When We Align

An etch

Drops of water cascade each strand of hair, while you stand outside in the quiet, and passive rain. A thorough chill spreads from the tips of your fingers to the nape of your neck, accumulating the most in the puddles on your shoulders as you wait for the cars to pass. None of this is apparent to you because all that matters is that you get to work on time. Testing your luck is a common occurrence, you go to sleep late watching TV, assured that You'll manage to wake up with enough time to get ready. Today was one of those days that reminded you luck isn't everything. With ten minutes left to spare, and an eight-minute walk you ran out the house with nothing but the bare necessities. Leading to where you are now, waiting for the damn white walk sign, sopping wet.

As if the gods above feel your misery, you see the light at the end of the tunnel-well down the street- and you speedily strut down the pathway. You are desperate and late but not desperate enough to run-not yet anyway. Maybe luck is everything because the owner's car isn't parked at the front, which means you'll avoid a write-up and a lecture. The familiar song of harmonious bells softly rings in your ears when you open the door to the coffee shop where you work. " Mimi's Mug" substitutes chairs for couches, plastic cups for colorful ceramic mugs, and overhead lighting for warm lamps. Hidden in between a global media enterprise skyscraper and an art museum, the coffee shop offers an escapist atmosphere and a decent paycheck.

  As much as balancing college and work sucks, being a manager of a shop has its perks when you get to choose which books sit on the bookshelves, what music plays on the speakers, and what candle scents rise in the air. Unfortunately, you cannot control which customers you want to serve. The owner is overly welcome in a capitalist way, so customers like Gojo Satoru come in and fuck up the vibes.

A couple hours into your shift, you check the clock with a sense of dread, knowing that at 6:00 pm on the dot he will stroll in through the door, and immediately tear down any sort of relaxation you had previously. Gojo Satoru is the final boss of your shift and every time you manage to lose when he appears, which is why you hired your best friend Itadori to fend him off while you do inventory. Except all of your luck must have run out with the owner not showing up today because Itadori called in sick. Which means you must face this bastard all alone. The warmth from the steaming latte that you give to a customer envelops your hands, grounding you, all is well until you feel a sting at the back of your head. A rush of chilly air sweeps the front of the shop, and you turn around to see exactly who you see every day.

" Why don't I get my coffee handed to me like that? The latte art is a nice touch and a smile from you wouldn't hurt. " Gojo says, paired with a click of his umbrella closing.

" I'll add latte art when you stop wearing sunglasses inside like you're a celebrity." You say, incapable of speaking to him without a bite to your tone. You'll smile when you want to smile.

All you hear is a laugh in response when you make your way through the maze of sofas and coffee tables, to the back, behind the counter. He joins you on the other side sitting on a stool, silently waiting for you to make his usual. He knows that you know what he wants every day, a caramel macchiato with the initials GS sitting in a mug Itadori bought for him specifically but you refuse to make it unless he asks. His scent overpowers the candles and all you can breathe in is him. Rose water and sandalwood, a stimulant that makes you too conscious of yourself in his presence. The air feels thick, it's as if he's inescapable. You don't know if you're overwhelmed by him, but you'll never say that out loud.
" So what do you want for today, Gojo? Other than to wreak havoc on my life."
Gojo leans in, head tilted forward-even when he's sitting he manages to tower you- " I want that stick pulled out of your ass and for you to get laid so I can have a pleasant evening while I drink my coffee. I don't mind helping you out with both of those things, you clearly need it. Coffee wise I'll stick to a caramel macchiato." When he's finished he leans back and lays his chin on his hand like he won like he looks down on you; well, he literally does when he's standing, he's 6 '4.
" I am so glad you think you're clever because someone has to. And for your information, life is more than just sex." I say. "Oh you poor thing, you've been having a dry spell, haven't you? That explains everything, I can refer you to a friend of mine if that makes you feel more comfortable." Gojo says.