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₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: after surviving the shibuya incident, nanami shuts off the world and becomes a recluse. the only thing keeping him going? a new coffee shop around his apartment. and maybe, its owner with her soft words, warm hands, and cinnamon-dusted kisses. (cw: hints of depression, description of gory injuries for nanami, slight offcanon) word count: 4.9k

nanami wakes in pitch darkness.

that's been routine for him, for the past month.

the odd shapes in his apartment are recognizable as turned over sofas, half-drunken mugs, untouched books in the dark, and other objects of that sort. his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light in the building, his feet able to carefully traverse between the gaps of furniture and hastily discarded clothes on the floor to reach his ultimate destination: the kitchen.

it's probably noon outside. not that he knows for sure, given that he's gotten rid of all the clocks in his apartment two weeks ago. the anxiety of seeing those clock hands move incrementally, counting down the minutes of his stillness, the quiet rhythm of ticking driving him insane within the confines of his home-

he had to get rid of it.

and the alarm clock next to his bed, and set his phone to do not disturb mode before chucking it under several piles of books he would not touch.

the sunlight filtering in through the tiniest gap in his window, combined with the sounds of birds chirping outside and children laughing from a nearby playground makes his jaw clench. his heart feels like it's being painfully squeezed, the barrier between him and the real world so faint and yet ever so present. it feels as if the world is mocking him, mocking him of what he can't have, mocking him of what he's become: sheltered from the entire world, hiding in the dark as if he's some kind of monster.

opening the refrigerator lets out the only source of light in the entire room, the harsh fluorescent lighting causes nanami to blink furiously and curse under the sudden pain. when his irises adjust, he sees that there's a half eaten apple. a cereal box misplaced inside the fridge. milk that's due to expire in a day and a pack of sealed natto sitting untouched on the top shelf.

'cereal it is.' he thinks. it's the fourth day in a row he's had cereal for the day, which is certainly not good for his health.

not that he cares much.

when his hunger is satiated, he travels back to the couch and stares up at the ceiling. sometimes, he falls asleep - his mind preferring to stay dreaming, floating, blanketed in the unconscious world so he doesn't have to face reality. but on days like today, sleep evades him.

his bones ache, his mind races, and his fingers itch at his sides.

dragging his right hand across the side of his face, it takes every nerve in his body to not flinch. the right side of his face is completely scarred, blisters of darkened skin bumpy against the callouses of his hands, the skin still tender and raw to the touch. there's a long gash running from his shoulder to his lower waist, the cut healed but having left a permanent red line across his body. the fingers on his right hand won't extend all the way, and his vision often fades in and out of his right eye.

the first day back from the hospital had been brutal. as not only had the physical toll of the injuries had made daily life impossible, but the mental weight of carrying these injuries in public made him self-conscious.

children turned around in fear. grandmothers frowned. young boys shouted names.

and worst of all, nanami couldn't bear to look at himself. he covered all the mirrors in his room. closed all the curtains in his apartment. and stopped looking at his reflection when passing by tall, glassy buildings.

quitting the life of a sorcerer had been easy - no one had argued with him, not after what he'd survived - but he hadn't moved on.

he was stuck.

unmoving, hopeless, and tired.

=====================

if there was one tradition nanami still forced himself to do (albeit in a ball cap and mask), it was to gather his morning coffee outside. it'd be too early and too busy for most people to stop and stare at him, and nanami had expertly figured out the quietest route that led to the corner coffee store he was a regular at.

today is no different. he rises before the sun does, feels around in the dark for his pre-selected clothes (not that he wears anything different each day), and forces himself out the door. it's chilly, a slight breeze running down his back between the gaps of his leather jacket, as he walks down the quiet tokyo streets.

a dog barks in the distance. a single taxi driver drives down the empty street. the wind rustles through the fall foliage.

it's quiet. and it's the only time he isn't thinking about the hopelessness of the world.

but when he turns the corner and sees that his usual coffee place is closed, he nearly throws a fit. his left eye twitching in anger, he manages to read the small print next to the door handle: 'closed early for public holiday weekend!'

sighing, he shoves his hands back into his jeans and is about to give up and go back home when-

a woman steps out from a store two blocks down, the clicking of her boots alerting him as to her presence. he watches as you smooth your apron down, carefully positioning the sign to be visible from all angles, before disappearing back into the cafe. walking closer to the new sign set out on the street, nanami can see a cute drawing of a croissant with legs and in your handwriting the words: 'new cafe open! complimentary croissant for every coffee ordered.'

through the glass door he can see your nervous expression as you fiddle with a flower vase on the counter, constantly turning the pot in a million different directions. there's something so... simple and innocent to your worry, nanami ponders. with the way your brows scrunch up in concentration and the sunlight reflects a halo on your hair, his feet carry him forward without him thinking.

the ringing of the bell as he opens the door wakes him up to what he's just done.

you look up from the vase, not having expected the front door to ring, only to be met with a tall blonde figure staring down at you. despite his mask covering half of his face, you can tell that he has a sculpted jaw and proportionate, sharp features. his brown eyes twinkle in worry, but they're soft, crinkling at the edges and there's something devastatingly endearing in the way he awkwardly shuffles in front of your gaze as if he's not good looking enough to be a model.

