Verse: 'Sugar'.

Kyoko was tired.

Fuck that, she was exhausted. She'd worked a late shift the night before waiting tables at the Steak and Grill—a casual-dining restaurant downtown—until half past eleven, then taken a cab home to her tiny apartment and crashed in her futon. Coupled with the fact that she'd had classes from eight in the morning to four in the evening, she was completely wrecked.

It wasn't like she had a choice. As a college student struggling to keep herself afloat amidst her crushing student loans and her monthly rent, she was forced to work her ass off through a variety of part-time jobs. Her estranged lawyer mother had cut her off once she'd graduated high school, so she'd been on her own ever since, and not just financially. She hadn't seen her mother in years.

The girl was currently lying with her head on one of the quilted maple tables inside Starbucks, the rich papery smell of her opened textbook up in her nose. As much as she wished she could sleep in today, her finals were approaching and she needed to study her text—Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream—extensively in preparation.

A library would usually be more preferable to Kyoko since she wouldn't have to buy an overpriced drink to stay there, but owing to the fact that her best friend Kanae worked as the barista in this Starbucks branch, drinks were usually on the latter. It was a reasonable exchange since it meant Kanae received her friend's company in the somewhat empty café most days. Not that Kanae would ever admit wanting Kyoko's company; all she'd said was that drinks were on her ("not the too expensive ones, mind you") and Kyoko could come if she wanted.

Fortunately for Kanae, Kyoko was good at reading between the lines.

Out of consideration for her friend, Kyoko always bought the cheapest items on the menu. It was peach green tea today, which she'd barely touched, choosing instead to doze on the table nearest to the counter and over her opened books. She heard the wind chimes tinkle, a sign that someone had entered the café, and she looked up blearily.

It was him.

'Him' referred to the same man that habitually visited this particular Starbucks branch once or twice a week, but not on any fixed days. His order was always the same, however: an iced Americano.

Kyoko could tell, as could Kanae whenever they privately discussed him, that he had money. He wasn't ostentatious, but the fine cut of his wool mix overcoat was telling, as was the Rolex around his wrist. He was also very attractive, with a full head of windswept dark hair and aristocratic, angular features that never failed to draw her attention: dark obsidian eyes, high cheekbones, a sensuous, thin-lipped mouth and a strikingly defined jawline.

Willing herself not to ogle the tall man as he approached the counter, Kyoko decided to go back to sleep. A few more minutes, she told herself, and she'd get back to reading A Midsummer Night's Dream.

It was, as far as she was concerned, her worst and best year in college so far. The books she was assigned to cover this year for her English Literature major appealed to her greatly, especially A Midsummer Night's Dream. Being able to study a book about actual living fairies, which was one of her favourite things in the world ever? There was nothing more magical to her about that.

But unfortunately, one of the restaurants she waited at had closed down, which indicated a significant loss of income for her already unstable financial situation. She needed to find another part-time job soon, but luck had been against her recently; she'd been late for two job interviews she'd had scheduled because her alarm hadn't gone off for the first one, and the bus she'd taken for the second had broken down midway through traffic.

Needless to say, Kyoko hadn't gotten either job.

Maybe she should consider being a stripper, she thought. The pay was pretty good. But she'd need to go on a diet that didn't involve mac and cheese for dinner almost every night if she wanted a banging body.

That sounded like more work than her job hunt, and besides, which lunatic would give up mac and cheese for a stupid flat stomach?

"Excuse me."

Startled out of her half-asleep stupor, Kyoko jumped up violently from her seat, dried drool on one side of her mouth and bits of her dyed copper hair stuck to her other cheek. She must look a sight, with her T-shirt wrinkled as hell—ironing was not on her priority list these days—and her short hair a mess.

"Cheese!" she blurted, still not fully awake yet.

There was a silence. Kyoko found herself staring at the black-haired man who stood by her table, dressed in a dark shirt under his overcoat and holding an iced Americano. He was gazing back at her, his onyx eyes slightly widened in surprise at her unexpected and forceful outburst. He also appeared, to her mortification, as if he was trying to fight back a small smile.

"S–Sorry," Kyoko said, her face burning by now. She was definitely fully awake at this point. "Please ignore what I said."

