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There isn’t much that Taerae likes about summer. He hates how sticky the air always feels, the sound of bugs in trees that seem to thrive in the humidity, and how he needs to practically triple up his already impeccable sunscreen routine in order to combat the summer sunlight.
One thing he does like, however, is having his favorite kid in the world on summer break, which means Taerae can babysit her a lot more than usual.
He might be the last single, childless member of their friend group, but in exchange, he gets to borrow his friend’s kid for the day and then give her back to deal with the sugar crashes. It’s a pretty sweet deal, especially when the kid in question is Choonhee.
“I’ve decided I’m going to be a new person when the new school year starts,” Choonhee announces to him as they walk hand in hand in the direction of the new bakery in her neighborhood that she’s been begging Taerae to check out with her. Taerae huffs a soft laugh out of his nose, glancing down at her, because she’s eight years old and already having an academic crisis.
“Is that so? Who do you think you’ll be?” Choonhee is smart beyond her years, and though she’s not biologically either of her fathers’ child, she still looks so much like both Ricky and Gyuvin sometimes that Taerae could be fooled into believing otherwise.
“I just think a lot of kids at my school have bad priorities.”
Taerae hums seriously, holding onto her tiny hand as they approach a crosswalk, even if both of them have sweaty palms from the summer heat. “I see, so you’ve started to clock the bad crowd. What priorities do you want to have instead?”
“University.”
Taerae raises his eyebrows, softening a little at that. He doesn’t really step into the role of offering Choonhee advice often, preferring to leave that up to her actual parents. His job is to keep her in one piece until her parents are both home from work, no more and no less. But hearing her concerned about university at the age of eight makes him reach over with his free hand to give one of her pigtail braids a soft tug.
“You’re too young to worry about that.”
“That’s not what my teacher always says.”
“Your teacher sounds boring.”
Choonhee gasps, loud and affronted. “You can’t say that about teachers!”
“Why not? They’re not my teacher.”
The light signals for them to cross, and Choonhee’s grip on his hand tightens a little as they start across, expression contemplative.
“Okay, maybe I can still have some fun at school.”
Taerae grins in response, giving her little arm a soft shake, which makes her roll her eyes at him, but he can tell she’s amused. “That’s the spirit. Let’s wait until you’re at least ten before we start worrying about entrance exams.”
Once they’re across the street, Taerae half-listens to a story Choonhee has launched into about a kid who bothers her at recess, gasping and responding whenever appropriate while he reflects on the fact that the peak of his social life is the time he spends with an eight year old.
He knows his friends worry about him, and he wants it to be unwarranted, but truthfully, he can’t say he blames them for wanting him to get out more. Taerae’s job is remote, which keeps him inside most of the day, and when it doesn’t, he’s gotten a bit too into the habit of staying home anyway. He doesn’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with being a homebody, but Gyuvin had certainly had a point the last time they’d hung out.
“ You can’t only leave your house to babysit my kid, Taerae .”
Well, he definitely could. It was more like maybe he should do that less. And that’s tomorrow’s goal, maybe, because today he’s being tugged by a suddenly enthusiastic Choonhee to the entrance of the bakery he’s been hearing about for weeks. It makes him feel fond. She’s always been a bit of an old soul, which is probably why they get along so well, but he likes it when she acts like a kid.
“Appa said I can have one pastry,” Choonhee tells him as they step inside, and Taerae blinks to adjust his eyes from the glaring sunlight outside and let the air conditioning wash over him.
“How many did Bàba say you could have?” Taerae asks, still blinking a little, regretting that he’d forgotten sunglasses.
“One.”
“Okay, so both of them said one, that means you can have two. Math.”
Taerae’s eyes have finally adjusted and he can take in the bakery as Choonhee tugs him towards the rather long line. He can see instantly why she’d been itching to come here.
The whole place feels a bit like stepping into something out of a fairytale character’s greenhouse. There are so many plants, so many flowers, that only the fluorescent lights and tables scattered throughout remind him that he’s actually inside. There’s a little area in the corner clearly meant for kids to play, including a wooden swing hanging from the ceiling, and he feels Choonhee’s hand twitch in his when her eyes land on it as well.
“Let’s get what you want to eat, and then you can play for a bit while I have a coffee.” Choonhee nods, knowing he’ll take at least thirty minutes to drink his coffee, giving her plenty of time to play before they head out.
The way the line works its way to the register has the two of them passing in front of the pastry case, and if the interior hadn’t been intriguing enough on its own, the baked goods on display would make Taerae understand why this place is so popular so suddenly.
Everything in the case is a work of art: flaky pastries shaped like baskets that hold the freshest looking fruit he’s ever seen, intricately decorated cupcakes with what he’s pretty sure is edible gold shaved on top, and cake pops made to look like flowers. He’d be a monster to make Choonhee only pick one.
The back of the display case opens to be refilled as both Taerae and Choonhee are staring inside, and Taerae looks up out of habit, eyes landing on the face of the person refilling the pastry case.
It’s the most beautiful face he’s ever seen, and it startles him so badly that Taerae backs up from the pastry case as if it’s burned him, promptly knocking over the rope divider that forms the queue for the register. The clang it sends across the peaceful bakery is so loud that everyone turns to look at him, including the beautiful man hunched over the pastry case, now peering at Taerae over the top with concern in his eyes.
“Choonhee, I need you to kill me,” he says as he closes his eyes for a moment, willing whatever hell this is to pass quickly.
“I’m telling Appa you said that.”
“Great, he can kill me instead.”
Make no mistake, Taerae isn’t lacking confidence in any sense of the word. He knows he’s beautiful and handsome and all good things, that he takes care of himself, and he’s never felt uncomfortable in his own skin. The idea of anyone being out of his league is one that he doesn’t subscribe to, thinking he deserves anyone he may want.
The thing about this guy, however, is that he’s probably out of the entire world’s league. Taerae isn’t fully convinced he’s human, and the whimsical vibes of the bakery are kind of messing with his mind a little when combined with the ethereal beauty of this guy.
Said guy is staring at Taerae with a gaze that’s more intense than he really knows what to do with, and he looks away, cheeks burning impossibly hot as he stoops to put the rope for the queue back in order, missing the way Choonhee’s eyes flick between him and the man behind the counter with intrigue.
When Taerae straightens back up, everyone has returned to their conversations, and the pastry case guy is back to refilling, no longer staring at Taerae, which kind of just feels like an invitation for Taerae to stare at him instead.
The sharp jawline would be enough to send Taerae into an internal gay panic, but combined with visibly strong arms from the tray of pastries he’s balancing, dark hair pushed off his forehead perfectly, and sharp, pretty eyes? Taerae might fall over again.
