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#unedited i’m sleeby
tahdashi · 1 year
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fluff ⊹ college au
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as much as he hates to admit it to himself, osamu is struggling. 
he wants to be strong — someone you could depend on, someone you could run to when life’s wearing you down, someone you could simply feel content and safe with. his thoughts were plagued with the notion that he was anything but that someone to you. 
and that’s why he does everything in his ability to bring that radiant smile — the one he finds himself daydreaming about — to the curve of your lips. 
while his friends go out to dingy frat houses, singing at the top of their lungs as they celebrate their freedom and youth, osamu picks up the night shift at the diner by his apartment. he started working there his first year, hoping to make some extra money so his mom wouldn’t have to worry about him from miles and miles away. the owner was a sweet man, roughly in his 60s, often humming an incomprehensible tune as he chopped vegetables and meat. truthfully, osamu didn’t mind working extra shifts while his friends went out (they’d call him boring and a workaholic, but he didn’t care). in fact, he was happy to make extra money if it meant that he could take you out to a fancy dinner (a local ramen restaurant), buy you dessert afterward (a quick stop to the convenience store with a smile on his face as he watches the light from the freezer section reflect in your eyes), and surprise you with flowers to end the night (hand-picked from the field a couple miles off campus). 
perhaps he should be living like the rest — either catching up on assignments in the library or coming back home stumbling and slurring his words. perhaps he should start saving his money like you always tell him to, but he’s only twenty and feels no reason to. 
he’d much rather be here, at the silver counter at the back of the diner kitchen, experimenting with different sauces while the man next to him hums the same usual love song. this time, the aura’s a bit different. the man has a smile on his face, he’s chopping the green onion at a slow beat as if there’s a metronome playing in his head. 
“son, ya like cookin’, don’t ya?” 
“i do, sir,” osamu continues to add garlic to the simmering sauce in his pan, a sugary sheen glazing over it. 
“why not cook at home? bring that special someone ya keep thinkin’ about,” he jerks his elbow towards osamu’s arm. 
“i like working here. i like the people, and the food, and the sounds.” 
osamu also likes how you visit him every friday when your classes end. without a doubt, rain or shine, you’ll glide into the diner with a soft smile on your lips. he likes how you walk over to the counter and ask him if there’s a ‘samu around. he also likes how you look behind him, checking on the man who’s too busy tapping his wooden spoon against the pot to notice, before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. and in that moment, he lets himself close his eyes, relax a little, melt into it like softened butter. 
and when you pull away, you see the sleepiness in his eyes. you always wonder how he goes to class, comes to work, goes to the library to work on assignments, and then rushes back to the diner after he eats so he can work another shift. bringing your hand up to cradle his cheek, you ask if he’s okay. he leans into the warmth of your skin for a second before giving you a quick nod. 
“i’m almost done with my shift. wanna go out for somethin’ in a bit?” 
“we don’t have to eat out today,” you tell him, tugging on his sleeve like you always do when you insist on staying in. 
“not even ice cream? ya said ya wanted to try that shit-lookin' chocolate one.” 
“if your shit looks like that i’m a bit concerned for you,” you tell him, twirling his sleeve around your fingers. his teeth peek out from his lips in a dimply smile, one that has you swooning. "no shit-lookin' ice cream today."
"then what do ya wanna do? it's friday night, ya should do something fun." you notice the way he excludes himself from his words.
"how about we just chill at my place tonight? watch a movie or something? i still have those chips you like," you insist. "and my roommates aren't home. stay as long as you want?"
oh, how 'samu loves your place — the comfort of your bed, your sheets that smell like you. he can't help but nod a bit too eagerly, catching your hand in his larger ones.
he gets back to work as quick as he can, not wanting you to leave you waiting, but truthfully, you don't mind. you watch his back flex in his black uniform as he wipes down the counter. osamu can feel your eyes on him, and suddenly he has love songs blooming in his mind, wisps of a sweet melody coursing through his veins.
you're too good for him, he thinks. you don't mind his chaste kisses when he's in a rush, or when he decides to nap on your shoulder between classes.
he throws his boss a quick wave before throwing on his jacket, shoving his arm into the sleeve as he stumbles towards the front of the diner to see you again. you look up at him with something like ardor and solace swimming in your eyes. placing a quick kiss to the top of your head, osamu slips his hand into yours.
"sorry, babe, took me longer than usual to check inventory," he apologizes, squeezing your hand a couple times as the brisk air touches your skin.
"'s all good. i like watching you work. you're all focused in there."
"gotta be or that man's gonna throw me out. how else am i gonna pay for your expensive ass drinks?"
"all that for a matcha with sweet cream cold foam," you squeeze his hand back in appreciation.
"yeah, well, don't wan' anyone else buyin' those for ya."
osamu's cute like this — nose all red from the cold, a wrinkle in his brow at the thought of someone else surprising you with your favorite drink every morning. atsumu thinks his brother has it bad for you ("down so fuckin' bad, dude," he'd say), and honestly, osamu agrees. he never thought he'd be excited to wake up at the crack of dawn to pick up your favorite coffee before your 8 am, or watch you get distracted by online shopping when you should've been doing your assignment. if love is seeing you at the end of each day, kissing your lips even when he's covered in condiments and oil, holding your backpack for you after a long day, then osamu wants it all.
because even when he should be worrying about the quiz he has tomorrow and the fact that he hasn't slept properly in the past four weeks, he starts to hum that familiar love song when you unlock the door to your apartment (it's become familiar to you, too, because that tune escapes his lips whenever you're by his side).
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reblogs n interactions are appreciated!
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