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At first, Kaeya's fascination with you went no deeper than briefly wondering just what was in those tasty rolls you put up for sale in your shop each morning. They might have looked ordinary (albeit beautifully golden brown nonetheless,) —but they packed a delicious punch, seemingly melting in the mouth. Enjoyed by the children and elders of Mondstadt alike, as well as all those in between, word of your quaint little bakery spread far and wide. People from all over would be sure to swing by your establishment and order freshly made loaves of bread to take back home with them, and you were known for feeding a plethora of customer demographics. From playful kids that would share their helpings with the pigeons hopping about the bridge or the ducks paddling around in Cider Lake below, —to gruff adventurers that knew no boundaries and always carried swords at their hips. You truly thought you'd seen it all after three to four months of booming business.
Despite all of your success, however, it was still infinitely shocking to you when you looked up to greet someone one day as the bell just above the door jingled cheerfully, alerting you of a new customer, and found a single, sharp, periwinkle eye staring back at you. Cool and confident, Kaeya was slow and deliberate in every move he made, back straight and head held high. . . It was the first time you'd ever seen him so close up, and there was no denying just how handsome he was. With a refined, yet somehow commanding aura, he was intimidating and intriguing all in the same breath. Since moving to Mondstadt, you'd encountered many rumors about the young knight, both good and bad. While some would describe him as a fantastic swordsman with wonderful abilities and impressive skills, —others could only muster up the hatred to say he was a rude, callous young man that cared for no one but himself. . .
"W-Welcome!" You had sputtered out, swiping flour from your apron in the process, "—if there's anything I can do for you, please let me know!"
Commonplace as it may have been, it was still nerve wrecking to say such things to Kaeya. . . After all, he had always been a somewhat ambiguous figure in your mind, with so many different opinions of him clouding your own, whether actively or passively. When he turned to you and offered up a small, almost insignificant smile, you found it hard to believe that so many people in Mondstadt seemed to despise him as if he'd slaughtered their firstborn with his very own blade. But, perhaps you were just a bit star struck. Sure, the other knights would often makes trips to your bakery and order any number of delicious foods, especially Jean (who was very fond of you and enjoyed supporting your business to the best of her abilities,) —but Kaeya was, by all accounts, a whole different beast. You hadn't a clue who he was aside from the stories you'd been told or happened to overhear. Word about him around the city was either full of praise, or injected with lots of venom. There never seemed to be a middle ground, and as Kaeya stood before you that day, blue hair all but shimmering in the sunlight that filtered in through the window, worn hands reaching out to pluck a fresh roll from your display, you found it hard to believe that he could be such an intensely polarizing character. . .
"Do you have anyone else here to help you?" He asked, gaze turning to you, and your posture straightened almost in reflex.
A quick breath in, determined not to stutter any more than you already had, and you were more prepared to speak with him as if he were just another ordinary person walking the streets of Mondstadt.
"No, it's just me," you gave him a lax smile, hoping that it appeared to be more genuine on your face than it felt.
"It must be a lot of work with just you around to do all of it alone," he said, and that you couldn't deny.
It was a lot of work! You woke up early each morning and stayed open until you were positive no customers would be coming in through that door, —and you prided yourself on being an ambitious person with high, hard to reach goals set for yourself. And for the not so humble record, so far, you hadn't missed.
"It is," you admitted, "but my mother always told me that when you do something you love, you'll never work a day in your life."
"That's very solid advice," Kaeya nodded, making his way over to the counter you stood behind.
The closer he got, the more attractive he seemed to become. It was almost mesmerizing. . .
"Well, they always say mothers know best, right?" You offered up a light giggle and crescent moon eyes as you smiled, —so happy and so genuine.
He offered you the same gesture in reply, though much less bright in comparison. His smile was subdued, almost as if he was trying to conceal it. . .
"I'll be off now," Kaeya noted, placing a handful of Mora down on the counter, "thank you for the bread."
Your eyes widened as you saw just how much he was paying you.
"That's too much, you only owe—"
"Keep it," he cut you off abruptly, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to think that it was rude, "hard workers deserve rewards for their efforts."
