most is how he is always present at school events handled by you. and only you, never attending those led by others—you’ve confirmed it since you oversee these things even if you’re not the head. you could say that he's your most active participant with how his name consistently shows up in every logbook, registration and attendance sheet.
fushiguro megumi.
the most active participant, but the quietest one. and even so, his presence can be felt by you almost tenfold. smiling to yourself, you order.
“can i just have a latte?” you ask and he nods, turning around to make your drink. you look around the cafe, watching as the snow falls just right outside the window. it’s at around 5:47pm, the sun setting in for the night and it casts a golden, yellow light inside the cafe.
looking back at megumi, he looks… tense? his shoulders are tight and you only ever really know because his posture is exactly the same during bus rides on the way to competitions and the time when he opened up about how it’s only him and his sister.
he’s nervous.
rocking on the balls and toes of your feet, you break the silence, “last week, huh?” and as if you had power over him or whatever, he visibly relaxes—it makes you smile.
“mhm,” is all he manages to say and you snicker, watching him softly cough as he holds your finished drink.
“last week–” he coughs again, stuttering and handing over your drink, “i started last week.”
smiling up at him, he states the price, “your total is 250 yen.” after fishing out the correct amount, you look at the drink and there’s a… heart? your mouth acts quicker than your brain, already spilling out a tease.
“aww, a heart! for me?” you hand over your payment and he quickly rings it up. still looking at the latte art, fushiguro speaks up.
“it’s the only thing i can do right now.”
“that’s so cute,” you happily mutter, eyes meeting his once more and to your surprise—he actually smiles back. so different from what he used when he smiled at you back at the student’s affair office.
this one’s pretty, genuine and– heartwarming.
grabbing the drink, you wave goodbye, “thanks again, fushiguro.”
there goes serendipity once again, brewing something bigger… something stronger than before. and as a warm, fuzzy feeling settles in your chest, this time, you’re aware. finally aware of what it might plan to do, so you brace yourself for the impact. as you walk further away from the counter, you hear him call out, “come back again.”
and that, you definitely will.
~; 1 year later.
your math test results, he was the first to know. well only for the sole reason because he saw you at the field crying and you basically ran up to him. you still remember how he stood there dumbfounded, but said nothing. he only sat down beside you and let you cry on his shoulder even if it meant slobbering tears and snot onto his uniform.
embarrassing.
he doesn't know—and you won’t let him know—but his presence is weirdly more constant than that of your friends. always consistently mr. tenfold. a tap on your desk pulls you out from your daze and you see megumi nod his head towards a latte. your heart grows, tenderly touched by the action of what the boy in front of you did.
"fushiguro," you draw out, "how'd you know?"
“it’s all you order,” a teasing remark from him and it makes you laugh. after a while, you take a deep breath, realizing that silence is comforting. his silence. so much so that he somehow manages to provide good company in times like these.
“i’ll tutor you later, okay?” he utters comfortingly, “come by the cafe.”
one thing about fushiguro megumi is that he won’t coddle, but he will provide solace in his own way and you appreciate it very much. and what he offered is just exactly what you needed at this moment.
a latte, a tranquil silence, and a cute tutor.
“okay… thank you,” you whisper and he smiles. easing the hurt in your heart. “you’re welcome. drink up you’ll feel better.”
and he does it so well. does it so well to make you feel better than okay. because ever since you two were partnered as representatives, you always knew that someone was just behind your back whenever and if ever you fall.
a quiet but influential presence—that’s fushiguro megumi.
~5:30pm, at the cafe.
fushiguro kept his promise, meeting you at the cafe you so frequent at. he’s assured you that it’s not his shift so he can totally make time to tutor you. you two have been at it for a good hour, a half and fifteen minutes—but honestly, who’s counting?
you.
you’re definitely counting, as if sitting this close to fushiguro megumi has made all your senses be heightened. but can he honestly blame you? his cologne overwhelms your senses and he smells so great. seriously, he should’ve came here a little more dirty and unkempt, maybe even bit sweaty.
but then again you have already smelled him all sweaty… even when the summer heat beats down both your backs as you wait for the bus after a competition, he still managed to smell pleasant. it makes you groan internally—it’s not fair. he’s always so tidy and neat.
“okay, when looking for a point in a hyperbola,” he taps pen at his notes, effectively pulling you away from his distracting aroma, “what do we need to use?”
“the standard formula of a hyperbola?” he gives you a small smile and– oh god. your eyes quickly travel to his lips, letting it linger there for a second.
