Chapter Text
Another day, another team breakfast to prepare.
Obviously, Pin has to keep her friends well-fed. It's no good competing on an empty stomach. Plus, cooking is such a satisfying endeavor.
When she's making blueberry pancakes, her favorite noise is the sizzling hiss of the butter as it meets the uncooked batter. Some smoke rises from her pan, and she waves it off, wafting some into her nose. Hungrily, Pin sighs with a wheeze. The rich, salty scent of the butter makes these pancakes irresistible. Her teammates are stirring—the delicious smell always rouses them from their slumber.
Suddenly, she breaks into a coughing fit. Right, it's not good for Pin to inhale smoke anymore. Coiny recovered from the disease without breathing problems, but she wasn't so fortunate. Her throat aches from the force, and she's glad no one's around.
Gradually, the fit comes to a halt, and she returns to cooking breakfast with relief. She uses a spatula to transfer the last blueberry pancake onto a paper plate. Finally done. "Who's hungry?" Pin calls.
Marker, the earliest riser, leaps off the top bunk and hurries to her. "Me! I want that one." He points to the largest pancake.
"Since you were the first here, I suppose it's only fair," she says, her tone sprightly as she pours his maple syrup of choice on top and serves him the paper plate.
Pin recalls mentioning something similar to Coiny during their competition. He'd always wake up as soon as the batter touched the griddle and the sweet waft of fresh blueberries drifted through the air. He'd stand by her side and just watch in admiration, sometimes making impressed comments or patting Pin's back if she was lucky that day.
She realizes she's been staring ahead. Marker's already finished half of his pancake with his bare hands, no utensil necessary.
"Oh no! I forgot to give you a fork!"
Marker smiles as he wipes the grease and syrup from his lips. “Delicious, fork or not,” he notes. Before she can respond, his voice falls to a whisper. "Is it just me, or has Pillow looked a little funny lately?"
If Pin was sipping orange juice, she'd spit it out right now. "What do you mean, 'funny?'"
Meanwhile, Gaty pops up behind Marker. She must have snuck out of bed. "Ooh, can I have one?"
"Sure thing, Gaty!" Pin is happy to pass her a plate and fork.
"Thanks, Pin."
"... Her body seems a bit more... protuberant than usual," Marker drawls.
Gaty interjects, "Oh, are you talking about Pillow? Yeah, it's like there's a flower poking out from inside her. I think it's because she ate that flower petal a few weeks ago. Remember, Pin?"
Her flowers. Pin shivers as she recalls how she'd begged Pillow not to touch the petals. "Oh my pin factory, that's terrible!"
"Well, you literally warned her, so it wasn't your fault." Gaty sits on the floor, sawing at the pancake with the edge of her fork. Still, Pin can't help but feel responsible for involving Pillow. Tree and Fanny step up for their plates.
"Golf Ball is operating on her later today, anyway, so Pillow's gonna be fine."
"Phew," Pin says. She's not the type to hold a grudge against Pillow for the rest of her days anymore. Even if Pillow burned her to death. As Pin gives Fanny a double stack of blueberry pancakes, she sadly ponders the situation. Then, in the middle of handing Tree his plate, she gets a call from Coiny. Pin's about to pick up when Tree makes a request. "May I have chocolate chips on mine?" Tree asks.
"Of course!" says Pin, scooping a handful of chocolate chips out of the bag by her side. She dumps them onto his plate of pancakes. "Thank you," he says, waving as he walks to his bunk. "No problem!"
Now to pick up that call...
"Hi!" She turns up the volume on the device so she can hear him better.
He sounds excited on the other end. "Hey, Pin, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together!"
Pin's jaw falls open and then closes again. Truthfully, he's left her speechless. What did she expect?
Oh, Coiny. Each day, he comes up with a new pickup line. And each day, he makes her melt like whipped cream in hot chocolate. Pin feels up her face, a furious blush creeping into her cheeks.
As usual, she hangs up.
"Was that Coiny?" Marker's voice echoes through the room. "Mind your own business!" Pin shouts back, fists clenching. "And of course it was Coiny! He's the only one I can call!"
Tree laughs, poking her shoulder. "Someone seems defensive this morning," he teases.
And maybe she is. So what?
The sunshine is warm on Coiny's body when he wakes up. He rolls over in his blankets, creating a toasty burrito with himself inside.
His bed is so comfortable that he hardly wants to get up. But there's always Pin, and just the thought of talking to her is enough to push Coiny to his feet.
He'd tossed and turned all of last night, endlessly rearranging the words to this line. His delivery needs to be perfect; Coiny wants to make Pin turn burgundy with her blush.
The phone is almost weightless in his hand when he presses the button to call her. Coiny lets his feet dangle over the edge of the bed as he waits for her to pick up.
At last, her voice rings clear on the other end. "Hi!"
"Hey, Pin, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together!"
"..."
When she hangs up on him on the spot, he just laughs to himself.
"Hah... love you too, Pinster."
Mission accomplished.
He takes out a piece of paper. Onto his exercise routine.
Recently, Coiny's been exploring his complex, and it turns out there's gym equipment two floors above his room. He's pumped to work out!
Coiny mentally sifts through the research he's done on strength training. Three days a week should work. With a pencil, he draws a chart of his plans.
He'll start with six reps of goblet squats, maybe four sets of that. Coiny can already feel the strain in his quads.
He's gotta work on his lats, too. A few sets of shoulder lateral raises should help with that. Coiny skips deciding how many reps he'll do.
Bench presses are also on his list. It's been so long since Coiny last picked up a barbell that he can't remember his PR. It's whatever—he'll start with 100 pounds and take it from there.
Mint, just thinking about how thoroughly the routine will work his muscles is making his palms sweat with excitement. The pencil slips from his hand.
There's a loud knock at the door.
"Coiny!" Nickel yells. Coiny drops his paper, hopping from his spot in bed to open the door for him. He makes eye contact with a grinning and panting Nickel. "Whoa, what's up?" asks Coiny.
"Hey, man! We on for karaoke tonight?"
Coiny slaps his forehead. How could he forget? He's been waiting ages for this—of course he'll be going.
"You bet!"
"Cool. See you then!"
Nickel closes the door behind himself, leaving Coiny alone. Coiny lingers at the door for a moment before looking back at his windowsill. Sunlight streams in, painting the walls yellow.
That reminds him—it's that time of the week.
In the greenhouse's corner, there's a small patch of soil for him. Coiny lugs his watering can to the spot. He's alone in the garden this morning.
When he kneels in front of his flowers, he tests the soil by rubbing it between his fingers. It's dry and powdery—his daisies must be so thirsty.
With a wistful smile, he tilts the spout to water the bases of the stems, hoping the roots will quickly soak up the refreshing goodness. "There you go," he whispers, knowing that his plants love encouragement.
Watering these daisies, he finds, is like an unwritten promise to Pin.
A promise to remember the hardships they endured to be together.
A promise to think of her every day.
A promise to always cherish their love.
As long as Coiny can still breathe, he doesn't mind growing a garden in her honor. Not at all.
