⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⡰⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⣾⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣷⣿⡽⣯⢿⣾⣯⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⢿⣻⣿⢾⣳⣯⣟⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠞⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⡿⣽⣾⣟⣯⣷⣟⣿⣾⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠊⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⣿⣷⣿⡟⣷⣯⣿⣷⡟⣯⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⢀⢤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⢿⣻⣷⢿⣻⣽⣻⢷⣻⣽⣻⣟⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣿⣯⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣻⡷⣿⣻⣽⣯⣷⢿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣽⣾⣿⢯⣿⡿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣻⡿⣽⣻⢷⣯⢿⣻⣽⡿⣿⣞⣿⡷⣿⣻⣿⣽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⠟⠁⣿⣷⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⣷⣻⣯⣟⣿⢾⣟⣯⢿⠃⠹⣏⣿⡽⣿⣽⣯⣿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⣾⣃⣀⣀⣸⣿⣾⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⡾⣽⣻⢾⡽⡿⠤⠤⢽⣾⣽⣳⢿⣾⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣟⣿⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⡾⣽⢾⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣯⢿⡾⣿⣻⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣽⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡽⣟⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡾⡵⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠻⢿⣿⢿⣽⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠘⠊⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣛⣷⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣼⠙⣿⣜⡿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⡄⢸⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠏⠀⢸⣿⣿⣹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⣾⡇⠈⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⣸⠟⠉⠻⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⡿⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⣿⣫⢿⣧⠀⠀⠈⠓⠦⠤⠤⠴⠛⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣻⣧⢿⡿⣄⠀⢀⠆⡴⢀⡖⣢⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡾⣝⡿⣻⣿⣿⠿⣦⣀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣯⣳⠤⠜⠡⠚⠰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠈⠻⣧⢟⣧⢻⡽⣦⡀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣿⣼⣻⡳⣭⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡓⢓⡶⣶⡶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠒⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣹⣎⢯⣞⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡼⣹⣭⡛⠙⢻⣼⡛⣆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣟⣿⣮⣽⣿⣿⠃⠒⢺⣿⣿⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣃⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣄⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣻⣿⢻⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣻⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀
⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⠟⠛⢉⣠⣂⣜⡻⣭⡛⠻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡙⠛⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⠟⣯⠤⣀⣀⣀⠉⠛⢿⣽⣳⢯⡟⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀
⠀⣾⣟⠻⣿⣟⣿⡿⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⢆⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣠⢟⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⢹⣿⣫⣞⠟⣹⣿⣿⡀
⢰⣿⣿⣧⡈⢻⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠁⢹⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠴⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡞⡿⠟⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣧
⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣲⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠛⠿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡷⢿⡀⠉⠛⠿⠿⠋⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣍⣻⡿⠿⣿⣟⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠏⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⡞⠁⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠙⢧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

When Cafe and Tachyon are left alone, there tends to be a buzz in the air. Whether it was from the semi-functioning air conditioner in the corner or the white noise twitching in her ear, it was the only thing keeping them sitting in complete silence.

For once, the computer screen was shut off, with the nearby surroundings free from towers worth of notes– and with that is a new pile formed on the coffee table instead. Tachyon wasn’t on her usual side of the room, opting to sit a cushion away from Cafe instead.

She wasn’t even taking a mere glance at the papers, or focusing on how much sugar she was scooping into her cup. Eyes drawn to the obvious, the bitterness of her lips, a thick taste of fine coffee.

What she saw was a Cafe with ears flat to her head, hiding the slightest blush that appeared on her face. Of course, nothing of that sort goes past Tachyon’s radar- it’s an immediate realization. “Ahh, Cafe!” She breaks the silence, following with a quick snicker. “Is that a blush I see? And to think we only kissed for a few spare seconds!”

“Do not.” Cafe lifts the cup to her lips, then pausing as the realization sinks in once again.

Today was meant to be a change of pace on Tachyon’s part, simply completing her regular research in a different area of the same room. It was because she read an article on the differing mentalities in changed environments, and to an extent, she did prove that article to be accurate.

Something that may have changed the results a bit more intensely was that she was with Cafe, that’s two different components altered in her study. If she were to include the emotional additions, then that’d be three.

The kiss was in the moment, but the grin on Tachyon’s face was nothing less of purely calculated. “Would you let me kiss you again?” She says, partially in a tease.

Her reaction is immediate, shooting a glare at Tachyon that would usually kill. To no avail, Tachyon actually loves that look on her. “I would.” She mutters. “Maybe with a warning next time, I can still taste your candy on my tongue.”

