Let Me Live - Semi Eita
Soulmate Au: First Words, Timeskip
Requested
Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, swearing, innuendos,
Word Count: 7k
“Don’t forget, we have to be there by 7!” Masaki sends to your phone, reminding you about a concert you’re supposed to go to in the evening.
A thump rings through the wall.
You groan, setting down your pitcher of steamed milk to glare at the wall behind you. Music from the club next door rattles the shelves, causing some plates to clink together. It's not even noon yet, and the band has started warming up, much louder than anyone could appreciate.
Cheery Cafe and The Local easily juxtaposed each other.
From the back kitchen, your boss emerges, rolling his eyes. "Already?"
"Yup!" You call over a particularly loud strum that rumbles the walls.
Coming from downstairs, your coworker emerges with an armful of coffee beans and a grimace painting her face. "I swear they have a speaker pressed against our wall." She joins you behind the counter, dropping into a low square to slide the bags into the open shelf space behind your legs.
"I wouldn't be surprised." You huff. "The owner's an ass."
"Watch it, kiddo." Your boss huffs a laugh.
"You said it first!" You shoot back, but he walks out without a response. Mina follows behind with an empty pitcher.
"Wait! Can you make a note?! We're low on flour!"
"Got it!" You grab a pen and notepad just as another blast of guitar rings through the walls.
A customer enters. Hands over their ears.
"Hi, your ears okay?" You laugh slightly as the door shuts behind them.
“I may go deaf.”
“Join the club.”
“Already a part of it, sadly.” They sigh, taking out their earplugs.
You lean against the counter. “Ah, part of the enemy. Which are you, staff or player?”
“Roadie.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Laughing, the roadie brushed a hand through their grown-out buzzed hair. “This is the loudest they've been all tour. They're finally home, so it's all out for friends and family.”
The shelf rattles again, and you quickly spin to catch a cup before it falls to the floor. “Glad to be a part of the experience.”
“Sorry, I’ll tell them to tone down, but I can’t promise they will.”
“I don’t expect much. Anyways, you’re here for a reason. What can I get you?”
“I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do to you.” They wince.
You sigh, hands on the counter. “Please don’t say it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please just be quiet.”
“Sorry.” They place a piece of paper that was ripped from a notebook on the counter in front of you.
You stare helplessly at the text-filled sheet before groaning and calling back toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna need help out here!”
Kaziyoshi emerges, with a concerned look on his face, quickly followed by Mina. Kaziyoshi glances at the paper. “Oh lord.”
“I hope you’re not paying for this yourself.” You sigh, taking it with you to check out. “There’s even specialty drinks on here. Did you look up our menu?”
“Some people are very picky. It’s on the business card, though, so it's all good.”
“Well, you may as well sit down and enjoy the scenery.”
“Will do. It’s very cute here!”
You laugh, “Very different from next door. Now sit. This is going to take a bit.”
“Do you need help taking these over?”
Six full trays, with four drinks each, there is no way this roadie is going to be able to carry them over on their own.
“I’d actually appreciate that, ya.” Nagawasaw tucks the list into their pocket before reaching for a tray.
Mina takes over the counter as another group of customers enter, and Kaziyoshi goes back into the kitchen. With three trays in your hold, one on each hand and the third balancing between your wrists and chest, you follow the roadie out of your cute little pastel cafe and toward the dark, towering club next door.
The Local, a black-painted two-story brick building, has been there for as long as you can remember. Opening at 7 p.m., you’re generally lucky enough to be off-shift and not have to deal with the lines of people waiting around, save for their cigarettes left behind on the sidewalk. But, despite the door only being open to the public at seven, artists, their teams, and available families are able to enter so long as an employee is present.
The roadie pushes the door open with their back as a blast of guitar threatens to burst your eardrums. You groan and follow in to put the drinks at the bar counter. The lead singer, with ash hair and dark tips, sings loudly with his eyes shut while his fingers expertly strum over his guitar strings. Your arms tingle as you set the drinks down in front of the barkeep.
“Hey, Nagasawa! You got it all!” You can recognise the owner’s rasper voice from anywhere.
“Oh, and you’re one of the baristas from next door. Thanks for helping bring this over.” He reaches over your shoulder to grab a black 16 oz coffee and chugs it.
You rub your arms, nodding. “No worries. Hey, do you mind turning down the volume? We know the band needs to practise, but we’re having a hard time hearing anything over there.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Kiddo. Everybody! The drinks are here!” He walks away and not toward the soundboard. You sigh.
A girl, maybe 14 years old, rushes over. Grabbing the only strawberry milk and a double espresso before rushing back for the stage.