Choonhee tugging at his hand forces him to stop staring, and he looks down at her, met with an unimpressed look. “It’s our turn, oppa.”
“Right, sorry, yup,” Taerae sputters out, letting her tug him forward as he realizes he’s been holding up the line.
“Sorry about him,” Choonhee says to the cashier, whose nametag declares him as Matthew. “He’s useless and gay.”
Taerae’s jaw drops while the cashier very respectfully tries (and fails) to fight back a smile. “Choonhee, who the hell taught you that?”
“Bàba said it about you.”
“Perfect. I’m going to kill your bàba, then your appa will kill me, and everyone will be happy.”
“Did you know what you wanted to order?” the cashier cuts in, sparing Taerae from getting further roasted by an eight year old. He has half a mind to deny her, but half of her precociousness comes from the way he teases her in return, so he supposes now he knows he’s created a monster.
“Just a coffee for me, and whatever two pastries she wants,” Taerae answers, cheeks still flushed from his embarrassment, and he’s making a concerted effort not to look at the pastry case again. He can see in his peripheral that the guy stocking the case is still there.
“The tulip cake pop and the strawberry croissant basket please,” Choonhee says, and Taerae can tell how much the cashier melts at how cute she is, because she is good and kind and sweet to everyone but him.
“You don’t want anything?” the cashier, Matthew, asks Taerae, and Taerae scoffs at the implications behind his tone, hardly able to believe that even this stranger can tell he’s having an internal crisis.
Almost against his will, Taerae’s eyes drift back over to the case, just in time for the man to finish stocking and turn to return to the back of the store, giving Taerae an excellent view of his slim but built figure, and—okay, his ass is also fat. That’s great. It’s all really great.
“No, that’s all, please. Maybe to go?” Taerae says, hoping to never come back here ever again as he pulls out his wallet.
“No!” Choonhee whines. “I want to eat it here, you said I could play on the swing!”
“I said that before I made a fool of myself,” Taerae hisses to Choonhee under his breath, but she’s unmoved, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You can’t break promises, oppa.”
Taerae sighs, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling in the hopes that maybe it will open up and swallow him whole, but he relents, handing his card over to Matthew who finishes ringing them up. “Fine. Go play now while I wait for everything.”
The play area is just in his line of sight, so Taerae can watch Choonhee while he waits for Matthew to pour his coffee and get Choonhee’s pastries.
“She’s cute,” Matthew tells him as he boxes up both desserts, and Taerae is inclined to agree, even though Choonhee also humbles him on a somewhat daily basis. “Does she like baking or art?”
It seems like a random question, but Taerae supposes in this bakery, whose walls are covered with art, it’s a fair enough assumption. “She’s a bit more logical than creative,” he says, tone implying he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that. “But she’s got a sweet tooth and she’ll sit for arts and crafts if her bàba asks her to.”
Matthew nods, humming to himself as if in thought as he puts the pastries and Taerae’s coffee onto a tray for him. Once Taerae has paid and he’s put his wallet away, Matthew reaches under the register to pull out a flier, which he passes to Taerae.
“We’re hosting something new in the evenings, it starts tomorrow,” Matthew explains to him as Taerae reads over the flier, where bright colors and letters advertise a weekly class for kids to try out decorating pastries and cookies. “It’s free, and the kids can take whatever they decorate home with them. We’ll just be using whatever leftover dough and batters we have from baking throughout the day. It’s just something to get kids trying a new skill while they’re on break.”
Taerae is realizing belatedly that Choonhee is being mistaken as his child, but he doesn’t say anything to correct Matthew, instead already planning to throw this flier away because Choonhee much prefers to spend her evenings curled up in an armchair with a book like a little old woman.
“Our head pastry artist, Jiwoong, will be leading the classes,” Matthew adds when Taerae doesn’t say anything, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen. “If that matters to you.”
Taerae’s ears burn with embarrassment at the reminder that the entire establishment just witnessed him lose control over all his limbs because he made eye contact with a pretty guy, whose name is apparently Jiwoong. It does matter to him, unfortunately, and as he takes his tray from Matthew with a mumbled thanks, he turns to find Choonhee, happily waiting for him at a table near the play area.
The fate of whether or not he gets to be around the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life rests in the hands of an eight year old who measures her self worth on how many books she reads in a month.
His life is so sad.
“Thank you,” she says brightly as he sits across from her, setting the tray down. She notices the flier in his hand immediately and reaches out for it. Taerae doesn’t hand it over at first. “What’s that?”
Taerae can’t really think of a way to bring this up without losing any shred of dignity he has left, and then he realizes it’s probably already gone, considering he’s in his thirties and worried about whether or not an eight year old will judge him.
Oh well.
“They have a pastry decorating class tomorrow for kids. Is that something you’d be interested in?”
Taerae finally lets Choonhee have the flier, and he watches her eyes narrow as she slowly reads all the details. She’s absolutely not going to make this easy for him.
“Do you want to go so you can flirt with that baker guy?”
Taerae takes an extremely long sip of his coffee to put off answering, but he knows she doesn’t actually need an answer, since apparently her dads are talking about his pathetic love life in front of her.
“Whether or not I successfully flirt is up in the air, but… yes, him being there is the appealing part.”
Choonhee really makes him wait then, taking a bite out of her cake pop and chewing thoughtfully while she stares him down. Taerae makes himself hold eye contact.
“If I go, you have to get me a new book for every class we go to,” Choonhee decides, nodding with finality, and she looks like a tiny businesswoman.
“I’m being asked to bribe an eight year old.”
“I’m being used by a thirty-one year old to hit on a baker.”
Fair enough.
“Alright, you’ve got a deal. We can stop at the bookstore when I take you home.”
Looking far too pleased with herself, Choonhee finishes her pastries, and Jiwoong the Baker doesn’t come out from the back again. Taerae can’t tell if he’s grateful or disappointed.
Taerae isn’t really the type to look someone up on social media. He likes to think that he is well adjusted, can ignore burning curiosity, and is just overall completely normal and not chronically online at all.
Whether or not he’s had a reason to look a guy up on social media recently is beside the point.
Taerae finds the bakery on Instagram first, scrolling through the various photos of their pastries or whatever specialty latte they’re advertising each week, pausing if any catch his eye, but mostly working his way towards the bottom in hopes he’ll find exactly what he’s looking for: a photo of the staff on opening day.
Jiwoong stands out immediately, forgoing a smile to instead smolder at the camera in a way that makes Taerae’s palms sweat a little, and he loses his grip on his phone, dropping it on his face.
“Ow,” Taerae says pathetically to his empty bedroom, and he rolls onto his side to prop his phone up on his pillow because dropping his phone on his face is not enough of a deterrent to stop looking up Jiwoong.
Unfortunately, the baker doesn’t seem to have much of an online presence.