“good job,” he says, making you look up at him again, thankful that his eyes aren’t on yours as you unabashedly stare at his face and lips. as you do so, you see constellations—fushiguro megumi has freckles. they’re light, but they’re there. and you found it so endearing that one person could have the whole entire universe just on their face.
and without warning, he follows up again with another question, “but how do you know if it’s a vertical one?”
he pulls you out once more and you furrow your brows, trying so hard to concentrate because he can not catch you slipping. you internally chastise yourself, swearing that you should know this—as the gears connect, you slowly articulate your answer.
“when the traverse axis is vertical…” you pause, waiting for that little neuron in your brain to stop bouncing around and just finally connect to the hippocampus, as you actively recall what he thought you
“and…” you rack your brain, stuttering, “and when– when–!!”
and finally it connects. that little neuron finally found its place and you yell out the stupidly simple answer.
“when the y-term is positive and comes first in the equation!”
you look at megumi, there’s a handsome grin plastered on his features and once again your body moves faster than your brain. your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss. almost immediately after it registers in your brain, your body decides to move without thinking again, your feet dragging you out there like a marathon runner.
you only ever realize what happened is when you stand in front of your dorm building dumbfounded that you felt so light. comically turning around, you frantically look for your things—did they fall off…?
whipping your head to look at the gate, only then does it fully registered that what you did resulted in you leaving your all your stuff.
“shit…”
stupid little neurons.
~; one week later.
god avoiding megumi was so much harder to do. because how did his ass always find you at the right time and at the right place.
seriously, was he stalking you?!
grabbing your hair, you mess it up, shaking your head as you groan so loud that nobara had to throw a milk box at you to make you shut up.
“hey,” she snaps, “cut it out. you look like an idiot.”
you abruptly look at her and there’s a pout on your lips. she suddenly feels pity, making her run a hand to fix the hair you so easily messed up three times in a row. she knows what you did and instead of laughing at your situation she just chooses to be there for you now.
but you know she’ll never let you live this down after you recover.
“i kissed him, nobara,” you whine, ranting about it for the fourth time.
“yeah, i know,” she raises a brow, “you told me several times.”
whining, your forehead falls on the desk, nobara’s hands flying to save you from the hard impact of it. she clicks her tongue, finally having had enough of your shit. so, she suddenly lifts her hand, jerking your head off the desk and you look at her with a frown.
“just talk to him, jeez,” she suggests and you huff, feeling so exasperated. to make things worse she brings up a horrible memory about it.
“you’re a mess,” she shakes her head, “you’re such a mess that you bumped two things yesterday: a person and a wall.”
oh god. flashbacks.
yesterday, since you were actively avoiding him, you found it best to take the long route towards the comfort room thinking maybe he won’t be there for once. but destiny likes to play naughty, because the minute you decide to let your guard down as you leave the lavatory…
fushiguro is on his way to use the comfort room too—headed for your direction!
jesus fucking christ.
startled by the attack of fate, you quickly turn around so fast it makes you dizzy and disoriented. first it was the wall that obscured your escape. and as soon you recovered, of course a passing student bumps into you. you mutter a half-assed, quick apology to them before you made a run for it.
“god, nobara,” you sob, closing your eyes as she reminded you once again of your demise. stuffing the stupid memory at the back of your mind, closing it with a double-padded lock.
“god,” she states your name, “i’ve never seen you in such a mess. you’re student fucking government president for god’s sake.”
she opens a bag of chips and she slides them over to you, “even when you were nervous about public speeches, you never once faltered.”
she’s right.
you sit there quietly, munching on the salted potatoes as you listened to her wisdom. she always had that in her.
“but fushiguro?” she takes a chip, “there’s more to it than you think. you just refuse to put your pride down and face it like a student government president."
frowning, you were about to defend yourself when she cuts you off, “right now, you’re facing it like a coward. i’ve known for a long time that there was something beyond both of you being just class representatives.”
“really?”
“are you kidding me?” she deadpans and looks at you very disappointedly that you feel so small. “face it. face him like the president you are. just do and you’ll see i’m right after all.”
she smirks and then the bell rings, signaling your dismissal. she stands up to grab her things and places a comforting pat on your head—it was a big deal because she was never one for physical affection.