“Isn’t this place 18 and up?” You ask openly to the air.
“She’s the singer’s little sister. The bar isn’t open right now anyways, so it’s not like she can grab a drink.” Nagasawa sighs with a shug. “Anyways, Thanks for the drinks. The band’s playing for four days, so you can probably expect more requests from us.”
“Cool. I should get back. The name's (L/N) (Y/N), by the way. Nice meeting you.” You're about to bow but instead wince as the band plays all at once. “See ya.”
"Wait!" Grabbing a cup sleeve, Nagasawa pulls a pen from their pocket and writes. "If you need anything, shoot me a text."
Blinking, you grab the brown paper and bow. "Thank you."
The customers that had entered when you left were seated at a table, happily chatting, and Mina was free. She furrowed her brows after getting a look at you. “What’s up with your arms?”
You freeze next to the counter and look. “The fuck?”
“Do you have a soulmate mark?”
“No!”
“Well, you do now!” She shrieks, making the customers, only a few metres over, turn around.
Vibrantly coloured letters glow on your arms, covering every inch with a stroke of bright paint. Nothing seemed to be untouched. You lift your pant leg to find the same pattern. They stayed for a moment before fading away into nothing.
Mina was jumping on the spot, fanning her cheeks with excitement. “Do you know what this means? You have a soulmate!”
You hiss, “Ya, and it was someone next door!”
Mina freezes. “Oh, shit. Do you know who?”
“Well, not Nagasawa or Mr. Takumi. I would’ve noticed earlier, and I’ve spoken to the owner before.” A blast shakes the side wall again, “Asshole didn’t even bother trying to turn it down.” You join Mina behind the counter.
“No other clues?”
“Everyone was talking, and the music was so loud. I didn’t talk to anyone else either.”
“Was the music good, at least?”
You give Mina a sideways glance.
“Right, never mind.”
“I’m kidding. It was… fine. Just very heavy… and loud.”
After a break from the boom drums, the door opens, and the same young girl from before enters, a towering figure following behind. “Eita, come look, it’s so cute!”
She lets go of the guitarist's sleeve and runs to admire the wall plushies across from the counter. She squeals, jumping up to reach a cat on the top shelf.
Eita rushes over, catching the line of stuffies that nearly come tumbling down with the giant cat the girl snatched.
"Watch it, Hanako. You're going to break something." Eita pushes the toys back onto the shelf and glances around with a twitching nose. "It's… cute."
You glare, ignoring the blur of Hanako as she excitedly rushes around, the giant pink cat in her arms, to look at all the other shelves.
He glances around the pastel-painted walls before catching your eye. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine? What's with the storm clouds?"
You feel the muscles in your forehead tense more, "Sorry, what was that? My ears are ringing from the constant screeching next door."
The tall guitarist scoffs before getting distracted by his sister running to the counter. And dropping everything on it. "Can I also have a strawberry milk with boba!!"
You smile at the girl. She's decked out in fun colours and cute accessories and a long swaying skirt to match. The exact opposite of her brother. "What did you pick out?"
"The cat, a Sanrio blind box, the My Melody headband, this keychain, th—”
“How are you paying for this?” Eita asks behind her, making Hanako look over her shoulder.
“Who said anything about me paying for it?”
You huff, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh that threatened to escape. Eita glares before pulling out his card with a sigh, letting his sister swipe it from his two fingers.
“Oh, you’re just wrapped around her fingers, aren't you?” you laugh, placing all of the girl's items in a bag.
“Ha, ha.” He reaches for the completed bag and grabs his sister around the neck with his elbow, escorting her out and messing with her hair as they leave.
“Ah! Eita! Stop it. Let me go! I’m gon—” The door shuts behind them.
Your hands push into the counter, creating a line where the heel of your palm falls off the stone. The guitarist walks past the window with a bored but snobbish expression as if a young girl wasn’t dragging him around. While carrying a wild exterior, you could feel the “I drink black coffee” attitude radiate from him and infect everyone in his vicinity. His sister seemed to stand alone, luckily, not caring for the glares he sent towards all the cute merchandise or sweet drinks and snacks you had in store.
A scoff boils out of you as they finally fall away from view. At least Hanako was cute, if she weren’t, you couldn’t imagine the amount of remarks he would send your way. You could hear it now: “Who would want this stuff,” “Seems weird,” “People actually buy these?” all with a tone that sounded like slime stuck between toes in a sweaty shoe. You shiver, dropping onto your elbows, only to notice that the words have re-appeared, only this time, one in particular stuck.
“Aren't you a ray of sunshine?” You read aloud. “Fucking hell.”
“Watch it!” Kaziyoshi appeared from the kitchen.