With that said, he made his way to the exit and left before you had the chance to thank him properly. The next few times you saw him were more or less normal customer-server interactions. He would pop in at random, buy the same roll (or a few, on one occasion,) pay, (albeit too much,) and then he would be gone for a while more. You wouldn't hear a thing from him for a few days, and then he would randomly show up again, ready to make another purchase. In due time, Kaeya became what you would consider a regular customer. Until that line was crossed as well. . .
꒰ 💌 ꒱
Sunny and bright, you decided it would be in the best interest of the shop to go and collect a backlog of wheat and grind it into flour before early summer rains made that a much harder task than need be. Of course, it did mean closing your shop in the middle of the day, which was virtually unheard of for you, —but you figured that it would be well worth the hour or two of lost time for cautious preparation. As you taped a handwritten note to the door of your establishment, a voice you could now describe as familiar rang out from behind you.
"Closing early isn't much like you, y/n," Kaeya noted, "I hope you're not feeling ill."
"Oh," a small sound of surprise fell from your lips, "Kaeya. . . I'm fine, thank you, —I'm going to grab some wheat so I can save myself the trouble when rain sets in later on."
"That so?" He hummed, voice sweet as ever, but always with that inkling of what you could only pinpoint as bleakness, "why don't I come along and help you out?"
"You don't have to do that," you smiled at the offer, but attempted to shoot it down out of courtesy nonetheless, "I know how busy you are, —but I appreciate the offer."
"It's really no trouble," Kaeya assured, "and seeing as I purchase a good amount from you these days, it only feels right that I repay you somehow."
The look of determination on his face told you, and very clearly at that, that Kaeya wouldn't be taking no for an answer. Therefore, in the best interest of avoiding playing a verbal game of cat and mouse, you simply said your thanks and began to head on your way with Kaeya at your side. As you walked, you were greeted kindly by some, mostly those that often swung by your shop, while others gave strange double taken glances, surprised to see you by the side of the tall, blue haired knight. You understood why. It wasn't common to see Kaeya at the side of anyone that wasn't a fellow knight, and even less common, if it had ever happened at all, to see Kaeya strolling around Mondstadt casually. So, with all that taken into consideration, you didn't bother to take any of the odd glances personally.
"Thank you again for offering to help, I really appreciate this," you thanked him again as you strolled along.
"I think it's the least I can do for someone like you," Kaeya replied, tone as even.
"Someone like me?" Your head cocked to the side in curiosity, "what does that mean?"
"Someone that's such a big staple in Mondstadt, who does a lot for the people around you," Kaeya elaborated.
"Ah, I don't know about that," a light wave of heat rose to your cheeks, "I've only been here for a handful of months, so that's probably a bit too much credit to be giving me."
"I don't think so. Really, you might not notice, but your shop is truly benefiting not just you and your customers, but the whole of Mondstadt as well. Since you opened and word has begun to spread, people have been gradually become more interested in visiting the city, and that's great news for you, as well as the shop owners around you, the adventurers looking for commissions, —it's undoubtedly been a net positive!"
"Wow. . . And you're sure all of that can be attributed to my shop and not something else?" You asked, almost unable to fathom the idea that you were doing much more for your new community than you'd ever known.
"I guess there's no way of telling for certain, unless we asked each and every person whose traveled to Mondstadt within the past few months why they did so, —but if I had to bet on it, my Mora would go in your hat," Kaeya glanced down at you, and you held his stare for a few moments before forcing your gaze forward.
"Well then, I suppose I should say thank you for thinking so highly of me," you stated somewhat shyly.
"You say thank you quite often," the knight noted.
"Oh, do I?" You pondered, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be repetitive."
"No, no, it's not repetitive, it's. . ." Kaeya paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word to use, and he settled on, "sweet."
Before you could say anything else in reply, he continued on.
"Besides that, I'd like to ask you a question if you don't mind me doing so," he prefaced.
That was something you hadn't really been expecting, but you were pleasantly surprised by it nonetheless. Kaeya didn't strike you as being the most inquisitive fellow, so the fact that he was interested in asking you a question made you feel, dare you admit it, quite special.
"I don't mind at all," you assured, "go right ahead."
