One Cup of Coffee~ 3/?
For the first time, I played laser tag today. One game was only 15 minutes though. Sucky. But I enjoyed it VERY much. Next time, I'll play for an hour. With a break in between.
Title: Coffee is a Love Drug
Characters: Reita x Saga (the GazettE; Alice Nine)
Summary: Two musicians. Hot, steaming, coffee. What more could you ask for?
Rating: Completely safe. For now.
One.
Two.
a/n: There is no timeline, so I might skip a few days ahead into the story, then jump right back... (sorry if it's confusing) I’m thinking of this story as glimpses into how the two boys met, so conversations and scenarios might not always seem to be complete... but they are. ^_^
I write sloooow. Sorry this one is so short.
Coffee is a Love Drug
Day 30
“So how’s life?”
I shrugged. “As usual, I guess.”
“As usual?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice. And I’ve come to know that whenever he spoke like that, he was either genuinely surprised or just wanted to act like he was. Typical.
“Nothing exciting, nothing nerve-wrecking lately? None at all?” he insisted, eyebrows furrowing, his gaze clearly not letting go of the topic. Saga was one stubborn guy, from the couple of weeks we’ve been bumping into each other at the new old coffee shop. His mood varied from day to day depending on how his productive his song writing was, and I could see that he was some kind of workaholic - even if he lived to deny it. It was a good thing he was a prolific writer, and a talented musician at that, and most days of the weeks saw him in a good mood.
“If you’re not going to say anything, let me tell you. You’re lucky you’re not easy to recognize without your usual... you know,” he proceeded to gesture to his nose and went on to tie an imaginary band around his face. If there was anything I loved and hated more at once, it was him, making fun of my eight-year old costume.
“Yesterday, I didn’t bother wearing my usual shades, or the usual incognito hat, so I was walking around the park, and suddenly, someone was asking for a picture. And then after that, they started closing in on me.” He made a croaking sound and his hands latched on to his neck as he pretended to gasp for air, and a couple of girls turned to him in concern - to which he responded to by pausing in the middle of his act, winking at them, and then continuing.
They both looked away, obviously flustered. Another one of Saga’s quirks, and one that added to his massively expanding ego.
I exhaled in exasperation, just to make sure that at least in his own tiny world, there was one person who didn’t exactly agree to his every opinion, and that this somebody didn’t plan on losing this never-ending battle anytime soon. And for my own personal benefit, I hoped, in the future, to exact the same reaction from him as he had on the poor girls he flirted with. It would be emotional blackmail, one that would satisfy millions, if one day, it happened, that with my two bare hands, I can find someone who will make him infatuated and bent over on his own delusions of grandeur, and then suddenly drop him.
“So... you decided that you hate your fans if they ambush you in the streets?” I asked him, leaning closer so that he could see the smirk underneath my flash of teeth.
“No. I love them, but it was a bit embarrassing to be seen like that.”
“You? Embarrassed?” I scoffed. It was hard to imagine this man all shy and coy, and embarrassed was definitely one emotion that I highly doubted I’ll ever see, unless I discover that he’s actually secretly a girl - and that’s the only acceptable reason of his behavior.
Or maybe not.
Even his voice had this irritating tone to it, especially when he’s sarcastic, and that’s most of the time. Ever since meeting him that one strange, rainy day in the middle of the summer heat, I could recognize his voice from a mile away. That deep, lazy drawl that had built-in ego and i-need-attention-but-i-will-never-ask-for-it-directly character. I could hear it when I’m walking along the corridors in the company building, or sometimes, even in my dreams. It was probably an after-effect of trying to maintain a sane conversation with him every afternoon, fueled by his issues, spiked with a good dose of caffeine. I walk in to the coffee shop every day, expecting that this mind-game would suddenly reveal itself to me one day, and was just using Saga as a distraction. And I could say it was a very clever distraction.
It made for a good mystery. Saga mostly acted differently around me, as far as I could see. When he’s talking to his friends, or to the staff, he acts like a normal person, respectful, always at ease. It was as if I gave him license to act all crazy and smug when he’s with me, and rather than forming a stable friendship with this guy, it seemed like I was fighting a game of trying to tame the ego-monster waiting to burst out from inside of him.
So when he finally revealed a hint of humility in his voice, he managed to revert back to his smug self in a span of a few microseconds. It must have been my imagination when I almost believed he actually had the capability of being embarrassed. No, this man was made of solid steel.
“Didn’t you even notice? I’m using the strategy right now, to fend off those kinds of people. It’s my hair, I know. It’s a dead giveaway.”
“So I tie my hair back. Like this.” And he whirled around so suddenly to show me the back of his head, his bleached strands mixing with the black roots, neatly tied together with black rubber, and the contrast it made against his pale, pale skin scratched at the back of my throat.
In the midst of how he was explaining his various escape routes and methods of disguise, I couldn’t forget it. It was such a startling sight, the naked skin of his nape, white, and alluring. It almost made me forget that here was a man talking to me, and I thought he was annoying as hell, but was such a beautiful inconsistency allowed to exist?
In the end, I confess, that even if his voice was made of sickly-sweet honey (and I don’t like sweet things) and he acted like he was a prude sometimes (or like a man who escaped from his psychiatrist and pretended to have enough time for a cup of coffee every day), he was confusingly fascinating.
tbc._.