The rest of the colourful lettering quickly dissipates, fading into the natural shade of your skin beneath them as if washing away in non-existent rain. But the six words, one sentence, remained prominent and bright on your forearm. You swing it behind you, hiding it from the view of your boss.
“If you saw who had just been in here, you’d say the same thing. At least the sister managed to get his card out of him.” You gesture to the register for Kaziyoshi to take a look. As he does, you rush to grab an extra sweater tucked in the far corner beneath the counter and slide it on.
“Oh ya. Good for her. Shika will be happy to see that.” Shika, his wife, was in charge of inventory. Kaziyoshi leans away from the register to look at you. “Cold?”
“Only a little.” You smile, already feeling the sweat start to build on your skin.
“I’d say turn the AC down, but it’s pretty hot in the kitchen right now.”
You knew that the heat easily spread to the front, and while the smell was excellent, it was torture during the summer months. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” You already regretted the decision.
The letters beneath your skin seemed to tingle. Annoyed, you scratch at it until Mina appears again, allowing you to run off and distract yourself with another task.
The day continues as mundanely as before, occasionally being visited by those from next door. Why the owner endorses your cafe despite being a grotesque man in general, you’ll never know, but you hope he just likes the coffee. The thumping only stops two more times throughout the day, the last of which happens an hour before you close, and the line outside begins to build, running across the cafe’s window and door.
You just finished mopping when the door opens again, and Mina curses. “I forgot to lock.”
Luckily for you, though, you recognise the face standing on the mat.
“Masaki? I thought I was meeting you at the venue?”
Mina sighs in relief, handing you your things before gathering her own and heading for the lights.
“Well, I was waiting in line with Hiro and thought I'd just come get you. Hiro’s holding our spot anyways.”
You blink for a second, wondering why Masaki would abandon their spot in line and come travel to get you when that effectively doubles the distance travelled.
“Besides, it’s not like I had to walk far. Come on!”
Behind you, you hear Mina say bye to Kazioshi (and Shika, whom he was on the phone with) before she comes back and pushes both you and Masaki towards the door.
“Not far?” Your feet freeze, leading Masaki to drag you outside. Mina waves goodbye as she locks the door, before walking in the opposite direction that Masaki is leading you. “No.”
You freeze just outside The Local, where Hiro waits in front of a security guard with his hair perfectly shagged and styled.
Suddenly, it’s like your eyes give up on you. A dark vignette takes over your vision as you realise just who you’re about to see in concert. And that you will be sticking out like a sore thumb in periwinkle and white clothing, while everyone else is wearing black, and leather.
You don’t look like you belong in The Local. You look like you just walked out of the cute cafe next door. Which A. everyone just saw happen, and B. everyone inside knows too.
You lift the hood up of your borrowed sweater, tucking your nose behind the zipper and tighten the hoodie string as much as possible. The fabric is pink, which, while very cute, does not help your situation. You groan, regretting that you were born in a world where sweaters don’t eat people alive. Why did they buy this ticket, again?
“Ending tour sale.”
You further bury your nose.
Eventually, the security guard asks for ID and tickets with the help of one of The Local’s staff members, whom you give coffee to regularly, and you’re in.
There’s an artificial breeze inside as the building’s old AC works its hardest, which you appreciate from under your sweater before being dragged to the base of the stage. You, along with Masaki and Hiro, stand before the stage, looking at, or for them, admiring, the set-up from the perspective of an ant.
Nagasawa, the roadie, appears on stage, guitars in hand that they place on stands. Catching your eyes, they nod, before walking off, shoes appearing and disappearing across your line of vision.
More people pile in, and Hiro offers to go get drinks for the three of you at the bar before too many get through the doors, and manoeuvring becomes impossible. You nod along with Masaki’s enthused reaction, thinking about being trapped at the front back of the room, far away from any exits, while being pressed up against the stage where that wannabe miscreant of a guitarist that you now have to call your soulmate will be able to stare you down for two very long hours. You shiver.
Hiro returns quickly, the bar hands are well-trained and speedy, and you down your cup of alcohol before even finding out what it was.
“You good, Hello Kitty?” Hiro asks, taking the empty cup back.
“Fine, just feeling the desire to jump in front of an oncoming train.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“Hiro!” Masaki smacks his arm.
“I didn’t bring it up!” He defends, Shifting his body weight when he notices people trying to shove you three out of your spot at centre stage.
Masaki sighs before looking your way with pinched brows, a silent question.
You just shake your head. “It’s not worth getting into. Not right now.”
Still, with a concerned face, Masaki nods and turns toward the stage.
