Bittersweet Breakfast Routine
Kazuya is forever thankful for Nakamaru’s parents. Or his guardians. Well, to whoever raised him, because they were able to brought up a young man to be so talented, sincere, humble and so honest. Very honest.
“Again, Yuichi-kun?” Kazuya took the tall coffee cup and brown paper bag. He sniffed, cinnamon rolls and bagels. The smell suddenly brought him images of the past: a bushy eyebrow him, a sunny brilliant and genuine smile of someone, sun-glimmering pinky rings and a late afternoon snack in some hidden café in downtown Shibuya. He also remembered the almost-hypnotic blues music the shop always play and the pink, fluttering apron the sweet, discreet waitress always had on. He made a mental note to visit it in his next day-off. He had a craving for the long-forgotten dark coffee he used to love that the shop serves. He scoffed, he always forget the things he loves.
“Yeah. You look so tired. Eat. And-” Nakamaru pointed his eyes.
“Eyebags.” Kazuya nodded. “Thank you. But really, you should stop buying me breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And even midnight snacks. You’re spoiling me too much.” Kazuya smiled. He tired to make it as genuine as he can. It was Nakamaru after all.
“Er.” Nakamaru’s eyes darted from the studio room’s ceiling to the door back to ceiling again and settled on his fidgeting feet. Kazuya really felt bad. He wondered when will this entire act end.
“It’s alright really. Just eat. Okay?”
Kazuya surrendered. This daily routine is killing him. But he must put up. “Please, Yuichi-kun. At least let me pay you back?” A crispy, one thousand yen was already in Kazuya’s palms.
And, as expected, he saw Nakamaru’s head shook. He’s head suddenly look liked a blur of colors.
Kazuya sighed inaudibly and pocketed his money and patted the shoulder of the dear guy. “Okay. Thank you, Yuichi-kun. But please. I can take of myself. At least have a bagel?” And again, Nakamaru became a swirl of colors.
Nakamaru smiled, a creepy, crooked one, and wiped his sweat from his forehead. “Just eat, Kazuya-kun. And do rest.” And with that he sat next to a sleeping Junnosuke in the couch and started to read some of his university books.
Kazuya smiled. He likes Nakamaru. The guy is very thoughtful and caring. He even once dreamt that Nakamaru was the prime minister and it was a very nice dream. People were beat-boxing and all were loved and have huge noses but no one really cared. It was a very nice dream.
Kazuya settled down on the chair in front of the mirror and waited for his stylist to arrive. Their stylist. Kazuya pursed his mouth and brushed his hair.
Koki soon entered the room but was talking to someone in his phone. He dumped his bag and left the room without even greeting them.
No, no, no. … Hey. HEY Listen. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t cheatin--- ... Huh? Bra? Wasn’t it yours?
Kazuya was waiting for the next step of his morning routine to happen.
Nakamaru’s phone vibrated and that woke the light-sleeper Junnosuke up. Nakamaru typed in his reply for a few seconds and afterwards, settled his phone back on his pocket. After a few more minutes, the door opened.
“Morning, Jin-kun! Ah, you have a frappe! I’ll get one myself.” Junnosuke greeted as he passed by Akanishi on his way out. Kazuya heard a cheerful chanting of “Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.” as Junnosuke run down the corridor.
Akanishi merely nodded in response to the gone boy and scanned the room through his shades. Kazuya felt his stare. It was his cue. He opened the brown paper bag and took a bite on the cinnamon roll and sipped on his coffee.
Kazuya loves cinnamon, its slight rush of sourness that makes up the whole nostalgic aroma sweetness is a nice break from the bittersweet dark chocolates he always has and crave for.
Kazuya looked at Akanishi’s reflection in the mirror. “Morning.” He heard Nakamaru greeted. Kazuya took another bite.
Kazuya stared at Akanishi. He always admired Akanishi’s hair. It isn’t as pretty and silky as Ueda's but it is pretty alluring alright. He sipped his coffee. He then looked from his cup to Akanishi. He decided to dye his hair dark next week. But ah, he thought, he must double check with his stylist first.
“Morning.” Akanishi replied, a deep, rich voice that always makes Kazuya crave for dark chocolates and coffee. Kazuya sipped again. His coffee, he noticed, was then lukewarm. No longer boiling, the temperature he prefers, and was also no longer capable to sting his tongue. And he loves stinging his tongue. It was a habit formed years ago, it was hard to let go. He smiled, he thought then that a bruised and stinging tongue was a good excuse to ask a sip from the cold coffee of your companion.
