Archive of Our Own

The town of Iwatobi rested quietly in a bay at the base of a deep green mountain. Gray mists lurked between dark buildings; the sleepy sun not yet ready to challenge their stay. A lone pair of shoes tapped rhythmically down the coastline. Haruka Nanase tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, quickening his step as he hurried through the empty streets. The chill threatened to engulf him as he came to a stop at the backdoor of a building. Stiff fingers fumbled with a ring of keys for a moment, before one was thrust into the lock and the door swung open.

The smell of bread hit him like a storming ocean wave against the shore, leaving his skin tingling and tempting a smile across his face. Searing ovens warmed his soul as he stepped in; the cold, early morning banished as the door swung shut behind him. Inside, the night baker still worked furiously. Sturdy arms working the paddle, scooping up uniform rolls of sourdough bread from the glowing ovens, and depositing them onto the levels of a cooling rack. It was then that a different heat crept across Haruka’s senses, quickly overwhelming him.

“Shit, Haru!  Its almost 5:15, but I’ve been dying for a break since 3!” the man exclaimed, red hair waving back and forth as he jabbed the paddle at Haruka. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t be dying too. The orders lately have been insane!”

A burning sensation that had little to do with the searing ovens warmed Haruka’s face. Pressing passed the too familiar feeling, he walked passed his irate coworker and through the production room. He came to the back office where he deposited his coat and bag before picking up a freshly laundered apron. Deft hands quickly brought the apron strings round his waist twice and secured them in a knot just below his navel. He quickly scanned through the order sheets pinned to the office door before washing up and heading back to the ovens. There, he found the redhead chugging a coffee that had probably long gone cold.

“What happened to no coffee after 1?” Haruka murmured, voice stiff from sleep but eyes glowing as they met his friend’s.

“Me and Sousuke are headed up to the mountains for the weekend, and I’m driving. Idiot can’t be trusted after getting us lost for three hours last time.”

Haruka offered a small exhale for a laugh. “Be careful. I don’t want to be switched to graveyard because ‘Rin Matsuoka Dead After Car Crash’ is in all the papers.”

“Yeah, well it’ll be ‘Haruka Nanase Burnt to a Crisp’ if you don’t get your ass moving and start on the croissants.”

The burning sensation peeked for a moment before resuming its persistent smothering. Haruka’s eyes narrowed, but turned nevertheless to the walk-in fridge to pull out a rack topped with chilled croissants that Rin had formed the evening before. Below them were trays of cookie dough balls to go in afterward. And beyond those were racks of still-waiting goods to be fired, frosted, or otherwise prepared before the shop opened.

Rin threw back his head as he choked down the last of his coffee before jumping to Haruka’s side, pastry brush and egg wash in hand. They worked side by side for the next hour, mechanically shifting product from tray to oven then back to tray. The impending deadline of opening hours drawing sweat from their brows and urging them to work faster. Outside, the sky had gone from midnight pitch to cool lavender. The residual bite of cold failed to falter the bakers as the backdoor swung open again, revealing their manager, Sasabe.

Decidedly older than the two bakers, the man walked in and shut the door loudly behind him. He removed his red beanie and free-threw it across the room, missing the office door by a wide margin. 

“Tsk-- you guys mind reeling it in a bit? You got this place boiling with bad juju. Made me miss my shot,” Sasabe chastised with a smile. 

“Nothing about us made you miss that,” Rin growled, stepping back from where he was piping snowflakes onto mitten-shaped sugar cookies.

Nonetheless, Haruka allowed himself a small sigh of relief as the suffocating heat emanating from Rin subsided. Haruka’s own magic was cool in contrast, and for a moment he let it stretch after having been overwhelmed by Rin for the past hour.

“Agh! Not you too, Haru! I pay you guys to funnel that into the product not to waste it on leisurely morning bakes,” Sasabe continued, irritation a tad more evident now.

Haruka rolled his gaze away from the cupcakes he was decorating to meet Rin’s grim glare. As stifling as unrestrained magic could be, he couldn’t blame Rin for letting it flow. Ten hours of baking and spellcasting through the night was a task Haruka wished upon no one. Rin’s ability to do so for four nights straight was both insane and admirable.

“Ooh, don’t be mean! It's freezing anyway, might as well let Rin-chan warm us up while he is still around!” A younger blond boy chided in a sing-songy voice, stepping from behind Sasabe to embrace Rin’s back. Rin let out a long sigh before bending down with the extra weight to continue piping more delicate lines of royal icing.

“Mornin’ Nagisa.”

“Morning, Rin-chan! Haru-chan! Don’t mind Uncle, his team lost the game last night and now he’s stuck on the idea that you guys are bad luck again. Which we all know isn’t true. Business hasn’t been better since you came up with those magicked croquembouche for the holiday season. And Haru-chan’s babkallah are waitlisted until spring!”

Rin shrugged Nagisa off before he could continue. “Don’t you have packing to do? Shop’s gonna open soon, and the truck will be around for the orders. Get moving.”

“Aw, you’re low on coffee again. Lucky you, I conjured one with your name on it!” And with a flick of his wrist, Nagisa held a steaming cup to Rin. A fermented floral scent filled the room.

Haruka and Sasabe paused from their work to join Rin in staring at Nagisa in astonishment. 

“Guys! Don’t be like that! Magic may not be strong in my family, but a lil’ coffee won’t do me no harm. You work so hard. I can manage that much.” Nagisa smiled their worried looks away before placing the cup down and turning to his work station to begin slicing and bagging breads. 

Rin growled before scooping up his tray of cookies to tuck away safely to dry. “Magic is no play thing” he mumbled upon his return, grabbing the magicked coffee from the table and taking in a long swig. Upon swallowing, he let a contented sigh. “Hold back a little next time. Mouth’s full of cotton now. And could you do something about your magic, you're stinking up the room!” Nagisa giggled an apology as he slipped on a pair of fresh gloves. The caress of fermented flowers gently subsided.

Haruka managed to plate the last quiche before the shop opened for the morning. Rei, the part-timer who manned the store front, readied himself behind the register while Sasabe switched on their ‘open’ sign and unlocked the front door. The familiar song of number calling, patterned order-taking, and rhythmic jingling of the cash drawer eased Haruka back into the familiar routine of morning bread making.

First: water. Warm to the touch without burning. Then: sugar. Stirred until dissolved. The temperamental but vital yeast is then added. Once the mixture bubbles and the yeast is activated, add scalded milk and melted butter cooled to room temperature as well as eggs. Salt before adding flour in thirds. As Iwatobi is a humid, coastal city; Haruka always adds a touch more flour than most recipes recommend. Then knead.

Here, Haruka truly relishes in his position as day baker. Responsible for extended processes such as bread making and delicate patisserie, it is now that he begins to feel out the nature of today’s bake. With strong arm movements, he propels the dough upon the counter in long stretching motions. Each pass of his hand against the slowly stiffening mass aligns the gluten and increases the promise of a product with a light, fluffy texture. He pushes through the dough in a daring fight until it finally resigns into a silky smooth ball ready for its first rise. Stepping back, Haruka releases a satisfied sigh. His magic curled around the dough, safeguarding it from nature’s ill forces.

“Beautiful as ever, Haru.”

Haruka’s heart jumped into his throat as he swirled around to greet the intruder. Rin had long left now that the store was open. Nagisa and Rei were at the counter furiously working through customers. Sasabe was in the office, hopefully placing the order for their next supply shipment and not catching up on another sports game. There was no one else to surprise him, save for one certain person.

Makoto Tachibana.

Their delivery man.

Their delivery man who he had a hopeless crush on.

“I think you’ve spoiled brioche for me. I finished the loaf you sent me home with in only two days. Another thing I can no longer buy from the corner market.”

Haruka prayed for his heart to still so that he might answer. Daring the odds, he let himself look up to that face that warmed him unlike any magic could.

And yes, Makoto was just as breathtaking as ever.

The way his smile wrinkled his cheeks and uniform cap barely contained his unruly brown hair. Wide shoulders just enough to fill Haruka’s full periphery from this distance. But most of all, his voice that both lulled him into serenity and jolted him into feeling more alive than he knew was possible.

A curiosity lit those green eyes that instantly brought Haruka back to his own two feet. Quickly, he threw together a response to a comment he could barely remember.