After they both finish their drinks, the club space is packed, and people are already trying to shuffle by in a tight line to get toward the bathroom. The AC, while on, has already failed at keeping the large number of bodies in the space cool (go figure), and you are already regretting your decision to take the sweater with you instead of leaving it behind.
You stare down toward your feet, trying to see them in the dark to calm yourself down and not overheat, and then the crowd screams.
The group, which you don’t even know the name of, enters from stage left. A drummer with characteristically long hair that's ready to swing to the music, a pianist with the most toned-down style amongst the group, a bassist with and guitarists both with layered, torn and strapped up clothing, and the lead singer, Eita. He wore more extravagant clothes than before, somehow. Leather studded boots, ripped jeans with hanging chains, a loose graphic muscle tee underneath a leather jacket with fur trim, the last of which he had been wearing throughout the day.
Eita scans the crowd with a lopsided smile before landing on you with a tilt of his head. You were going to suffocate and die. The following words out of everyone's mouth had no meaning as you stared at the right-angle corner of the stage and gripped it.
The music plays on, not caring for your drum-altered heart rate or battered eardrums.
The crowd behind you screams, and something grabs your chin, forcing your head to tilt back despite the tense muscles in your neck. Eita stares down at you with a hiked brow, face entirely shadowed by the stage lights.
You try to scramble back and tear away his grip, but you find your back forced to stay still by the pressure of a thousand bodies wanting to clamour closer to the men on stage. You're trapped as you feel every word your soulmate sings begin to dance on your skin.
Eita winks before rising fully to his feet again, and Masaki lands a slap against your arm.
You're free from his hold but still trapped in his presence as the next two hours are filled with blaring rock and tingling skin. He doesn't look your way the rest of the night. You're thankful.
As soon as the show finishes, you rush to the door, not caring to stick around for the band's pandering for their fanbase. You escape, ears ringing and slam your back against your cafe's door as your breath tries to acapella and not return.
Overheated, you rip the sweater off your shoulders and toss it to the ground. How Eita managed to play a whole concert in a leather jacket with a fur trim, you wouldn't understand. But, then again, he likely didn't have anxiety pumping through his views like you had, freeing him from the fate of being an overcooked slab of chicken.
Gasping for breath, your mind jumps to his calloused fingers on your chin. So tight, as if he could have grabbed you by the neck in a second and carried you over like a hen ready for slaughter.
Mind now on chickens, your breathing slows, and you melt onto the concrete ground in front of the Cheery Cafe door.
"Hey, why did you run— Oh shit!"
With tired eyes, you see Madaki and Hiro staring down at you.
Hiro chuckles, "You kinda look like part of the Yakuza."
Your arms, your whole body really (not that they could see) were covered in lyrics. Words dancing and wiggling around as though the music was still playing on your skin.
"Just kill me now."
The Semi family invited the band over for a late dinner and a chance to sleep on actual beds, but so had the rest of the bandmates' families. Instead they went to a group dinner before parting ways for the night. Eita was just relieved to not be forced onto the couch in exchange for the drummer, the youngest's, comfort.
Walking into the family home, with his parents in front and Hanako at his side, Eita quickly reached for his jacket the moment they stepped through the door, arm swinging over his sister's head.
"Watch it!" She cried, smacking his jacket to the floor as he tried to toss it onto the clothing rack.
Eita stared down at the cloth. "Seriously? Pick it up."
"Hmm, no." Hanako grins, kicking off her shoes before stepping onto the leather coat and into the living room.
Eita huffs, stripping off his baggy tank top to toss onto her head before she turns the corner.
"EUGH! This reeks!! Mom!! Eita is stripping in the living room again.”
Peeking out from the kitchen with a glass of water, their mother sighs.
"It's been two minutes, can't you two… EITA IS THAT A TATTOO?!"
Her water nearly spills as she rushes over. Hearing the commotion, their father appears from the hallway with a fresh t-shirt and pants.
"Eita got a tattoo?"
"HE BETTER NOT HAVE!"
"Oooooh, you're in trouble!"
Eita glares at Hanako for her teasing tone before facing his concerned mother. "I didn't get a tattoo. What are you talking about?"
She rushes forward, glaring despite Eita's denial. Prodding his stomach, just above his hip bone, she huffs. "Then explain this!"
He looks down and sees a messily scrawled line running along the curve of his skin. "Huh, that's new."
"NEW?! Taiko, look at this."
Sighing, his father walked over, passing Hanako, who eagerly followed along.
He stared for a moment before pushing up the glasses on his nose. "I believe that may be your soulmate mark, but I can't tell what it says. Did you meet anyone new today?"
"Tons, Dad, I'm a touring artist."
