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You drum your fingers on the counter, trying to chase away the boredom. It's past midnight, and the convenience store where you work is tucked away at the far end of a sleepy street. The odds of getting a customer now? Almost laughably low.
Your phone is calling to you from your pocket, tempting you to sneak a glance. But you pause, glancing up at the ever-watchful CCTV camera. Your boss had been adamant—"No phones during your shift! Keep your eyes peeled!" But with no one here and an hour left, you decide maybe just one little peek wouldn't hurt.
Just as your hand starts slipping into your pocket, the soft chime of the doorbell rings through the quiet. You jump, eyes wide. A customer at this hour?
Your gaze flicks to the door, and in walks a pink-haired man, his ponytail swaying with every step. He's wearing a black mask that covers the lower half of his face, but you can still hear the steady stream of colorful language escaping his mouth as he steps inside.
"Damn Cozy Corner. Stupid cake shop..."
Oh. You remember the 24-hour cake shop that shut down recently—Cozy Corner. He must've been a fan, poor guy.
You watch as he stomps toward the back, disappearing into the bakery section. From behind the shelves, you hear a gruff sound of dismay, and it makes you wince.
"The bakery stuff gets restocked in the morning," you call out helpfully, trying to spare him any more disappointment.
A pink head pops out from behind the aisle, his ponytail bouncing a little as he shoots you a sharp look. His piercing blue eyes narrow, and you can see the frown tugging between his eyebrows.
"Great, so no cheesecake for me?" His voice drips with disappointment.
You blink at him, feeling oddly defensive. "Well... we do have cheesecakes..." You gesture toward the dairy aisle and step out from behind the counter. As you walk over, you feel his gaze following you, and it makes you strangely aware of your every movement.
You grab the most expensive cheesecake from the cooler and offer it to him. "Here," you say, holding it out to him.
The brush of his fingers against yours is brief, but it makes you instinctively pull your hand back. He doesn't notice—too busy glaring at the package in his hand.
"This?" His voice is almost accusatory. "This is your idea of a cheesecake?"
You glance at the label, confused. "It says cheesecake right there..."
His eyes widen like you just insulted his intelligence. "You think I can't read?"
Your face flushes, mortified by how your comment came across. "No! I just—"
"Look." He steps closer, his height becoming much more apparent as he looms over you slightly. You suddenly notice how striking his eyes are up close—bright blue and full of frustration over... cheesecake.
"This ain't a cheesecake," he declares, his tone serious. "What you've handed me is a straight-up shit-cake. Look at it! It's dry. Crumbly. You can just tell it's gonna taste like cardboard."
You blink at him, and without warning, a giggle escapes your lips. The sound catches you off guard, and soon you're laughing—completely uncontrollably.
He stares at you, utterly bewildered. "What the hell are you laughing at?"
You double over, holding your stomach as tears prick at your eyes. "I'm sorry," you gasp between fits of laughter. "It's just—you're so serious about this cheesecake!"
His expression shifts from disbelief to downright offense. "How dare you! You think this is funny? I should just end you—"
You try to stifle another laugh, but it comes out as a snort, which only seems to make him more flustered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," you say, holding your hands up. "But it's not that bad, I promise! I've tried it before. It's actually pretty decent."
His skeptical gaze narrows. "You're lying."
Of course, you are. You haven't had cheesecake in ages. But there's no way you're going to back down now. You flash him a warm smile, one that you hope is reassuring.
"I'm not lying," you insist, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "Cross my heart. It's better than it looks."
For a moment, he just stares at you, those blue eyes searching your face like he's trying to figure you out. Then, with a soft huff, he finally looks away, grumbling something under his breath about "stupid cake shops."
But there's no malice in it anymore. You can tell, despite his tough exterior, that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to soften—over a cheesecake, of all things.
~ END ~
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Author's Note!
Hey, everyone!!! Thanks for reading this random Sanzu one-shot! This one's been sitting on my drafts for two years, and I finally got around to finishing it up :)
I've been out of my Tokyo Revengers phase for a while, but I wanted to dedicate this to my friends who stuck with me through my TR obsession back then. Special shoutout to VNSANJI4rkiveshanemiyaki — this one's for you (˶˃⤙˂˶) ⭑.ᐟ
Hope you enjoy this little throwback to the Bonten days :3
P/S: the art used doesn't belong to me; it's from Pinterest and uploaded by Du miên.
