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“Hwang Hyunjin I know it’s you. Get the fuck out of my shop.” Changbin didn’t quite stoop to throwing the metal bowl he was holdin, but he wasn’t far from it.
“Moi?” Hyunjin put a dramatic hand on his chest, his false moustache peeling up at the corners due to the violence of his frankly offensive French accent. “I do not know this Hyunjin of whom you are speaking.”
Not wanting to encourage him, Changbin frowned rather than biting back, but made sure his stance said leave now or perish even without words.
“Oh come on, hyung,” Jisung whined, leaning against the counter, already halfway though a croissant he had not yet paid for, “he’s a paying customer.”
Unlike you Changbin thought to himself. He almost tempted to say this out loud, egged on by the fact that he’s aware Jisung’s enthusiasm for Hyunjin to stay comes mainly from the fact that it might just result in Minho also paying a visit.
Jisung had been majorly crushing on Hyunjin’s ice king of a best friend since they first ran into each other at one of Changbin’s baking competitions. Until that point, he had been in Changbin’s camp, willing to listen to his rants about how cheesecake isn’t even really a cake how can you enter it into a cake competition AND still rank, that doesn’t make any sense. But all it took was one look at Minho’s ass, and Jisung was thoroughly compromised.
“I am just here,” Hyunjin seemed adamant on keeping up the French accent, although it was rapidly moving toward becoming more Belgian, “to investigate whether you have considered including tiramisu on your menu yet.”
Changbin’s frown settled deeper into his face, like an Etch n Sketch drawing that came with a free headache. “Why would I do that,” his voice was calm, the dangerous sort, “when tiramisu is not a type of cake and this is a cake shop?”
Hyunjin silently pointed at Jisung, where the remnants of the free croissant were stuck to the corners of his lips. “And this is considered cake where you are from?”
“He has a point, hyung,” Jisung said, like the traitor he is.
“No, but it is a pastry, and therefore a member of the cake family.” Hyunjin looked ready to argue, but Changbin cut him off. “And besides, this is my establishment and therefore I shall sell what I want to sell.”
Before Hyunjin could retaliate with whatever bullshit he had cooked up in that head of his, the bell above the door tinkled merrily, signalling Chris’ arrival. As if sensing the somewhat tense atmosphere in the room, he plucked his earbuds from his ears. “All good, fellas?”
“Hyung, can you please escort these gentlemen from my property? They are causing a nuisance.”
Chris tilted his head, confused. “We have…rehearsal now? So Jisung has to stay, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine. Hyunjin, please leave.” Changbin turned back to Hyunjin who was peering into his display cabinet, taking in the delicately decorated flower cupcakes.
Ignoring him, he asked, “Hyung, how do you get the petals so delicate? They’re almost see-through.”
If Changbin didn’t know better, he would think it was a compliment.
However, he did, much to his chagrin, know Hyunjin and so he hopped over the counter and started flapping him towards the door. “As if I’d give away my trade secrets to you of all people,” he muttered.
Chris stepped blankly to the side as they passed and Jisung called out a farewell from behind.
“A pleasure as always,” Hyunjin said as Changbin closed the shutter in his face. He bowed to them, theatrical fucker, then wandered off down the street, fake moustache still proudly in place.
Changbin closed the door as well and leant against it, a breath escaping him from deep within his soul.
“So,” Chris was now munching on a muffin that Changbin knew he’d pay for if asked, but that he won’t ask him to, “rehearsal?”
To be fair, the rehearsal did help Changbin relax. He lost himself in the rhythm of the beats, in the complexity he could weave into his lyrics, in the pattern and story they created together.
It made his hair stand on end, the thrill of creating. It was one of the reasons he loved baking so much. Watching the ingredients go from separate entities, to a formless mess, to an intricate and fully formed piece of art always gave Changbin tingles at the top of his spine.
In fact, he’d all but forgotten the trials of this afternoon until Chris peered at him from over his laptop as they were packing up. “What’s going on between you and Hyunjin?”