"Right, stupid question. Well, unless you can decide what it says, you're a bit out of luck unless they've noticed it too, or there's another piece going on."
His mom sighs in relief before hugging him lightly and whispering a small “Thank god” before ushering him and his sister off to bed, as if he wasn’t an adult and she wouldn’t stay up late anyways. Eita was tired, though, but despite his body’s desire to sink into the bed, he grew up with and found most comfortable. He couldn't help but sit at his desk chair, with a moderately sized mirror on a stool that his sister likely shoved in his room and stare at the black text that was inked onto his skin.
He trailed his fingers over the lettering, hoping that every swipe would reveal something new, a clue to understanding what it said.
It was 3 am before he realised the time and decided to go to sleep.
"What does this say?"
You stare at the sticky note Shika holds out to you. "Uhh, I can't tell."
"But you wrote it?"
"Doesn't mean I can read it. Hold on." You grab the sticky note, looking for the pad it came from and the pen you used.
Finding the pair, you retrace your steps in reverse. "OH, FLOUR. Right, we're low on flour."
"Thanks for the translation."
"Sorry."
Shika laughed. "Would have been worse if you weren't here. Thanks for covering today."
"Not like I had anything else to do. Besides… wallow?"
The door squeaked, and Shika sighed, “Well, back to it for now.”
You try not to let your knees buckle at the sight of the man walking through the door. Eita is dressed casually, a regular baggy shirt hangs off his shoulders. The simplicity haunts you though, and it takes everything not to duck and hide from view.
"Oh it's Sunshine. Why are you here?"
You level him with a sigh, "I wonder why. Possibly because I have a job. That doesn't explain your sudden appearance, though. Where's Hanako?"
Turning you back to him, as if not caring for his presence, you immediately let a silent scream escape, forcing every emotion out of you.
"She's sleeping. Stayed up too late last night. By the way, could you draw a map to the nearest café? I need some caffeine."
He's smirking at you when you glance over your shoulder. But with a shrug, you grab a napkin and a pen, scribbling on it before sliding it over with a perfectly practised smile. "Here ya go."
"Hmm," he sighs, glancing at the drawing. "Not the customer service I would hope for. An ass? Really? Oh, wait, you serve coffee. This must be a self portrait."
You're boiling, skin scorching and arching to jump off your body. "Oh, absolutely, my butt is the perkiest around." It comes out in the singing tone you use later in the day when the customers are in a rush.
"Hmm, you'll get there eventually."
You want to throttle him.
"Oh, thank you for the encouragement. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Hmm, do you remember the orders from yesterday? I'd like all those again."
"Hmm?" You want to scream. "Do you have the list?"
"Oh. No. But you can do it. It is your job, after all." The eyes are pinched together with cunning mirth.
Forget throttle; maul him. You want to maul him. Soulmate or not.
"Alright, I'll get right on it."
Eita gives you a smile before turning to wait in one of the plush seats. Comfortable, as if he'd won the battle. Annoyingly, you can see your handwriting peaking through the bottom of his short-sleeve.
You growl to yourself before pulling out your phone, and shooting off a quick text.
Nagasawa is quick to reply, and eager to be a bother to the artist that they were working for. You open the sent image of the list and get to work.
You're halfway through when the rocker feels the need to bring your attention back his way.
"I'm not paying for you to be looking at your phone," he huffs.
You give him a glance before returning to your espresso shot. "Luckily for you, you're not paying me at all."
"Good, I don't want to pay for this kind of service."
"Oh, that's too bad. Here's your bill." You walk out from behind the counter to hand him the machine. His eyes bulge for a second before sighing and pulling out his card.
You skip back to the counter and finish off the drinks. Tying one off with a cute pink bow.
"What's that for?"
"This?" You fluff the ribbon uselessly, for show. "It's your sister's order, I wanted to make it special for when she wakes up. Be a dear and put it in a fridge for her, will you?"
Eita rolls his eyes before getting one of the trays to rest on his elbows.
"Will you need help getting those over?"
Eita huffs to himself before nodding, "yes," he groans.
"Better call for some help then!"
Eita leaves with a grimace cut into his face.
Once the door closes behind him, you lift your sleeve to find the whole conversation painted on your skin.
"Why are you always here?"
You raise a brow at the question, turning to face the rocker while shaking together another customer's order.
"Hmm, have you developed dementia? Did you know that it could be connected to your hearing? You must have gone deaf from all the blasting music."
"...what?"
You smile and turn your back to him.
He waits for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You mean, why am I always here? Cause I work here. Duh.” You finish off the mix in your hands before walking it to the end of the table where the previously mentioned customer is waiting with an amused grin. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” The woman gives you a teasing smirk before ushering herself to the door.