"The rolls you sell at your shop. . . Is there anything special in them? A certain way you grind wheat to give them such a unique flavor or something like that?" He inquired.
"No, nothing like that," you shook your head, "they're made with a basic recipe my mother taught me while I was still helping her at her own shop. All the recipes I use in my baking, she taught to me, but as far as I know there's nothing all that special about them in terms of ingredients. . . I was always taught that it's the love you make them with that really makes them special."
Kaeya stared at you as if he wasn't sure what to make of what you'd said. After a few moments, he allowed himself to crack a small smile.
"Well, whatever the case, they really are delicious," he complimented, "and they're not like any other I've ever eaten."
Hesitant to say thank you again, just in case it was actually getting a bit annoying, you tried to think of another way to show your appreciation for his kind words. Unfortunately, nothing came to you quickly enough, so you settled for the basics.
"Thank you for saying so."
Kaeya nodded and gave you that faint smile of his, but for the first time since you'd met him the first time, you could have sworn his eyes softened in your presence.
꒰ 💌 ꒱
Somewhere along the line, your feelings for Kaeya turned into something more than that of simple friendship. How that happened, you couldn't really say. . . In fact, you weren't even sure when the relationship bled from customer-server to being buddies in the first place. Everything was just so constructed of gradual changes that took place over time that it was hard to decipher where one set of feelings began or ended. All you really knew for certain was that somewhere along the line, between the times he'd pop in to purchase a roll and say hello to you in the afternoons and the times he'd offered to help you around the shop (placing things on their proper displays, grinding wheat to be made into flour, among other things,) —you'd become attached to his presence.
Despite being naturally cold in the way he spoke, there was warmth to be found within Kaeya, and you knew that without a shadow of a doubt. It was expressed in his most humble moments, when he smiled at you just a little bit wider than he did with others, or when he would hold your gaze as if he too was trying to figure out what feelings and thoughts lay beyond the irises and pupils residing there.
Lost in thought one evening, Kaeya was working alongside you in the shop, kneading dough in the way you'd taught him a few weeks prior. In what wasn't a foreign train of thought as of late, you were questioning just how to express your feelings to Kaeya in the right way at the right time, as well as wondering if such a time and place existed at all, when you let your focus slip at the wrong moment. Hissing sharply, you pulled your hand back from the oven, and quickly caught the attention of Kaeya who was standing just a few feet away.
"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked quickly, pure worry flashing through his one visible eye.
"I'm okay," you assured him, "it's just a small burn. I can take care of it."
"Let me help," he said, ushering you over to the sink in order to run the side of your hand under the cold tap water to help ease the pain and reduce the swelling in the area.
The water kissing your skin in forceful laps was cold, but Kaeya's grip was oh so warm (despite his elemental powers,) and when his gaze caught yours in a deadlock, your lips seemed to move without thinking.
"You're warm. . ." you mumbled, and he blinked.
"Warm?" He parroted, lost on why you'd say such a thing at a moment like that, —if only you knew the reason why.
"S-Sorry," you stumbled over your quick apology, "it just caught me off guard. With Cryo, I just. . . I assumed you'd be a bit colder to the touch is all."
It seemed as if Kaeya didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply chose not to.
"Do you have any bandages around here?" He asked, turning the sink off looking down to check on your injury.
"No," you said in a small, embarrassed voice, "I don't. . ."
After that incident, you were almost positive that things weren't going to go anywhere between the two of you. You went home that night in a somber mood, replaying the moment over and over again in your mind as if that was going to somehow change the way things had played out. Instead of letting go, you practically tortured yourself with the repeating memory, —so much so that you were shocked when it didn't appear in your dreams that night, (or maybe it did, in all actuality, and you just couldn't remember it upon your wake.)
However, the next day when you arrived early in the morning to open your shop, there was a small bag with a tiny tag hanging from one of the slim handles. Inside, a pack of bandages could be found, brand new and ready to be put away in your shop for future use. Take care, -Kaeya, read the tag, in delicate handwriting that you were honestly hard pressed to believe could come from someone like him.
Smiling to yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat inside the cavern of your chest.
All good things will come in due time. . .