“thank you, nobara,” you smile, standing up as well, “i love you!”
she winces and scrunches her nose, “gross.”
well, she’s not one for any affection and it makes you both laugh. you wave her goodbye, pestering her with i love you’s as she walks the other direction, finally cheering when she shouts it back aggressively. you laugh, watching as her figure grows smaller and smaller, before finally taking a deep breath.
she’s right. you have to face him as student government president.
and that you did. filled with the resolve and confidence nobara gave you, you took certain steps towards the cafe. as you do so, you’re actively rehearsing what you’re going to say; formulating a speech in your head just as you would do during impromptu public speeches.
you were gonna be fine, you were gonna tell him that you liked him and that the kiss meant something to you. and if it meant nothing to him, then it didn’t matter to any of you—well, it might make cry for a few days again, but you didn’t care! not right now! not when you’re filled with adrenaline and—
“hey,” a voice softly calls out and as you ascertain your surroundings, your resolve falters once more.
it didn’t even take 5 minutes to get here?! you think to yourself and when you met his eyes, you see that there’s a lopsided grin on his face.
god. god. god.
swallowing the huge lump forming on you throat, you took calculated steps, using them to gather up all the courage you needed. as you reach the counter your voice is meek.
“hi…” looking down, you fidget with your hands and it’s so quiet. too quiet, too deafening. this wasn’t the silence you liked. not at all. after a few more scrutinizing minutes, fushiguro finally breaks the thick air suffocating you.
“latte?” and all you managed to do was nod. but before he turns around, his face lights up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he reaches down the counter to pull out what only seems like– your bag. heat floods your cheeks and you burrow your nose even more in your scarf, hiding your face as much as possible.
back to the topic of your bag, you’re not sure if he’s doing it on purpose, but he was moving at the rate of a sloth, slowly settling it on the counter. before he could even pull away, you snatched it so fast, it garnered a snort from the boy.
looking away, fushiguro makes your drink. awfully pissed at how he does it so quickly than the first time he did it. why were you the nervous one now? why were the tables turned?
as your mind plagues you with different questions, you carefully place your payment on the counter. and just as you do, fushiguro turns around to place the drink in front of you. he rings it up and once he was done, he looks at you expectantly. it’s awkwardly quiet but loud at the same time.
“ah, right,” he realized something and he turns away, looking back to hand you some tissues. “here you go.”
“thank you,” you fidget with them, racking your brain for things to say before finally looking up at him. “thanks for my stuff and my coffee…” closing your eyes, you steel yourself for the outcome, “look, i’m sorry about last week—”
before you could even finish your sentence, a warm and soft thing meets your lips. was he messing with you? slowly opening your eyes, your met with raven locks tickling your face and soft warm lips capturing yours.
oh.
your heart feels funny, beating at a pace of a thousand horses—when he tried to deepen the kiss it was when you realized that you’re not moving. so, you do. reciprocating. you could physically feel him smiling against your lips when you finally captured his in yours too. a sigh escapes your lips and he continues to kiss you softly, gently but sure.
he grows confident, you could feel it with the way he’s getting bolder to slightly slide his tongue inside your mouth, giving you a little more of what he tastes like and oh god it makes you weak. he slowly pulls away, leaving just enough space that your noses are still touching and you’re in a daze.
“don’t be,” he whispers, finally reassuring your mind of all thoughts bad and evil. “come by again everyday, yeah?” he licks his lips and it made you want more.
“yeah…” you mutter and he surprises you with another kiss, as if reading your mind. he gives you a handsome smile before speaking once more.
“and stop avoiding me, okay?”
as if your body could stutter, all you were able to give him was a quick nod. but he kisses you once again, not missing the way his face looks—clearly enjoying that he has the upper hand by kissing you, rendering you speechless.
“okay?” he softly laughs, a slight teasing tone in his voice.
“okay…” you weakly mutter, cupping your face in your hands to conceal the growing blush on your face, but you fail miserably. especially with holding back the smile that wants to take over your features. you both start laughing quietly, finding this all so ridiculous but you love it. as he brushes his nose against yours, he finally decides to pull away to stand up to his full height. his decision to do so made your heart stop running just a bit, calling in a white flag.
god, he was tall.
you grab the drink and walk over to the table closest to the counter, and as you sit down your heart skips a beat once more when you realized that he never took his eyes off you for even one second. when you looked at him, he tips the brim of his barista cap and he looks so, so, so good that all you could muster up is a little nose scrunch, hoping that he'll understand.
the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro
synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.
word count; 4.6k
contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3
a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me
(@riaki its here …🙇♂️)
he’s there again.
with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and a flutter of the bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence.
the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow.
(oh. it’s you — you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)
it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading.
today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.
wuthering heights, you read off the cover.
a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?
after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street.
mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.
low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.
the boy behind the counter looks angelic.
he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.
for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.
— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.
it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself.
his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”
a second passes.
it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books.
(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)
but now, that low, low voice is directed at you.
it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now.
when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.
”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”
a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.