Eita, annoyingly enough, has your full attention again. “Why are you always working?”
“Because I like my job? Because I need the money?”
“Because you have nothing else to do.” You squint at Kazioshi as he appears. “You aren’t even supposed to be here today.”
“Are you going to kick me out?” you huff.
“No.”
“Then don’t complain.”
Kazioshi shakes his head, grabbing the metal tray he needed from the counter, before heading back to the kitchen.
Once again, Eita has your full attention. “Bad social life?” He asks as a cocky smile appears on his face.
“I’m talking to you aren’t I?” you mirror him. “If you’re not going to order something, take a hike. I have things to do.”
“Oh you’d love for me to get lost in the mountains, wouldn’t you? Nah, I'm here for that order again.”
You perk up, “Is your sister here?”
“Not yet.”
“Shame, she’s the better sibling.”
You don’t stay to see how he reacts to the comment. There are drinks to be made, and a boy to charge for them. At least there is some joy in emptying his wallet.
“Hmm well, she isn’t the one you paid to go see in concert.”
The momentary joy you felt was immediately washed out.
Day four. The final day. One more concert and you were free from the torment. The thought was probably the only thing getting you through the day, knowing that after tonight, you could be free of Eita’s presence. So long as he continues to wear long sleeves.
It was a pleasant thought. Being free. Sadly everything else seemed to want to bring down your mood. Your phone didn’t charge last night, meaning that after your endless scrolling, it had died on your bedside table, and didn’t ring in the morning. So, you were running late for the one time you were actually scheduled to work. Then, while rushing out the door, a downpour started and ended in the time it took you to bike to Cheery Cafe, soaking you to the bone. A customer yelled at you for making their “mocha caramel hazelnut latte” too hot, despite them requesting it as such. Then while mopping up said “Mocha caramel hazelnut latte”, You slipped and knocked your head against the sharp edge of the counter. The receipt printer disconnected. The wifi went down. You burnt your thumb while steaming milk. Lunch can’t be eaten off the floor. And finally, the band started playing.
You groan, rubbing the back of your head where a bump has quickly grown. It seems to pulse every time the drum hits.
“You good, kid?” Kazioshi comes back with a fresh bag of ice.
“No, I’m in hell.”
“Well, that's not supposed to be the mood of this place. Do we need more pink?”
You chuckle, quickly wincing as the action shoots a pulse right into the back of the head.
“Just a couple more hours, and you’re free.” He sighed, having already given up on sending you home early. “You’ll get through it.”
The door opened with a squeak.
“Hi!”
Hanako is in the doorway subtly smiling as you meet her eyes. It's hard to tell if the bright light that follows her is a side effect of just how endearing she is or a concussion.
“Hi, Hanako. How are you?”
Her gentle grin quickly switches to a frown as she approaches. “Tired. Eita has been playing nonstop for the four days he’s been here, and I’m tired of it. I can’t even be in there when the concert starts.”
“Same here, kiddo.” You wince as another loud strum rings through the wall. Being later in the day, with the sun going down, there was no one coming into the cafe for an 8 p.m. coffee, unless they worked at The Local and everyone there had already gotten their fill. “Come on, let's sit on the couch.”
Hanako swings her skirt around, letting it flutter around her ankles as she follows you to the plush seat.
“So, you’re here because you’re tired of listening to your brother’s music?”
Hanako grabs the ends of her hair, playing with the dark tips. “Pretty much. It's the same thing for two hours, four days in a row. I just wanted to have a nice dinner with my family, but he has to work, and my parents have to attend because they have to support him. And UGH I just want a burger or something.” Her head swings as she talks. “I don’t even like rock music.”
“Really? Eita must hate that.”
“A little. But I can at least annoy him about it.” She kicks her feet a little, and you begin to copy her, making the girl giggle. “He’s been on tour for a year. I just want it to be over already.”
“Isn’t this the last concert?”
“Ya, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. It was supposed to be only two days but they decided to extend it because of high demand, and then they made a sale, which was totally fake, the tickets were all the same price. So they got to play two more days.”
“My friend bought me a ticket because of the sale. So I'm going to tell them that it was a scam.”
Hanako chuckled cutely. “Buy two get one 50% off as if the two tickets weren’t priced higher.”
“Oh, that’s evil.” You chuckle, adjusting your ice pillow.
“Ya, it was my brother’s idea.”
“Ah, I knew there was something off about him, a con artist he is.”
“Wooo celebrities. Ugh, I’m just tired of it.”
A prolonged silence filled the air, before you could think of something more to say. Not that it was anything useful. “Sorry if I seem out of it. I took a fall earlier and bumped my head.”
