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The sound of the glass door opening forces Suguru to set down the bag of flour. He dusts his hands off on his apron, before walking up to the register.
“Welcome to Blackbird Bakery. What can I get for you?”
Across the counter, the tallest man he has ever seen, with the whitest hair he has ever imagined, looks up from inspecting the glass case of pastries. Rounded sunglasses adorn his face, which isn’t all that strange, compared to his shock of white hair. Objectively, he’s handsome, in an eccentric way. Subjectively? Suguru thinks he’s incredibly pretty - in a shojo manga way.
“Hi, what’s the sweetest thing you have here?” White-hair asks, gesturing to the array of baked goods on display.
Probably getting them as a present, Suguru thinks. Maybe for a girlfriend? He seems like he’d have no problem attracting them.
“That would be our funfetti cupcakes, or if you want some fruity sweetness, our strawberry tarts.”
White-hair hums in response, and taps his chin thoughtfully.
“Which one is more popular with kids?”
Ah, a family man? He looks a little young to be having children. Maybe a young cousin, or a niece or something.
“Probably the funfetti ones?” Suguru suggests. White-hair pauses, as if to think.
“I’ll get five of them, then.”
Suguru carefully places the five cupcakes into a box, and is about to put the box in a plastic bag when the man stops him.
“I won’t need a bag,” the man says, and Suguru smiles and hands him the box.
“Thank you for coming! Come again!” Suguru says, almost robotically. He watches the man stride out of the door, with legs like that, any step is a stride, Suguru thinks. The man takes two steps out of the door, and sits down right outside the bakery.
He then proceeds to open the box and eat a cupcake. He seems to enjoy it, and Suguru pats himself on the back. Until the man finishes the cupcake, and starts eating the next one.
And then the next one.
And the next.
Until all that’s left is the empty box. Suguru watches, transfixed, as he watches a grown man devour five of the sweetest sweets that he has ever conceived.
White-hair wipes his hands on some tissues, throws the whole box away in the dustbin right by the bakery, and strolls off, as though he didn’t just devour at least half a pack of sugar.
Suguru looks down at his hands, and back at the spot where the man was.
-
The door opens, and Suguru looks up from the cupcakes he’s arranging.
“Welcome to Blackbird Bakery. What can I get for you?” The words are out of his mouth, by instinct now.
“Hi, can I get 6 strawberry tarts?” The white-haired man motions to the tarts sitting on the counter, fresh out of the oven. Suguru’s eyes widen. Maybe that was just a one time thing - maybe he’ll give them to someone, or eat them over the course of three days or something, he thinks.
“They’re still hot, so it might take about five minutes for them to cool completely. Is there anything else you might like?”
White-hair (Suguru has taken to calling him that in his mind, even if this is only their second meeting) shakes his head. “It’s alright, I can wait a little.”
Suguru lifts them out of the molds, and sets them on a rack to cool faster. The tart shells had set, and their golden-brown colour made Suguru proud. He felt a pair of eyes on him, and he turned to see the man with his arms crossed, weight resting on one leg.
Feeling slightly awkward, Suguru asks, “so, how were the cupcakes yesterday?”
White-hair shifts his weight back to stand properly. “They were good. Nice and sweet, and I thought about getting them again today, but decided to try something new,” he says, gesturing to the array of pastries.
Suguru hums. “That’s great. You should try some of our other sweets, then. The chocolate mousse cake is pretty good, if you like chocolate.”
“Maybe next time,” white-hair replies, shrugging nonchalantly.
Suguru smiles, turning to pack the strawberry tarts in a small box.
“I won’t need a bag,” white-hair says, seeing Suguru reach for the stack of clear bags.
“Sure. Come again, maybe to try everything else.” Suguru hands over the box, bowing slightly.
White-hair waves, and leaves, Suguru eyes on his retreating back. Sure enough, two steps, and he’s sitting on the ground, opening the box, and lifting the first tart to his mouth.
Six strawberry tarts, gone just like that. Suguru has to remind himself not to stare, and white-hair dusts his hands off on his jacket, throws the box away, and leaves.
Suguru needs to know his name.
-
The skies are cloudy today, and the bakery feels darker than usual. Suguru half doesn’t expect him to show up, but the door opens a little past 3pm, and the familiar shock of white hair rushes in. Suguru happens to be holding a fresh tray of almond croissants, ready for dusting with powdered sugar. He sets down the tray.
“Welcome back, sir, what would you like today?” A feeling of familiarity seeps through Suguru’s usually forced smile.
“Do you have any more of the chocolate mousse you recommended yesterday? Chocolate sounds good today,” white-hair says, glancing up at the clouds, as though what he said makes apparent sense.
“Sure. How many would you like? They’re over here, if you would like to check out their size.” Suguru steps over to the chiller, pointing to the chocolate mousse. They are small and delicately wrapped, with decorative chocolate placed gently in a dollop of whipped cream.
