31_days | [6 Feb 2020] [Hypnosis Microphone] Rise

Title:Rise
Date/prompt: 6. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I'll rise.

Fandom: Hypnosis Microphone

Characters/pairing: Doppo, Hifumi

Rating/warnings: G. I own nothing. Also. I realize after some googling that it is highly improbable that latte art can be created in this manner. Apologies in advance.

Dusk fades to twilight. The screens glow in the darkness, illuminating a lone figure hacking away at the keyboard.

Save for the whirring of the harddisk and the occasional mouse click, the office is silent. With the airconditioning off, the air is close and still.

Doppo squints at the sales spreadsheet, lips moving silently as he runs the figures in his head.

Ah ha. I knew there was something off.

Looks like someone forgot to update the prices of the replacement parts.

He’s so engrossed in cross checking that he doesn’t even notice Hifumi’s approach until a steaming cup of coffee is set down beside him with a thunk.

The dark liquid in the mug glistens, promising another hour or two of jittery frenetic energy. Another hour or two of unpaid overtime before morning comes and the cycle repeats.

He feels the barely contained rage rising, tearing upwards through his chest...

“Ne. Doppo chin.”

“I know. I know. Why, am I bloody still in this shitty office fixing someone else's mistakes at this ungodly hour? Why don’t I just tell my shit supervisor that he can take all the sales reports and shove it up his…”

Hifumi waves a thermos. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted hot milk in your coffee. Cafe style?”

“Oh. That. Ok. Sorry.”

“No worries man. Luckily I brought the milk frother!”

While Hifumi babbles away in the background about how he’s always wanted to try this, and how the foam has to rise to the surface to create the pattern, Doppo turns back to the screen with a sigh.

“Even so, I will finish the job.”

He’s almost at the end of the spreadsheet before Hifumi finally hands him back the mug.

“Be careful. It’s quite full.”

Something in his best friend’s tone convinces him to look at the cup. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough.

“Aww. A heart? For me?”