“What is ‘going on’,” Changbin employed his most vigorous air quotes, “hyung, is that he is my arch enemy.” Chris nodded at this, but his face remained unconvinced. Changbin looked at Jisung who was trying to hide his snigger behind the chairs he was stacking onto tables. “What?”
Jisung’s eyes went round as he shrugged, trying to look innocent and clueless. Changbin just narrowed his eyes, sending Jisung skittering into the back room. He turned back to Chris. “What?” he repeated.
Chris shut the lid of his laptop with a sigh. “You spend a lot of time talking about someone you apparently only consider an ‘arch enemy’.”
Air quotes were being used against him now and Changbin felt his shoulders tense. “I spend a perfectly normal amount of time talking about him, hyung. He’s a psychopath with no respect for the careful art of baking.”
Chris shrugged his shoulders, as if this proves his point somehow. “Just saying, the last time you talked about someone this much was Jaebeom when you had that crush on him years ago.”
Changbin felt his face flushing, his past shame being used against him. “The difference is that I had nice things to say about Jaebeom, whereas I have nothing nice to say about Hyunjin.”
From back in the storeroom, Jisung called, “My Mum always told me that if you can’t think of anything nice to say, you should just not say anything.” He sounded suspiciously like he was talking around a mouthful of food.
Biting back a comment about the unhelpfulness of this interjection, Changbin turned to Chris. “I don’t know what you’re implying exactly, hyung, but my life would be much better without the presence of Hwang Hyunjin, thank you very much.”
Nodding again, Chris dropped the subject and turned the conversation instead to complaints about one of his mentees. Changbin followed along as well as he could, but in truth his mind was still buzzing around the implication of Chris’ accusation.
He wasn’t blind. Hyunjin was a good looking guy. He had nice proportions and his face wouldn’t out of place on the cover of a fancy magazine. His eyes were deep and intriguing and held the robust shape of laughter in them.
Unfortunately, that laughter came at the expense of Changbin’s entire lifestyle and sat in place of a soul within Hyunjin’s artfully crafted frame.
He shook his head, trying to erase the skinny outline from behind his eyes. He waved goodbye to Chris and Jisung, deciding that a cold shower and an early night would remove him from his funk.
Hyunjin didn’t darken his doorway for a few days after that, although his dark form did linger in the corners of Changbin’s mind. No amount of piping, kneading, or rolling can seem to chase him fully away, even with a competition weekend storming towards him.
The day finally arrived, the first big contest of the spring. One of the judges was someone Changbin grew up watching on TV so his nerves were even higher than usual. He didn’t even begin to feel his stomach settle until he had safely found his table and set up his display.
The theme of this round was ‘New Beginnings’ and Changbin had pulled out all the stops. He had prepared a vanilla butter cake, light, fluffy, classic. His cream was whipped to perfection, his strawberries fresh and shining. The jam in the centre was handmade and ws tart and sticky, in perfect balance with the slightly cloying sweetness of the rest of his creation. Changbin had also prepared a short spiel about how the cake itself represented a new beginning in its close association with spring and how that which was ‘classic’ in it also symbolised the freshness of each new year.
In short: it was a masterpiece.
Even Hyunjin pulling up to the table next to him, couldn’t sour Changbin’s mood to any significant degree. He said his brief hellos to Hyunjin and to Minho, who was helping carry an extra box which might normally make him nervous, and turned back to his display.
Finally satisfied, he turned back to find Hyunjin’s table overflowing with fresh-cut flowers and what looked like bush cuttings and his heart dropped a little in his chest. It wasn’t, however, an overly offensive display and Changbin’s good mood told him to try and still expect the best. “Wow, that’s,,.” he struggled for a word with positive connotations, “a vibrant display.”
Hyunjin beamed at him before ducking under the table. “Thanks, hyung.” He sounded genuinely pleased which Changbin would deny at all costs was a good thing. “I’ve decided to really pulled out all the stops this time.”