”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.
searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.
the boy watches, silently, as you get closer.
you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.
when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s.
and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by.
while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.
it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of little moles on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.
and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat.
you clear your throat.
”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”
he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.
a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.
all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion.
but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.
you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips.
the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.
but here, none of that matters.
a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.
outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…
it's a breathtaking sight.
little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.
(your heart feels light.)
it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.
the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.
before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips.
”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.
the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”
a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”
a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted.
(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)
”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite.
he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.
he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.
did you annoy him?
(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time.
gosh, what were you even thinking?)
you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert —
when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.
you blink.
the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.
”here.”
when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.
another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.
”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”
”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.
outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.
a moment passes.
your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.
”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!”
but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”
you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”
and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.
isn’t that naive?
something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you.
glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.
it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.
a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air.
”are… you really sure?”
”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.”
with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.
you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?
”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.
at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same.
a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.
angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him.
you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass.
with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention.
without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.
”happy birthday, tsumiki…”
the boy stiffens.
a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.
so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells.
”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”
…
in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates.
”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”
megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.
it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess.
(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)
”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”
a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says.
again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.
unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave.
it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.
just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.
”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”
his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.
”you can stay until it gets better.”
a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.
and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.
”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”
megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.
you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter?
you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.
and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass.
at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there.
a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. he’ll give a vague nod towards it, but not anything else.
you’ll notice a red tint to his ears, though. and then you’ll feel a warmth blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.
when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.
he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction.
he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.
god.
really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.
and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything.
he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.
(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.
he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)
megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything.
even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and that they’re better off with anyone except each other.
even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.
trust.
megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love.
no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.
resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile.
so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.
a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold.
megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.
(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)
the summer sky is painted with bright orange and pink as the sun begins to set.
megumi, yuuji, and nobara are perched on a wooden bench in the middle of a public park. Surrounded by greenery and roaming pedestrians, they wind back as they listen to the sound of children playing in the distance, the flapping of airborne kites, and faint chatter from anyone who passes by.
"ugh, i'm beat." yuuji huffs as he leans his head back on the bench.
nobara sifts through her tote bag to find the water she unfortunately had to purchase at a vending machine earlier when she'd forgotten her water bottle at the dorms.
"can i have some?" barely lifting his head, yuuji tries to reach for nobara's water bottle before she slaps his hand away.
"no." she says with a straight face, twisting open the cap.
yuuji sits up in defiance. "why?! it's so hot!"
"i didn't even get to drink it yet!" she hisses at him. "just get your own, there's a vending machine right there."
"it costs money!" he whines.
as usual, a bickering match begins between the two, which results in a mild cat fight for a half-finished water bottle.
megumi is too tired and warm at this point to care about how much they're thrashing around next to him with what little space they have on the bench. for the entire day, he had led the trio through an extensive tokyo tour, basically acting as their guide the entire time with his memorized facts. megumi isn't sure how many more times he can play tour guide when they constantly ask him to search up restaurants and landmarks to visit.
momentarily tuning out the noise, megumi takes a look around him, observing the way the setting sun casts shadows across the park. in front of him, his own shadow is elongated as the sun sets behind him.
combating his exhaustion and boredom, megumi raises his hands and clasps them together to form a shadow of his divine dogs. he makes sure not to accidentally summon them since they're in public.
he opens and closes the mouth of the dog so it appears to be barking in sync to nobara and yuuji's verbal jabs at each other. it's definitely entertaining for a few seconds, but after a while he starts losing interest.
until megumi notices something in the corner of his eye.
he turns his head, and notices someone sitting in the grass on a raised hill in the park, close enough to see, but far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear them clearly if they said anything. behind them sat another small group of what he assumed were their friends, but distracted in their own conversations.
you meet megumi's gaze, having just caught him making dog shadow puppets over the concrete walkway, and he caught you watching.
before megumi can react, he watches as you grin and raise your own hand to make a shadow puppet of a dog, except with one hand, and more simplified. you wiggle your pinky to make the dog bark.
megumi raises a brow at your shadow puppet, and raises his hands to show you how to make his two-handed version of a shadow dog.
you observe, and imitate his hands, successfully creating a more sophisticated dog.
from your place on the hill, you smile at megumi, happy about a successful new shadow puppet learned. but now you start quietly questioning how many he knows.
you fan out your hands and cross your thumbs to make a bird, and flap its wings at megumi. instead of copying your version with your palms outwards, he overlaps his hands, and then crosses his thumbs so his palms face inwards.
wow, you think. a little extra, but admittedly a little cooler somehow. not sure about the logic behind that, maybe he's just cute.