“Got it.” Tachyon places a spoon beside her cup, promptly leaning back onto the couch. She’s a whole half-cushion off from her spot, leaning further to Cafe’s unestablished side. The only thing Cafe could mutter out was a quick ah as Tachyon draws close. “So, could I kiss you again?”

Still in a daze, it only becomes deeper when they lock visions, Cafe simply offers a nod as she sinks further into the feeling of Tachyon’s fingers to her cheek. Her head tilts back as they kiss once more, melting the flavors of their coffee and tea into one until it neutralizes into a more tolerable taste- settled between the softness of their touch.

That would be their second kiss.

Tachyon’s hair is soft in Cafe’s fingers.

With gentle breaths colliding through the air, she indulges in the peaceful for as long as she could. Twirling her hands through the thickness of Tachyon’s brown hair, she idly sits with numb legs and an absentminded collection of thoughts. Today, the patterns were hazy, an empty afternoon in a dorm room that wasn’t even her own.

Honestly, Cafe doesn’t even recall the timeline that brought them to this position, or how Tachyon even managed to convince her to be here in the first place– sitting in the corner of Tachyon’s bed, practically putting her whole weight onto that girl all while holding onto her waist.

If she did remember, then it probably wouldn’t have helped her case anyway. Tachyon’s grip was strong, latching tightly onto Cafe as if she were to sneak away otherwise.

Looking at her direction, all she saw was a girl with relaxed ears tilted downward, a tail softly swaying against the thick blanket. The most calm that Tachyon has ever been since the day they met up to now, like she were to be a newly reformed individual from the hour they had become something more to this very second.

Tachyon had been weird from the start, Cafe knows that for a fact, but it's the normalcy- the sappiness of her actions that makes her weirder. A weirdo in love- not that she could really comment on it either, she was the other weirdo who agreed to this.

“You’re more soft than I previously thought.” She comments with the voice of a whisper, still gentle with her strokes in the biggest twist of irony.

Neither of them were really the affectionate types. Cafe had always been more reserved when it came to direct touch, and Tachyon never seemed to be the type to even brush the back of someone’s hand. It was something that she assumed they had agreed on, well, up until the past few weeks.

She figured the change was inevitable when they began dating, but to see Tachyon unbothered by even the most intentional collision of Cafe’s fingers to her ears, it was staggering.

With a faint exhale, Tachyon digs her head further into Cafe’s chest. “Do you hate it?” She asks, in a tone that says she may already know the answer. “I could only assume you don’t, since you haven’t given any objections thus far.”

And, of course she knew. She read Cafe like an open book, meanwhile Cafe was still trying to catch up with the new chapters of Tachyon’s mind. Agnes Tachyon, the direct individual who makes unclear actions when too deep into a cloudy daze, who has her heart set on the prominent tasks at hand and yet functions like a needy puppy when she collapses into Cafe’s touch.

Then, there was Cafe herself, who didn’t once protest against the waves of affection that her girlfriend offered- though it was less of an offer and more of a silent plea, it still applies here. It still made the both of them weird and a little pathetic, it still wasn’t anything like her, it was still an embrace she wanted to keep.

“I have none.” She murmurs, falling back into silence as quickly as it had stopped.

“This is embarrassing.” Cafe mutters under her breath, far too aware of how close she was to Tachyon. Empty distance, filled by the air and gentle cues of classical music.

Tachyon laughs, clutching tighter onto Cafe’s wrist as she makes a careful turn. “We just need to perfect this last part.” She insists.

It was incredibly out of routine, standing in the center of the classroom. Spare boxes were pushed into a pile at the other corner, making room for the makeshift dance floor that Tachyon set up last second.

She hadn’t even mentioned what this sudden request was for, or why they had to start practicing now rather than later. And in all honesty, Cafe doesn’t know why she keeps agreeing to Tachyon’s unsolicited antics every damn time– especially at a time so late, especially when the request involves dancing to a song she had never heard, never danced to.

It plays a gentle piano. Playing at a low volume in the earbuds that they both wore. The wire kept them close together, creating a background wariness of their every movement and sudden twirl.

Not that it was their first time dancing, both of them had gotten tons of practice in preparation for their winning concerts, performative dancing was practically a secondary necessity to running. Only that, this wasn’t remotely close to that style of dance, and they were clung so together that it couldn’t possibly be for the viewers.

Cafe’s right foot presses down to the floor, Tachyon’s foot mirrors that movement parallel. Her hand is placed at the back of Tachyon’s head, at the same time that her hand reaches Cafe’s waist.

Every light squeeze is a signal, their surrounding space buzzes within every pause of a repeating melody.
Source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72116016