Jiwoong is tagged in the staff photo but his personal Instagram account is bare, only a blurry selfie as the profile picture and no posts. There are a few things in the tagged photos, but it seems like most of Jiwoong’s friends have private accounts.
Taerae searches the same username—which is just Jiwoong’s full government name, which really fits the whole chronically offline thing the guy has going on—on Twitter and finds a profile with no profile picture, four followers, and a singular tweet that’s him recommending a song to who he’s assuming is the Matthew from the bakery.
Taerae attempts to click it, but Jiwoong must not have copied it properly because it goes nowhere. So after approximately thirty minutes of scrolling, he’s learned absolutely nothing about the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life, which means he’s going to have to do things the old-fashioned way: learn about them himself, by having a conversation with him.
Horrifying.
( “I’m not sure I should encourage you using my kid to go make googly eyes at someone you’re probably going to be too scared to talk to anyway,” Ricky had said when Taerae dropped Choonhee off.
“Your kid is an extortionist in the making; you should worry about that instead.”
Choonhee had simply smiled at them both. )
Before he can sink any lower and start trying to find Jiwoong by internet stalking his coworkers, Taerae locks his phone and sets it on his nightstand, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling and wait to fall asleep.
The baking class is tomorrow, and all he can think about in the privacy of his head where nobody can judge him, is that he’s so beyond cooked.
“Your hand is really sweaty, oppa,” Choonhee tells him as he walks her to the bakery again, her nose wrinkled in distaste.
“It’s the middle of summer, Choonhee.”
“Then why are you wearing a cardigan?”
Well, Taerae supposes she’s got him there. He doesn’t want to be the type of person who starts doubting his fashion choices because of an eight year old, but unfortunately, the rest of his social circle involves Ricky, who would have put him in a button-down and tie for this, or Gyuvin, who has started wearing his ugly dad shirts unironically.
Now, as they approach the bakery, Taerae takes in the sight of parents arriving with their kids and how many of them are dressed casually, and he feels a little ridiculous, even more so than he already does for dragging Choonhee to this when he’s not even sure he’ll feel brave enough to interact with Jiwoong.
Choonhee either senses his anxiety or is just logical enough to understand why they’re standing outside instead of going in, and she says, “Do you have a shirt on under that cardigan?”
Taerae looks at her. “Of course I do. Why?”
“Which one?”
“It’s just a plain black t-shirt…?”
Choonhee nods. “Okay, so just wear that.”
Taerae thinks that’s quite easy for her to say, considering he spent exactly an hour and twenty-three minutes in front of his mirror agonizing over what to wear, only to now be told by a child to throw the whole look away. But he listens anyway, shedding the cardigan and stuffing it into her little backpack, which she’s kind enough to not complain about.
Choonhee is never kind for long.
“Now you don’t look like you’re going to church,” she says brightly. Taerae just sighs at her.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
Taerae had almost been expecting chaos going inside, considering the whole event is planned for children, but instead it’s rather serene, the regular cafe tables arranged in the middle instead like little work stations for kids and their parents to pick one. There aren’t any desserts out yet from what he can see, but there are piping bags of frosting and, upon closer inspection as he and Choonhee pick a table, edible ink markers.
“Are you also here because of how hot the baker is?” a woman at the table next to them says into his ear, making Taerae jump.
“Um?” he replies.
Taerae is spared from having to pretend that’s a conversation he actually wants to have by the kitchen doors opening and two figures coming out, presumably to start the class. One is Matthew, the cashier from the day before, and the other is Jiwoong, and Taerae is reminded once more of how beautiful this man is.
Taerae is half listening as the two of them start to introduce the class, talking about how they’ll be learning how to pipe frosting flowers and decorate their own iced sugar cookies, Matthew distributing both to the tables as they talk. He’s more focused on the way Choonhee looks remarkably bored beside him, tiny fingers tapping against the table.
“We can leave if you want,” he whispers to her, starting to feel a little bad. “I know you don’t really want to be here all that much.” Or at all, probably.
Choonhee shakes her head, the look on her face thoroughly unimpressed. “Appa said I was potentially saving you from a life of loneliness, and he also said I could keep all the snacks.”
Taerae huffs out a breath, leaning back in his seat. “Never mind. You’re stuck here now.”
Choonhee doesn’t get a chance to argue because now that they’ve spent the entire opening speech and instructions bickering with each other, Jiwoong and Matthew are wandering around the tables to help people. Taerae’s eyes follow Jiwoong’s path more than a little shamelessly. He stops at a table, leaning over to help them with a piping bag, and when he straightens back up, his eyes land on Taerae.
And he smiles.
Jiwoong’s smile is so distracting that it takes Taerae several moments to process that 1. Jiwoong is looking at him and 2. Jiwoong is actively walking over to their table. He immediately breaks eye contact to make some sort of poor attempt to look busy, before realizing that he actually has no idea what they’re supposed to be working on at the moment, and as a result when Jiwoong makes it to their table, Taerae is sitting with a piping bag in his hands while Choonhee uses the edible markers to draw stick figures on a cookie.
“Do you need help?” Jiwoong asks, pulling out the chair beside Taerae and sitting down before waiting for an answer.
“Yes, please,” Choonhee says at the exact moment Taerae says “No, I think we’ve got it,” and the two of them stare each other down for a long moment, while Jiwoong simply observes, very politely not laughing at Taerae’s flushed cheeks and obvious fumbling.
Fine. The eight year old can have this round.
“Yes, I do,” Taerae manages, even bravely making eye contact with Jiwoong. His gaze is so intense that it feels like an exercise in courage, and he figures he may as well soldier through even further. “To be perfectly honest, she’s only here for me, so she probably just wants to keep drawing on cookies all night.”
Jiwoong’s perfectly groomed eyebrows lift at that, turning to Choonhee for confirmation, who just shrugs at him and says, “Oppa thinks you’re pretty.”
The statement makes Taerae gasp, hands instinctively clenching nervously, and bright pink frosting shoots out of the tip of the piping bag he’d forgotten he was holding, coating the cupcake in front of him and bits of the table as well.
“Uh. Sorry, I’ll clean that up,” Taerae says weakly, with the actual intention of pretending to go get some paper towels and then simply walk away and never come back here again, but he’s not even entirely sure that Jiwoong has realized he’s made a mess in the first place.
“Oppa, instead of Appa?” Jiwoong asks, eyes moving from Choonhee to Taerae, who realizes he’s still holding the half-empty piping bag and sets it down quickly.
“What? Oh! Yes, Choonhee isn’t my daughter, she’s—”
“My Appa and Bàba are his only friends,” Choonhee cuts in with a nod, reaching forward to scoop some of the frosting off the table with her finger and pop it into her mouth, which Taerae should probably stop her from doing. But the whole conversation feels so out of his control at this point that the lack of sanitary knowledge happening in front of him feels pretty minuscule.
