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Sanzu has memorized every nook and cranny of the bakeshop down the street. The aroma of pastries permeating the air the moment you swing the door open, the slightly rustic, well-lit and intimate dining space, with a few tables unoccupied. And most of all, Sanzu's personal favorite apart from the sweet and tasty pastries: the corner near the counter where he sits every time he pays a visit.
The same corner that is somehow purposefully designated for him—or at least, it feels like that—where he has the privilege to take a glimpse of heaven in a favorable, perfect angle. No—it isn't their best selling strawberry cheesecake, but him. That guy, with broad shoulders and his body tattoo peeking out from his skin-tight white shirt, and his hands often seen smeared with flour.
Shamelessly, he admits he goes here not for the food but for Rindou. But isn't that the same thing?
For Rindou, this isn't new to him. His best friend dropping by the bakery just to pester him has undeniably been a nuisance.
In Sanzu's defense, it's because he hadn't realized he harbors romantic feelings for Rindou until he crashed into the bakery for breakfast after a terrible hangover (he swore he'd never drink alcohol again after that, but failed to do so anyway) and served him two pieces of pancake with a drizzle of toothsome honey and smooth melted butter, just like how he wanted it that morning. Sweet, delicate.
"Did you get drunk again?" Rindou asked him, occupying the seat in front of Sanzu once he placed a plate of pancake beneath the table. Then, in a mocking way, he added, "I thought you said 'Ah, I detest alcohol, I won't drink anymore!'"
When Sanzu lifted his gaze, it was blurry and vague, with the influence of alcohol getting to him still. But what he noticed though, was this: the dark brown apron Rindou wore on top of his fitted white shirt, and how it suited him nicely. It took all of his attention like some hypnosis of sorts, that he realized belatedly he hadn't answered Rindou's question.
He snapped his mind out of it, relocating his mind away from that spell-casting view, finally taking in a spoonful of food that was ignored for a few moments. "Shut up" said Sanzu, his voice throaty, "Koko invited me to his boyfriend's birthday party, and I couldn't say no." Then, he groans once again, "God, my head hurts so fucking bad."
"Well deserved, idiot." Rindou commented with a huff. Later, those remarks were filtered out from Sanzu's brain when he heard him sighing half-exasperatedly, followed by a question: "Hot choco. Do you want me to prepare you some?"
Oh.
Then, quickly: holy shit.
Now, that makes Sanzu gulp, even when his fork remains empty. Rindou said it so nonchalantly, it's almost like the offer was against his will. But nonetheless, Sanzu sat there still, frozen. There was a thrilling hum in his chest that he couldn't explain; but eventually it was enough for him to formulate a realization, an answer as to why he could sense his cheeks and ears tainted with a subtle blush.
Clearing his throat, he answered him whilst trying his best to hide whatever strange thing he's feeling towards Rindou, "are you going to pay for all of this?"
"You wish," Rindou chuckled, a little smirk playing on the corner of his mouth as he rose from his chair. Sanzu's eyes followed him. "Sober up, and pay me later, yeah?"
Would a kiss-turned-heated makeout session be enough payment later? Sanzu halted himself to say. But God, did he wonder what it would be like to kiss Rindou's annoying, cocky smirk away.
The thing is: Sanzu isn't a man who is careful nor good with words, so when he learned that he does like Rindou romantically, he couldn't think of any coherent sentences to somehow give him a hint.
In other words: his flirting skills are below zero.
Non-existent, almost. It's shameful, honestly. But Sanzu tries hard. One Thursday night he waited for Rindou's shift to end so they'd go home together, even though Sanzu's classes at the university had ended hours ago. The following day, Rindou personally came up to him in the middle of his shift just to ask him to tie his hair up because he said his hands weren't clean, and Sanzu knew how Rindou liked his hair. Two days after that, Sanzu convinced himself to do something more scandalous, like shamelessly winking at him. And he did. Like, several times.
He didn't know if Rindou ever noticed at least one of them.
Sanzu doesn't know if Rindou is just too oblivious, or he's just inherently terrible at flirting. Both, perhaps. But what he does know is this: there won't be any losses if he does try, because he succeeds in everything he tries, eventually. So Sanzu came up with a different plan, much more verbal this time around.
Except, it went like this:
"Do you believe in love at first sight?"
Rindou stared at him blankly, baffled.
"How about," said Sanzu, his long eyelashes fluttering, "love at second sight?"
He's insufferable. "Sanzu. This is a bakery."
"And?"
"Don't romance me here, Sanzu." Rindou warned, lowering his voice. "You're going to get me fired."
"Oh, as expected from our mister outstanding employee of the month," Rindou could only elicit a long, exasperated sigh. Dealing with Sanzu on a daily basis is something that his brain power could barely handle. "My one and only Rindou, my beloved purple jellyfish," Sanzu continued, and Rindou lost his mind as he turned away, discreetly biting his cheeks to prevent cracking up a smile.
"Sanzu, if you're just going to pester me—"
"Hey, wait. I have a question, actually."
Rindou groaned in defeat, and scowled when he faced his best friend again. There was no way of winning against Sanzu. "What is it again?"
"Did you fart?"
Rindou blinked a couple of times, "No? What the fuck?"
Sanzu leaned forward teasingly, whispering, "because you blew me away."
He snorted. "Is this.. your way of flirting with me?"
"Is it working?"
"No," said Rindou. "Do better. Make me blush, Haruchiyo."
(Rindou turned away from Sanzu as he smiled to himself, his cheeks turning into a shade of pink.)