Title: Coffee is a Love Drug
Characters: Reita x Saga (the GazettE; Alice Nine)
Summary: Two musicians. Hot, steaming, coffee. What more could you ask for?
Rating: Completely safe. For now.
One.
Two.
a/n: There is no timeline, so I might skip a few days ahead into the story, then jump right back... (sorry if it's confusing) I’m thinking of this story as glimpses into how the two boys met, so conversations and scenarios might not always seem to be complete... but they are. ^_^
I write sloooow. Sorry this one is so short.
Coffee is a Love Drug
Day 30
“So how’s life?”
I shrugged. “As usual, I guess.”
“As usual?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice. And I’ve come to know that whenever he spoke like that, he was either genuinely surprised or just wanted to act like he was. Typical.
“Nothing exciting, nothing nerve-wrecking lately? None at all?” he insisted, eyebrows furrowing, his gaze clearly not letting go of the topic. Saga was one stubborn guy, from the couple of weeks we’ve been bumping into each other at the new old coffee shop. His mood varied from day to day depending on how his productive his song writing was, and I could see that he was some kind of workaholic - even if he lived to deny it. It was a good thing he was a prolific writer, and a talented musician at that, and most days of the weeks saw him in a good mood.
“If you’re not going to say anything, let me tell you. You’re lucky you’re not easy to recognize without your usual... you know,” he proceeded to gesture to his nose and went on to tie an imaginary band around his face. If there was anything I loved and hated more at once, it was him, making fun of my eight-year old costume.
“Yesterday, I didn’t bother wearing my usual shades, or the usual incognito hat, so I was walking around the park, and suddenly, someone was asking for a picture. And then after that, they started closing in on me.” He made a croaking sound and his hands latched on to his neck as he pretended to gasp for air, and a couple of girls turned to him in concern - to which he responded to by pausing in the middle of his act, winking at them, and then continuing.
They both looked away, obviously flustered. Another one of Saga’s quirks, and one that added to his massively expanding ego.
I exhaled in exasperation, just to make sure that at least in his own tiny world, there was one person who didn’t exactly agree to his every opinion, and that this somebody didn’t plan on losing this never-ending battle anytime soon. And for my own personal benefit, I hoped, in the future, to exact the same reaction from him as he had on the poor girls he flirted with. It would be emotional blackmail, one that would satisfy millions, if one day, it happened, that with my two bare hands, I can find someone who will make him infatuated and bent over on his own delusions of grandeur, and then suddenly drop him.
“So... you decided that you hate your fans if they ambush you in the streets?” I asked him, leaning closer so that he could see the smirk underneath my flash of teeth.
“No. I love them, but it was a bit embarrassing to be seen like that.”
“You? Embarrassed?” I scoffed. It was hard to imagine this man all shy and coy, and embarrassed was definitely one emotion that I highly doubted I’ll ever see, unless I discover that he’s actually secretly a girl - and that’s the only acceptable reason of his behavior.
Or maybe not.
Even his voice had this irritating tone to it, especially when he’s sarcastic, and that’s most of the time. Ever since meeting him that one strange, rainy day in the middle of the summer heat, I could recognize his voice from a mile away. That deep, lazy drawl that had built-in ego and i-need-attention-but-i-will-never-ask-for-it-directly character. I could hear it when I’m walking along the corridors in the company building, or sometimes, even in my dreams. It was probably an after-effect of trying to maintain a sane conversation with him every afternoon, fueled by his issues, spiked with a good dose of caffeine. I walk in to the coffee shop every day, expecting that this mind-game would suddenly reveal itself to me one day, and was just using Saga as a distraction. And I could say it was a very clever distraction.
It made for a good mystery. Saga mostly acted differently around me, as far as I could see. When he’s talking to his friends, or to the staff, he acts like a normal person, respectful, always at ease. It was as if I gave him license to act all crazy and smug when he’s with me, and rather than forming a stable friendship with this guy, it seemed like I was fighting a game of trying to tame the ego-monster waiting to burst out from inside of him.
So when he finally revealed a hint of humility in his voice, he managed to revert back to his smug self in a span of a few microseconds. It must have been my imagination when I almost believed he actually had the capability of being embarrassed. No, this man was made of solid steel.
“Didn’t you even notice? I’m using the strategy right now, to fend off those kinds of people. It’s my hair, I know. It’s a dead giveaway.”
“So I tie my hair back. Like this.” And he whirled around so suddenly to show me the back of his head, his bleached strands mixing with the black roots, neatly tied together with black rubber, and the contrast it made against his pale, pale skin scratched at the back of my throat.
In the midst of how he was explaining his various escape routes and methods of disguise, I couldn’t forget it. It was such a startling sight, the naked skin of his nape, white, and alluring. It almost made me forget that here was a man talking to me, and I thought he was annoying as hell, but was such a beautiful inconsistency allowed to exist?
In the end, I confess, that even if his voice was made of sickly-sweet honey (and I don’t like sweet things) and he acted like he was a prude sometimes (or like a man who escaped from his psychiatrist and pretended to have enough time for a cup of coffee every day), he was confusingly fascinating.
tbc._.