Jiwoong looks thoughtful at this new information, once Taerae has the courage to look back at him, deciding that no matter what, Choonhee will not be getting a book for this class. He’s decided their contract is null and void immediately due to her inability to ever let him have a moment of peace.
“Knowing she’s not your daughter has me a little more hopeful that you’re single,” Jiwoong says, rather suddenly.
What.
“What?” Taerae asks, a little too loudly because there’s a sort of roaring in his ears as the thought of this man being curious about his relationship status washes over him, and the woman who’d spoken to him earlier looks over in curiosity. He would blush if he hadn’t already been beet red for the last twenty minutes.
“Are you? Single?” Jiwoong clarifies. “I tried to find you on socials to figure it out, but I’m not really great with social media.”
“What?” Taerae says again. “Did you just admit to attempting to look me up online?”
Jiwoong shrugs. “Yes. Is that weird?”
Taerae looks to Choonhee, who’s watching this whole exchange in obvious fascination, digging into her half-decorated cookie. She just shrugs at him. “Oppa probably tried to look you up, too,” she says to Jiwoong brightly.
He literally can not take her anywhere. Taerae actually might have to stop offering his babysitting services because Gyuvin and Ricky are raising the spawn of Satan.
Miraculously, finding out Jiwoong had been just as interested as him, however, melts away a lot of the anxiety Taerae had been feeling, the same way the frosting he’d spilled is starting to melt into the table. There’s something comforting in knowing that the gorgeous man who had made him forget how to act like a human being was going through something similar, and apparently had no shame in admitting it either.
Taerae realizes Jiwoong is still waiting for an answer, and he’s relieved when his own voice comes out clear, even more relieved that he’s able to maintain eye contact this time.
“Yes, I’m single. And I have no kids, I just borrow this one because I enjoy suffering.”
Choonhee isn’t even offended; she just giggles. “Can I go play? Now that I don’t have to pretend?”
Taerae is relieved she’s asked, and he waves her away, the girl already pulling a book out of her backpack to go read to herself by the swing she’d liked so much the day before, leaving him alone with Jiwoong.
Jiwoong looks delighted by this development, and Taerae smiles shyly, ducking his head, before lifting it, brows furrowing as a realization dawns on him.
“Wait, how did you even try to look me up? You don’t know my name.”
Jiwoong looks sheepish at that, and Taerae is worried he’s about to learn the hot baker is kind of a creep and he’d found his name from shady circumstances, but Jiwoong says, “I didn’t get very far because I immediately had that realization. I just tried some common names and hoped for the best.”
Not a creep, just kind of clueless. Taerae can work with that.
“My name is Taerae.”
Jiwoong blinks. “Oh, that’s not common at all. I wasn’t anywhere close.”
Taerae can’t help but smile at that, finding Jiwoong’s complete lack of shame and understanding of technology to be quite endearing. It makes him feel a little more approachable, and of course, the knowledge that he was interested in Taerae in return didn’t hurt at all.
“Were you hoping I’d come to this?” Taerae can’t help but ask. He’s feeling significantly less embarrassed by his reaction to Jiwoong the day before because it seems like he’s left a good impression anyway. Anyone would take interest from a man who looks like Jiwoong as an ego boost, and he does so happily.
“Matthew mentioned you’d be coming, yes,” Jiwoong says, rubbing at the back of his neck shyly, before suddenly seeming to remember where they were. “Did you want to learn anything by the way? Since I’m ignoring everyone else to talk to you instead, I’m happy to teach you.”
Honestly, Taerae’s desire to come out of this knowing how to make flowers out of frosting had been riding very close to zero, but he’s interested in what Jiwoong is passionate about, and he likes the easy excuse to continue hogging his attention.
The issue at hand, however—
“I got my frosting all over the table.”
Jiwoong blinks, looking down as if he’s only just noticing. “Oh. Right. Well… we could draw on the cookies instead?”
He sounds so hopeful that it’s honestly really cute. Now that Taerae is looking at Jiwoong up close, he’s seeing that beyond the striking features, there’s a cuteness to him he hadn’t noticed when he’d been sneaking glances through the glass of the pastry case the day before. His eyes are wide and pretty, lips pouty.
“Sure. I’d love to draw on the cookies.”
Jiwoong looks genuinely delighted, and Taerae senses that any remaining intimidation he had from the baker's stunning appearance vanishes entirely, replaced by the brightness of his smile. He’d absolutely failed in trying to stalk Taerae on social media, had no qualms in admitting it, and his smile turned his sharp features into something soft and warm. In short: Taerae is pretty sure Jiwoong is just a hot loser who loves his job, and he can work with that.
“How about you draw something for me and I’ll do the same for you?” Jiwoong suggests, already pulling a sugar cookie towards himself, passing it to Taerae.
Taerae scoffs at that, giving him an unimpressed look. “You’re a professional baker and you want me to decorate a cookie as well as you can?”
“Oh, I’m not a baker.”
Taerae blinks at him.
“What?”
Jiwoong blinks back.
“I can’t bake at all, Matthew does all the baking. I just make everything look pretty.”
Taerae is still absorbing that information, so Jiwoong continues. “There’s a lot of measuring in baking, and I don’t really like to measure or anything.”
“A lot of measuring?” Taerae says, bursting into laughter loudly and suddenly, to the point the weird lady at the table next to them looks at him. “Isn’t the whole point measuring?”
Jiwoong shrugs. “I don’t subscribe to that philosophy. I’m a great cook though. Oh! You should let me cook for you. We could cook together, actually.”
That makes sense to Taerae, since Jiwoong apparently doesn’t believe in measuring spoons as a philosophical concept, but before he can open his mouth to respond, the woman at the table next to them is leaning in to address Jiwoong directly.
“Do you also teach cooking classes? Are there sign-ups?”
Jiwoong looks at her as if he’s only just now realizing he’s meant to be teaching a class in the bakery he owns.
“No… I’m asking him on a date.”
“You are?!” both Taerae and the woman ask at the same time, and Taerae stares at her. “Do…. you mind?” he says, and she finally turns away, blushing furiously. Taerae turns back to Jiwoong.
“You’re asking me on a date?”
Jiwoong nods, passing Taerae the cookie that he’s evidently been decorating this entire time (when the hell was he working on that?!), now covered in hand drawn flowers in soft purples and blues. It’s beautiful, but he’s not sure how he’s meant to eat it. “I am asking you on a date, yes. Let me cook for you.”