And so, when Hyunjin emerged from underneath the table, holding a fucking trifle Changbin felt his grip on the day vanish from beneath him. “What is that?” The disgust was potent in the air, hanging around them like the sweet honeysuckle smell of the trifle.
Hyunjin’s smile dimmed a notch. “It’s a trifle,” he supplied, pride still seeping into his voice. “It took a while to stop it being too slimy, but I thought I’d try something different this time.”
Changbin didn’t even know where his anger was coming from. “When do you not?” he huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“What do you mean?” Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t even defensive, just soft.
He turned back to the offending pudding. “That,” he pointed an accusing finger at it, “is not a cake. You never enter actual cakes into these things. Can you even fucking bake?” Hyunjin’s mouth tipped down at the edges, his shoulders sagging. Changbin felt restless, like hot coals had replaced the clouds he’d been walking on just moments ago. “You’re a joke,” he scoffed.
Storming off was meant to be a power move, was meant to feel decisive, victorious. Instead, Changbin felt like a vindictive child, running away from the ruins created by his own tantrum.
The fresh air flowed over his face like a splash of cold water, and guilt coiled itself around his innards. He leant against the wall, tipping his head back to look up at the sky, the clouds like breath above him.
“Hey, asshole.” Changbin’s head snapped forward. Minho was storming towards him, his face gloomy. “What the fuck is your problem?”
Changbin’s anger had already burned itself out so Minho’s words just awoke a glimmer of fear in him. “Me?” he squeaked out weakly.
“Yeah, you.” Minho was glaring at him, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Are you going to tell me why you made my best friend cry, or an I going to have to stamp on your ugly head?”
Cry? Hyunjin was crying? Changbin made Hyunjin cry? The guilt morphed into shame within him. He hung his head, no words enough to unravel the knot of his feelings.
“Nothing?” Minho took a step forwards. “That kid worships you and you just cast him to the side every single time; you act like he’s your enemy.”
“He…worships me?” Changbin’s voice was faint, his world spinning. Hyunjin was a pest, a clown, not capable of real human emotions. The goal of all of his interactions with Changbin was to rile him up as much as he physically could. He lived off the hatred that Changbin hurled at him.
Minho rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re both stupid.” He huffed out a breath, sending his fringe up in a wave of frustration. “You’re bakery is the whole reason he even started baking. He’s obsessed with your shop and your work and…” he trailed off, his eyes taking in something in Changbin’s face. “He just thinks you’re, like, The Dude when it comes to baking.”
“But…” Changbin hesitated, shaking his head. “But all he does is piss me off.”
Minho shifted his weight on his feet and made a vague gesture with his hand. “I never sad he was smart. Or good at showing his emotions. I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve all this shit you’re throwing at him.”
A whoop a little way off made them both whip their heads around. Jisung was skipping across the car park towards them, Chris in tow. “Minho, hi.” Jisung was a little breathless, maybe not used to skipping with such vigour, maybe because of Minho. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The energy between Minho and Changbin had stopped fizzling, but now it just buzzed inside Changbin’s head instead, echoing noisily in the empty space.
There was a call from near the door announcing the beginning of the judging and Minho and Jisung moved to head inside. Chris paused, tipping his head towards Changbin, a knowing look laced with pity on his face. “You coming back in?”
Changbin nodded his head with a sigh. He caught Minho’s eye who seemed to be looking at him with something like approval.
They found their tables again. Felix had joined Hyunjin at his and the two were cackling about something, any upset from before hidden in the past. Changbin saw Hyunjin send a quizzical look at Minho who just made another vague movement with his hands. Chris and Felix started nattering away to each other, affection bubbling between them like a warm bath. There wasn’t much space for Changbin to sneak a word to Hyunjin, which was maybe for the best for now.
Judging didn’t go as Changbin had hoped. His well rehearsed patter stumbled and stuttered off his tongue. His hand shook as he presented the slice to the judges and his only answer to their compliments was a heady, awkward laugh.
They moved on to Hyunjin and their adoration was clear in the fawning tone they adopted to lavish praise on him and his creation.