"my apologies. i assume you're not open yet?" he says, sheepishly, already regretting having stepped inside.

you blink at him, because technically you're not open yet, but you're not about to turn away your first customer.

"oh no! uh, we're open! i mean, technically everything's been set out and i did already put the sign outside so that means we're open!" you ramble, nervously referring to your surroundings. the espresso machine is hissing hot behind you, the pink marble counter tops sparkling with a display of an assortment of pastries, and the collection of mismatched postcards and pop posters lining the walls. you'd only finished gluing down the removable letters for the wall menu a few minutes ago, and you're so glad you did as the handsome stranger stares at the wall.

"in that case, if it wouldn't be a bother... could i please get a flat white?" he nervously asks, stepping closer to the counter so you could hear him. your eyes are soft, glistening like pebble stones on the shoreline of a lake, and it makes his skin feel prickly and hot.

"yes, of course! iced or hot?"

"hot please."

"what kind of milk would you like?" you hum, typing in his order on the ipad. you notice out of the corner of your eyes that his shoulders have begun to relax, his body finally easing into the conversation.

"well, what kinds of milk do you have?"

"oh. duh." you slap yourself on the face, shaking your head sideways. "i should've mentioned that! we have oat, soy, coconut, almond, whole and semi-skimmed."

you smile at him so bright it's blinding, the kind that feels like the force of a million suns shining at once, and it's hard to not feel the edges of his own lips lifting at the way you're grinning from ear to ear.

"could i get it with oat milk, please?" he asks, whilst you nod and input his order.

"that'll be 400 yen please."

whilst nanami taps his card on the machine to pay, you hum to yourself as you prepare his coffee. your white skirt flows behind you as you pace from one end of the store to another, opening fridges, grinding the last of the coffee beans, pressing it into the portafilter, and locking it into the machine to brew. your head disappears from view for a few moments as you pull out the trays of freshly baked croissants from the back, your hands carefully handling the tongs to transfer the pastry into a neat paper bag with a smiling croissant on the front.

hastily, you put in another croissant inside before fetching the coffee for the man, a nervous smile on your face as you pass over the items.

"there you go, a flat white and complimentary croissant."

"thank you. though, you didn't have to give me two." he shyly adds, his fingers brushing against yours when he accepts it, his heart suddenly being flushed with warmth.

you shrug at his comment, hair falling into your eyes which you brush away with a sugar-dusted hand.

"you're my first customer ever..." you pause, eyes lifting in a way to subtly ask for his name.

he nearly stutters over his words with how eager he is.

"nanami. nanami kento."

".... nanami san. it was only fair that i give you more than one."

"well..." it's his turn to pause and raise his eyebrows, quietly asking for your name. your glossy lips part, as if you're surprised, and you dart your eyes away from his gaze that makes his heart burst with affection.

"please call me (y/n)."

you're not sure why you're even giving him your first name upon first meeting, but you're so glad you did when you see how his entire face lights up at your response.

his cheekbones rise and his eyes fade into a lighter shade of caramel.

"(y/n) san. thank you for the coffee and the extra croissant." he bows his head slightly towards you, which you automatically reciprocate, your heart dropping in disappointment when he begins to walk out.

"wait!" you call after him.

"yes?" he asks, turning around to face you. you look troubled, a little embarrassed to have stopped him in his tracks, but he doesn't mind.

he quite likes looking at you, he thinks.

"would you mind... trying the coffee now to tell me what you think? you know, considering you're my first ever customer?"

he chuckles at the innocent request, before carefully lifting the edge of his mask (just enough to bring the cup to his lips without revealing his face) and taking a sip. the flat white is smooth and delicate on his tongue, the caffeine not too overpowering but not weak.

hell, it's even better than his usual coffee place that was closed.

"it's perfect." he mutters.

"really?!" you can't contain your excitement.