Jiwoong sounds so hopeful, as if he thinks there’s a possibility Taerae might say no, and it makes Taerae feel a little powerful. An ethereal being cosplaying as a loser human man is nervous about whether or not Taerae will want to go on a date with him. What a day.
“I’d like that.”
Both of them are smiling when Choonhee reappears at the table, plopping her book down in front of Taerae. “I finished it. Can we leave and go get another one?”
Taerae’s gotten what he came here for, against all odds, so he nods, reaching over to ruffle her hair affectionately. “Sure, kiddo. Just one more second.”
Struck with an idea, Taerae grabs one of the edible markers and the cookie he’d been meant to be decorating and writes his phone number on it, passing it to Jiwoong who looks like he’s been handed the world’s greatest treasure when he processes what it is.
“Just text me the details,” Taerae says, sounding quite smooth in stark comparison to the way it feels like the butterflies in his stomach are all fighting to escape at once. “I’ll be there. Whenever or wherever, really. Yeah.” So much for that.
Jiwoong only manages a wave as a disgruntled looking Matthew approaches, clearly sick of not having help with teaching, and Taerae takes that as their cue to leave, taking Choonhee’s hand in his to walk to the door.
“You actually talked to him?” Choonhee asks, and Taerae nods. “Appa will owe Bàba money. He didn’t think you would.”
Taerae should be offended that his two best friends are using their daughter as a moderator for a gambling ring about his love life, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when his free hand is holding onto a cookie decorated with a garden that a beautiful man had drawn just for him.
“I am literally begging you to focus and help me pick an outfit,” Taerae whines on FaceTime to Ricky the day before his date with Jiwoong. They’ve cycled through approximately ten outfits, and Ricky is clearly getting bored, making heart eyes with Gyuvin behind the camera instead.
“I told you I liked outfit number three,” Ricky says, pulling his gaze back to Taerae as if it’s a huge effort. Taerae actually hates people in love, especially gay ones, he’s decided right this second.
“I don’t know… what if he hates that color?”
“Then take it off in front of him and save both of you a few steps, Taerae. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Taerae groans, flopping backwards onto his bed, looking a bit of a mess in sweatpants and a nice sweater, which he knows was a ridiculous option to pull out in the middle of summer anyway. “Can you put Choonhee on instead? She’d be more helpful.”
Ricky scoffs. “I let her dress herself today, and she tied a onesie around her waist like a belt.”
“Yeah, but she’s nicer.”
“She is not nice to you at all.”
“I know,” Taerae cries in despair, covering his face with his arm. “Everyone in my life is a bully and wants to see me fail.”
Ricky doesn’t acknowledge his dramatics in the slightest. “Just wear something you feel comfortable in, Taerae. You already caused a scene in this man’s bakery, and he’s still drooling over you. What could you possibly do wrong?”
Taerae lowers his arm, because he supposes that’s true. “He’s really gorgeous, Ricky. I don’t think you understand.”
Ricky just shrugs. “Okay, so are you, first of all, don’t piss me off. Second of all, from what Choonhee told me, he’s also a giant loser. Hot losers are a blast, and you shouldn’t be intimidated by them.”
Taerae can’t even care that Ricky’s eight year old daughter is so deep in his business that Ricky knows so much without Taerae even getting to tell him, not when Ricky’s words are actually comforting him. He sighs, feeling the tension and anxiety ease out of him, making the conscious decision to stop overthinking. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”
“I know I am. Stop spiraling, let a hot guy cook you a nice meal, and then kiss him silly if you’re feeling generous. And don’t call me again until you’ve accomplished all of that.”
The video call ends there, and Taerae lets his phone flop onto the bed.
“I can do this,” Taerae says to himself. “I am appealing and beautiful, and Jiwoong is lucky I’m giving him the time of day.”
Taerae just hopes Jiwoong is thinking the same thing.
Taerae drives to the bakery this time, where Jiwoong has decided they’ll have their date. It’s a good thing he does because he still manages to spend every last possible second before he has to leave agonizing over what to wear. He also doesn’t want to show up sweating from the oppressive summer heat.
Taerae distracts himself from his nerves by categorizing all the things he knows about Jiwoong so far into one neat little impression of the artist-not-baker in his head. He’s been so distracted by how surreal it feels to have not only met someone so spontaneously, but said someone having interest in him as well, that Taerae actually hasn’t given much thought to all the things he’s learned so far.
Jiwoong isn’t really a technology guy; that much was clear when he went hunting for any sort of social media presence, and Jiwoong’s own admittance that he had no clue how to find Taerae online. Taerae doesn’t assume that’s from any level of incompetence, but rather just that Jiwoong is probably one of the rare people who has yet to succumb to being chronically online. That’s attractive to Taerae, considering his own chronically online behavior.
Jiwoong is an artist, not a baker. Taerae still hadn’t eaten the cookie that had been decorated for him like a gift, even though he knew it would taste great, thanks to Matthew and not Jiwoong. He just can’t bring himself to get rid of the artwork that was created specifically for him.
As Taerae finally pulls up to the bakery, he can’t say that thinking about Jiwoong and what he knows about the other man so far has actually done much to settle the nerves in the pit of his stomach, but he doesn’t feel worse. At least he doesn’t until he’s parked and out of his car and walking to the front door of the bakery. Every time he enters this building, Taerae causes some sort of disaster with his clumsiness, and he’s a little determined to not spill anything or knock anything over this time.
The door doesn’t fall off its hinges as Taerae opens it and enters the bakery, so that’s a good start.
It’s the quietest things have been since Choonhee first insisted they come here in the first place, the overhead fluorescent lights turned off, and only the warm light from the reading lamps scattered around the various seating areas left on. The kitchen door behind the counter is propped open, and the small gate that blocks off the counter area from the customers is also left open, like Taerae’s being invited to let himself in. He can hear music drifting softly from the open kitchen door, and he forces himself to have the confidence to essentially let himself in, walking behind the counter and stepping into the kitchen.
Jiwoong notices him right away, straightening up from where he’d been hunched over a pot on the burner of one of multiple ovens in the sleek kitchen. His face lights up, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead that Taerae feels a bit breathless at the sight of.
“Hi! I’m glad you made it. Can you come taste this?” Jiwoong says, waving Taerae over.
Taerae takes several mental steps to figure out what this is referring to until he realizes Jiwoong is working on stirring a sauce for whatever meal he’s prepared for them.
“Just so I know if I need to start from scratch if you hate it.”
“You wouldn’t have to do that,” Taerae says with a laugh as he crosses the distance between them until he’s standing side-by-side with Jiwoong, who holds a spoon out for Taerae to taste the sauce, hand underneath as if to catch any spills. Ordinarily, Taerae might think this was just some sort of move, a pretense to get them from the now until the later, but there’s so much sincerity in Jiwoong’s eyes as Taerae leans in to taste the sauce that it’s obvious Jiwoong is just genuinely concerned about whether or not Taerae will like it.