“They look delicious,” white-hair says, “I’ll take three.”
Suguru looks up, and almost wishes he didn’t. White-hair’s sunglasses have slid, ever so slightly, down his nose, and from his angle, Suguru can see his eyes.
His eyes are the most striking blue that Suguru has ever seen - cerulean, light blue, which suits his hair and skin and wow! It’s been a while since Suguru has been so taken by someone’s appearance.
He must have been staring for a while, because white-hair straightens, and cocks his head expectantly.
Cheeks warming up, Suguru coughs. “Got it.”
He carefully takes out the three mousses, and delicately places them in a box.
Right as he hands them over, though, he hears the patters of raindrops on the concrete outside. When did the sky get so dark? He thinks, and the man must be thinking the same thing, because he looks back at the mousse, looking slightly trapped.
“Would you like to stay here for a bit? Until the rain clears?” Suguru has no idea where he got all this courage from, because he’s offering his own company for an indefinite amount of time, when this bakery is usually empty save for himself, and maybe a couple of assistants in the morning.
“Yeah, uh, that would be great,” white-hair says, still holding his box of chocolate mousse.
Suguru takes a chair from the kitchen, and puts it in the narrow walkway in front of the counter. White-hair hesitantly takes a seat, still holding his box. Suguru looks at him expectantly. Before he can really stop himself, he asks,” are you going to eat them now?”
The man only looks slightly embarrassed, but Suguru is absolutely mortified.
“So you’ve been watching me? I guess it figures, the door is made of glass.” White-hair opens the box, gently unwrapping the plastic lining around the mousse, and biting into it like a cupcake. Suguru wordlessly hands him a spoon.
“I’m Gojo Satoru, by the way, since we are gonna be stuck here for some time,” he continues, thankfully eating his mousse with a spoon instead.
“Geto Suguru. How’s the mousse?” Suguru can’t really think of any other conversation topic, but Gojo seems to enjoy his chocolate mousse, so that will have to do.
“It’s delicious, as always,” Gojo says, “I think the funfetti cupcakes were the best though.”
“Usually the only people who get them are five years old. Too much sugar at your age is probably unhealthy, anyway.” *Not that it shows.*
“And how old do you think I look, Geto-san?” Gojo takes his sunglasses off, and Suguru gets a full view of his eyes. Oh my God, Geto thinks, that’s a beautiful man right there.
Gojo is still staring at him, piercing blue eyes meeting his own, and Suguru feels slightly breathless. Vaguely, Suguru remembers that he’d just been asked a question.
“Uh, twenty-five?”
Gojo nods, spooning more mousse into his mouth. “People usually think I’m younger than that. I work with kids, you see, and I think that’s what keeps me young.”
Keeps your tastebuds young, too, Suguru thinks. Outside, the rain has slowed to a light drizzle, and Gojo’s almost done with his third mousse. Suguru winces. Maybe I should start recommending lower-sugar options.
Gojo glances outside, back at his empty box, and then at Suguru. He sighs, looking longingly at the rest of the mousse in the cooler.
“That was great as usual, Geto-san, but I guess it’s time for me to get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?” The last question hangs in the air, as though there’s a chance that Suguru won’t be at the bakery.
“I’ll be here. See you again, Gojo-san.”
Gojo puts his sunglasses back on, obscuring his eyes from view again, flashes Suguru a smile, and then he’s gone.
Suguru returns to his tray of croissants, only to find that they’ve gone cold. He curses lightly under his breath, fighting the blush creeping up his cheeks.
-
Every time the door opens, Suguru finds himself looking up in anticipation. His regulars come in at their regular times: Ieri-san in the mornings to get a croissant, coffee already in hand; a trio of high-schoolers who always get some bun variant; and the neighbourhood ladies snapping up his sourdough and other breads, occasionally picking up a cake or two, with a giggle and a “gotta treat myself sometimes!” which Suguru completely understands.
Mysteriously, he finds himself waiting for that familiar shock of white hair. He tries not to think about it too hard.
But when he finally opens the door, Suguru cannot fight the smile that appears on his face.
“Welcome, Gojo-san. What can I get for you today?”
The man in question scans the racks of sweets, before looking back at Suguru. “I can’t really decide. Why don’t you recommend me something, Geto-san?”
Evidently, it’s got to be sweet. What hasn’t he tried? Suguru might be putting too much thought into this. Gojo probably doesn’t care, as long as it’s got sugar in it.
“How about this kouign-amann? I don’t make it very often, so it might not be that great.” Suguru had wanted to add something new to the menu, but with the effort the kouign-amanns took, they might be more of a seasonal special than a regular. Nevertheless, who better to taste it than someone who actually seemed to take interest in the different snacks?
“Well, I’ve never had one, so I probably can’t tell - anyway, you made it, so it’s gonna be good,” Gojo shrugs, and Suguru smiles at the praise.