 “I can eat a whole loaf in an afternoon if its fresh,” fell out of his mouth before he even recognized what he was saying.

And beautiful Makoto laughed his stupid beautiful laugh that seemed to always come just when Haruka felt like crawling into a hole somewhere to die, instantly dispelling any such notion if it meant him parting from the source of such an angelic sound.

“I would hope so! It's that good. I had to restrain myself. Can’t outgrow this uniform quite yet.”

Aw yes, Makoto had stupidly incredible body that threatened the buttons of his uniform with each passing day. Haruka couldn’t look at that right now. He was supposed to be taking part in some sort of tortuously wonderful conversation.

“What else can I ruin for you?” he managed, focusing strictly upon Makoto’s left temple.

Makoto paused for a moment to think before responding, “I’ve always wanted to try a tart. Do you know how to make one of those?”

Tart: An open faced pastry that can be sweet or savory. There were several he had to make for a catering order this weekend. The technique was second nature to him. His first having been made when he was eight years old. Of course he could make a tart for Makoto.

“Yes,” was all he managed to say.

“Really? Oh! That’s so exciting. I look forward to it!” Makoto practically beamed, reaching forward and giving Haruka’s shoulder a squeeze. Haruka felt like unset pudding ready to spill all over the floor.

“Well, I gotta get going. Near every cafe on this side of Iwatobi wants your bread for their lunch rushes. Not to mention the big wedding luncheon happening today that I have to deliver that pink cake to. See you around, Haru!”

Haruka forced himself to turn back to his counter to avoid staring as Makoto paraded back and forth through the backdoor as he filled his delivery truck. Arms strong as he heaved the four-tiered wedding cake out, but hands gentle as he fit boxes of fragile chocolate flowers in later. He was an anomaly that tormented Haruka’s existence.

It wasn’t until he heard the familiar kick of an engine followed by the crackle of wheels against gravel did Haruka let himself breathe properly. Taking slow deep breaths, Haruka inspected whatever menial task he had taken up while waiting and was unsurprised to find it now long finished. With another long sigh, Haruka gathered himself together and prepared to face the dough once again. It was time to form the loaves. He could dream about Makoto’s tart some other time. The dough wouldn’t yield to someone who only half heartedly worked it. Summoning a spell round his fist, he gave the dough a punch and the puffy mass quickly deflated.

Haruka’s apartment was very much unlike the industrially fitted bakery he worked in. He was fortunate enough to have a stove and oven he could work with. But they were small and heated unevenly. He had little cupboard space, so much of his kitchen spilled out into his living room. Boxes of pans, silicone molds, piping tips, and parchment paper sat open on his couch; all regularly sorted through and used. His fridge was stuffed with eggs, home ground flour, fruit curds, and starters. But when he baked in this kitchen, it was warm and familiar. Soothing even.

And most of all, it was without magic.

Though he didn’t bother to restrain his magic too much at home, it naturally seemed to rest into the wooden panels beneath his feet rather than searing at his skin like Rin’s so often did. It was something he decided upon as a child after accidentally magicking a fire in the kitchen after his painstakingly-made souffle had fallen: a kitchen was no place for spells and trickery. It is a place where one could truly see themselves in their work. Braiding the dough, aerating the batter, piping the lace- those were things created solely by him. A carefully crafted experience consumed by each partaking individual that could not be identically reproduced. 

Witchcraft cheapens that art and muddles the message. That intimate connection is lost.

Yet here he was, bone-tired and sapped physically and magically. With the couch taken, he lay on the floor. His magic a quiet whisper beneath his skin.

Witchcraft was used to influence and fool people. His magic was used daily to amplify weak flavors and boost poor textures. Making the cheap seem fantastical. Yes, he was a skilled pastry chef. As was Rin. But two bakers a day could not achieve the quota they were pressed to meet. When he was a poor pastry school graduate desperate to find a job, he was networked through his father’s wizarding guild rather than an honest resume and landed the position as assistant baker to the previous day baker. There he was taught how to apply his magic to sugars and ovens and all other levels of baking. To make things seem more than they were. Unlucky for him, he was very good at it. Now his magic was the secret to the most successful bakery in Iwatobi. And all of it made him feel sick.

Haruka dragged himself back to his feet. Standing at his small sink, he washed his hands adamantly. Taking time to scrub off any magicked flour from beneath his nails or lingering spell flitting between his fingers. With clean hands he pulled on an old, stained apron. He set down his all-purpose flour, sugar, and a tub of salt next to a portion of cold butter. Quickly measuring each component, he began combining the ingredients into the beginnings of a shortbread crust.

He had a tart to make. One inspired by warm laughter and soft eyes. An honest person uncorrupted by magic and far more genuine than any patisserie produced in that bakery. Haruka hoped this tart would be unlike any he had made before. No magical guarantees. Just himself to count on and a significant person to impress. With each of these home bakes, he hoped his message was clear.

Please see me. Please see who I am truly.

Saturdays were always terribly busy at work. Rin was off until Monday, so Haruka picked up the last bit of work from the other night baker, Hiyori. Now Haruka didn’t necessarily dislike Hiyori. His bakes met standard and the production room was always well organized by the time they switched shifts. But his magic stuck to Haruka’s skin like expired lard. Its residue hung heavy in the air well into the late morning, leaving Haruka feeling desperate for some fresh air to rid himself of the off-taste in his mouth. But the list of orders he had to meet continued and so did he.

Tomorrow there would be another wedding order, which meant trays of pastry and another monstrous cake. The layers had been baked and frosted earlier in the week, and now it stood five tiers tall waiting for the last touch of magicked flowers. Haruka whispered spells into the petals that they would remain vibrant through the next day and amplified their fragrance to swoon any passerby to stop and take a sniff. The spell was tricky. So much as a consonant off, and the flowers would come alive with a vengeance. Haruka doubled his focus, his magic numbing the tips of his fingers.

“Morning, Haru!”

The chill from Haruka fingers immediately skyrocketed, bouncing from flower to flower. Their blossoming heads began tilting back and forth in a slow war dance. Petals curling and leaves sharpening. 

Cursed magic! Cursed Flowers! Not now, not while Makoto was- 

Panic took hold of Haruka’s being, throttling him as any sort of solution escaped with his ability to think straight. Swirling back to face that beautiful, familiar face; Haruka whipped his hand out and bellowed the first spell that came to mind.

Silence.

A deep breath.

Then another.

Haruka dared open his eyes.

Makoto stood before him trapped frighteningly still. Mouth open in surprise. Eyes wide with shock. His hand caught in mid-motion, fingers stretched out in a failed attempt to touch Haruka’s shoulder. Haruka gulped back another wave of panic as he realized what spell he had used.

He had frozen time.

A quick glance backwards revealed the angry flower army, static as they are supposed to be but contorted in a way that warned danger. Haruka checked the front counter. Rei was paused mid-sneeze, face scrunched behind his elbow. Next to him, Nagisa was caught between steps. A box of brownies still held securely in front of him. Checking the office, Haruka supposed Sasabe to be frozen as well. The man was reclined in his office seat, apparently asleep.

Freezing time required an incredible amount of power. Haruka could hardly understand how he had managed to keep it this way for as long as it has been. His magic seemed to teeter like a vase upon his head. He didn’t have much time left before it would all resume and he would be left undoubtedly drained.

He hastily plucked all of the flowers from the cake, and whispered their release from all magic. They instantly curled and blackened in his hands. Haruka then dashed to the walk-in fridge, depositing the foiled flowers into the garbage on his way. Seizing a box stored next to their supply of berries then slamming the fridge door behind him, Haruka ran to his spot before Makoto. Screwing his eyes closed, he summoned his magic back to him, finally letting time flow forward from where he had kept it balanced.

The familiar sound of the register called him to breathe. A calloused hand grazing his cheek bid him to open his eyes.

Makoto stood before him, eyes slightly unfocused. Confusion bending his brow upward. His hand extended past Haruka to some unseen vision and then slowly recoiled back.

“Wait, what…?” Makoto breathed, taking a step back in a daze. 

“Here’s your tart,” Haruka mumbled, stepping forward to press the box to Makoto’s chest. Makoto took a moment to focus on the Haruka before him, hands rising automatically to accept the box. After a blink or two, a small smile lit his face.

