The eraser sat on the corner table like an accusation. White, pristine, the expensive kind that didn't leave smudges. Of course Sota would use quality supplies.
I'd found it while setting up Friday morning, tucked beside the napkin dispenser where he always sat. My first instinct was to toss it in the lost and found box. My second was to pocket it.
I did neither, leaving it exactly where it lay.
"You're staring at that table again," Yoshimura observed, appearing with his usual ghost-like timing.
"Just checking if it needs cleaning."
"Hmm." He adjusted his glasses. "That young man seemed troubled yesterday."
"Lots of customers seem troubled. It's a coffee shop."
"True. Though not all of them leave such expensive art supplies behind." He moved toward the kitchen. "Perhaps he'll return for it."
Perhaps. The word sat heavy in my chest as I went through opening procedures. Every time the bell chimed before noon, my heart did something stupid, only to settle when it wasn't him.
(Mini Timeskip...)
"Iws that an eraser?"
I spun to find Yoriko examining my school bag during lunch. The eraser had somehow migrated there, tucked in the front pocket where I could see it.
"Lost and found from the shop," I said, too quickly.
"Uh-huh. And you're personally delivering lost items now?" She picked it up, examining it. "This is a Tombow Mono. Definitively art student quality. Pretty expensive..."
"So?"
"So... I know exactly one art student who goes to your shop." Her eyes narrowed. "He came back yesterday, didn't he?"
"Lots of people came—"
"Touka." She grabbed my hands, eraser between us. "What are you doing? You like him. He obviously likes you too. Why are you sabotaging this?"
"I'm not sabotaging anything. I'm being realistic."
"About what? What terrible secret could possibly—" She stopped, studying my face. "Is this about your family? Are they really that strict?"
I let her assume that, safer than telling her the truth. "It's complicated."
"You keep saying that." She pressed the eraser back into my hands. "Complicated this, complicated that, but you kept this. That means something."
"It means I have to return lost property."
"Then return it. Talk to him. Stop this weird self-punishing thing you're doing."
The afternoon shift started with my stomach in knots. Every time I passed the corner table, the empty space where the eraser had been seemed to mock me. I'd moved it. Taken something of his. Now I had to face the consequences.
3:15 came and went.
3:30.
Maybe he'd decided to stay away after yesterday's awkwardness. Maybe—
The bell chimed.
He looked tired, shadows under his eyes like he hadn't slept well. His gaze went immediately to the corner table, then to me.
"Hey," he said carefully. "I think I left something yesterday."
"An eraser." I pulled it from my apron pocket, where it had migrated from my bag. "White Tombow Mono."
"You kept it."
"It's expensive. Figured you'd want it back." I held it out, careful to keep distance between us.
He stepped closer to take it, and for a moment we stood there, eraser between us like Yoriko's hands at lunch. His fingers brushed mine as he accepted it, and neither of us pulled away immediately.
"Thanks," he said softly. "For keeping it safe."
"Just doing my job."
"Right. Your job." He pocketed the eraser but didn't move away. "Touka, I—"
"Coffee?" I interrupted. "Since you're here?"
He studied my face, and I could see him making a choice. "Yeah. Coffee would be good."
I escaped to prepare it, hands shaking slightly. When I turned back, he'd moved to the counter instead of his corner table, claiming one of the bar stools.
"Trying something different?" I asked, setting his cup down.
"Figured the corner table might need a break from me." He wrapped his hands around the cup. "Don't want to wear out my welcome."
"You're not—" I stopped, realizing what I'd been about to say. "Customers are always welcome."
"But I'm just a customer now?"
The question hung between us. I could say yes, establish that boundary firmly. Instead, what came out was: "I don't know what you are."
"I could just be Sota," he offered. "Guy who likes coffee and draws things. Friend who texts about vegetables."
"Is that what we were? Friends?"
"I thought we were becoming that. Maybe more." He looked down at his coffee. "Before I apparently screwed it up."
"You didn't—"
"You said that yesterday. But something changed on Sunday, and I can't fix what I don't understand."
Yoshimura chose that moment to emerge from the back. "Touka-chan, why don't you take your break? I can manage the counter."
"Manager, I—"
"Fifteen minutes. The afternoon rush won't start for a while." His gentle smile brooked no argument. "Perhaps Sota-kun could use some help with his art studies."
It was the least subtle manipulation I'd ever seen, but Sota was already standing.
"I could use a second opinion on composition," he said carefully. "If you have time."
I looked between them—Yoshimura's encouraging expression, Sota's hopeful wariness. My walls, so carefully constructed since Sunday, began to crack.
"Fifteen minutes," I said sighing.
We ended up at his corner table after all, him pulling out his sketchbook while I sat across from him. The distance felt safer than the counter's proximity.
"So what composition—" I started.
"I missed this," he said quietly, not opening the sketchbook. "Coming here. Talking to you. Even telling you about my vegetable updates."
"Yeah?" A small smile appeared. "No charcoal?"
"Yeah. I just used medium heat like you taught me." He paused for a moment before continuing "You're a good teacher"
"Thanks."
We sat in almost-comfortable silence. Around us, the coffee shop breathed its usual rhythm—soft music, espresso machine hissing, quiet conversations. Normal. Peaceful. Everything I was putting at risk by letting him close.
"I can't explain," I said suddenly. "Why I pulled away. But it wasn't you."
"Okay."
"That's it? Okay?"
He shrugged. "You said it's complicated. Family stuff, personal things, whatever it is—I can respect that. But..." He finally opened the sketchbook, revealing drawings of the coffee shop. All recent, all missing something. "This place doesn't feel right without you."
"... And you really came back for an eraser?"
"I really came back hoping the eraser would be an excuse." He looked up, meeting my eyes. "Was it not one?"
My break was almost over. I could retreat back to safety, maintain the distance that protected us both. Or...
"Next time maybe bring your textbook," I said, standing. "So Manager's cover story actually works."
"Next time?"
"You're still a paying customer. Still behind on Renaissance essays, probably."
"Definitely behind." Hope crept into his expression. "Tuesday? After my morning classes?"
"I work the afternoon shift."
"Then Tuesday afternoon."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Back at the counter, I caught Yoshimura's approving look and I busied myself with unnecessary cleaning.
Sota stayed another hour, actually sketching this time. When he left, he paused at the door.
"Hey, Touka? We're okay, right? Even if it's complicated?"
"Yeah," I said, meaning it despite everything. "We're okay."
After he left, I found myself touching the pocket where the eraser had been. Such a small thing to build a bridge with. But maybe that's how connections worked—small things adding up until letting go became harder than holding on.
My phone buzzed. A message from Sota: Thanks for keeping my eraser safe. See you Tuesday.
I stared at it for a long moment before typing back: Try not to forget anything else. I'm running out of pockets.
I'll do my best. But no promises.
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. This was still dangerous, still should be impossible. But Tuesday felt very far away, and I was already looking forward to it.
Maybe Yomo was wrong. Maybe this path led somewhere neither of us expected.
Or maybe I was just too weak to stay away from someone who made me want to be human.
Either way, Tuesday would come, and with it, whatever happened next.