"best coffee i've had in tokyo." nanami adds, enjoying the way you get flustered and fidget nervously behind the counter at the compliment. a curious customer squeezes their way past nanami, drawn by the pastel pink and green design, signalling that he should probably leave you to your day of business. "thank you again, (y/n) san. this coffee has truly made my day."

nanami means it, and he replays the bright smile you give him in response for the rest of the walk home.

when he arrives home, he sets down his coffee cup on the table and carefully unwraps one of the croissants as if it's the most important artifact in the world. biting into the middle, he tastes flaky pastry and smooth butter, the mixing of the sweet croissant and the bitter coffee causing him to nearly moan in delight.

it's perfect, he thinks. blinking his eyes open, he tries to remember the last time he's actually enjoyed something he's eaten, and comes up blank.

he'd gotten so used to cheap bento boxes from late night convenience stores and quick meals in the form of cereal and onigiris, that the simple pleasure of eating something delicious and warm had become so lost to him.

he finishes the croissant quickly and saves the second one for later, savoring each bite over his afternoon tea.

that's when he knows - he has to go back to your cafe.

==================

nanami should hesitate when leaving the front door of his apartment the next day.

after all, wouldn't it be too soon to return to your cafe so eagerly, repeating his visit for the second day in a row to a newly opened spot?

but none of that seemed to matter.

cause all he could think about was how his body buzzed with warmth when he'd drank that flat white in front of you, the creaminess of the milk, and the flush of affection he'd felt when you'd smiled with relief at his compliments.

so he ends up being the first customer of the day, again, when you open at 7am on a Tuesday morning. you blink at him, surprised, before exclaiming "nanami san! it's so good to see you again." and rattling off your specials for the day.

"i am trying out a new recipe for banana bread if you'd like to give it a try." you suggest, winking at him as you grab the tongs from behind you.

his eyes twinkle at your suggestion.

"i'd love to."

and like the day before, you prepare his coffee, carefully package his pastry, and bid him goodbye for the day. you hope he'll be a regular, though you know it's too soon to tell.

but then he comes back the next day. different outfit, same hat and mask, a shy smile on his face and his gravely voice asking you for a new pastry to try.

and then the next day.

and the day after that.

by the third week, you know he's a regular customer.

your cafe's been open for nearly a month now and you've come to expect the regular rush of crowds during the peak times and developed a keen eye for your regulars. an old gentleman who enjoys his cup of black coffee and chocolate muffin on the armchair by the window every morning, a half-folded newspaper on his lap. a young mom with twins smiling apologetically at you as she balances her iced latte with three bags of various treats, her children pulling at her arms for a quick bite. a couple in their 50's whom you've learned are retired lawyers, popping in during the afternoons for the sourdough bread you bake fresh on wednesday morning.

and nanami.

consistently, at 7am each day, walking through the front door asking for a flat white and a sweet treat. sometimes, he leaves with copious bags of almond croissants. another time, every flavor of cookie you'd baked for that week. and when he ends up ordering a single item for a day, like a blueberry muffin or a slice of carrot cake, you joke that he's starting to get sick of you.

but then he smiles lowly, shakes his head sideways, and looks you straight in the eyes when he says: "i could never get sick of you."

he means it, too.

his apartment has transformed from a dark, desolate place smelling of stale paper and unwashed clothes, to a brighter, livelier home filled with the scent of warm pastries and freshly brewed coffee. he finds himself spending longer each morning getting ready, fussing about what outfit to wear when he comes to visit you at the cafe each morning. the nights feel less unbearable with the awareness that tomorrow, like always, he'll wake up and get to see you first thing in the morning.

the world is still brutal. his injuries still hurt.

but the unspoken routine between you and him each morning - it keeps him going.

nanami also starts to stick around for a bit longer during his visits. he starts off by asking how your week has been so far, if there's been any new updates to the cafe and its menu. he asks you what recipes you're working on in the moment, nodding intensely as you ramble in between pressing coffees and rolling out dough, and charms you with his attention to detail when he remembers a comment you made weeks ago.

'i remember you saying the new tiling was supposed to come in this thursday. has everything worked out with that?'

on one friday afternoon, nanami finds himself a little hungry after a park run. he sees your bright, colorful sign from down the road and decides to give you a visit (no less than 8 hours after having seen you earlier in the day).

"welco- oh! you're back!" you exclaim, pleasantly surprised at his appearance. he looks a little different from what you're used to, now in tight shorts and a running jacket that expands over his muscular physique (which you try not to stare at, and fail miserably). nanami pretends not to notice your gaze either, suppressing his smirk for the sake of your sanity.

"i am. i hope that's okay." he says quietly, leaning over the counter.

"it's more than okay." you respond. "anything for my favorite customer. though-" you look up at the clock behind you. "we are closing in thirty minutes."