Before, this would have irked Changbin to no end. He might have muttered angrily under his breath about how bending the rules was essentially tantamount to cheating and that Hyunjin ought to be disqualified rather than commended. Hyunjin would have heard and winked at him over the judges’ shoulders, maybe even going as far to send an air kiss in his direction which would have only driven Changbin even further up the wall.
But now he stayed silent. He eyed Hyunjin’s table from behind his own, which looked minimalist and bare in comparison. The flowers were very artfully arranged, the colours and the shapes laid out to catch the eye but also bring the focus in to the centre.
And, although he was loath to admit it, the trifle did look good. Rich and moist and prepared with no shortage of love and care. The judges’ faces when they tried it lit up in unanimous surprise and charm at the flavours Hyunjin had used.
Changbin supposed that Hyunjin’s insistence on pushing the boundaries of cakedom could maybe sometimes result in happy miracles; small delights of novel flavour combinations, different presentation ideas, new ways to define this noble and well loved craft of theirs.
He frowned down at his sponge cake. Sure, it was loved. It was easy to love. Nothing in there had a chance of going wrong when he made it. He knew the recipe off by heart, he was sure the combination of flavours mixed beautifully in the mouth. It was a safe bake, nothing more.
Hyunjin ended up pulling first prize.
When it was announced, bakers from all around the hall flocked to his table, batted away at first by Minho and Felix who leapt around a shellshocked Hyunjin in jubilance. Again, Changbin watched as people’s faces moved from doubt, to dubiousness, to delight as they tested the winning creation.
Eventually, the crowd dissipated, still murmuring about how a hobby baker - and a rookie at that - had just pulled the top prize of the show.
“Oh I am so proud of you my little bunny bear I love you so much.” Minho was swinging Hyunjin around by the armpits as Jisung watched with his heart in his eyes. Chris and Felix were carefully placing the flowers into boxes, again discussing something in English which Changbin couldn’t understand.
He stepped up to the table. “Hey, uh,” he was out of his depth, swimming hopelessly in the depth of the apology he wanted to make. He tried again, “I wish I could have tried that trifle. It looked really good.”
Hyunjin smiled awkwardly, his shoulders lifting up below his ears. “I really don’t think I deserved to win if I’m honest.” He looked across to Changbin’s discarded sponge. “Not up against someone like you.”
Something fizzled deep in Changbin’s chest. “Don’t say that.” It came out too harshly and Minho’s head snapped up from where he had been whispering something into Jisung’s ear, his eyes throwing daggers. “Don’t say that,” he repeated, softer. “You deserve to win as much as anyone else here. And definitely more than me, after I’ve been such an ass to you all this time.”
The tips of Hyunjin’s ears went pink. He mumbled something Changbin thought might have been intended to make him feel better.
“Okay, that’s enough for today.” Minho swung an easy arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder. “If you make Changbin go through any more character development right now I think his little brain might start leaking out of his ears.” Changbin wasn’t sure how serious he was, but he just waved as Minho and Felix escorted a happy Hyunjin back to his car.
“And there goes my favourite cake.” Jisung was leaning against Changbin’s table dreamily, not even trying to hide the fact he was staring at Minho’s ass.
Changbin flicked a dishcloth at him. “Off, pest, help me.” Chris silently plugged in his earbuds to drown out the resulting argument.
A few days later, Changbin had a plan.
Changbin:
hey
you have hyunjin’s number right?
Jisung:
uh no
but I have Minho’s ;p
Changbin:
hhhhhh
okay that’ll do
can I have his pls?
Jisung:
SORRY there’s only room for two in my bed
you snooze you looze, hyung
xoxo
When Changbin had finally coerced, threatened, and bargained Minho’s number from Jisung, his plan continued.
Changbin:
Hi! It’s Changbin! :)
Could I get Hyunjin’s number off you? :)
Minho:
Nope :)
Changbin:
Please ?
I’ll be nice?
Minho:
I’ll think about it :)
I’ve thought about it :)
Still no :)
Changbin:
I’ll give you free cake for a month
Minho:
(:
Hyunjin’s number was only just now saved into his phone, and Changbin was already exhausted.