once again, you try your shot at another puppet, only this time it's a bunny, and the only way you know how to make a bunny is to make a peace sign with your right hand and turn it sideways. so that's what you do, and for extra theater points, you bend the ears a few times and move your hand up and down so that the rabbit can "hop."
and to your utter amazement, that damn spike-headed stranger outdoes your peace-sign rabbit with the most complicated hand gesture you've ever seen (it's not that bad, but your mind is blown).
once again, megumi is using two hands for his shadow puppet. you don't even know where to begin, and when you try to copy his gestures, you just end up confusing yourself even more. your hands are overlapping incorrectly, controlling your fingers suddenly doesn't feel right, some fingers are out of place.
when megumi sees you poorly attempting to copy him, he stifles a laugh. softly smiling at you while he tries to suppress his amusement, he raises his left hand and points at it so that you know which hand to raise first.
you raise your right hand before remembering the difference between right and left, and you switch to your left hand. you can see him grinning in the distance.
megumi makes a claw with his left hand, but with all his fingers connected. he positions his left hand in front of him, and raises his right hand. he glances up to make sure you're following along.
in the distance, you nod at him to continue.
with his right hand, he connects his index and middle finger together, and his ring finger with his pinky, forming a V shape.
you copy him.
he turns his hand so his palm faces towards him. you copy. keeping his fingers in the same position, he bends his index finger to make the head of the rabbit.
up until that point you were following along really well, but tripped up when his fingers bent to form the head and the ears. you fidget with your hands a bit before something clicks in your head and your eyes light up, but before you can finish the rabbit, one of your friends call your name from behind you.
megumi notices you turn to say something back to your friends, and disappointment seeps into his stomach when he sees you stand up to leave. but in the distance, you turn back to face megumi. you smile as you wave goodbye, and mouth "thank you," for the new little tricks he taught you. feeling his face heating up, he gently waves back, and watches you and your friends disappear from behind the slope of the hill.
megumi takes a deep breath before sighing and turning back to his friends, who, to megumi's surprise, are very close and in his face.
"...what?" megumi hesitates
"what was that?" nobara raises her brow at him.
"what was what."
"megumi was flirting with someone!!" yuuji bellows.
"no, i wasn't."
"is that how dorks flirt?" nobara snickers.
"you'd teach strangers how to make shadow puppets but not your own friends?" yuuji dramatically but jokingly complains.
megumi snatches nobara's now-empty plastic water bottle from her hands and thwacks it over yuuji's head.
a/n: a little (angst littered) fluff for my sweetest bf <3 me and cass were talking about how megumi probably sleeps like he’s laying in a coffin…and then this happened lol
Megumi is jostled awake in the middle of the night with a sharp jab to the chest.
Instincts kicking in and sleepy mind mistaking the shove as an enemy’s stab, his muscles move before his mind can catch up. Instantly grabbing the weapon lodged into his pectoral, he holds it still before it can be plunged any deeper.
After blinking a few times and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, he eventually comes to. With his back flat against the memory foam of your mattress, he’s exactly where he fell asleep: in your shared bedroom. With a quick scan of the room, he notes that the door is still shut and the windows are still closed.
And most importantly, the weapon in his hand is truly no weapon at all–it’s your elbow.
His eyes dart from the pointed limb and over to your eyes. He’s surprised to find you already staring back at him, wide awake but oddly content with his rather harsh grip on your elbow. Realizing there’s no harm at hand (if anything, it’s the complete opposite), he instantly loosens his hold on you, rubbing his thumb across the sensitive skin he accidentally pinched in the process.
His brain starts to catch up and read the situation at hand. You’re awake, and by the look of it, you’ve been awake for a while. Your extended elbow looks unnaturally angled across your body, almost purposeful where it stills by his shoulder. Almost as if you meant for the dig to his chest to startle him, to wake him up from his slumber.
After all, you’ve never been a restless sleeper before.
[id: a black and white comic with maki and noritoshi jr. they’re observing as naoya finishes his transformation from a cursed womb, the wind are blowing their hair and clothes as they look at naoya in the sky.
noritoshi jr: [thinking] does he… he looks kind of like…
noritoshi jr: [stops himself from finishing his thought, shaking his head] no, noritoshi-kun…! this isn’t the time for that! focus! focus!
maki: [she looks unimpressed/bored/disgusted as she looks up at naoya] damn. he’s a huge cunt inside and out now. noritoshi are you seeing this shit
noritoshi jr: [mouth opens wide as he turns to maki, in shock at how blunt she was] /end id.]
