we finally meet
Happy Birthday, Takinami Suzuka! (28.9.22) (feel free to read this on ao3 if you prefer!)
Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
Which is strange, because he’s not the one brewing it. And as far as he knows, he’s the only one who uses this office pantry.
It’s definitely not the type of coffee he’s used to smelling - this one seems to be a tad more acidic.
Maybe they have a new colleague?
(When he gets to the pantry, there’s no new colleague in sight; only an empty pot that he doesn’t recognise, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.)
--
Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He does, every day, because it is liquid fuel for his existence. Deprive him of it, and he will cease to function, in senses both literal and metaphorical.
(He fills the machine with the beans. Cranks it up. Waits.)
It isn’t like it’s his fault. Insomnia is a real problem for some. Maybe it is a problem too, for their new colleague?
He leaves some coffee in the pot, just in case the new colleague has a problem with insomnia, too, and would like some, too.
(He walks back to his office room, coffee cup in hand, thinking perhaps there hadn’t been a new colleague, after all.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
Apparently, they probably do have a new colleague, because this time, again, Suzuka isn’t the one brewing it.
When he gets to the pantry, he realises there are two pots of coffee. One of them, the half-filled one he’d left there yesterday, is as cold as the winter air. The other half-filled one is still steaming, imparting to the pantry air a relatively unfamiliar scent.
There’s a handwritten note on the hot pot of coffee; the one that isn’t his.
Your coffee has turned cold. If you don’t mind, you could have some of this.
(Suzuka makes a mental note to leave a physical note in future.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He’d even set an alarm for this - he can’t put a finger to the feelings he's experiencing, but something in the deep of his gut is urging him to be the one who brews it this time. And anyway, he figures he still prefers the familiar taste that is his own coffee; the one he’s been drinking everyday for years. So, he figures, he’d better make it to the pantry early.
He does, luckily, and there are two empty pots this time. He brews his coffee, fills his cup and leaves his pot half empty.
(This time, he doesn’t forget to write his intended recipient a note.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He still has no idea who’s brewing it. A new colleague? An acquaintance who has recently realised the pantry exists?
In either case, it’s not his coffee, that much he knows.
(As he sips his new coffee, he realises it’s an acquired taste.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He’d woken up even earlier, this time, just to make sure he gets first dibs to the coffee-brewing. Not that it’s some kind of competition...but still. Who knows - perhaps there may really be some sort of competitive spirit in him, egging him on to feed his favourite brand of coffee to his long-distance mystery coffee partner.
He’s been using the exact same type of beans for years. A real creature of habit, he is. Maybe if he kicks the habit of coffee-drinking, he’ll kick his insomnia away, too...not happening. Coffee happens to be one of the most important comforts in his existence, and he figures that the lack of it will ironically cause him to lose sleep, out of pining. (Talk about a real chicken-and-egg problem.)
(He hangs around the pantry 5 minutes longer than usual, wondering if said long-distance coffee partner will appear. They don’t, so he disappears, too, leaving nothing but a lukewarm half-pot of coffee in his trail.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
It’s not the one he’s most used to, though it’s the one he’s getting used to.
He’d forgotten to set his alarm clock yesterday - today morning at 4am to be precise, but yesterday night in terms of normalised time.
What is normal? Suzuka doesn’t know. Maybe he will, someday.
What he does know, however, is that he doesn’t care whether sleeping in his office room is normal. And what he does care about, is that doing this helps save time on commuting to work, which then helps reserve time for work, which then gives him more time for sleep. (Talk about a real chicken-and-egg solution.)
Being a tenured professor has its problems, such as stacks of work, including administrative duties, teaching duties, research duties, or in his case, assisting with police investigations. But it also does have its perks, and having a solo office room to himself is his favourite of them all.
He grabs a cup, fills it, returns to his office room, and sits in the sofabed he’d brought from home, sipping the gift of coffee he has just received.
(As he does, he realises his favourite brand of coffee now has a competitor.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He’d set his alarm way very early this time, so “wakes up”, here, is almost as literal as it is metaphorical. He really wanted to get first dibs on the coffee-making, because he reckons must convert his coffee partner to his favourite brand of coffee, instead of it being the other way round.
That’s a lie, though, and he knows it. He’d really just wanted to attempt to wait around for his coffee partner, out of curiosity.
Unfortunately, his handphone dings multiple times, telling him that the emails have started to come rolling in.
(He abandons the half-pot of coffee as he walks back to his office to answer the steadily increasing workpile naggingly summoning him, telling the half-pot of coffee to accost his coffee comrade for him, telling himself that the day they meet will come.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
He can recognise that it isn’t his coffee, so he rushes to the pantry, hoping to catch his newfound coffee companion in action.
Unfortunately, he arrives a tad too late, because all there is in the pantry is a half-pot of coffee, lying in wait for him. (At least, he infers is in wait for him - they’ve been keeping this exchange up for a while and they no longer leave sticky notes for each other telling the other party that they are free to drink it, treating it as assumed information instead. Better for the trees, that way.)
(He sips his coffee on the sofabed in his office, and realises that he’s acquired the taste already.)
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Suzuka wakes up to the smell of coffee.
It’s his own beans this time, because he has won - well, he has won the race to the pantry, but his beans have lost, because he has found a new favourite brand in the form of the other coffee he alternates between, these days. Or maybe it’s a tie.
Doesn’t matter anyway, because what matters is that he gets to meet his fellow coffee maker. If the insomnia doesn’t kill him, this curiosity will.
So he waits, and the insomnia almost kills him, because the smell of coffee fails to wake him up fully this time, and he almost dozes off while standing up, propped against the kitchen counter in the pantry.
Before he does, he is saved by a tap on the shoulder. He jolts awake, slightly confused, almost forgetting why he’s there.
“Excuse me, sorry, but I am trying to get my pot of coffee into my mug, and you are sort of in the way.”
Suzuka looks up, and almost forgets to breathe for a moment. What he remembers, though, is why he’s there in the first place.
Pale skin. Chin-length hair. Large, round eyes. Tiny nose, tiny mouth.
These are what Suzuka sees when he looks up, but these are all nondescript characteristics, really, because what he sees cannot be described with any word, phrase, or sentence; the only possible description is that it's a taste he probably doesn't even need any time to acquire.
He finally remembers to breathe, fully awake by now.
"Coffee?" is the only thing he says, a question in ways more than one.
"Yes," is the only thing she says, an answer, also in ways more than one.