And Taerae definitely likes it, eyes going wide as all sorts of flavors that his admittedly unsophisticated palette can’t even begin to fully identify.
It also burns his tongue immediately, it burns his throat all the way down, and Taerae coughs a bit violently as it feels like lava works its way into his stomach. It’s delicious, and he’s probably going to die from boiling from the inside out.
“That’s—” Taerae tries to start speaking, but instead just coughs, and Jiwoong takes pity on him by immediately fetching him a glass of water. Taerae downs it instantly, and when it no longer feels like he’s going to cough up magma, he finds Jiwoong looking at him sheepishly.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned it would be quite hot.”
Taerae coughs one more time, just to be safe. “It’s okay. The steam rising off it should’ve been a clue.” Now that he no longer feels like his tongue is being boiled, Taerae remembers he’s meant to be telling Jiwoong if he likes the sauce. “It’s delicious, by the way.”
Jiwoong lights up in a way that’s more like candlelight than the sudden switch of a lightbulb, eyes creasing and smile widening in a way that’s slow, like he’s letting the compliment wash over him. It’s honestly really endearing. Jiwoong is attractive in a way that feels a bit inaccessible, like he’s untouchable, but he keeps doing things that make Taerae feel at ease around him.
Until Taerae does something embarrassing again, but hopefully he’s gotten it out of his system for the night.
“So how did you get into cooking?” Taerae asks as he watches Jiwoong go back to working at the stove. It looks like he’s making them chicken, prepared in a style that’s unfamiliar to Taerae, but if the sauce is any indicator, he knows it will be great. “Or… better question, how did you get into baking when you don’t even like baking?”
“I wouldn’t say I dislike baking,” Jiwoong starts, but the look on Taerae’s face seems to make him laugh, and he redirects his sentence. “I’m not patient enough for it. I went to culinary school and not even the best chefs in the world could save my baking. I met Matthew though, and once he graduated with honors and I graduated by the skin of my teeth, the idea of working together came to us.”
“Where did you go to culinary school?” Taerae asks, feeling a bit useless as Jiwoong fiddles around with all sorts of things on the stove, peeking into the oven, and he wonders if he should offer to help.
“Paris.”
“Oh.” Taerae is back to feeling intimidated again. It’s sort of like he experiences memory loss when he unlocks some new piece of lore about Jiwoong, like finding out the older man has done cool things erases how down to earth he presumably is. It’s probably a little unfair to Jiwoong, and definitely very unfair to himself. “I’ve never been to Paris before.”
Jiwoong hums at that, seemingly satisfied with whatever else has been cooking on the stove as he clicks off a burner. “Have you ever wanted to go to Paris before?”
“Well,” Taerae considers that. He’s a homebody, by all means, but he also doesn’t mind going out. He just supposes that in the last stretch of years that have seen his friends getting married, adopting children, and overall just setting up a life that Taerae isn’t even entirely sure he wants, he’s been left wondering what it is that he wants in the first place. In this case, Taerae thinks it might be as simple as embracing that someone is interested in him and accepting a date offer immediately, like he is right now. “I guess I’ve never thought about it. Working from home has kept me inside more often than not.”
Jiwoong continues plating up the food, and Taerae supposes he can see the influence of having studied abroad in the presentation and the overall cooking. Taerae also can’t say he’s much of an expert on cuisines outside of Korea and surrounding countries, and despite his best efforts to keep himself feeling grounded, he’s losing a bit of confidence.
But at his age and where he is in life, Taerae can’t afford to psych himself out of something potentially good anymore. And Jiwoong interrupts his spiral anyway.
“What do you do for work? Is it something you like, or does it just pay the bills?”
“It just pays the bills,” Taerae admits, and he feels a bit sheepish about it. There’s nothing about this that’s a disaster, but he finds himself feeling like it is anyway. “But I have hobbies besides babysitting an eight year old. For what it’s worth.”
Jiwoong looks at him with raised eyebrows. “Well, I didn’t assume otherwise. It’s nice you look after her though. You two seem close.”
“She’s my closest friend aside from her parents,” Taerae says, taking a seat on a barstool at the counter next to where Jiwoong had cooked for them. “Can I be honest with you?”
If the jump in subject catches Jiwoong off guard, he doesn’t say anything about it, instead just setting a plate in front of Taerae. “Of course you can.”
Taerae doesn’t immediately reach for the food, the roof of his mouth still throbbing a little from being over-eager with the hot sauce earlier, instead waiting until Jiwoong is sitting beside him. “Well, I guess it’s not my own honesty but asking for yours.” Taerae picks up the fork set out for him just to have something to do with his hands. “I don’t know how to ask this because I don’t want to make it sound like—the thing is, I think I’m great! I really do. I like my life and all that, and I like who I am and what I look like, but compared to you, I’m just wondering—”
Jiwoong feeds him a piece of chicken out of nowhere, effectively silencing his spiral, and luckily, the food isn’t an uncomfortable level of hot this time. It’s a bit perfect actually, practically melting in his mouth and tasting of spices that Taerae would need a guide to identify. He chews dutifully, eyes locked on Jiwoong, whose eyes are locked on Taerae. When he finally finishes, he clears his throat.
“Was that supposed to stop me? Now I’m intimidated by how good of a cook you are.”
Jiwoong laughs at him, but the sound is fond rather than cruel. “You’re just setting me up to fail. I’d like to step down from this pedestal you’ve placed me on, if that’s alright with you.”
Taerae wouldn’t say he feels chastised, but he does feel a sheepishness wash over him, certain that he’s blushing from how hot his ears feel. “Okay, that’s fair, it’s just that—”
“Do I need to feed you chicken again?” Jiwoong asks as if it’s a threat and Taerae isn’t already wanting his next bite.
“No, but… I won’t stop you if you do.”
Jiwoong seems to consider that, but he doesn’t offer Taerae another bite from his own plate, instead pushing Taerae’s plate a little closer to him. “How about instead you tell me more about the hobbies you have?”
Taerae isn’t necessarily procrastinating when he takes another bite of the food, but he’s definitely trying to figure out how to share his hobbies without sounding like an uncultured loser who doesn’t go outside. Then he remembers Jiwoong’s comment about being put on a pedestal, so he ignores his self-sabotaging thoughts and finally answers. “I like video games. I play a lot with friends I’ve met all over the world. And I like to make model cars. Oh, uh, I play guitar. I think that’s about it.”