The next day, after closing, there was a light knock on the shutters which Changbin had been expecting but also dreading. He had never been good at apologies or navigating the space in a friendship after a real argument; he was more of a ‘cut and run’ kind of person.
But with Chris and Felix as well as apparently Minho and Jisung now tying them together, Changbin was going to have it known that he did everything in how power to make things right where he could.
“Hi hyung,” Hyunjin sounded as chirpy as normal, but there was a fragility underneath. “How’s it going?”
Changbin shrugged, trying to look casual. “Okay, yeah. Take a seat, I’ll be one sec.” He dove into the back room before he could say something to ruin this. “So, I’ve been thinking,” he called “about some of your suggestions.” He emerged from the back room, carrying his latest creation. “And I was hoping you could be the first person to taste test this? See if it’s okay to go on the menu?”
Hyunjin’s eyes went wide. “Is that…tiramisu?”
His gaze flew to Changbin’s face and Changbin was horrified to find that there were most definitely tears in Hyunjin’s eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he blundered. “I thought about it and, like, it’s not too far from a cake, I guess. And it might be nice to have some variety on the menu. Sometimes. Within reason.” He lowered the pudding onto a table, setting the fork beside it. “Would you try it?”
Unexpectedly, mortifyingly, Hyunjin stood up, throwing his arms exuberantly around Changbin’s shoulders. He might have been crying. Changbin chose the safe option of ‘freeze’ and his limbs locked into place. After a long moment, Hyunjin stepped back, hastily wiping moisture from under his eyes. “Sorry, I just really love tiramisu.”
They sat down opposite one another at the small table and Changbin felt more nervous than he ever had at any competition. Hyunjin carefully lifted a forkful to his lips, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully. His face gave nothing away and, as Changbin opened his mouth to ask for an opinion, he raised an imperious finger between them.
He tasted another forkful in silence.
Then another.
He finished the whole plate without betraying anything on his face, Changbin quivering with the need to ask for an opinion, but biting his lip obediently.
Finally, Hyunjin sat back with a contended sigh. “Hyung,” he breathed out, “you’ve been holding out on me.”
Changbin perked up. “You liked it?”
“Liked it?” Hyunjin slammed a hand on the table, making Changbin jump a little. “I didn’t like it, hyung. That was life changing. It was exceptional. A masterpiece.” He kissed the tips of his fingers.
Changbin snorted. “That seems a little excessive…”
Hyunjin rounded on him. “Not at all,” he blurted out. “I already knew you were an artist, but this,” he gestured to the plate, not a crumb left on it, “this was a whole new level.”
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Changbin let his head drop a little. “I don’t deserve your praise, Hyunjin. I don’t deserve this bakery.”
Hyunjin picked up the plastic fork, holding it like a spear, the prongs facing towards Changbin. “Poppycock, hyung. We just got off to a bad start. And if you ever,” the tines of the form edged closer to Changbin’s eyes, “ever say anything bad about my favourite baker and bakery again, I will turn you into a pavlova.”
Changbin exploded into laughter. “It makes sense why you’re friends with Minho now,” he said between outbursts.
“We might be violent about it, but at least we’re honest with our emotions,” Hyunjin shrugged. “Maybe if you weren’t so emotionally stunted…” he trailed off, eyeing Changbin up and down.
Changbin narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “Don’t think we’re good enough friends for you to be making height joked just yet, buddy,” he warned.
Hyunjin just tilted his head, his arms stretching above his head. “You got any more of that tiramisu? Or anything else that needs eating up?”
“You literally just had a whole piece, not leaving any for me I might add,” Changbin complained.
“You said my baking was a joke, you didn’t deserve apology pudding,” Hyunjin replied, deadpan, laughing when he saw Changbin’s shocked expression. “But you can share in the second slice,” he offered. He waited until Changbin’s face relaxed before adding, “If I think I have forgiven you by then.”
Changbin just laughed. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”