"totally fine. just a brownie for now please."

"one brownie, coming up."

the crowd in the cafe slowly begin to fade out over the course of the long conversation you have with nanami behind the counter. as you wipe down counters and serve the final orders, nanami leans out of the way as other cusomters return their coffee cups and exit the establishment. fifteen people become twelve, then ten, then five, and now two.

you and him.

"and i always think that-" you jump in fear at the sudden burst of thunder that rumbles through the city, the sky suddenly gray and spitting out rain at an alarming speed.

"oh shit. i gotta get my sign from outsid-"

you haven't even finished your sentence before nanami's rushing out the door for you, his left hand gently cupping yours for a moment.

"i got it."

he's positively drenched when he returns, the mere seconds in which he was outside in the storm enough to wet his entire attire, but he doesn't mind.

not when he's successfully rescued your pop-up sign, and you stare up at him in awe, bowing in thanks.

"wow, uh... thank you so much! you really didn't have to do that."

"i wanted to."

you crane your neck past him to look at the sky, biting your lower lip in worry.

"it looks like the rain won't clear up so quickly. you don't have an umbrella on you, right?" you ask him, wiping your hands on your apron. he shakes his head no, confirming your worries.

"could i at least walk you back home with an umbrella? it's the least i could, for saving my sign." you joke, lightly poking his shoulder.

"that'd be lovely."

so nanami finds himself waiting, patiently, as you finish closing off the shop, turning off the lights, and locking the doors before grabbing your umbrella.

"are those... kitten prints on the umbrella?"

you look away, flustered, as he steps closer to you to stay under your umbrella.

"hey, i like the design, okay? even if it's a bit... childish."

"don't worry. i was going to say it was cute. and that it suited you, a lot."

"thank you."

the walk to his apartment is easy, quiet. eventually your arm tires of holding the umbrella and he nervously asks if he can hold it for you instead, and asks you to hold onto his arm so that you can avoid getting wet. your soft hands curl around his bicep perfectly, your scent overwhelming from this proximity (a blend of vanilla and lavender), and nanami's mind is unable to focus on a single thing other than how warm you feel against him.

so when you two finally arrive in front of his apartment building, shoes soaked but heads dry, the words tumble out of his lips before he can think.

"could i take you out on a date some time? o-outside of the cafe, i mean."

and his heart skips a beat when you look down at your feet, unmoving, before grinning widely.

"i'd love that, nanami."

======================

it's not just your baking that's sweet, nanami learns.

the first date - a late night stroll after work around downtown tokyo - turns into a string of dates filled with syrupy smiles and feathery touches.

a trip to the aquarium. a jazz night at a bar. a bike ride around a park.

throughout it all, nanami is careful. it's unbelievable to him, how different his life suddenly looks.

his room's been cleaned to a professional standard. his fridge is filled with actual food, fresh produce and home cooked meals, instead of empty plastic containers. his apartment is now a bastion of light, owing to his windowsill of flowers, as he draws back the curtains and waters them each morning.

he's even found the strength to pick up his phone again, gingerly beginning to reach back out to old friends and colleagues of the like.

and when gojo flashes his signature smirk, visiting nanami's home three months now after the incident, asking coyly: "you've met someone, haven't you?"

nanami doesn't deny it.

only smiling a cool, low grin, before resuming the conversation.

the sun feels warmer on his skin. the music on the radio feels lighter, the flowers more plentiful, even the morning air more peaceful.

some weeks, nanami comes into the cafe early to help you set up. he checks the ingredients in stock, carries over the heavy bags of flour and coffee beans to the back kitchen, and kisses the top of your head through his mask when you lean into his touch out of exhaustion.

other weeks, he surprises you after work with a bouquet of flowers, alongside the newest tickets in hand to an art exhibition or a performance you've been dying to see.

it's easily the most comfortable love he's ever felt.

and yet, he's yet to kiss you.

it's not been for the lack of wanting. god, has he wanted to kiss you badly at times. when he finds you falling asleep against his chest whilst watching a movie at his place. when you complain to yourself in the kitchen, squinting your eyes at the measuring cup to perfect the ratio of flour to sugar. or when he sees you interacting with young kids who visit the cafe, crouching down to smooth over the children's hair whilst feeding them free samples of muffins and cookies.

but nanami just can't stomach the idea of you seeing his whole face.

the colder weather has allowed him to cover the burns on his body, the scars littering the right side of his torso with ease. long sleeves, oversized pants, zip up jackets.

but his face?

if he's not wearing his hat and mask, as he normally is 99% of the time, it becomes too obvious. he hasn't even been brave enough to look at himself in the mirror after the accident.

and he doesn't want to imagine what your reaction would be like upon seeing the extent of his injuries.

you, on the other hand, begin to worry. nanami's the best boyfriend you've ever had. he's sweet. he's a gentleman. he never pushes, always listens, and is always putting yourself before him.

so why doesn't he want to kiss you?

he has no issues holding your hand in public. he insists on walking on the side of the road closest to the cars when you two walk together on the streets. he likes having you sit on his lap on movie nights, and gently kisses your forehead when you're stressed out or overwhelmed from a bad work day.

does he not find you attractive like that?

it's confusing, maddening even, which doesn't go unnoticed by nanami.

