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streetcorner ᵕ̈ akaashi keiji x gn reader ˎˊ˗
⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : a small accident throws ⋮⋮ your usual morning routine off , just ⋮⋮ a bit . . .
📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛 ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 ♡ # 1.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴
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💬 kuroppiii ─ “ first writing post i ’ ve done in a while ! i ’ m hoping the concept comes off as cute as it did in my head ... ”
a train rumbled overhead. the shadow it casted on the buildings around you had a continuous line of square windows that let the morning sunlight though. the rapid speed at which they moved on the concrete walls reminded you of a film strip. for such a brash pairing of sensations, it was quite a fond noise that accompanied everything else in the mornings.
every morning for you has been the same, for what feels like forever. venturing a hand from the warm pocket of your wooly jacket, you tug at the scarf wrapped securely around your face to cheerily create a cloud of hot breath in the cold air. you then realize that in reality, it’s only been a few months you’ve been experiencing mornings like this. but the time that’s passed since you emptied out your last box of belongings has been eventful, after all.
you’ve found a substantial job at a hole-in-the wall restaurant, of which the owners were extremely welcoming of you to your new city life. they were an old couple. they were definitely traditional, but still managed to be fun. you can’t think of a dull time at the restaurant since you were hired. they loved to play upbeat old-fashioned songs as you prepared to open up shop, and the elderly woman always invited you to sing along with a lively step that somehow outshone yours as a young individual. and overall, you found them quite adorable, too. they almost fawned over you, and were flustered with themselves at the most minute sign you felt out of place.
although it’s temporary, it’s definitely a job you want to keep for a while, you think. it’s location isn’t even very far. that’s why you usually opt to walk there. along the way, you’ve made it a habit to stop by the bakery just outside your apartment building. after taking a tray you either delve your tongs straight to the chocolate croissants, or––on the rare occurrence there’s none left––you settle for custard bread. after the cashier wraps up your order, you’re on your way. the brown paper is almost immediately ripped open once you exit the bakery, though. you try not to let the nice cashier see that part.
by the time your pastry has been reduced to nothing but a few mere crumbs, you’ve reached the drink machine. the drink machine humbly stands alone at the curb of a fork in the road and is lined with buttons that have always remained green, you assume it’s because you manage to catch it after it’s very early morning refill. it’s visibly quite old, some of its labels are almost entirely scratched off and there is bits of rust if you really pay any mind to it. but what makes it special, is that it’s one of those drink machines that offers cold and hot options for its beverages.
it also conveniently has a trash bin sitting next to it. that’s where your brown bakery paper ends up. from there, you happily click one of the green buttons. the beverage isn’t always the same, but as long as it’ll get you energized, it’s what you’re sipping on for the rest of your walk to the restaurant.
you watch the brown paper for this morning lightly floating down into the virtually empty trashcan, the only thing on your mind being the push and pull of either drinking a latte or tea from the machine in front of you. your hands work without even thinking, taking out your subway card with your eyes focused on the cartoonish design you had picked for it months ago. you find it funny because you rarely use the train on daily basis. it still serves a purpose: paying for your morning fix.
your body works almost as if it were on some kind of autopilot. you swipe the card without even bothering to check if it registered. you replace the card to it’s rightful spot in your wallet before reaching out your hand. you’ve finally chosen what you’ll be drinking this morning: a warm latte.
the green button under the canned latte on display behind the plexiglass gives way to a satisfying click. but at that moment, someone else’s hand flies into you line of sight, pressing on the button immediately to the right–the cold latte.
you and the stranger jump back from the machine. comically enough the both of you are still blankly holding your wallets, and small puffs emerge from your open mouths in the cold air.
he’s quite tall, you have to tilt your head upwards to look at his surprised expression. he’s also got a heavy tan coat, fitting for the weather as of late and quite fashionable, you’d have to admit.
he’s also undoubtedly handsome.
his widened blueish-greyish eyes, framed by sophisticated-looking rectangle glasses, complement this handsome appearance very well, you think.
but shortly enough, you both hear a metallic rattle coming from the machine’s insides. the two of you turn your heads to stare as the sound comes to an abrupt, and concerning, stop. anyone could tell you that it definitely didn’t sound good.
then, the stranger shoots down into a bow.
“i'm so sorry,” the man rushes in apology. soon, you almost break your back returning the bow.
“no, no, i'm sorry, i should’ve been paying attention,” you insist, aggressively shaking your head.
“i was in a rush, i should’ve slowed down,” he blabbers before you decide to speak up again in response with something along the lines of how surely enough his reasons for rushing were completely valid unlike yours.
anyone could see where that conversation was going to end up.
، そ ✧ の後 🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...
after exchanging numerous apologies on both sides, the two of you decided to ask a nearby shop owner for advice on what to do. entering a small clothing store, the lady at its desk was generous enough to call a service worker for the both of you. she, however, was not generous enough to let you two loiter in her radiator-heated shop.
you both remained near the machine, waiting for the worker to arrive. in the time that passed, you hadn’t even given the man next to you any thought. your mind was occupied with how to make up for being late to the owners of your workplace, and also yearning for the heated inside of the shop once again.
a white van with a friendly and inviting service design pulls up, and an incredibly old man makes his way out of the driver’s seat.
“this drink machine is a very good one,” the man awkwardly comments, “it’s one of the few around here that have the hot drink option.”
“yeah,” you hum. you debate continuing the conversation––possibly commenting an ‘i find that special about this machine too!’ or really anything you could’ve mustered up. but an untimely pause already asserted itself in the time you’ve been thinking of what to say, so you almost give up. the worker is still digging around in the drink machine’s wires, you can hear the small clinks of metal because it’s so quiet. you’re both still standing there, awaiting the verdict of the machine’s condition when another train finally rumbles by, finally filling in the silence.
“it’s a shame we’ve broken it for the morning,” you quickly say after the thundering track noises fade away, side glancing him as you speak light-heartedly, trying to alleviate the awkward feeling between the two of you. to your relief, you can hear him crack a soft chuckle. you look to your side to see him smiling at you, nodding in agreement.
“yeah, a real shame.”
، そ ✧ の後 🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...
the vending machine on the corner got fixed thanks to the incredibly old service man. you feared you would get fined because frankly, you don’t have all that much extra money to spend at the moment (and you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of a stranger who looked so refined and good-looking). but the old man, like your employers, was as much of a nice man as he was old. he even got you and the stranger your desired drinks from the machine’s inner supply before locking it back up again.
after the service worker hopped back into his van, you and the nice cold-latte-man bid your goodbyes and went your separate ways.
upon your arrival at the restaurant, the old couple almost ran over you once you stepped foot in the door. you were bombarded with questions of “what happened?”, “did something happen to you?”, “are you alright dear?”.
a smile couldn’t help but spread on your face and you managed to take a sip of what last remained in the canned latte. you grabbed a hold of the old woman’s hand and spoke to the both of them, explaining your dilemma with the broken vending machine and the handsome stranger (yes, you informed them on the man’s appearance, and their not-so-subtle excited reactions made it all the worth it).
they finally let you go, satisfied and at ease knowing you didn’t get seriously hurt on your way to work. now being able to freely move, you go to grab your apron and start today’s work shift. but before you can forget, you toss the empty latte can into the trash bin behind the counter.
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