“Oh, already? So fast this time. Thank you, Haru.”

Haruka felt anything but fast now. He shifted his weight back onto the work table, body feeling impossibly heavy.

“Don’t mention it,” Haruka answered lethargically, eyes intent upon the toes of Makoto’s well-worn boots. Holding his head up was now a near impossible task. “I’m busy right now. So…”

“Yes, right. Saturdays tend to be like that. Sorry for interrupting you. I’ll go ahead and pack things up for today’s rounds,” Makoto said, heading to the door with his tart. Haruka also began to shuffle the opposite way towards the office. He had made it to the door when Makoto’s voice stopped him.

“I’m thankful for the tart, but please don’t overwork yourself on my account. Get some rest tonight,” was the last Haruka heard before the office door was closed behind him.

Large hands shifted him into the office chair, and Sasabe’s manicured beard filled his vision.

“What the hell was that just now, son?!” Sasabe demanded, pausing only to look over his shoulder to check that Makoto was occupied with packing the truck. “Woke up to a flood of magic clogging me up, and now the place is emptier than a poor man’s pockets,” he continued, voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.

Haruka closed his eyes, puzzling together some sort of explanation

“I had to keep the secret,” he managed, putting his full effort into making his mouth form the words. “We were almost caught.”

“Delivery guy getting suspicious, huh? Always thought he was a touch too nosy.”

“No!” Haruka blurted, forcing his eyes open to meet Sasabe’s. “It was my fault. He doesn’t know anything. I just lost control for a moment.”

Sasabe’s eyes narrowed.

“You know we’re nothing without that stuff. You can’t be playing around with your spells when we have orders to fill. Even now we’re wasting time. And look at you, pale as the dead. What are we going to do about this?”

Haruka attempted a shrug, but only slid further down into the seat.

Without warning, the door flew open and Nagisa burst forward, squeezing himself between them. His warm hands took up Haruka’s limp fingers, imploring eyes searching to understand the situation. They shone a vibrant pink when they found their answer.

“You froze time, didn’t you? I can still see the signs in your eyes. Haru-chan, thats so dangerous! No wonder you look like death.”

“You guys can do that?!” Sasabe sputtered as he struggled to push Nagisa aside so he too could peer at Haruka in an attempt to see the remnants of the spell.

“It's not easy, but Haru-chan did it. Instead of yelling at him, you should be thanking him. He risked his life to keep the bakery safe!” Nagisa berated, shoving his uncle so he was in front of Haruka again.

Sasaba made to fight back, but Nagisa beat him down. “And before you start crying over wasted work hours, just have a look at this.”

Nagisa pulled a vial from his pocket. Haruka recognized its golden glow.

“A friend of mine makes these for me. They’re great for hangovers. But also help rejuvenate low magic levels.”

Nagisa quickly twisted off the top of the bottle, and pressed the rim to Haruka’s lips. At first it was smooth on the tongue and soothing as it washed down his throat. Then it burnt hot, making his chest ache and skin prickle with beads of sweat. And just as fast, it was gone and Haruka sat up feeling revitalized if a bit dizzy.

“There, we have our baker back,” Nagisa announced, capping the vial and placing it back into his pocket. Turning to Sasabe, Nagisa continued, “And if you could please keep this potion secret from Mother. Wouldn’t want her accidentally hearing about your new gambling habit, huh?”

Sasabe grumbled a line of swears before finally shoving everyone from the office and closing the door shut.

Haruka scanned the room. A touch of sadness dimmed the rush of the potion as he realized that Makoto had long left for the day.

Nagisa took hold of his arm, giving it a squeeze. “So when will you finally tell him?”

Haruka looked down at his smiling friend, shying away when he noticed a knowing glint in his eye.

“I already settled things with Sasabe,” Haruka replied solemnly.

“No, no, no! Not that geezer. You know, Mr. Muscles and Smiles.”

Haruka shook Nagisa off, and began picking new flowers for the cake. Nagisa took a seat on the stool next to him, undeterred.

“Not much can make you botch a spell that bad. Then to freeze time! You really outdid yourself.”

“People can’t know about us. It was for the bakery,” Haruka hissed.

“It was for him. I know you don’t fancy this place much. Only a man in love would stop time like that.”

“Nagisa!”

Haruka and Nagisa both turned to face the doorway to the front counter. Bright red spectacles framed a silently raging expression. Rei had been left at the counter to battle the masses alone.

“I don’t know what you mean by a 'half-break'. But if such a thing existed, you would have been back two minutes ago!” Rei seethed between gritted teeth.

“Oh, Rei-chan! Forgive me! But when nature calls, I must always answer!”

“I would believe you save for the fact that the restitorial facilities are in the front of the building, not the back! I need you up here!”

“And I you, sweet one!”

“Man in love, huh…” Haruka muttered, struggling to calm a smile as Nagisa all but floated back to Rei. Turning to the looming cake before him, Haruka let out a resigned sigh. He picked up a flower and placed it at the base of the first tier.

 “Man in love, indeed.”

Sundays were a touch more quiet than Saturdays. The bakery was closed on Mondays, so there was no demand for special orders to be finished on top of the usual bakes. Haruka had just finished the second fold in the lamination process for the croissants when he heard a knock on the back door. After setting the wrapped dough square back in the fridge to chill, he walked over and opened the door. His breath hitched as he was greeted by Makoto’s warm smile.

“Good morning, Haru!”

“Makoto…”

“Thought I’d knock today. I never mean to, but seems that I scare you half to death every time I walk in unannounced. My mother would be ashamed at my manners. So I’ll be knocking from now on. Mind if I come in?” Makoto gushed, eyes looking everywhere but at Haruka.

Haruka nodded dumbly, and Makoto walked passed him with the excitement of a young puppy.

“Before anything else, I have to tell you. That tart. Wow! It was so smooth. Dark chocolate with orange, right? I thought I had died after the first bite. Then I might have actually died after I finished it all in one sitting. Is it so horrible that I had your tart for dinner? Because I don’t think I will ever eat so well again in my life.”

Haruka watched baffled as Makoto confessed. He seemed barely able to contain himself from outright skipping about the production room, settling instead on jabbering as he walked circles around Haruka.

“So then I thought, ‘Why not have this for dinner every night?’ Which really is a silly idea since I couldn’t possibly make you do something like that for me. But then I just couldn’t get it out of my head,”

“You thought the tart really was that good? You understood it?” Haruka questioned, a touch of hope piercing through his rising bewilderment.

“Not the tart. I couldn’t get you out of my head!” Makoto near exclaimed. “It was like you were there sitting next to me the entire time. Feeding me each bite. Talking me through the entire experience. I knew I was alone, but I had never felt so taken care of.”

At this point, Makoto had paused before Haruka. Swirling to face him, Makoto swept Haruka’s hands into his own. “I felt so cherished. I can’t help but think that maybe you were trying to tell me something.”

Makoto’s gaze was so intense that Haruka could not escape it. It held him there with more force than Makoto’s warm hands around his own. Cheeks burning, Haruka grappled about hopelessly inside for something to say. It was almost too much. Everything was too warm, the air almost sickeningly sweet.

A usually delicate smell. Like fermenting flowers.

Haruka shook Makoto’s hands from his own, instead taking hold of either side of Makoto’s head and bringing him down so that Haruka could see his eyes more clearly.

Makoto stammered, but held still as Haruka searched.

There, deep inside Makoto’s pupils danced the ancient symbols. The man had been magicked. This overly excited Makoto that seemed so interested in Haruka was all a pretence.

“Who did this to you?” Haruka breathed. Makoto’s eyes fluttered shut.

A gruff cough broke Haruka’s concentration. Shifting Makoto’s head to the side, Haruka reluctantly acknowledged Sasabe from where he stood at the office door.

“Nanase, why don’t you let Mr. Tachibana get back to work. Come on back to the office, we need to talk.”

Makoto’s eyes snapped open. Jolting from Haruka’s grip, Makoto attempted to walk towards the office.