"No, I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said gently. "I just wanted to let you know your bag is getting wet."

"My—?" Kyoko directed her eyes to her backpack sitting beside her on a second chair. To her dismay, she spotted a prominent damp spot spreading on the grey polyester. As she watched, a single voluminous drop of water from the ceiling fell and landed right on top of the backpack.

Suppressing a curse, Kyoko rose and grabbed the chair her backpack was on and yanked it away from where the air-conditioning was leaking.

Then she stopped, and looked awkwardly back at the man.

"Um, th–thank you very much," she said, gracing him with a deep bow. "You're a very good person!"

She instantly cringed. She was a lot of things, but socially adept she was not.

"I don't really know about that, but thank you for saying so," he murmured, and there was no denying the smile in his rich baritone voice now, even if she didn't dare to look back up at him. "If you'll excuse me."

Kyoko straightened up slowly, watching abashedly as he departed in unhurried, long-legged strides. Kanae gave the male a slight polite bow from the cash register as he moved past her to the door of the café.

The wind chimes tinkled a final time, and then he was gone.

"You're a good person?" Kanae crackled the moment the door shut. "Are you for real?"

"Stop it, Moko-san!" Kyoko wailed. "You know how awkward I am around strangers!"

She groaned, sinking back heavily into her chair. She had enough on her plate already, and now there was the additional memory of how she'd made a fool of herself to add to it. Fortunately, the café was otherwise empty at the moment, which meant only Kanae and the mysterious male had witnessed her humiliation. Mustering all of her courage, the girl peered diffidently through the windows of the café.

The man had gotten gracefully into a sleek Bugatti parked by the curb, the driver's side of the door drawing closed.

"Wow," Kanae said approvingly, going over to where Kyoko was sitting and peering out the window as well. "Now that's a car I want to have."

"Can we just forget this ever happened and let me study in peace?" Kyoko sighed, going back to her books. Parts of the pages were stained by her drool, much to her chagrin.

"I don't know about you, but I study with my eyes open instead of them closed," Kanae drawled, gliding over to the cash register again. "And no, I can assure you I won't be forgetting what happened today." She snickered. "Cheese. What the hell was that?"

It was a good question, Kyoko lamented. She really needed to stop dozing in public if she wanted to quit making a spectacle of herself.

And yet something, she later realised, had changed that day.

When she arrived to the Starbucks café again three days later, she'd come across the man once more. She'd typically never spoken to the man prior to the day she'd embarrassed herself, and they had never in the past made eye contact either. He had always been someone she had shyly observed from the corner of her eye when he wasn't looking.

But when Kyoko saw him enter the café again, dressed in that expensive-looking wool mix overcoat and long dress pants, he had glanced carelessly across the place this time, only to meet her eye from where she sat by the table. And then, unexpectedly, after a pregnant heartbeat, he had smiled at her, a gesture that made her heart flip maniacally in her chest.

Rooted to the spot with her body as stiff as a board, she'd returned his warm, friendly smile with an awkward grin that probably made her resemble the Joker. She was sure it did, since his lips had risen further at whatever he'd seen on her face.

They hadn't exchanged words this time. He'd paid for his iced Americano, and then left, but not without another faint, lingering smile at Kyoko.

Kanae had had a field trip that day. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon cooing at a flushing Kyoko and telling her that she'd met her Prince Charming. Suffice to say, Kyoko had thrown almost all of her pens at the teasing cashier.

The copper-haired girl was contemplating never going to the Starbucks café again if it meant avoiding Kanae's teasing, but also, if she was being perfectly honest, because there was some truth to her friend's words. She might—might being the keyword—have a little crush on the enigmatic male.

Which was stupid, she knew. He was, as aforementioned, an absolute mystery to her. For starters, she didn't even know his name. His being attractive and the fact that his smile made her heart go berserk weren't enough basis to like someone. She generally wanted to get to know someone a little better before taking an interest in them.

But it wasn't as if Kyoko's heart had ever listened to logic.

The next time she saw him again, she'd been caught in the rain.