Akanishi threw his duffel bag on the couch, finished off his frappe and threw it in a nearby trashcan. He looked at Nakamaru, “Cigarette break?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
And with that, Kazuya was left alone inside the room.
Kazuya finished off his cinnamon before standing up. He stared at his face in the mirror, “Big eyebags” He pinched his cheeks. “Bigger AND fatter cheeks.”
He took the brown paper bag from the dresser and dropped on the couch. He took out a nicotine patch from his own bag and placed inside the brown paper bag. He wrote a small, quick note in the paper that he ripped, yet again, from Nakamaru’s thinning notepad that was lying on top of the coffee table. He inserted a thousand yen in the note and…
***
Ueda entered the room. “Morning, Kazuya-kun. Where are the others?”
“Out. Junno-kun, coffee. Yuichi-kun and Akanishi-kun, smoking. Koki-kun, fighting with girlfriend.” Kazuya answered, he noticed Ueda’s hair. It was very, very pretty. He wondered if everyone else would have a pretty hair if Ueda was the prime minister.
Ueda was slumped on the couch and was busy arranging his things while Kazuya was busy reading some magazine. He was analyzing his own face in the magazine spread and was seriously bothered already by his fat cheeks when he heard Ueda opened something and the room was suddenly filled with a familiar scent; a scent that always reminded him of late night rendezvous in some ramen and barbeque houses and splashing Okinawa waves.
“Hey. Breakfast? You like squid, right? Want some?”
Kazuya smiled. “No, thanks. I had my breakfast already. I’m full.” And continued contemplating if he should go on a diet or not. He sipped and finished off his coffee, closed the magazine and realized he wanted a dark chocolate instead. He always has a craving for dark chocolates but whenever he eats one his cravings are never satisfied. Kazuya thought again today, just like yesterday, that someday, hopefully tomorrow, he can finally satisfy that cravings of his.
***
…and he stepped back from the duffel bag. The final step, he smiled bitter sweetly as he looked down on his boots. First drop. Second drop. Third drop. Fourth… Fifth… He sniffed and crumpled the note and the one thousand yen bill in his hands before dumping it in his pockets. He sat back in the dresser and ate the bagels.
***
Written in the crumpled paper, that was ripped, yet again, from Nakamaru’s thinning notepad:
Bagels are better breakfast than smokes.
Eat too. ‘cause Im eating.
Stop bullying Maru.
Kame-chan
“Again, Yuichi-kun?” Kazuya took the tall coffee cup and brown paper bag. He sniffed, cinnamon rolls and bagels. The smell suddenly brought him images of the past: a bushy eyebrow him, a sunny brilliant and genuine smile of someone, sun-glimmering pinky rings and a late afternoon snack in some hidden café in downtown Shibuya. He also remembered the almost-hypnotic blues music the shop always play and the pink, fluttering apron the sweet, discreet waitress always had on. He made a mental note to visit it in his next day-off. He had a craving for the long-forgotten dark coffee he used to love that the shop serves. He scoffed, he always forget the things he loves.
“Yeah. You look so tired. Eat. And-” Nakamaru pointed his eyes.
“Eyebags.” Kazuya nodded. “Thank you. But really, you should stop buying me breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And even midnight snacks. You’re spoiling me too much.” Kazuya smiled. He tired to make it as genuine as he can. It was Nakamaru after all.
“Er.” Nakamaru’s eyes darted from the studio room’s ceiling to the door back to ceiling again and settled on his fidgeting feet. Kazuya really felt bad. He wondered when will this entire act end.
“It’s alright really. Just eat. Okay?”
Kazuya surrendered. This daily routine is killing him. But he must put up. “Please, Yuichi-kun. At least let me pay you back?” A crispy, one thousand yen was already in Kazuya’s palms.
And, as expected, he saw Nakamaru’s head shook. He’s head suddenly look liked a blur of colors.
Kazuya sighed inaudibly and pocketed his money and patted the shoulder of the dear guy. “Okay. Thank you, Yuichi-kun. But please. I can take of myself. At least have a bagel?” And again, Nakamaru became a swirl of colors.
Nakamaru smiled, a creepy, crooked one, and wiped his sweat from his forehead. “Just eat, Kazuya-kun. And do rest.” And with that he sat next to a sleeping Junnosuke in the couch and started to read some of his university books.
Kazuya smiled. He likes Nakamaru. The guy is very thoughtful and caring. He even once dreamt that Nakamaru was the prime minister and it was a very nice dream. People were beat-boxing and all were loved and have huge noses but no one really cared. It was a very nice dream.