They’ve only just met, so Taerae won’t attempt to guess what Jiwoong’s facial expressions mean, but even he can’t miss the way Jiwoong looks at him with stars in his eyes. He’s smitten, clearly, and it leaves Taerae feeling bare and a little dumbfounded and impossibly a bit more confident. “That’s all really interesting,” Jiwoong says with words that would usually be politely masking disinterest, but the tone is so sincere that Taerae knows he means it. Taerae actually is starting to suspect that Jiwoong is incapable of insincerity.
“You really think so?” Taerae asks, regretting it the second he does because his gut is telling him Jiwoong actually finds his lonely hobbies as things that are appealing, but Jiwoong indulges him anyway.
“I do. Do you have photos of the car models you’ve built?”
“I do, but how about I show you while we eat?” Taerae suggests, remembering the meal Jiwoong had prepared for the two of them, who also apparently had forgotten his own efforts in his eagerness to learn more about Taerae.
So their meal goes just like that, the two of them sharing bites of food that Jiwoong had cooked specifically in the interest of getting to know Taerae. Taerae responds by refusing to acknowledge any of the still lingering worries of not being worthy of this man, instead showing pictures of his model car collection or short clips of him playing guitar with pride rather than the shyness of a child hoping for acceptance on their coloring pages.
“This one is beautiful,” Jiwoong says about a particularly colorful model Taerae had done, and the praise makes a smile bloom across his face in a way that makes his cheeks hurt, head ducking. Taerae feels a finger tap to his cheek, right where his dimple is. “This is beautiful too,” Jiwoong says, softer, and Taerae’s face burns.
“How is it so easy for you to say things like that?” Taerae asks in a voice that’s almost tinged with frustration, like he feels jealous about it, and maybe he does. Jiwoong’s finger still hovers close to his cheek, and the pressure returns then, like he’s trying to press the dimple back into Taerae’s skin to ease away the frustration.
“It’s not easy. I just said it because I thought you should know, and that was more important than feeling nervous around you.”
Taerae digests that for a long moment, using a bite of food as a reason to untangle the nerves that still stubbornly wrap around his heart and warp his mind despite the amount of pep talks he’s received from others and himself. He’s not even sure why he’s so nervous in the first place, though it might be as simple as what he decides to vocalize to Jiwoong. “I haven’t dated in a long time. I think I’m doubting myself more than I may have before.”
Jiwoong nods his understanding, and when he finally drops his hand from Taerae’s cheek, Taerae finds himself missing the touch. So maybe he’s a little touch starved, a lot socially starved, and he’s only going to mess this nice thing up for himself if he doesn’t get out of his own head.
“I haven’t dated in a long time either, you know,” Jiwoong tells him. “Opening the bakery with Matthew took up a lot of my life for a really long time. It wasn’t until I saw you that I was open to even trying again.”
Taerae takes that in stride, refusing to be shocked by it, but rather allowing himself to feel the warmth of such a sentiment instead. “And I haven’t ruined everything by making you prove you’re actually interested in me a million times?”
Jiwoong laughs at that. “No, not at all. I was just as worried, so I think both of us could stand to relax a little.”
So Taerae does just that, and with the way Jiwoong fires questions at him as they eat the meal he’d cooked for the two of them, he can tell Jiwoong has relaxed just as much.
Jiwoong asks about Choonhee and why Taerae is so close to her.
“Gyuvin and Ricky had a lot of hoops to jump through to adopt her, and they decided to do it pretty early on. I guess I was sort of there for the whole process,” Taerae answers with a modest shrug, feeling his heart swell a little with love for the kid who’s the whole reason he even met Jiwoong in the first place. “She tests my patience, but I love her to bits.”
Taerae asks what made Jiwoong choose Paris for culinary school.
“Honestly? It just felt like the thing everyone else does,” Jiwoong admits a bit sheepishly, and it pulls one of Taerae’s real laughs out of him, the one that booms to fill the silence. Jiwoong just looks endeared.
Taerae has a bit of a short temper when he plays competitive video games, and Jiwoong tells him how adorable he probably sounds calling all of his teammates idiots.
Jiwoong doesn’t use social media not because he can’t figure it out, but rather because he has no desire to try, claiming an easily obsessive personality and a preference for staying engaged in the moment.
On paper, maybe they shouldn’t work. Taerae likes the comforts of familiarity with all his risks being calculated and prepared with several failsafe backup plans should anything go wrong, while Jiwoong had jetted off to Paris to pursue the culinary arts with his hair not even having finished growing out from his military service on nothing short of a whim.
In person, it works anyway. Taerae catches himself going on and on without stopping once he gets started on a topic because the interest in Jiwoong’s eyes is too obvious to allow any bits of self-doubt to convince him otherwise.
“I did try to bake something for tonight, you know,” Jiwoong tells Taerae once their plates are cleared and he’s loaded them into a dishwasher. “It looks pretty but I’m almost certain a step got mixed up with another along the way.”
Jiwoong unveils a small cake, one that is indeed very pretty, decorated with delicate flowers and piping techniques that Taerae’s never even seen before. He eyes it warily, as if he’s been presented with a bomb.
“You really think your baking is bad?” Taerae asks, voice tinted with shadows of doubt as he inspects the cake.
Jiwoong just shrugs. “I haven’t bothered trying in a few years now, to be honest. Do you want to share a slice?”
Taerae nods in agreement, and within moments Jiwoong has cut into his own artwork, something that only makes Taerae a little sad. There’s something nice about how much effort Jiwoong puts into art that will only last for so long, like it’s about the creation rather than the lasting impressions.
Jiwoong only gets one fork, loading it up with a bite of cake, holding out to Taerae expectantly. “Beauty before age.”
Taerae scoffs at that, as if finding it corny, but his ears going red gives him away at how much the comment warms him from the inside out. He accepts the offered cake, the sweetness of the icing delicious at first.
Then it hits him, and his face instantly wrinkles in disgust. Jiwoong doesn’t even look slightly fazed, instead just grinning brightly. “Oh, that bad huh?”
Taerae coughs, fighting the urge to spit the cake right back onto the fork. “That tastes like pure salt.”
“Huh,” Jiwoong says, spearing his own bite with the same fork and popping it into his mouth. Taerae is a little horrified and possibly a little turned on when Jiwoong doesn’t even flinch. “It sure does. That must be the step I messed up on.”
Taerae blinks at him, before surging forward without any real thought about it, vaguely aware of the fork landing on the cake plate with the clang of metal against china but not paying it any mind because he’s too busy pressing his lips to Jiwoong’s.
There’s a terrible heart-sinking moment where Jiwoong doesn’t reciprocate, and Taerae feels his palms go clammy where they hang a bit uselessly at his side at the thought of having read this entire evening wrong. Like maybe Jiwoong had lied about every bit of interest he showed, and maybe this will never happen again, and maybe Jiwoong will talk about this night at parties like a joke and—
Hands land on his waist and pull him closer, and Jiwoong is kissing him back, and Taerae exhales a little sigh of relief through his nose.
