𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ a valentine’s day special! ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡₊˚
feat. hajime, osamu, shoyo, & kei. inspired by my cafe's spring menu.
˚ᯓᡣ𐭩 rose matcha – with hajime .˚❀₊˚ 𓍢ִִ໋໋
⛰ a picnic in the trunk facing the flower fields ↠ carrizo plain ⛰ i can't lie, he has the prettiest eyes i've ever seen┊ever seen – beabadoobee ⛰ drink notes: delicate rose seems to perch at the palate above the bright taste of fresh matcha.
for a while, you’ve been mentioning wanting to see flowers. “there’s a big field in carlsbad,” you brought up. “and lots of botanical gardens nearby.”
now, hajime is not a man who will take you to some city garden and let that suffice. with what stress you’re going through lately, the last thing you need is to be around a busy crowd of people.
so hajime makes plans. hajime does his research. nestled in the central coast of california is a stretch of land where boundless blooms sprout from winter rain. the drive is long, and traffic is abysmal, but it’s worth it to him. it’s for you, after all.
four hours later, the tires of hajime’s car crunch on the dirt road as he pulls over on a hill overlooking the vast canvas of wildflowers. he pops open the trunk, laying out a blanket for you to sit on as he leans on the taillight.
you glance over at him. hajime is standing still, his eyes wide with mirth at the sight. he turns to you after a moment, smiling, the kind that blows you away every time he does it. his eyes crinkle, and his nose kind of scrunches, but it’s so bright, and so wide, and he’s got the tiniest dimples that peek out from the hollows of his cheeks.
“isn’t it pretty?” he asks, reaching out for your hand. you let out a soft laugh. the nerve to ask that question while he looks like that.
“you’re pretty,” you reply, taking his hand with a reassuring squeeze.
⋆˚꩜｡ blueberry pancake latte – with osamu .₊˚⊹ ᰔ
⛾ a hearty breakfast before viewing the wintersweet trees ↠ matsuda ⛾ instrumental┊say it (over and over again) – masayoshi takanaka ⛾ drink notes: the otherwise overt sweetness is balanced by the light roast’s smooth profile.
you nearly laugh at the amount of bags that osamu is holding when you walk into onigiri miya. “it’ll be a long ride to kanagawa, i’m just prepared!” he says defensively. “and yer always complainin’ thatcha get hungry on trips!” “i know, i know,” you say, patting his bicep and taking one of the three plastic bags hanging off his elbow. “thank you. i love you.”
osamu sighs affectionately as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. “i love you, too,” he replies, pulling you in by the waist. you tilt your head towards the entrance. “why is our wedding photo on the door, though?” he makes a face. “‘cause that’s why we’re closed?” you pinch his cheek. “you’re so sappy.” “not sappy if it’s the truth,” he insists. “why’re ya rollin’ up yer sleeves?”
“i’m gonna make us pancakes before we go,” you tell him, holding up a basket. “and i got blueberries from the neighbor before i left.” “aw, yer gonna make lil’ ole me blueberry pancakes?” osamu asks, shyly tucking a short strand of his hair behind his ear. you roll your eyes playfully, taking out a bag of flour. “yes, i’m gonna make lil’ ole you blueberry pancakes.”
osamu hopes he makes it abundantly clear, whether verbally or through his actions, that he loves you, because he does. he leans over the counter, watching you make him breakfast with a lovesick expression.
“love ya,” he calls, chin resting in his hand. “love ya back,” you sing-song in reply, and his heart melts.
°❀⋆ orange blossom matcha – with shoyo .ೃ࿔*:･
☼ a morning at home after the summer rain ↠ são paulo ☼ me dê a mão, vamos sair pra ver o sol┊estrada do sol – antonio carlos jobim ☼ drink notes: the orange fragrance sits lightly over the creamy base of milk and matcha.
february in brazil means peak summer and carnaval in full swing. it’s busy, it’s hot, and it’s rainy. a thunderstorm washed over the day before, bringing in some respite from the normally sweltering heat. the city bustles below as you stir, and the windchimes sing their morning melody from the open window. the small space fan creaks and hums as you pad across the wood floor.
you greet shoyo in the kitchen with a pet on the nape of his neck, smoothing down light baby hairs that grow up into the golden tousled strands you know so dearly. your pinky catches onto the chain of the necklace you gave him, which has been worn by him so much there’s a faint tan line.
shoyo turns to pass you an orange wedge, a fresh breeze blowing through and ruffling his hair. you take a bite, and immediately giggle. “your hands are sandy, sho,” you tell him, covering your mouth. “oh no, can you taste it?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“try one,” you say. shoyo complies, tossing a slice in his mouth, and it crunches much more than a juicy orange should. “aw, it is sandy,” he groans. “how do you have sand on you already? you just woke up,” you say, resting your chin on his shoulder. “i was cleaning off your board so we can go to maresias later,” he replies, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “it should be warm and calm today.”
you kiss shoyo through a smile. he tastes like sunscreen and citrus. “we’ll go out and relax, then.”
ִֶָ𖧷₊˚˖ strawberry mocha latte – with kei .𓍢ִִ✧˚.
☃ a wintry evening in his apartment ↠ sendai ☃ 回る世界であの娘と / 夜通し踊り続けたい ┊words of love – lamp ☃ drink notes: reminiscent of melted strawberry ice cream and chocolate with a bitter tug of espresso.
kei kicks off his shoes in the genkan of his apartment and wearily flicks on the lights. it’s quiet, save for his shuffling around the house as he gets things ready for your date tonight. the plan is to indulge in chocolate covered strawberries and liquor.
the microwave hums as kei leans on the countertop to wait for the chocolate to melt. he cracks open the window, cool air brushing his skin. the city sparkles underneath, full of people with their own valentine agenda. it’s odd to think that you’re one of them.
twenty minutes later, he hears the familiar jingle of your keys at his door, bumping erratically as always. kei opens the door with a smirk, watching as you stumble in with a plastic bag. “i got the kahlua and vodka,” you tell him, breathless.
“i have the chocolate and the strawberries ready,” he replies, taking the bag from you. he holds out an arm for you to stabilize yourself as you wrench your shoes off. “we can drizzle the toppings later.”
you grin at him as you straighten up, and he leans down to meet you in a welcoming kiss. “ugh, you ate some without me,” you complain, licking your lips. “just one. to taste,” kei replies, a complacent smile on his face.
he shuts the door behind you and shrugs, the corner of his mouth curving up. “we have all night to eat, anyway.”