“Sir, Haru and I were--”

“Just finishing up that staring contest, huh?” Nagisa appeared at Haruka’s side. “Told you I played winner. Looks like it's back to work for us though. Mako-chan, why don’t you come back after your deliveries. Haru-chan’s off at three today. Come on by, and we can have a rematch.”

“But, we were--” Makoto tried again, but Nagisa tugged Haruka away in emphasis.

“--are sore losers. Terrible habit, really. Now excuse us, we have orders to fill.”

Nagisa dragged Haruka across the production room, depositing him at the office door. Offering a brief wave to Makoto then a stern look to Sasabe, Nagisa exited the room.

Haruka hurried into the office, shutting the door behind him. He hoped Makoto got the hint. They couldn’t talk now. Not here. Not with Sasabe watching.

“Don’t think for a minute I believe this staring contest crap,” Sasabe growled as he took a seat in the office chair. “I want the truth. Now what's happening between you and that delivery guy? Company policy is that there are no relationships between employees. Of course we can’t be replacing you, but delivery men are a dime a dozen. I need to know if there are steps that need to be taken.”

Haruka’s heart beat loudly in his ears. The truth. Partial would work.

“He’s been magicked,” Haruka said to the floor.

Sasabe’s countenance instantly changed, his face going pale. “Magicked, you say? By who? Competitors? Conspirators? The feds?!”

“Can’t say. I was interrupted.”

“And now he’s back out there. Does he know anything? He’s always talking to everybody. Someone may have slipped up and he could be reporting us now!” Sasabe’s leg bounced with every word.

“He knows nothing. I sensed no ill-intent.”

“How can you know? You spend your days with cupcakes. We could be in serious trouble now!” Sasabe spoke around his thumb, gnawing the nail nervously.

Haruka pictured the Makoto of yesterday. Calm, polite, warm. The one who knocked upon their door today seemed near manic. All because of magic. Haruka couldn’t leave him a victim like that.

“Nothing will come of this. I will see to it.”

“You better. I won’t let this fall on me if things go sour. Now get back to work. Orders still need to be filled before you snuff out this fiasco.”

Haruka quickly exited the office, and let out a small sigh of relief when he found the production room empty. The goods boxed for delivery were gone, and Makoto with them. For now at least.

Haruka pulled out the chilled croissant dough, returned to his counter, and began pounding it thin.

thud thud thud

What had Makoto been trying to say?

Thud Thud Thud

 How much of that was really him?

THUD THUD THUD

Did he really feel that way?

Haruka folded the dough lengthwise by thirds, wrapped it up again, and returned it to the fridge.

He wouldn’t know until he saw Makoto again.

The bakery closed each day at 2pm. The last hour of Haruka’s shift was spent cleaning up the production room. Sasabe had left early to attend a meeting and Rei had taken to cleaning up the front area. Nagisa mopped the floors as Haruka washed the dishes. The room was unusually quiet. Haruka turned on the industrial dishwasher for its third round, his eyes carefully studying Nagisa as he worked his way around the room with a mop and bucket.

“You’ve been playing with magic again,” Haruka charged pointedly.

Nagisa flinched. Spinning around the handle of his mop, he turned to face Haruka.

“Not playing. More experimenting you could say.”

“But why Makoto? And with what?”

Nagisa took in a deep breath. Eyes on the entryway to the front room.

“I always know when Makoto drops by. Poor Rei-chan is allergic to your magic, and he goes into a sneezing frenzy every time you lose control. Today was especially bad, Rei near coughed up a lung. So I took a peek back and overheard you guys discussing… a tart.”

“What did you do?” Haruka growled, feeling protective. Over Makoto or his tart; probably both.

“Well ya see, Rei-chan’s birthday is coming up. And I’m this close to having him confess to me,” Nagisa pinched his fingers together in emphasis. “But he just hasn’t got the courage to. So I thought for his birthday I could give him a little courage cake. But I wanted to do a trial run first, so I found a tart in the walk-in to try it on.”

The room seemed to fall under a shadow.

“My tart.”

“Well, I didn’t know that. I thought it was just a regular specially ordered one. I was planning on just dropping it whenever the customer came by to pick it up and you would magic a new one like you always do. Oh Haru-chan, don't be like that! It’ll wear off soon and he’ll forget all about this!”

The stack of pans next to the sink began to rattle.

“You magicked my tart with a courage spell?! If I had made that with magic, the spells could have reacted. Makoto could have died!”

“But he didn’t! Besides, I didn’t use a courage spell. Something more along the lines of… a love potion.”

“Is there some sort of wind storm going on? My allergies are killing me!” Rei groaned, walking into the backroom, his face buried in several tissues.

Haruka forced himself to breathe, and the room lightened. The pans settled into their stacks once again.

“Who knows, Rei-chan. You ready to head out? Haruka and I were just finishing up.”

“Nagisa…” Haruka warned, but Nagisa had already dragged Rei to the back door.

“I’d clean my face if I were you. Wouldn’t want to be covered in flour for a first date.”

“Aw, Nanase-san congratulations!” Rei managed to exclaim before Nagisa shoved him out the door.

“Yeah, good luck Haru-chan. Call me if you need anything!” Nagisa winked before shutting the door.

First date? Is that what you call trying to mend your lovestruck crush?

… Lovestruck crush … 

Was that what Makoto had been trying to say? Had been magicked into believing?

Haruka wet a rag, and began patting his face with it.

He hadn’t paid much mind to spells dealing in romance. He had always found the idea of manipulating someone like that to be revolting, so he usually skipped those sections in his spellbooks. He might have been able to handle a courage spell, but a love potion was a different matter. Nagisa said it would wear off eventually. And it must not have come in liquid form that it could be infused with a completed tart.

And now that Haruka thought of it, Makoto hadn’t been terribly lovesick. He had heard stories where people under the influence of love potions would propose on sight. Others would jump their desired person if only given the chance. Makoto seemed excitable, babbling, and, Haruka had to admit, rather affectionate. And though bewildered, Haruka had never felt any fear. Makoto wasn’t dangerous. He just seemed to be lost in what he was feeling. And perhaps a touch delusional, considering the bit where Makoto claimed to have been eating the tart with him.

With no answers yet of which spell Makoto was under, Haruka came to the conclusion that it would be best to keep observing him rather than try magicking some sort of undo spell. He could manage that. Just make sure Makoto didn’t do anything dangerous. A strictly supervisory role.

A knock on the door brought Haruka back to the work room. The dishes were washed and stored. Everything had been locked up for the day. Now it was just Haruka and the person who waited beyond that door. Tugging his bag higher up his back, Haruka turned off the lights and opened the door. Makoto stood waiting, hair golden in the winter sun.

“G-good afternoon, Haru,” Makoto murmured. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to cause a scene or anything.”

Haruka stepped out and shivered, the cold still piercing despite the time of day. Locking the door behind him, he let out a long, clouded breath.

“Makoto?”

“Yes, Haru?”

“You hungry?”

“I guess. Haven’t had much since your… well…”

“Let's find something to eat.”

“Yeah? Now?”

“Yeah.”

Perhaps his role wasn’t strictly supervisory. An early dinner together didn’t have to count as a first date. Two friends could share a meal together without it being anything. Nevermind that it was something he had day dreamed about almost daily. Nevermind that Makoto was magicked to adore him. Nevermind the company’s strict policy about employee relationships. Perhaps he could just enjoy this. Just for now.

“Do you have a place in mind?” Makoto asked after a moment of silent standing. “I can drive us there in the truck.”

“You know Asuma’s Grill?”

“Down by the docks? Yeah, I’ve seen it but never been.”

“Let’s go there.”

“Ok, the trunk’s this way.”

Haruka followed Makoto around the corner of the bakery and down a side alley. Makoto rounded the passenger side and opened the door for Haruka. He’d seen it done in movies, but still felt self-conscious as he stepped up and into the seat and watched Makoto close the door beside him. Makoto slid next to him from the opposite door, and the car started with a staccato growl then a low rumble. Switching the gear then releasing the break in a single fluid motion, the truck lurched to life and began its way down the alley.

Though he primarily walked or used public transportation (as well as the occasional broomstick when his family made him), Haruka was surprisingly comfortable in the delivery truck. Though its boxy backside made turns somewhat alarming, the air vents warmed his hands and the occasional brush of shoulders with Makoto had his heart doing flips. Some old tune from his parents’ generation played softly from the speakers. It seemed suitable to the little town flying by his fogging window.

