One spin... two spins... three... damn, lost count again.
This damn fan spins too fast.
How boring.
The new editor is going to be a problem.
Thanks to him, now I'm stuck here.
What does he know about art, anyway?
The doorbell rang.
— Sensei? — I diverted my eyes from the ceiling fan and looked to where my assistant, Fujita, was working on the backgrounds for chapter 1.
He saw me lying in the middle of the room, my yellow nightgown crumpled, distorting the print of a duckling drawn by myself.
The black circles around my eyes must have given away that I would NOT be getting up from there, because he sighed and got up to answer it. I heard the formal greetings and then that skinny figure walking in.
— I imagine you don't have the drafts I asked for yet. — He said, lifting his leg to step over a pile of teddy bears in the middle of the way.
He crouched down beside me, looking at me and waiting for an answer.
— Thanks to you, no. — My voice came out hoarse. — I think I need...
Before I finished thinking, he pulled a bottle from the bag he brought with him. He unscrewed it and I stretched my neck, making a pout. Carefully, he let the water trickle slowly while I drank it.
— You said you didn't have my chapter, and that it was my fault... why do you think that?
— That new character is stupid — I said upon finishing drinking. — There's no way to fit her into the story.
— Evelyn? I said you didn't need to use her if you didn't want to.
I reached out my hand and he helped me sit up.
— Well, I want to use her.
— Why?
He looked at me with that dead-fish stare, but for some reason, I wanted to impress that idiot with the unshaven beard and cheap thrift store coat.
— Because you said it would be good for the story.
— And you accepted? What an honor.
He stretched out his arm and reached over to grab one of the pages scattered around me.
Coffee. Why did he smell like coffee?
A coffee would be nice right now.
He looked at the page for a while and then scanned the surroundings and grabbed two more, and then two more. That coffee smell was making me hungry.
He sat on the floor beside me and started examining that trash I had discarded.
— Hey, this page is actually after the...
I widened my eyes. I snatched the pile of papers from his hand and started looking closely. A simple swap of order and... I got up running, taking the sheets back to my desk.
The problem wasn't Evelyn, it was how to introduce her. Instead of making her appear immediately, I didn't need to show her face, I needed to...
...
The last three hours flew by. Ideas flowed from my brain to my pencil.
When I finished, I handed the stack of papers to him and threw myself onto the sofa beside him while he read, rubbing his eyes between one pair of pages and another.
His expression was unreadable.
— Hmm.
Hmm?! After all that effort, is that all he had to say?!
— That's it. Good job, Hana.
Ah. Now a reaction. Kind of emotionless, but at least it was something.
My stomach growled.
He looked at me and grabbed the bag he had brought again, and pulled out a can of iced coffee, a melon bread, and a tray of sakura mochis.
— I imagined you would do something stupid like pulling an all-nighter drawing without eating anything. — He said, extending the snack towards me.
I accepted. There was no point in refusing out of politeness since I really was starving. I bit into it and took a long gulp of the coffee.
— It's not quite the same smell... — I murmured looking at him without realizing.
— It's what?
— The smell of this coffee, it's not the same as your clothes, chief.
— Ah, of course not, I accidentally spilled the coffee I made this morning on myself... And don't call me chief, call me Ryuuji.
— I see... — I looked at my can of iced coffee, terribly disappointing.
— Well, I'll be back at the end of the week, Hana-sensei.
He stood up, preparing to leave.
— Ryuuji, could you... — I hesitated. I usually don't hesitate, but for some reason, it was hard to ask him for what I wanted. — Could you make coffee?
He looked at me, surprised. Seconds later he smiled.
— Did you like the smell that much?
I nodded positively.
— I don't blame you, Brazilian coffee is another level of aroma. Wait a bit, I'll be right back.
I agreed and he left.
It took a long hour, but he returned, now with a backpack on his back and light sweat shining on his forehead.
— All done. — He said when I opened the door and let him in.
He put the backpack on the counter and started taking out a package of coffee, a type of funnel, and some more materials.