Kazuya settled down on the chair in front of the mirror and waited for his stylist to arrive. Their stylist. Kazuya pursed his mouth and brushed his hair.
Koki soon entered the room but was talking to someone in his phone. He dumped his bag and left the room without even greeting them.
No, no, no. … Hey. HEY Listen. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t cheatin--- ... Huh? Bra? Wasn’t it yours?
Kazuya was waiting for the next step of his morning routine to happen.
Nakamaru’s phone vibrated and that woke the light-sleeper Junnosuke up. Nakamaru typed in his reply for a few seconds and afterwards, settled his phone back on his pocket. After a few more minutes, the door opened.
“Morning, Jin-kun! Ah, you have a frappe! I’ll get one myself.” Junnosuke greeted as he passed by Akanishi on his way out. Kazuya heard a cheerful chanting of “Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.” as Junnosuke run down the corridor.
Akanishi merely nodded in response to the gone boy and scanned the room through his shades. Kazuya felt his stare. It was his cue. He opened the brown paper bag and took a bite on the cinnamon roll and sipped on his coffee.
Kazuya loves cinnamon, its slight rush of sourness that makes up the whole nostalgic aroma sweetness is a nice break from the bittersweet dark chocolates he always has and crave for.
Kazuya looked at Akanishi’s reflection in the mirror. “Morning.” He heard Nakamaru greeted. Kazuya took another bite.
Kazuya stared at Akanishi. He always admired Akanishi’s hair. It isn’t as pretty and silky as Ueda's but it is pretty alluring alright. He sipped his coffee. He then looked from his cup to Akanishi. He decided to dye his hair dark next week. But ah, he thought, he must double check with his stylist first.
“Morning.” Akanishi replied, a deep, rich voice that always makes Kazuya crave for dark chocolates and coffee. Kazuya sipped again. His coffee, he noticed, was then lukewarm. No longer boiling, the temperature he prefers, and was also no longer capable to sting his tongue. And he loves stinging his tongue. It was a habit formed years ago, it was hard to let go. He smiled, he thought then that a bruised and stinging tongue was a good excuse to ask a sip from the cold coffee of your companion.
Akanishi threw his duffel bag on the couch, finished off his frappe and threw it in a nearby trashcan. He looked at Nakamaru, “Cigarette break?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
And with that, Kazuya was left alone inside the room.
Kazuya finished off his cinnamon before standing up. He stared at his face in the mirror, “Big eyebags” He pinched his cheeks. “Bigger AND fatter cheeks.”
He took the brown paper bag from the dresser and dropped on the couch. He took out a nicotine patch from his own bag and placed inside the brown paper bag. He wrote a small, quick note in the paper that he ripped, yet again, from Nakamaru’s thinning notepad that was lying on top of the coffee table. He inserted a thousand yen in the note and…
***
Ueda entered the room. “Morning, Kazuya-kun. Where are the others?”
“Out. Junno-kun, coffee. Yuichi-kun and Akanishi-kun, smoking. Koki-kun, fighting with girlfriend.” Kazuya answered, he noticed Ueda’s hair. It was very, very pretty. He wondered if everyone else would have a pretty hair if Ueda was the prime minister.
Ueda was slumped on the couch and was busy arranging his things while Kazuya was busy reading some magazine. He was analyzing his own face in the magazine spread and was seriously bothered already by his fat cheeks when he heard Ueda opened something and the room was suddenly filled with a familiar scent; a scent that always reminded him of late night rendezvous in some ramen and barbeque houses and splashing Okinawa waves.
“Hey. Breakfast? You like squid, right? Want some?”
Kazuya smiled. “No, thanks. I had my breakfast already. I’m full.” And continued contemplating if he should go on a diet or not. He sipped and finished off his coffee, closed the magazine and realized he wanted a dark chocolate instead. He always has a craving for dark chocolates but whenever he eats one his cravings are never satisfied. Kazuya thought again today, just like yesterday, that someday, hopefully tomorrow, he can finally satisfy that cravings of his.
***
…and he stepped back from the duffel bag. The final step, he smiled bitter sweetly as he looked down on his boots. First drop. Second drop. Third drop. Fourth… Fifth… He sniffed and crumpled the note and the one thousand yen bill in his hands before dumping it in his pockets. He sat back in the dresser and ate the bagels.
***
Written in the crumpled paper, that was ripped, yet again, from Nakamaru’s thinning notepad:
Bagels are better breakfast than smokes.
Eat too. ‘cause Im eating.
Stop bullying Maru.
Kame-chan