Soon the ocean came into view, and Makoto pulled into a parking spot next to the restaurant with practiced ease.

“This the place, right?” Makoto questioned, though he already had unbuckled and made to open the door. Haruka hummed his answer and followed Makoto out of the vehicle, leaving his bag inside. They filed into the shack of a building. Haruka instantly felt at home as the smell of food warmed him through.

They took a seat at a small table in the back. Haruka watched Makoto look around for a menu before meeting Haruka’s gaze with a childish, puzzled look. Haruka filed away the expression in his mind so that he may return and adore it later. Raising his hand, he waved two fingers at the man writing at the counter and was answered with a curt nod. Makoto watched on, clearly impressed.

“You’re a regular here?”

“Something like that.”

“So there’s a story?”

Haruka shrugged. “Memories mostly,” he murmured, eyes on the ocean swirling outside the window next to them. Makoto smiled in response but did not push further for an answer.

Soon two plates were brought to their table.

“Mackerel?” Makoto questioned, but Haruka went ahead and began digging in. Yes. Grilled mackerel marinated in miso with an orange honey sauce. He wasn’t much beyond a pastry chef, but he still could appreciate a properly grilled mackerel fillet. 

Makoto took his first bite and gave a satisfied hum. Haruka had never brought someone here, but he wasn’t surprised by Makoto’s approval. His belief that people could communicate through food included both sweet and savory varieties. He watched as Makoto quickly took a second bite then a third. He paused after his fourth.

“It's like I’m being transported somewhere. Like a camp-out with my grandfather. Except I never knew my grandfather outside his office. But if I were to have a grandfather who liked to take me camping, it feels like I’m there with him now. No wonder you like this place.”

The two quickly devoured their meals. Upon finishing, Makoto reclined into the back of his chair with a content expression. “That was wonderful Haru. Please, let me take the bill.”

Haruka grabbed Makoto’s hand before he could reach into his jacket for his wallet. Turning to make eye contact with the man at the counter again, he exchanged another nod. He then stood up and made for the door while dragging a mystified Makoto behind him.

Instead of heading back to the truck, Haruka turned to the docks. The winter sun was low in the sky despite the relatively early hour. The shore shone a liquid amber. A fire tickled Haruka’s cheeks as he noticed Makoto slide his arm from his grip and instead take his hand. Whatever spell Makoto was under, it conjured up the most charming of his traits. They walked quietly up and around, appreciating the gentle bob of boats and birds alike in the last rays of sunlight. Coming to the end of the long pier, Haruka took a seat on an old bench. Makoto followed suit in the space beside him.

They sat in silence. Haruka let himself imagine that the lull of the ocean around them was nature’s love song. Dipping and swooning just for them. It was a nice thought, even if it wasn’t true. Even if none of this was really real. Even if the hand threaded through his might not even remember this all tomorrow. For now, he wanted to believe that he could have a moment like this. He really wanted to believe.

The grip around his hand tightened, bringing him from his thoughts. He braved a glance at those magicked eyes and instantly regretted it as he recognized concern reflected in their depths.

“Just now, you thought of something sad,” Makoto said with a soft voice.

How could Makoto see through him like that? What else did he see? Haruka didn’t deserve that concern. Such whole hearted empathy. Magicked or not.

Haruka looked away, wishing the tide would rise up and swallow him whole. And with that wishful thought, a mammoth wave struck the support beams of the pier. Strong arms encircled him and drew him close as they both lurched to the side. Haruka fought to clear his mind and even his breath as ocean spray littered their coats with dampened spots. He couldn’t afford to lose control of his magic now. Not while Makoto was still an unknown cocktail of spells. Keep it together!

He paused in his coping tactics to notice a tremble in the great body that surrounded him. Wiggling a bit to loosen the grip around him, he peered up into Makoto’s scrunched up face. Without opening his eyes, Makoto forced a laugh.

“Sorry. Just surprised is all. Give me a sec.” A couple deep breaths later, and Makoto opened his eyes though his smile remained strained. “So, uhh.. You have any stories about this place? Seems you’re familiar with it.”

Haruka quickly picked up on Makoto’s cue. He scanned his memory for some sort of distraction.

“Y-yes! That place back there. That was my first kitchen. Learned how to wash dishes there. Use a knife. Gut a fish. That's where I learned what hard work was.”

Makoto maintained eye contact, but continued to squirm with each ebbing wave.

“And after my shift, I’d come out here where it felt like it was just me and the ocean. And I would just let loose, screaming and crying. Back then, I was a spoiled kid just earning his first calluses, but god was I scared. But I wouldn’t trade those times for the world. Standing your own in a kitchen is vital for every chef. The food will chew you out if you don’t stand your ground.”

Haruka felt a rumble from the body beside him. He couldn’t help but smile in relief as Makoto broke into a full belly laugh.

“Could you imagine!? Chewed by your own food! When we’re usually the ones doing the chewing!” Makoto wheezed between fits.

“It's not as uncommon as you think,” Haruka muttered, recalling those flowers from the day before. Makoto continued laughing, the comment lost as he fought through the hilarity for air. After a moment more of battle, Makoto finally won as he took a couple of desperate deep breaths.

“I never imagined you could be so funny, Haru! You really got me with that one. Thank you!” Makoto openly applauded, stretching his arms out and then resting them on the back of the bench. Haruka shuffled to find another comfortable position with this new arrangement. He settled with resting his shoulder on one of Makoto’s outstretched arms.

“I really needed that,” Makoto sighed, relaxing at last. “Guess it's my turn to share a story.”

Haruka made to argue the statement, but Makoto shushed him with a well-timed wink that sent Haruka’s stubborn will flying. 

“It's only fair”, Makoto continued. “Lets see… Back in my hometown, there was this great big mountain lake just north of us. And during the summer, all the kids in the area would swarm the lake. There were rope swings and stone bridges. They have even added a water slide since I’ve left. Besides sitting at home, it kinda was the only thing we had to occupy ourselves during those hot summers. 

“When I was 10, my mom finally decided I was old enough to go to the lake without her. I just had to promise to stick with my older brother and sister. But you have to understand, Ran and Ren were twins and they loved to tease me. They tormented me at home, to school, from school. I knew they loved me. But they also loved to see me angry.”

Being an only child, Haruka couldn’t understand the paradox. But Makoto seemed enthused in his story. So Haruka nodded and continued to listen.

“So the first time we went by ourselves, they told me a water trampoline had been installed just under the rope swing. And they got me to believe that the best bounce off the trampoline was when you landed spread eagle, like this.”

Makoto spread his arms out wide to demonstrate the position before returning to his earlier posture. Haruka shifted back as well, but an uneasy feeling had already settled as he foresaw the story’s conclusion.

“I went up first, thinking I would show them just how grown up I really was. I was going to swing the highest from the swing than perform the biggest bounce off the trampoline in that spread position. But when I actually hit the water, there was no trampoline there to ease my fall. My sister says the sound of me slapping down on the water still haunts her today. It hurt so bad. My chest was purple for weeks. Even talking about it makes me sting a bit.”

Haruka felt Makoto shiver for emphasis. Thinking of a young, naive Makoto trying to be so brave and failing so miserably- it was difficult to imagine. Beyond that, a part of him also felt resentment.

“How could they do that to you?” he asked, unable to comprehend the mindset of such malicious siblings.

Makoto hummed a shadow of a laugh, his eyes far-seeing. “I’m sure I was an annoying little brother. A crybaby really. But thinking about things like that now… I’m not angry about it.”

“I would be. I am, actually,” Haruka huffed. He’d never been the forgiving type. Especially to such blatant cruelty.

“Oh, please don’t!”

The urgency in Makoto’s voice startled Haruka.

“I wouldn’t want that for them.”

Though his relaxed position hadn’t changed, his expression was pinched. They both watched the shimmering ripples highlighting the darkness below. The sun had set. A half moon and the lights from shore were their last sources of light.

“Sorry about that little attack earlier. Things have been weird today, and seeing the ocean so suddenly like that. Its been years since I’ve had that sort of reaction.”

