Coffee shops had to be the only places that were this busy this early in the morning, Jongdae supposed. That, and hospitals, because apparently they were always busy. He stared dully at the line of heads in front of him - a stream of multicoloured hair that led to the only substance that would keep Jongdae on his feet for the next hour. He couldn’t even remember getting out of bed this morning, he’d skipped a shower and brushed his teeth only long enough to distinguish any morning breath. His hair was a dishevelled mess, and his hoody hung loosely off of one shoulder, unnoticed by himself.
An ungainly yawn was breaking out of him at the exact moment the doors opened behind him. At first he just threw a passing glance over his shoulder, mere curiosity at the sound of the little bell singing, but he had to double take when he realised it was a face he recognised. For a few minutes, Jongdae stared blankly at the beautiful woman entering - surely it wasn’t her - just a look a like, right? It can’t be - she can’t be - this can’t be...
Heart thudding wildly in his chest, Jondae took another minute debating whether or not to go over to her, earning him a stern glance from the man in the queue behind him when he obnoxiously ignored the serving girl calling for his attention. Instead, Jongdae stepped out of the queue entirely, to walk numbly to the other woman.
“M-Miss, are you - you aren’t - is it really... is it truly you? M-Miss... ” he stammered and stumbled for words, his eyes growing wider as his tongue grew number in his clumsy mouth.
❝soooooo… whaddya think? damn good, innit!❞ shirazu declares–and he most definitely ’declared’ it, too; his words are phrased, as usual, in a jovial boom rather than the upward lilt of an actual inquiry. for spirited punctuation, he provides a deep, contented ’mmm’–a happy, rasping growl– from low in the throat. he allows his saffron-orange head to slowly, languorously, follow gravity’s heavy pull back, back, back until it comes to rest, his nape to their crown, upon his companion’s own skull. kuki urie remains quiet; shirazu interprets the silence as a victory and pulls another sweet dumpling off his dango stick with his pointed teeth. see, he can be taught, he was learnin’ already; instead of dango for urie, he’d made a special visit to a second vendor and purchased urie somethin’ that wasn’t sweet–a pound of spicy-hot barbecued meat. ya just can’t go wrong with barbecued meat!
❝i knew i could find somethin’ that’d you’d enjoy, ya know. i mean, street food’s the fuckin’ best. i practically grew up on the stuff! cheap and tasty. well, usually cheap...but ya get what i mean.❞ shirazu finds himself smiling… but not at urie, of course. no fuckin’ way! their backs were pressed together, for one; and also, just…NO, no fuckin’ way he’d ever enjoy being stuck with this miserable little prick!
「 i’m just killin’ time until sassan and tooru can meet me for coffee…right? aw, hell, it’s just ‘cause i’m nice! i didn’t wanna tell him ta buzz off, is all– not after… not after the auction…」
shirazu’s thought process wanders off, taking his appetite with it. smile vanished, the young man sighs, exhaling a much less contented sound, and licks a dab of sweet dango sauce off his thumb.
「i want to be beautiful」 echoes through his mind like siren song, hypnotic and wistful and guilty, guilty, guilty.
a violent shudder trickling its way down his spine, ginshi reaches behind him and gently nudges urie in the ribs with an elbow. he’s careful to aim for a safe, no-hurt zone. why? what does he mean by the gesture? hell if he knows.
suddenly, a blur of pale pink flutters in the far corners of shirazu’s vision. he cocks his head to the side, inquisitive, his eyes scanning the passing crowd for the intriguing pinkness. ah, there it is–there she is, rather. holy shit, that’s….that’s that one pop idol, ain’t it? shirazu conjures up a wisping fragment of a song, a popular song, from his memory. hey, he likes that song!
❝hey, kuki–i gotta go somewhere real quick. i’ll be right back, yeah?❞ he stands and pulls the rest of the dango off the stick with one quick snap of his teeth. tossing the stick in the trash, still munching away at the dumplings, he shoves his fists deep into his pockets.
a pause. ginshi withdraws a hand and touches urie’s shoulder with his palm. gives it a squeeze. ❝…i’ll see ya at the coffeehouse, okay? i promise.❞ and then he’s gone; hands shoved back into his pockets, he forces himself to put one leg in front of the other, over and over, until he’s there–right there!–with, uh…the diamond lady? diamond something, right? ah, fuck his bloody memory…
❝u-uh…howsitgoin’! irk, um, what i mean is, uh…h-hello ma'am!❞ jesus christ. shirazu feels even his goddamn ears flushing all up, red and rosy.
❝yer that, um, famous idol, right?... i really love yer songs, ma'am!❞