— My grandfather taught me to make coffee like this, drip brewed, as is the standard in Brazil.
I got closer, curious.
— And will it smell as good as your coat?
— Better.
This guy can only be messing with me, better? It couldn't be true.
He assembled the set, placed the paper filter in the funnel and the funnel fitted over a glass carafe.
Then, he put a few spoons of the coffee powder in the filter. Just him opening that magic package filled my apartment with that delicious aroma.
But then he unscrewed the lid of a thermos bottle and the magic happened for real.
As he let the water flow slowly, the drops of that dark reddish color, like burnt sugar, fell filling the carafe below...
I can only describe it as an explosion.
The aroma intensified, two, three times stronger.
Even Fujita stopped his work to see what was happening.
— Whoa, looks like the smell of Café Paulista! — he said, excited.
— Well, it's the same type of coffee, and of the same quality.
It was impossible to take my eyes off him.
Ryuuji poured the water slowly into the filter, holding the handle of the thermos with only three fingers: the thumb, the ring finger, and the middle finger.
It looked like he was making little horns with his fingers.
It was strangely cute and very specific.
— So, the next arc is the Prince's, right?
I looked at him, waking from the trance.
— Yeah, but I haven't started planning it in such detail yet.
— Well, it is quite early. But I wanted to ask something.
— Go ahead. — I went back to looking at the flow of water.
— I like the idea of him, but I got a bit confused with the motivation. Why does he do all that?
— Because he's a jerk. Nothing too deep in his case, just a pure and genuine selfish prick full of himself.
— Hmm. I think that works, but I'll only approve if you convince me, okay?
— Sure, I'll deliver a memorable arc.
The water finished flowing and he turned to me.
When he spun around to face me, I realized how close I was to him. I took a step back and leaned against the cupboard.
He smiled and pointed to the glass carafe.
— Ready?
I nodded, enthusiastic about the idea.
He looked around and saw my mug in the sink. He washed and dried it and then, holding the carafe in that peculiar way, served me.
The smell was melting.
I took the mug and blew, taking a tiny sip from the edge where it cooled first.
— Sensei, wait, I think you won't like it... — Fujita's warning came too late.
— Yeah, that's the face I expected — said Ryuuji, referring to the grimace of extreme disgust I made when I tasted that abyssal bitterness.
— How can something so fragrant taste so much like death?!
Ryuuji laughed, a loose laugh, different from the contained and polite laughs he usually let out.
— Here, I needed to try, but I already suspected it wouldn't work for you this way.
He gently took the mug from my hand, put two spoons of sugar in it, and started stirring.
— For us who like it, the sweet ruins it, but it's okay to want your coffee sweeter.
He gave it back to me and I looked suspiciously. I looked at Fujita who was shaking his head negatively.
I took the sugar from Ryuuji's hand and put two more spoons just to be sure.
Ah. Now the taste matched the aroma.
I sat on one of the kitchen chairs and closed my eyes, partly to enjoy the sensations that magic drink provided, partly to avoid the completely horrified looks of Ryuuji and Fujita.
— I should have guessed. — Said Ryuuji's voice. — Well, I remember my cousin in Brazil did the same thing. But anyway, I'm glad you liked it.
I definitely liked it.
Ryuuji served a second mug for Fujita, who accepted and went back to the office with a satisfied smile on his face.
Ryuuji sat on a chair on the other side of the counter, facing me, with a mug for himself. Without sugar, obviously.
I watched as he closed his eyes and savored every sip.
I drank another sip and then another.
I looked from my mug to the crushed iced coffee can in the kitchen trash.
Before, coffee was for me a type of fuel, just something necessary to keep me awake during the all-nighters needed to meet deadlines.
This was... different.
I wanted to drink that coffee whenever I could.
— It's like a hug, right? — Ryuuji spoke.
I looked at him, confused.
— My grandfather used to say that a good coffee is like a hug.
I looked at the mug, thoughtful.
— You could give me a hug like this every day... — I murmured very quietly, with the mug at my mouth and head down.
— What?
— I said your coffee is really very good.