“No worries. I am too,” she yawns. “I just want to nap.”
“Go for it. I won’t stop you.”
When you’re tired enough, the consistent drum beats from next door can act as a calming rhythm to lull you to sleep. You sigh, sinking into the couch’s backrest. Sadly, you can’t sleep on the job, so through bleary eyes, you keep an eye on the open door, as Hanako’s head falls onto your arm.
Eventually, the concert ends, and finally there's calm in the cafe once more. You watch silently as the concertgoers walk past the cafe door, leaning against each other and blabbering in slurred words.
“HANAKO!”
The calm didn’t last long. Eita stomps through the door, face coloured a bruising red in contrast to his hands, which were clenched so tightly that blood seemed to not go to his fingers.
“HANAKO!” The girl shot awake, hand jumping to grab onto your arm. “Why are you where? You were supposed to be in the back with Mom and Dad!”
“I got tired of your shitty music!” She whined, hiding behind your shoulder.
“HANA! You left on your own you could have been kidnapped, do you realise how stupid that was?!”
Your head throbbed at the squabbling. “Gah, Shut up! Don’t yell at her. She’s safe, she knew where she could go.” Palm to forehead, you stood up and let the icepack fall to the seat cushion behind you. Hanako picked it up. “Is your throat not sore after being used all day? Be quiet already. I’m sick of the noise.”
Eita’s eyes were blown out in a broad glare, face only seeming to turn purple. “Excuse you? My throat? What about you? Aren’t you the one that needs tips to get by?”
“I don’t think I need any tips from you, thanks. Any advice from you would get me stuck in a gutter.” You’re hardly looking at him, or maybe you are. It’s hard to tell how tired and dizzy you feel. Everything seems hazy, but you can differentiate the dark shadow of Eita from the pastel background.
“Your head is already in the gutter!”
“My head is perfectly fine. No complaints. 10/10. Only raving review—”
“God, just be quiet! My sister is here!”
“You’re the one yelling.” You point out, and reach behind you until your hand lands on Hanako’s soft hair. The girl takes the motion as permission to latch onto your leg from her seated position, you feel the ice pack she’s holding against your knee. You hum. “And Hanako came here because she was tired of your music. You do realise for the four days you’ve been in town, you’ve only spent 10 hours each day with your family, and I bet most of that time was spent sleeping, or hanging out with your bandmates.
“And how do I know this? Because I’ve been here every single day. I know when concerts at The Local end, and I knew when you and your team got here each morning. I made you guys drinks. I dealt with your blasting music for hours on end. You know, you don’t have to rehearse at full volume day in and day out. The whole neighbourhood knows your setlist by heart.”
You don’t notice Kazioshi peek out from the kitchen with a frown before he sneaks back to his quiet space.
Eita glares. “So you’re a stalker.” His voice is finally toned down.
“An observer.”
“Every time I've gone in here, you’ve only ever been standoffish. Could you stand to be a bit nicer to customers?”
“I’m standing right now.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do I? Sorry, between smacking my head on a marble counter and dealing with your music all day, I’m kind of not in the right space. I can’t even remember what you said five seconds ago.”
“You—” Eita sighs, hands unclenching.
You take a second to rub your drooping eyes. “You got something on your face by the way. Did someone marker you?”
Hanako is giggling against your leg, gripping your pants with all her grip as she tries to stay up.
Eita pauses for a second, thinking about how ridiculous he must look with something smeared across his face. “Do you have a bathroom?”
You point at the door in the hallway before the kitchen. He stomps off and you flop back down.
“He’s not normally that emotional.”
“He was only worried about you. Can’t blame him for that.” You rub her hair a bit before combing it back into place, you think. It’s a bit hard to see. “I think I might really have a concussion.”
“Shouldn’t you, like, lay down or something?”
“Later.” You huff, pulling the girl close into a hug. “First, I have to hug a cute little bunny!”
“Yah! Stooooop!” She manages to push you off, giggling all the while.
The giggles outside the door seem to fall on deaf ears as Eita stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. Words, scribbled in what he could only describe as a child’s handwriting, trailed up his neck and onto his cheek. Words he now knew came from you. He knew there was more, so in a quick fashion, he strips down behind the locked door of the bathroom. He hoped he wasn’t scarring the cute cat sticker that was stuck to the mirror in the process.
The words continue, circling him like a python, and he struggles to catch his breath. Cheek to ankle, he’s covered in black and red letters. It hits him. Just outside, in the cafe, is his soulmate, who he yelled at. He can feel his heart pick up its pace, fighting against the constricting that the written words on his skin are causing as they slither around.