"you're frowning, darling." he points out, slowing down his walking pace when he notices your face glazing over in contemplation.

you bite your lower lip, wondering if it's fair to ask, before caving.

"... do you find me attractive, nanami?"

his eyes widen like saucers at your question, voice stuttering in disbelief.

"of course i do, honey. wh-where is this coming from?"

you sigh, feeling bad for your question, clinging closer to him.

"sorry, i know, it's just-" you pause. "we've never kissed."

realization, and guilt, washes over him in an instant.

"oh."

seeing his disappointed reaction, you start speaking quickly in an effort to cover for yourself.

"which is totally fine if you don't find me physically attractive in that way, or if you think i'm asking too soon, i just really like you and was wondering if maybe i was being delusional you know." you're rambling, still holding his hand but unable to meet his gaze, so that nanami has to be the one to carefully cradle your face and turn your cheek to face him.

"darling, that isn't the case at all. it's just-" he takes in a deep breath. "it's just... i'm not sure you'd like what you'd see if i...."

he drops his hand from yours at the moment, eyes heavy and sad.

"if i removed the mask to kiss you."

you blink at him, shocked at his confession. you've gathered bits and pieces about his past. he had a dangerous job. it left a mark. but he hadn't gone into detail, and you hadn't pressed.

and now, he was bearing his heart to you out on the street, mid-way through a random evening walk to the supermarket just because you said you were craving some mochi.

"ken...." it's your turn to cup his face with your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. "you're perfect to me no matter what. i'd never think of you differently, scars or not."

he doesn't seem to fully believe you, or at least, feel confident, but he wordlessly drags you to a nearby alley away from the main street.

"if... if i show you my face, i don't want it to be somewhere public where people can... see."

your heart breaks at that confession, imagining how many people must have stared and made enough cruel comments to make him insecure.

"please promise you won't turn away." his voice is shaking, feeble even, his fingers looping around the mask but not pulling the fabric away quite yet.

"i promise."

nanami squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls away the fabric from his face, finally freeing the bottom half of his face. heart pounding so loud, he can hear his blood rushing through his ears, and his face feels cold from the sudden assault of winds brushing up against his skin.

and for a few moments, it's completely silent. save for his nervous breathing and the shuffling of feet as you step closer.

he doesn't see the expression on your face, his eyes still closed shut, but feels your warm hands cupping his face again. your soft, delicate fingers, tracing circles onto his rough, burnt skin, and it gives him the courage to open his eyes to meet your tear-filled ones.

"you're beautiful, nanami."

that's all it takes for him to pull you into his embrace immediately, your sugary lips meeting his, the taste of cinnamon sugar on the edge. he spins you around with so much force that he nearly slams you up against the wall, left hand cupping your face to angle your lips exactly, worries and sorrow melting into the starry night.

"i love you. so damn much." he whispers, his voice coming out gruff from his swollen lips.

"i love you too." you admit, still out of breath from the kiss, your face hot and buzzing from the contact.

pushing off of the wall, nanami extends a hand towards you to pull you back onto the sidewalk. the mask falls from his left hand, and nanami pauses for a moment, bending down to pick it up.

"do you... want to wear it again?" you question quietly, not knowing the answer.

but all he does is kiss you again, his left hand clenching around the fabric before tossing it into the trash.

"not a chance."

and when he walks through the streets of shibuya again, your warm hand in his and your voice filling the busy air, he doesn't even flinch.

it's in the past.

and when he looks at you from the corner of his eye, he sees the future.

a/n: omg omg omg okay so i'm so sorry for being so inconsistent with writing (╥﹏╥) work has been crazy but i got the most insane writer's rush on a sunday evening so i ended up writing this hurt/comfort fic in a few hours?! not sure if this turned out good but i really liked the idea and really needed a break from my other WIPs. next up (hopefully): the mega long slow-burn exes to lovers fic with ex fiancee!nanami and reader. it's already past 8k and that one will be a bitch to edit because i've been writing over several weeks lol. anyways, hope you guys liked this one uwu

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