“You’re scared of the ocean.” Haruka realized, sitting up right in alarm. While he had been relishing in the company of his dreams, the evening must have resembled more of a nightmare for Makoto.

Makoto mirrored Haruka’s position, but his expression was open again. Willingly, he made eye contact.

“It's not the ocean. This place really is beautiful. It sounds silly, but it's kinda just bodies of water in general. Like I said, I'm usually not like that. But things have been off with me today. And I just… remembered something.”

Haruka didn’t push for more. Instead he watched Makoto. The way his lips drew tight then relaxed. The lines of his face deepening and easing again. The glow of the ancient signs still circling deep within his pupils. Guilt sunk deep in Haruka’s stomach then. Makoto hadn’t asked for any of this. Haruka had no right in being here and listening to this. None of this was his to have.

“I’m sorry--” Haruka began.

“I want to tell you something,” Makoto interjected.

“No, I can’t--” Haruka tried again.

“Please!” Makoto exclaimed. Haruka allowed himself to be silenced though he knew he did not deserve what he was about to hear.

“You need to know...why. I want you to know why I…” Makoto was breathing heavily now. He cleared his throat before he went on, yet continued to labor through his words.

“Something else happened that summer. The twins and I were up at the lake like usual. Then it started raining. Hard. We could barely see as we ran home. Didn’t know what we were headed into. I wasn’t as fast as they were so I wasn’t there when it hit. A mudslide broke right in front of me and swept them down into the lake. Ran was able to swim her way out, but they were never able to find Ren. At the time, I was convinced that the water had taken him. Something down there kept him from coming back to us. 

“It's been years since then, and I’d almost forgotten the feeling. But just then, it all came back to me.”

Haruka stood up, having heard enough. Tugging Makoto to follow him, Haruka began to lament, “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have--”

Makoto stood too, but refused to follow Haruka’s motion to leave.

“No, thats it though. Being with you now, I feel safe!”

Haruka thrashed his head side to side. No, it's a lie.

“When I remembered that feeling, you were able to pull me out of it. You risked yourself and were vulnerable.”

No, it's all a lie!

“You’re always working so hard. And I just can’t seem to get over the idea that you’ve been trying to tell me something--”

“I’M A WITCH!” Haruka shouted, releasing a shock wave with each word. 

“A-a what?!” Makoto stammered, stumbling to the side as the water splashed wildly below them.

Haruka screwed his eyes shut, too afraid to look as the truth escaped him.

“I’m the reason you’ve been feeling off today. I’m the reason weird things keep happening. You think I am so hard working, but I’m a witch who lies and cheats to get what I want. And I hate it. Hate magic. Hate the lies. You deserve better than this. You’re important to me, and I want so much more for you!”

Haruka panted from where he stood now a distance from Makoto. Just far enough that when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer and opened his eyes, he wasn’t able to see Makoto’s face through the shadows.

But he heard his voice.

“I’m important to you?”

“What, that’s not what I meant. I--”

“Thats what its been all this time?” Makoto took a step forward and then another. “Haru, I--”

The wood beneath Makoto’s next step groaned loudly. Makoto’s pace broke, halting on the crackling board. Another set of punctuated snaps ran in quick succession before the board finally gave way. Haruka’s frazzled brain struggled to process Makoto’s gasp and the splash that came afterward. Before he knew it, he was mid-air jumping in after him.

Haruka managed to pull his magic into a tight bubble around himself before he hit the water. It was dark beneath the pier, but the tendrils of magic he spread around himself quickly detected a struggling body below him. Twisting his body forward, he propelled himself down to Makoto’s level. Releasing the bubble, his body convulsed as winter’s sea rushed in to seize him. Still, he pressed through the icy expanse to reach the flailing body before him. A set of hands tightly gripped his own. Then they were being pushed upward. Though his body screamed of the cold, Haruka’s mind was only on separating the water above and thrusting them out of the ocean’s grasp.

Air suddenly replaced water, and Haruka recognized that they were now airborne and ascending quickly. Dissolving the lift beneath them, he conjured in its place a weightless spell. With Makoto dangling beneath him, Haruka steered them clear of the water and slowly descended down onto a forested bank southeast of the pier. They both landed crumpled and wet on the dirt. Haruka’s sigh of relief to have solid ground beneath him swiftly turned into jaw crippling chatters. Turning to see where Makoto had landed, he saw the same violent shake take over his body.

“H-h-h-h-ha-r-ru…” Makoto whimpered.

Haruka fought hard to think of another spell. His magic echoed his body’s spasms, brittle in all its use. He had to think of something. Anything to keep them from freezing where they lay.

Heaving himself onto his stomach, Haruka shakily crawled a meandering path to Makoto. Fear shot through him once he made it to Makoto’s side. His shivering had stopped. Makoto lay unresponsive to Haruka as he clamored over him. Only soft green eyes watched him through heavy lids.

Wrapping his frozen arms around Makoto as tightly as he could, Haruka managed one last incantation. A whirl of icy magic forced Haruka’s eyes shut. Then everything was still. Hard wood paneling pinched his arms, and he let out a relieved sigh. He had gotten them home. He could finally rest.

A sleepy hand pulled at the neck of his shirt. No matter how he tugged at it, he couldn’t relieve himself of its choking confines. Regretfully, he pried his eyes open to assess the problem.  Looking down, he realized the shirt was entirely too small for him. Not only did it circle his neck too tightly, the fabric pulled painfully beneath his arms, and his naval was left bare. He then recognized the mascot for a popular children’s cereal screen printed across the front. This wasn’t his shirt. And after looking around, he realized, this wasn’t his room. He hadn’t ever really been one to decorate a room, besides some gifts he’d received through time. This room was ornately decorated with magicked stars, music posters, and a giant framed picture of Rei Ryugazaki.

“Nagisa?!”

A tumble of steps thundered before the bedroom door was thrown open, and Nagisa descended upon him with open arms.

“Haru-chan! Never do that to me again!” Nagisa cried, twisting his head into Haruka’s chest. “You’re so mean. Big bad meanie. Absolutely the worst.”

“Nagisa, careful.”

Haruka eyes shot from Nagisa’s golden locks to stare up at Makoto standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a baggy shirt of a popular boyband and some basketball shorts. A blanket dotted in llamas was draped over his shoulders.

What had happened? What were they doing here at Nagisa’s?

Nagisa sat back to sulk as Makoto came in to stand next to them.

“How are you feeling?” Makoto asked, his expression curiously neutral.

“Fine,” he answered automatically. Looking down again, he flexed his hands and shifted his legs beneath the covers. His magic swirled languidly along the carpet, slowly snaking its way up the walls. Nodding his head, he repeated himself, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You have me to thank for that! Don’t play with magic they say, but this little witch saved your butts,” Nagisa replied, congratulating himself.

“N-Nagisa!” Haruka sputtered, staring down curious pink eyes before shifting them to pointedly look at Makoto.

“Whaaat?” Nagisa retorted. “He already knows.”

“You told me. Remember? Last night?” Makoto added, taking Haruka’s hand in a reassuring gesture. Haruka immediately tore it away.

“You still remember that?!” Haruka gasped. Turning to Nagisa, he continued, “I thought you said he would forget. How long has it been? What did you do?!”

Nagisa shook his head vigorously, holding up both palms out in defense.

“Nagisa has taken great care of us,” Makoto asserted. “Its actually mid-morning Monday. He was up almost all night watching over us. Speaking of which,” Makoto gripped Nagisa by the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I need to head out. Have to make sure the truck doesn’t get towed. I’ll go get my things from the dryer.”

Makoto quickly departed from the room, a muffled “see you guys later” the last they heard of him before the front door slammed shut and he was gone.

“I think he’s handling it rather well,” Nagisa remarked as he slid down to lay fully alongside Haruka.

“He’s still under the spell. Has to be,” Haruka sighed, slumping down back into the pillows.

“I don’t know about that.”

“I almost killed us both! Who can just gather their laundry and walk away for a morning drive after that?!”

“But you didn’t die… Haru-chan, you were completely sapped when I found you in my living room. Despite being frozen solid, you teleported two people to a location you’ve never been to! You like to think I don’t know much, but I know that it's near impossible to do something like that. And once he’d thawed out, Makoto hardly left your side. He knows what you did. Doesn’t take a doctor to know someone’s on the brink of death. He knows your magic is what saved him.”