There’s no heat to it, just gentle hands on Taerae’s waist and Taerae’s own looping around Jiwoong’s neck. Their bodies even barely touch as they kiss softly, tentatively, with all the shyness of a first kiss and the added benefit of adulthood and experience. Jiwoong tastes like salt and sugar, and when Taerae pulls away, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip to remember it, finding the combination lovely from the lips of a man he thinks is worth pursuing instead of cloying like it had been in that terrible cake.
“What was that for?” Jiwoong asks softly, leaning forward to nudge his nose against Taerae’s as if to indicate he’s not complaining at all.
“You’re a baker who can’t bake, and I felt so endeared by it I didn’t know what else to do.”
Jiwoong doesn’t look insulted, only delighted. “Do you want to do it again?”
Taerae answers by doing just that, any insecurity that foolishly dared to still cling to him under Jiwoong’s adoring gaze melting like frosting as their lips meet again.
Jiwoong walks Taerae to the front door of the bakery, Taerae’s hands on a box of pastries that hadn’t been baked by Jiwoong, so they’re safe for consumption. They sport his artwork though, a replenishment of beautiful pastels and florals once Taerae had revealed he still had the cookie Jiwoong had drawn on for him.
( “Please throw that stale mess out. I’ll create art for you anytime you ask.” )
Taerae feels a bit out of practice for how a first date should end. He’s already kissed Jiwoong, though he’ll happily do it again before he leaves. They have each other’s phone numbers. He knows Jiwoong wants to see him again.
Jiwoong figures out what comes next for him. “Will you text me when you’ve gotten home safely?” In the dim lighting and whimsical decorations of the bakery, Jiwoong looks a bit like Taerae has conjured him up out of a fantasy. A handsome prince come to save Taerae from his tower, awaken him with true love’s kiss, a fairytale background for a man that is gorgeous and so wonderfully human at once.
“I will.”
There’s another kiss then, this one pressed to Taerae’s cheek, right where his cheek dimples. It does so then, a smile blooming across his face, and Jiwoong mirrors it.
“I had a really nice time with you, Taerae. I want to see you again.”
“I want to see you again too.” Taerae pauses. “You don’t need to bake again. I believe you about the baking thing.”
Jiwoong laughs, delighted. “Alright. I won’t bake for you again.”
“Well, when you say it like that, it feels a bit rude,” Taerae teases.
“So I should bake for you again?”
“Please don’t.”
Taerae gets another kiss for that one, and as reluctant as it seems they both are to end the evening, it’s late and he has work in the morning. He’s also fanning the flames of confidence inside of him now, any fears he’d had about Jiwoong’s interest long gone. They’ll see each other again, he feels certain of that.
“Text me,” Jiwoong reminds Taerae.
“I will,” Taerae promises.
The bell above the door rings pleasantly as Taerae finally forces himself to leave and walk the short distance to his car.
As Taerae pulls away, he spares one last glance in the rearview mirror, pleased to see Jiwoong’s shape in the bakery window watching him go.
“How many treats are you allowed today?” Taerae asks Choonhee when summer has given up its fight to autumn and his hand no longer sweats as he holds her hand in his to walk her to the bakery. “And be honest.”
Choonhee wrinkles her nose at that, and Taerae fights back the urge to laugh. He’s been a bit bad about encouraging her misbehaviors lately, Ricky telling him in no uncertain terms that having a boyfriend now doesn’t mean he can start spoiling Choonhee even more than he already does.
“Appa said none because Jiwoong oppa will just give me as many as I want anyway.”
Taerae doesn’t laugh, as badly as he wants to. Jiwoong is worse than him sometimes. “So if we do the math on that one, maybe we can get you one for yourself and you and I can split another?”
Choonhee seems pleased with that, dropping Taerae’s hand once they’re a few feet from the front door so she can run ahead and beat him inside. He catches up to her once she’s already at the counter, talking Jiwoong’s ear off.
“I’m allowed two pastries today, oppa,” Choonhee declares to Jiwoong innocently, and Taerae scoffs at her.
“She’s allowed one and a half, actually,” Taerae corrects, unable to hold back his smile now at the dramatic way her face falls. “Hi,” he says to Jiwoong this time, leaning over the counter to press a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.
“You two kissed in front of me, so now it’s two.”
Taerae’s eyebrows lift. “Who established that rule?”
“Jiwoong oppa.”
Taerae’s eyebrows shoot up even higher, turning to face the man in question, who’s looking appropriately guilty. “And why did Jiwoong oppa establish that rule?”
Jiwoong shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. “She said she hates seeing couples kiss, and I felt bad.”
Taerae sighs. “Gyuvin literally doesn’t let Ricky exist without getting a kiss every thirty seconds. You let an eight year old con you, Jiwoong.”
“I’m almost nine!” Choonhee protests at his side, but she’s grinning, clearly well aware of her crimes.
Jiwoong’s eyes dart between Taerae and Choonhee before throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’ve been bested by the child.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Taerae says with a sympathetic pat to Jiwoong’s shoulder.
“I think I should be allowed to have three because I’m the reason you two met,” Choonhee suggests, blinking at them like the picture of innocence instead of a tiny little con woman in the making.
“Sure, but they have to be pastries Jiwoong baked,” Taerae counters, and Choonhee’s eyes go wide in horror.
“No, thank you!”
Taerae’s booming laugh drowns out the way Jiwoong gasps, but not his protests. “That’s mean! Taerae, she’s mean.”
Taerae nods. “A little, yeah.”
“I love her.”
“Yeah, she has that effect.”
Jiwoong is leaning over the counter again, the shop is quiet at this time of day with kids still milling home now that school is back in session, and this time when his lips find Taerae’s, they both let the kiss linger. They ignore the sound of Matthew scoffing as he comes out from the back to stock the pastry case, and they ignore the sound of Choonhee clicking her tongue impatiently as she waits to be bribed with sugar.
“I love you more, though,” Jiwoong whispers against Taerae’s lips, and the words taste even sweeter than the lingering flavor of whatever pastry Jiwoong had sampled before they’d arrived.
“I love you more, too.”
“I’m right here!” Choonhee whines from Taerae’s side, and Taerae indulges her, scooping her up to set her on the counter. Both Jiwoong and Taerae lean in, each pressing a kiss to either side of her cheeks, which makes her giggle.
Before, Taerae may have questioned if he had the right to this much sweetness.
Now, he accepts it, lets it settle into his heart like a sugar high with no crash.
Jiwoong’s hand finds his and Taerae’s cheek dimples from his smile, and Taerae won’t consider it a fairytale because all of it is real and sweeter than any he could find in a story.