Kyoko had alighted at the bus stop and begun her ten minute walk to the café when the downpour had erupted from practically nowhere. One minute the golden sunlight had been beating down upon her from an open sky, and the next, a cluster of downcast clouds had gathered and a shower of cold rain had started falling. Cursing, Kyoko had taken off into a sprint, regretting that she hadn't brought her umbrella out. She'd been utterly deceived by the sunny weather when she'd left her apartment.

Clutching the opened Ziploc bag of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she'd been initially munching on to her chest, Kyoko had ran down the curb as fast as she could in spite of the relentless droplets of water pelting her face. There was unfortunately no shelter along the way since she was travelling by an open road. At least she'd kept her school books inside her backpack, so they should hopefully be safe for now.

By the time she'd ducked under the gigantic green umbrella directly outside Starbucks, she was drenched, her copper hair plastered to her face and her sodden hoodie jacket and jean skirt adhered to her slender, petite form. She stood huddled under the umbrella for a second, glad for a brief reprieve from the cold elements of the unforeseen shower.

Kyoko was peering down sadly at her soggy and ruined sandwich when the door to the café opened, and her very elegant mystery man stepped out in a black wool coat, his iced Americano in one slender, long-fingered hand. The rain landed on him for a brief second before he moved languorously under the shade.

He slowly arched a dark brow when he saw her.

Kyoko froze. She darted her eyes instinctively to her right, and noticed for the first time that the familiar sleek outline of a Bugatti was parked by the curb.

Then she looked back sheepishly at him.

Great. First she'd embarrassed herself that day, and now she looked like a drowned rat.

Kyoko had barely opened her mouth to speak when she broke into a violent sneeze.

"S–Sorry," she managed, rubbing her running nose with a damp hand, then stopped when he walked calmly up to her, reaching fluidly into the pocket of his trousers as he did so.

Kyoko blinked rapidly as he held out a single cotton handkerchief towards her. It was large and white and very dry.

"Oh, um," she stammered, not knowing whether she should take it. "It's–it's okay…"

The corners of his lips rose, and instead of insisting she take it, as she'd half-expected, he moved closer, setting down his drink on the table under the umbrella, and gently dabbed her wet forehead with it.

Kyoko went as still as stone. She was so stunned she didn't know to react. He merely continued dabbing her forehead, and then to the side of her left cheek, gently rubbing away the beads of rain coating her skin.

When his handkerchief caressed the side of her wet lips, however, she sprang into life, a flush suffusing her cheeks.

"It's okay, I can do the rest myself!" Kyoko insisted hoarsely, attempting to seize hold of the handkerchief and accidentally grazing his warm fingers in the process.

She squeaked loudly in response at the electrifying skin contact, leaping slightly back. He looked at her, his raised hand still holding his handkerchief, and this time, she saw him breaking into an amused smile at her dramatic reaction, his obsidian eyes soft and almost affectionate.

"Here," he said, placing the handkerchief onto the table, and then withdrawing his hand away from it. "You can come and take it now."

Kyoko was mortified.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, shuffling over to the table and picking up the slightly wet handkerchief. "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm very grateful…"

"Don't be," he murmured. "It's nothing."

"No," Kyoko disagreed, her face heated. "It's not nothing. I was rude, and I'm really sorry." She rubbed her other cheek tentatively with the large handkerchief. "Thank you for this, by the way…"

She noticed he was looking, however, at the Ziploc bag she held in her other hand.

"What is that?" he inquired bemusedly, cocking his head to one side.

"Oh." Kyoko dropped her gaze ruefully at the mushed remains of her sandwich. "That was my lunch. I guess I can't have it anymore."

There was another wordless pause. Kyoko thought she saw surprise flit through his gorgeous profile, followed by some other emotion she couldn't decipher, but it was gone before she could take a closer look. Now he just looked thoughtful.

"Anyway," she said quickly. "I should probably be getting in. I can get myself a chicken pie at Starbucks for lunch."

She was lying straight through her teeth. There was no way in hell she was wasting ten dollars on some overpriced chicken pie, no matter how good it might taste. Right now she was on a tight budget, which meant she refused to fork out anything beyond ten dollars for a meal. Heck, even anything above six was pushing it.