“It was magic that stuck us in that situation in the first place. It was magic that spelled him into loving me. Its because of magic that I’m in that stupid bakery anyway. I never wanted to be a witch. All I’ve ever wanted to do is bake. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Haru-chan, didn’t you realize? It wasn’t a love potion.”

“But you said--”

“I lied. I know Rei loves me. I want him to tell me his real feelings. It was an intensification spell. No new feelings were implanted. Just the original ones made… bigger.”

“But he said himself that he wasn’t usually like that. And he had said so much that just came out of nowhere.”

“Those are the questions you need to ask Makoto. I can’t know for sure, but what happened yesterday wasn’t the result of just magic.”

Haruka groaned loudly, pulling the covers up over his head. Nagisa shifted beside him, stepping off the bed and walking towards the door.

“Go ahead and rest. Maybe you’ll come up with some answers in the meantime”.

Haruka exhaled into a pillow. What did Nagisa know? Or Makoto for that matter? Witches were unlucky. Magic ruins everything. And he was going to die alone.

He told himself that over and over, falling asleep only after he couldn’t deny a word of it.

The weather forecast predicted freezing rain for Thursday, but Haruka woke that morning to snow just beginning to dust the roads. A peculiar silence occupied the town as he made his walk to the bakery. He found Rin grumpy as ever. Haruka listened dutifully as Rin griped about Sousuke losing his way while returning from the restrooms in the middle of the night, and how they ended up needing rescue services. The story ended with Rin holding back tears as he confessed how scared he’d been and just how important Sousuke was to him.

Haruka couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was done with love. If Sousuke was such a bother, Rin should move on. Leave the mess behind. It's the path he had decided on.

Sasabe entered the bakery in a whirl of snowflakes. He was markedly more grumpy than usual.

“Nanase! My office!” he barked, ripping his coat off and stomping through the production room in wet boots.

Rin gave Haruka a questioning look, but was shrugged off. Scooting the last honey wheat loaf out of the oven and onto a rack, Haruka placed down his paddle and walked over. Sasabe shut the door behind him.

“What’d you find out? What was Tachibana hiding?!” he began prodding. “I’m thinking it's that place down next to the ramen shop. Ya’ know, the one already decked out for Christmas? Gotta be magic. I swear I’ve felt it near there.”

“I don’t know,” Haruka stated simply. “I didn’t find anything.”

“Whaddayamean?? Can’t be nothing! Who just ups and quits like that? Especially after that little episode on Sunday?! None of it makes sense!”

What…?

“He quit? Did you just say he quit?” Haruka demanded. 

Sasabe grit his teeth, eye twitching. “Yeah, the guy comes in all stony faced on Tuesday with his letter of resignation. ‘Conflict of Interests’ my ass. The guy knows and he’s telling ‘em about us right now!”

The door swung open and Nagisa clamored in. “He’s not like that! Makoto would never do such a thing!”

“Get outta here, kid!” Sasabe howled. “Stop poking your nose into company business!”

“Makoto is the kindest person ever! He wouldn’t sell us out. He wouldn’t quit without a word. He just was under a little spell. Its over. Things should just go back to normal!”

“But magic isn’t like that,” Haruka muttered, exiting the office as Nagisa and Sasabe continued to vocally brawl.

Taking his stance beside Rin, Haruka began filling pastry bags with pâte à choux. Rin continued scooping cookies from the pan he was working on. For a moment, they worked in smooth movements just as they always had.

Coming to the end of the tray, Rin finally paused. “So that Makoto guy… Heard he quit.”

Haruka hummed.

“Always thought he was someone special to you.”

Haruka shrugged.

“Something happen while I was gone?”

Haruka tapped his tray of pâte à choux on the counter twice before sliding it onto a rack. He then wheeled the rack over to the glowing walk-in oven. After securing the rack into the rotation attachment, Haruka closed the door and turned on the timer.

“Guess I scared him off.”

Rin shivered. Despite being surrounded by massive ovens and usually running hot himself, he suddenly felt very cold.

“If you say so…”

By the time the bakery closed for the day, the snow had accumulated into small drifts. Haruka was once again last in the store. Sasabe had left early, complaining of a stomach ache. Nagisa had been like lightning to pick up the slack. When he and Rei had left after cleaning for the day, he had declared that by this time next year he’d be the manager and that everyone would get raises. Rei scolded him for his pride, but Haruka could easily see the admiration Rei had for Nagisa’s performance throughout the day.

Haruka was just depositing his apron into the laundry when a knock startled him. It wasn’t often, but customers in the past had walked around the building to pound on the back door when they were unhappy to find the bakery closed. Haruka struggled to paint on some sort of customer service facade, stretching his mouth into something like a grin, before giving up and letting his face full to its usual placid expression.

Swinging open the door, he began the usual run down. “Sorry sir, we’re clo--... Makoto?”

“Good afternoon, Haru,” Makoto said, snow dripping from the shoulders of his green parka as he bowed his head in greeting.

“Wha-What are you doing here?” Haruka stammered, knuckles white on the door handle.

“I needed to speak to you, or rather… give you something. But turns out I don’t know where you live or even your number. So I figured I could find you here. Sorry for surprising you like this.”

Haruka had half the mind to slam the door right then, and shun any future attempt at contact. But a sloppy foil parcel in Makoto’s hand caught his curiosity. Gingerly, he pushed the door open fully and allowed Makoto inside.

Makoto walked to a counter, shrugging off his parka as he did so. All Haruka had ever seen Makoto in was his delivery uniform (besides Nagisa’s pajamas), but plaid flannel stretching over wide shoulders nearly did Haruka in.

“Focus!” he reminded himself silently, “He isn’t yours. He wasn’t yours. He left. That's what you wanted.”

Joining Makoto at the counter, Haruka allowed himself to survey the crumpled offering.

“It took me awhile to figure it out. I tried researching, but it just didn’t look the same in the end.”

Haruka unwrapped the package with a gentle hand. Peeling the aluminum layers one by one, a shape started to form. Then there, nestled among the shining layers, was a cake. Or something approximating a cake. It stood short and circular with jagged edges. Buttercream was smeared haphazardly along the top and partially along the sides in shades of an unappetizing blue with protruding crumbs sprinkled every which way.

Makoto produced a fork from his pocket and offered it to Haruka who hesitantly accepted it. The fork came down quickly through a rugged section, scooping up a small mouthful which was quickly delivered to Haruka’s mouth. He closed his eyes to fully let his mouth see.

First there was sugar, from the frosting undoubtedly. Too sweet and gritty against his teeth. But he could detect a hint of white chocolate through the shards. Then there was cake. Chocolate- a safe choice. The texture was light enough, though a touch dry. A breath in through the nose, and was that… cinnamon? He swallowed, and sighed in gratitude when there was no sickly aftertaste. Overall, a promising entry for what was clearly a very novice attempt.

Haruka opened his eyes and was startled to find Makoto staring at him intently. Haruka chose to fixedly study Makoto’s left shirt lapel as he professed his verdict.

“It's not terrible.”

“So, you’re saying I have hope?”

“I’m saying its not terrible. It's not good either.”

“Oh, I see… Do you want a second bite?”

“No.”

“Okay… Did it… take you anywhere?”

“I could use some water, I guess.”

“No… I mean--” Makoto cut himself off with a heavy exhale. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

Haruka pushed the cake and its nest to the side. Placing his hands on either side, he pushed himself to sit on the counter. Nevermind his food handling training, he needed a seat for whatever Makoto was trying here.

“Where was I supposed to go?”

“I dunno. Somewhere? At least it would have been nice if it was someplace you liked. Your food always takes me places. Makes me feel something. I don’t know if its your magic--”

Makoto paused at Haruka’s flinch at the word “magic”. Taking a deep inhale, he continued to plow forward.

“-Or years of training, but it's something really special. And I hoped I could maybe return the favor. Get a message of my own sent. Have that moment of connection,”

“Well, of course you didn’t. That frosting was near inedible.”

“I tried!”

Haruka couldn’t help but smile at Makoto’s frustration. It was nice not to be the one flustered. And he didn’t really want to admit it, but what Makoto was saying had struck a chord.