There’s a knock on the door. Eita forces another breath, throwing on his clothes and opening the door.
Kazioyoshi blinks. “You good?”
“Ya. Fine.”
“Good. I need to get in there.”
“Right, right.” Eita side steps as the taller man enters the bathroom.
“You’re shirt’s on backwards, by the way.” The door shuts.
Still, in a haze, Eita pulls his arms in to spin the shirt around.
“Eita! Hanako! There you are!” His parents are in the cafe now sighing, and short of breath. “We’ve been trying to call. Nagasawa suggested you might be here. Thank goodness.”
Joining them, he glances at the couch where Hanako sits, and you’ve passed out.
His parents glance at the barista. “What happened?”
The two siblings speak at the same time.
“Concussion.”
“Soulmate.”
The two adults blink at each other.
“What?” Kazioshi says from the hallway, before rushing to the couch. He sighs. “At least we’re closed now… I told them to go home.”
Waking up the next morning (mid-afternoon) on Masaki and Hiro’s couch, in a dark room with all the lights off and curtains drawn was an unexpected experience. But was quickly overshadowed by the pounding in your head.
“You’re on bed rest for two weeks. No phone, no laptop, no tv. You can listen to a podcast or something, but you are staying in the dark and quiet as much as possible.” Hiro lectured you.
Apparently, stimuli of any kind can prevent recovery from a concussion (Probably shouldn’t have stayed at the cafe). So, due to your (unwilling) bed-ridden state, your friends, with the help of your co-workers, were taking care of you. Demeaning really, you felt like a baby, but at least you caught up on sleep.
When you were finally able to leave the house it was with sunglasses and a headset, and of course, you immediately went to the cafe.
“Seriously?” Shika scoffs when you enter, “Do you ever stay away?”
“Not unless I’m being restrained. Which I technically was.”
“You’re not working.”
“You can’t stop me.” You join her behind the counter, adjusting your sunglasses. “Go take a break I can handle it.”
“I'm not sure about that.”
“At least sit down for a bit?”
“Fine. But if you even get a bit tired, you call me.”
You nod and shoo her off, chuckling as she flops onto the couch and opens her laptop.
It's quiet, calm, the most peaceful it’s felt in a while. There is no shaking coming from the bar next store, The Local is empty and Cheery Cafe finally feels like it’s name.
You sigh happily.
“Hey.”
The cloud comes right back. Eita stands in front of the counter, hands in the pockets of his baggy sweater, it’s the most casual you’ve seen him. You glare.
“Why are you here?”
“To tal—”
“He’s been coming everyday,” Shika says from the couch. “Loverboy couldn’t understand that you were resting.”
Behind your glasses, you glance at the ash-haired man. “And you called me a stalker.”
“Hey. We have something to talk about. And you wouldn’t pick up your phone.”
“Who gave you my number?”
“Your boss.”
You glare at Shika. And the woman shrugs. “He was desperate.”
“I couldn’t use my phone, I’ve been recovering.”
“That bad?”
“Every concussion is bad.”
“I— right.”
There's a tight silence and you see the beginnings of your words appear above his collar.
“So. Soulmates.” You say. “Gotta admit. Took you long enough to figure it out.”
“Your handwriting is atrocious. How was I supposed to figure it out?”
Kicking the floor you pursed your lips. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t”
“Hey!”
“But you did and now I'm stuck with you. Aren’t I?”
Eita glares, straightening his posture. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is, I’m stuck with your loud music. At least you come with Hanako. She’s the better sibling.”
“Again… Hey. I’m your soulmate.”
“Do you want me to insult you again?”
“Not really.”
You lean against the counter, moving as close to him as possible while keeping the built in table between you. You look up at Eita as he tries to keep his chin up. “Then plan a date to take me out already. You know I have no social life. I’m free all the time and need something to balance out the torture that will be your music for a lifetime.”
His eyes shut, cheeks becoming rosy. “Again… Hey.”
“Eita. What are you doing?”
The volleyball player turned rock star lazed across the cafe’s couch, taking a selfie with one of the large plushies. The big teddy bear didn’t seem to enjoy it.
“Taking photos.”
You blink. “Why?”
“To send to Hanako.”
“Again. Why?”
“Cause she’s at school and not here. So she’ll be jealous.”
Rolling your eyes you return to cleaning your cup, “You’re cruel.”
“You love me.”
“I love Hanako more.”
He glares, “Hey…”
Working non-stop all summer to jump right into non-stop school. A break was nice but I already haven’t drawn in nearly a year, I don’t want the same to happen to writing. Save me. - Bacon
Posted: 28/08/2023