#brotp: hardworking comets

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Spilled Coffee [Whumptober 2019 - Day 10: Unconscious]

Summary: Anzu's evening gets turned upside down when someone familiar passes out right in front of her.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars (coffeeshop/college AU) Relationships: platonic Anzu & Mao friendship, implied pre-rel Anzu/Hokuto

Wordcount: 1,374 words

Content Warnings: None.

Notes: Finally catching up on my lateness with an Enstars fic! It's a missing scene from my only other Enstars fic at the moment, Nurse Café. It's a Hokuto-centric HokuAn sickfic in case you've *somehow* not heard of it while lurking around their tag lol (and it's like 4-chapter-long, albeit said chapters are short). I'm afraid I did write this story with the idea that the reader would have read Nurse Café first, or at least its first chapter, as it provides the context and implied conversations taking place here between Anzu and Hokuto. Anyway. I'm not sure of how much I've actually filled the "Unconscious" prompt, but do I ever properly fulfill a prompt, especially for challenges like this? Technically someone's unconscious here, so that has to make up for it, right? Riiiight? Also how do you write Mao? I feel like I've gotten him very, very wrong in this story lol. It's my first time actually writing him, though, so there's that I guess. woops.

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

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It had been a normal evening shift at the coffeeshop. The regulars had bought their usual drink, some new faces discovered the shop, some people changed from their habits, others continued discovering the other drinks they had never dipped a tongue into. Things were calm, almost soothingly so, making for a comfortable after-class shift where she had managed to squeeze in some college work too. Reading a book between clients was a way to both earn some precious money and advance in her school business.

Alas, Anzu hadn’t gotten to closing the shop yet when things drastically changed.

 The atmosphere until then had been of a cosy coffeeshop right before closure. The radio played softly the latest hit songs in the background, all chairs were empty and having been cleaned, her workmate had left already because his shift was ending before hers. Anzu had always appreciated this specific mood the shop could slip into once the sun was setting down, cleaning her counter before closing for the night. She had ten minutes left before shutting the lights off, a time that seemed very short compared to the rest of the day…

…and yet that had left the time for an unusual client to come in.

 The bells ringing surprised her out of her cleaning affairs, making her rise her head to the doorway, only for her to notice the client was already right in front of her face. Her eyes then directly met with a long-time friend, perhaps someone that was just a bit more than that: second-year literature major Hokuto, whom she could swear she had never seen even looking through her shop’s windows. It was odd for someone like him, who usually prided himself in his stricter living style compared to their friend group (Subaru being his favourite person to tease), taught to him by his grandmother, to step into her shop at such an hour of the night, at almost eleven o’clock.

The state his face was in didn’t ring any better bell. She had almost not been able to recognize him: a low and raspy voice, fluttering eyelids, glassy eyes with deep dark bags under them, swaying on his feet and words half-making sense. Clearly, this man needs a good night of sleep; and yet he orders an espresso of all things. If not having seem him for almost two weeks wasn’t rising enough red flags, then seeing him this obviously sleep-deprived could only have made her worry even further.

 Still, here, Anzu wasn’t Hokuto’s friend: she was an employee, a seller, a barista. She served him his cup, let him sit wherever he wanted, got his money. The full price wasn’t there: in fact, there was a chunk of the cost that he’d have usually noticed was missing. Still, she decided to brush it aside: it was the end of the day and some leftover coffee, it wasn’t a big deal, she’d pay the rest herself with some tip money. She could at least do that for him.

As she finished cleaning the counter, she noticed eleven was very near. Closing hour was coming next and she absolutely had to lock the door, prompting her to walk up to and inform him of the situation. He barely lifted his head from the hand barely holding it up. Concern and curiosity mixed together and, unable to help herself, Anzu put a careful hand on his forehead. He didn’t flinch, nearly didn’t blink, almost relishing in her palm; it felt like putting her hand on a stove that hadn’t fully gone cold yet.

She didn’t like it in the slightest.

 What followed was a confusing mess. As if he had regained back the energy he missed, Hokuto jerked away and gulped his cup in a couple swallows, most likely parching his throat in burning coffee, before trying to get up, giving her nonsensical mumbles. Despite the signs she had noticed that kept piling up, she got astonished to see his body pitch forward, his eyes rolling in the back of his skull, without a word more comprehensible than a grunt. Her arms almost failed catching him in his fall, nearly sending him crashing onto the floor; instead, she managed to put him softly to the ground, using her lap as a pillow for his head before she had taken off her apron to do so.

Okay, now that she had an unconscious friend and a shop to close on her hands, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t leave either of them like that, so she ran to get her phone from her purse, until she spotted something, or rather someone, interesting in the corner of her eye through the main window: Mao, a common friend of them. Anzu immediately began waving her arms in his direction, trying to get his attention.

 To her relief, her friend immediately got the signal, running to her shop with a smile until it disappeared from his face as soon as he realized what was happening.

“W-wait…” He told her, face twisting in disbelief. “Is that really…?”

“Yeah…” She quickly replied before kneeling back.

“Quick question: how did you end up with a knocked-out Hokuto in your shop?”

“I… don’t really know. He stumbled here and ordered an espresso, but when I went to tell him I needed to close the shop, he got to his feet and fainted right here and there. All I know is that he looks severely sleep-deprived and that he’s running hot.”

Mao peered from above, crouching next to her, putting his own hand to make sure.

“Ah, yeah, I confirm, he’s burning up,” he shook his hand almost as soon as he had put it on their friend’s forehead. “He’s wasted for sure. How the hell did that even happen… I wouldn’t be surprised if that was me, but Hokuto? That’s a whole other puzzle!”

 Anzu didn’t take her eyes off the unconscious boy in front of her, instead mechanically brushing his bangs from his forehead. Her fingers were wet from the gesture, but her brain was blanking out from how weird the situation was and how worried she was getting.

“Should we call an ambulance?” She eventually mused out loud.

“Honestly? I’d have if it wasn’t Hokuto we’re talking about. If we do, his parents will know about it, and his grandma too, and he’ll scold us for having indirectly told his parents…” A nervous giggle. “What I’m trying to say is that, if you ask me, Hokuto is the kind of person who doesn’t like suddenly waking up in the hospital with four people looking over him.”

She hummed as a reply.

“Still, I wouldn’t let him alone in his place either. If he’s passed out right here and there, he probably can’t even stand properly, so taking care of himself is out of the question until he’s slept for something like three days. How the hell did that happen…”

“Then, let’s bring him to my place.”

 Mao froze for a solid thirty seconds.

“…huh?”

“Don’t you usually bring Ritsu to your place whenever he falls asleep in public?”

“I do, but we’re childhood friends, that’s not the same thing!” His face suddenly brightened up. “Heh, if you see it that way, I suppose it’s not too bad. I’d even say Hokuto would like waking up at your place!”

“What do you mean by that?” Her face felt a bit warmer, weird.

“Ah, nothing,” his smile was kind of going against that statement. “Let’s bring this guy to your flat then. Help me get him on my back so you can close the shop.”

“Got it,” she said as she rose to her feet, doing as she was tasked to do, and recovering both her apron and the keys inside its pocket.

 A couple minutes later, Anzu had left the shop in its optimal closing state: all clean, lights switched off, door locked behind her. Once that was said and done, glancing at both of her friends, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Mao.”

“You’re welcome! Now, that was nothing, let’s get him home, shall we?”

Glancing one last time at the unconscious Hokuto propped on Mao’s back, she nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go.”