“Do you remember where that chocolate orange tart took you?”

“I couldn’t forget it!”

“Where did you go?”

“Remember, I told you.”

Haruka shook his head between stiff shoulders. He remembered Makoto talking about it, but still wasn’t sure what it meant.

“It took me to you.”

...

A breath in.

Haruka stilled his gaze from its wandering path. 

A breath out.

Slowly his eyes traveled up Makoto’s tall frame.

A breath in.

A moment of focus at his mouth.

A breath out.

Another on the freckles running across his nose.

“You told me how much you cared for me.”

A breath in.

“And I had hoped my cake would tell you…”

A breath out.

“How much I care about you.”

Haruka's eyes connected with Makoto’s then, and he was surprised to see them gleaming in a way he’d never imagined.

Not a glow of ancient signs in their depths, but wet with unshed tears.

This was Makoto speaking to him now. Talking to him with a full knowledge of all Haruka was. The vision who stood before him now did not cry for fear, but in hopes of conveying something else.

“I want to try it again,” Haruka declared, sitting up straight.

“Oh, um… sure,” Makoto agreed, gripping a sleeve to dab at his face quickly. “You have the fork.”

“Not the cake.”

“I don’t unders-”

Haruka threw a hand out, seizing Makoto by his shirt and pulling him in close. He pressed their foreheads together. Makoto’s breath was hot against Haruka’s cheeks, setting his mind aflame with visions of rosemary and ginger. Haruka’s free hand rose to slowly caress that stupidly beautiful face. A tear stained his thumb.

“Oh…”

Eyelashes whispered across his skin as they fluttered shut, sending shivers down Haruka’s spine. He pressed himself closer into Makoto, finally allowing himself to surge forward. Lips brushing once. Then twice. Finally, they connected fully the third time. Haruka’s being seemed to crack like ice then, and he was melting. Like turbulent white water rapids, he ran along Makoto’s edges. Fingers tangling hair, running up muscled expanses, streaking against skin. And Makoto in turn met him like a man dying of thirst. Scooping him up and consuming him openly; relishing in the showering promise of new life. 

Haruka’s legs drew Makoto in tight, and there was a deafening crack of thunder. Lightning blinded them to thoughts. The water was gone, and everything was fire. It raced through their bodies in waves of violent crackling. Skin glowing red as the heat threatened to consume them. Haruka’s lungs seized inside his chest, begging for air. He wanted more, but this would have to wait. They broke apart with great force, like magnets from metal. 

Haruka breathed heavily from where he rested against Makoto’s shoulder. Above him, Makoto was still gasping for breath, his bare chest moving sharply beneath Haruka’s splayed hand. Haruka couldn’t recall when he had removed Makoto’s shirt. Nor how he had lost his own. It was satisfying to see them crumpled together on the floor. A choked gasp caused him to look up.

“Do you hear that?”

At first try, he couldn’t. Haruka closed his eyes. Past the thrum of Makoto’s heart and their shared breath… There! A rattling hum. Makoto shifted against him, releasing his grip on Haruka’s hip. Haruka opened his eyes to watch Makoto stretch his arm to point at a stack of pans on a shelf next to them. The lot were rustling like leaves in the wind.

“Are you doing that?” Makoto asked with a childish lilt, dropping his hand to rest on Haruka’s back.

Haruka took in a long breath, feeling how his magic eddied around them. With a long exhale, he commanded the pans to still. The chiming metal fell in an even decrescendo.

“It does that sometimes.”

“Wow…” Makoto breathed. “Nagisa explained some of it to me, but it is really a part of you.”

It was so warm here against Makoto, it pained Haruka mortally to push him away. But he did. He had to know. Makoto watched patiently as Haruka sat apart from him, his skin prickling with the chill. From Haruka’s perch on the counter, he was level with Makoto’s gaze.

“Does it really not bother you? Me being a witch and all?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Makoto confirmed, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles from where they rested at Haruka’s waist.

“It didn’t scare you to be under a spell? To lose control over yourself?”

“It was confusing, yes. But none of it wasn’t mine already.”

“And I can’t always control it. Strange things happen around me all the time. It already almost killed you.”

“Then you risked your life saving me. I don’t regret any of this, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve felt safe with you for a long time. And that hasn’t changed; with or without magic.”

A flicker of remorse haunted Haruka. “You’ve really wanted me all this time. How didn’t I see it?”

“You were always working so hard. Its something I admire about you. How beautiful you are as you form everything with such painstaking detail. Fill it with life. It's a wonder you noticed me at all.”

Haruka leaned forward, pressing his lips to the corner of Makoto’s mouth.

“Then why did you leave?” he breathed.

Makoto smile foiled Haruka’s attempts at another kiss.

“I was betting on this,” Makoto said, pulling Haruka closer to him. “Company policy, remember? It would have been pretty terrible if this had all gone wrong and I was without you and a job.”

“You shouldn’t have. Who can say if this will be worth it?”

Makoto bent his head low, letting out an aggravated sigh. “What else must I do to convince you?” Makoto peppered a line of kisses up Haruka’s throat to punctuate each word. “Was one taste not enough to get the message across?” he asked.

Haruka’s hands rose up and cinched themselves around Makoto’s neck, pressing them heart to heart and effectively halting Makoto’s advances. The edge of the counter beneath him carved lines into the backs of his knees. The drip of a faucet like a drill through his head. Haruka clenched his eyes shut. No more. He didn’t want to share anymore of Makoto in this place.

“I’m going to teach you.”

“Teach me to taste?” Makoto inquired into Haruka’s ear.

Haruka gave Makoto’s side a pinch, causing him to step back in feigned betrayed shock.

“Teach you to bake a cake,” Haruka clarified, motioning for Makoto to bring him his shirt. Makoto obliged, buttoning up his own thoughtfully. 

“Was mine really so bad?”

“Now having had the real thing, your attempt is almost depressing.”

“Ok then. I am your student.”

Makoto gripped Haruka by his thighs, lifting him again from the counter and settling him gently on the ground; his movements cherishing the last moments of their shared intimacy.

“Where do we begin?” Makoto professed with an air of confidence; stepping back to survey the room with new eyes.

“By getting out of here,” Haruka announced, punctuating the order by throwing Makoto his parka.

Makoto slid it on easily. “We’re not heading to my place, right? The kitchen is a war zone after that cake.”

“Any kitchen is better than this one,” Haruka asserted as he walked to grab his things from the office.

“How so?” Makoto asked, joining Haruka on his way to the backdoor.

Haruka threw the door open, the cold searing his nostrils. Everything glittered with gold as the evening sun bounced in shining rays off the snow. Taking Makoto’s hand in his, Haruka pulled them out of the dingey production room and they began hiking their way through mounds of frozen sunlight. Their clouds of breath trailing together as they ascended into the clear blue sky.

“That place stinks of magic.”

Epilogue-

A new product is developed each year to celebrate the opening anniversary of R&R Bakes, a home based bakery run by a local young couple. This year, it is a twist on their signature orange chocolate tart. Visitors will find Makoto Tachibana, the manager of the establishment, proudly offering samples of their new commemorative orange chocolate macarons to every paying customer. You may find Nagisa Hazuki, the manager of their partner bakery, sneaking by and stealing one while Makoto isn’t looking. And if you are lucky you might even spy Haruka Tachibana, the head baker, as he visits his husband while on break from working in the kitchen.

Children will be delighted by the macaron’s perfect orange domes. Adults tempted by the satiny dark chocolate ganache. After each bite, there may be one or two will exclaim as the bright notes of orange zest tickle their noses with citrus sparks.

Rumor has it that if you taste one and really believe, you may even be transported somewhere almost like magic. 

One such young patron motioned for Makoto to lend her his ear. On tiptoes, she whispered that the macaron she had just finished had taken her flying through a jungle.

“Were you scared?” he asked with glittering green eyes.

“No!” she giggled. “You and Chef Tachibana were with me the entire time!”

“Aw, that's right,” the tall man agreed. Taking a knee next to the girl, he cupped a hand to her ear and whispered, “Now you must promise me to keep that a secret. This magic is no play thing. Treasure that experience. And if you’re lucky, we might be flying together again soon.”

The little girl promised. Eating something made with love was her favorite kind of magic.