"You shouldn't," he said softly.

That caught Kyoko's attention. "What?'

"You shouldn't go into air-conditioning like this." Kyoko knew he was referring to her dripping frame. "You'll catch a cold."

"Oh." She fidgeted self-consciously. "That's true."

Much as she hated to admit it, she truly couldn't afford to fall sick now.

"Hmm…" he mused, glancing to a bistro beside the café. "That doesn't have air-conditioning. You could have your lunch there."

Kyoko's breath hitched. Have lunch as in… by herself? It sounded like he was implying she eat by herself.

Through the windows of the bistro she could see slow-moving ceiling fans inside. It was a lovely, fancy Western bistro that she'd noticed from time to time whenever she passed by into Starbucks. The problem was, all the establishments on this street were of a higher class, which meant the menu from the bistro would probably be a smidge out of her budget.

And by a smidge, she was guessing a lot. She could tell already from the scribbled words on the charcoal board outside the bistro, which was promoting the highlight of the day: a sirloin steak for thirty dollars. That was, she supposed, not expensive for good steak, but it was definitely way beyond her current budget.

"Um," Kyoko began. She had no clue if he was saying he would like to eat with her, or if he was simply suggesting that she dine there herself. It would be embarrassing if she assumed the former or asked him to clarify. "That's a good suggestion, actually. Maybe I'll go in and take a look at the menu. I mean, it'd be a total upgrade from my PBJ." She gave an unnaturally high-pitched laugh.

"It would." He glanced at the Ziploc bag in her hand, his slender fingers closing over it, then gently but firmly extracted the item from her grasp.

Kyoko could only stare mutely with sinking shock as he carelessly tossed the Ziploc bag into a bin right beside the table in a single fluid motion, having discarded it as if it was nothing more than a dirty tissue.

A part of her was tempted to admonish him for being surprisingly dictatorial, but he turned then and gave her a wide, almost angelic smile when she tried to speak. From the way his obsidian eyes twinkled at her beneath those long sooty lashes, she thought he looked quintessentially benevolent. She couldn't deny there was a sort of deceptively gentle beauty to him that made it hard to resist.

"Thank you…" Kyoko mumbled automatically, though she had no idea what she was thanking him for.

His sweet smile turned softer, into something less innocent, and more cryptic and thoughtful. She was even more taken aback when, in response, he smoothly removed his coat, revealing the loose turtleneck sweater he wore underneath.

"Wha—?" she started, and turned rigid again when she felt him drape the expensive blended wool over her head. Through the warm material, she could smell his scent: tantalising hints of cinnamon, whiskey, a decadent cologne she couldn't identify, and something else that she suspected was unique to him.

He was murmuring in her ear now, the cultured baritone barely audible through the din of the rain. And yet she felt the sound go right through her being.

"We'll need to get out under the umbrella for a minute to walk to the bistro. Is that all right?"

She struggled to rein in her blush.

"W–wait," Kyoko said, her face as red as a tomato. "You don't have to lend this to me. I can go by myself. It's okay. It'll only be a minute like you said."

She thought she heard him laugh, but it was hard to tell over the downpour and with the coat over her ears.

"May I know your name?"

Kyoko's pulse turned erratic. That wasn't what she'd been expecting him to respond with at all.

"Mogami Kyoko," she whispered.

"I see." She felt his arm move around her through the wool of the coat. "Shall we then, Mogami-san?"

But he was going to get wet! He didn't have anything to cover himself with!

She tried to argue, but it was too late. With a gentle push on her diminutive shoulders, she found herself being steered out from under the humongous umbrella and through the howl of the rain, all the while with him by her side. A torrent of icy droplets splattered her bare legs, but the heady warmth of his coat and his reassuring, hard arm around her shoulders were more than enough to anchor her through the discomfort.

And even then, Kyoko realised she still didn't know his name.

:tbc:

A/N: This is going to be a collection of various ongoing AUs, with the verse of this chapter being called 'Sugar', because—ahem—yes, this verse for now is a sugardaddy!AU. Please don't come at me if you hate this sort of trope. It's something I've read so much as of late and now I feel tempted to try my hand in it.

Thank you for reading!