“Why don’t you try one first, then decide if you like it,” Suguru suggests, already putting one in a small paper bag the bakery reserves for single-piece orders.
“Any special seating for me today, Geto-san?” His words catch Suguru off-guard - the rain seemed like a one-off thing, but who is he to deny a customer what he wants? He heads to the kitchen to grab that same chair, and places it in the exact same spot. Gojo sits, already pulling out the sugary pastry.
He bites into it, and moans. Suguru can only stare. People have told him his baking was good, good enough to start a bakery, but no one has ever had such a visceral reaction to his pastries before.
“Holy shit. This is so good.” Gojo is currently sunglass-less, waving the pastry at Suguru, white eyelashes fluttering at Suguru. Heat creeps up Suguru’s neck.
“Thank you, Gojo-san.”
Gojo takes another bite, and moans again. Suguru is starting to suspect Gojo is just messing with him.
“You really like it, huh?” Suguru receives only a nod in response. He turns back to the counter, about to check on the cooling eclairs.
“Can I have two more?” Gojo is standing, holding his cash in hand. “I’ll eat one more and bring another back for some of my students to share.”
As Suguru reaches for another paper bag, Gojo stops him. “Do you have a plate I could use? I wouldn’t want to waste your bags. Plus, I don’t want to leave just yet.”
Maybe he just doesn’t want to go back to work. It’s not like you’ve been particularly riveting company. Suguru tries to calm himself, retrieving a small metal plate from the kitchen.
“We don’t use finer plates or dishes, since they’re more fragile. We’d have a lot more breakage here if we did,” Suguru smiles sheepishly, noticing Gojo’s glance at the plate.
“Oh, no worries! I don’t mind at all.” Suguru places one more kouign-amann on the plate, before putting the other in a small box, usually reserved for their macarons, and handing them over the counter.
Gojo takes his seat again, and Suguru watches him eat his sugary pastry.
“How long have you been baking for, Geto-san?”
“Well, I learnt how to bake at six. My mom used to make cakes for us, and that’s how I got started. Eventually, I realised I didn’t really like making cakes - too much work decorating - which is how I ended up here, mostly doing pastries and small sweets.”
“And how about this?” Gojo gestures to the little bakery, taking another bite.
“Oh, the bakery? I bought it recently, about half a year ago, after I finished culinary school. My sisters were hounding me about starting my own shop - they have the biggest sweet tooth - so that’s what I did. They actually come over to help out sometimes, so you might get to see them one day.” Mimiko and Nanako had gotten slightly sick of Suguru’s constant baking, complaining that it wasn’t healthy for them to be eating that many sweets, even though they devoured almost every tray.
“What do you do? I remember you saying that you work with kids?” Suguru asks.
“I teach at the high school nearby - I teach math. My kids are a handful sometimes, but it’s really worth it. I’ve got some students who are talking about studying math in university, and some who are threatening to drop out every lesson. It’s tough, but I’m sure they’ll do fine.” Gojo smiles fondly, clearly thinking about his dear students. He has also finished his pastry, which means it’s time for him to go. Suguru does not think about the sudden pang in his chest.
“Thanks for the food, as usual, Geto-san. It was delicious,” Gojo stands, passing the plate to Suguru. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Suguru watches his retreating back, and moves to return the chair back to its rightful place in the kitchen. He hesitates, and decides against moving it. After all, he’ll be back tomorrow.
-
And come back he does. Gojo Satoru comes in every day, without fail, even on weekends. He sits in his chair (when did it become his chair), orders an obnoxiously sweet pastry, and talks to Suguru. Who finds that he doesn’t mind the company, even if every time Mimiko suggests he gets an assistant, he refuses vehemently on the grounds that he cannot stand people talking too much.
Gojo is different, he supposes.
Suguru learns that Gojo comes from a family of academics, and his choice to go into high school teaching was not looked kindly upon. He learns that Ieri-san, who comes in for her morning croissant, is also a teacher at the school, and that she teaches biology and is Gojo’s best friend. He learns that Gojo recently refused a promotion because that meant less time with his kids, and they were the reason he wanted to keep teaching. Most of all, he learns that Gojo is absolutely hilarious, full of sarcasm and witty remarks that make Suguru laugh harder than he has before.
Week after week, Gojo brightens up Suguru’s day, bringing stories from school or from his childhood, and in return, Suguru talks about his sisters and lets him try his attempts at different pastries. Though Suguru never sees him outside of the bakery, Gojo becomes one of his friends, even if his heart does seize at the thought of Gojo’s smile.
It’s a Saturday, and business has slowed. The afternoon sun brings its heat, and most sane people would be at home, seeking shelter. Suguru is washing up some bowls, after having put a tray of muffins in the oven.
The door swings open, and Suguru hears hurried footsteps.
“Geto-san! Are you here?” Gojo’s voice (Suguru would recognise it anywhere) calls out. Suguru washes his hands, and steps out to the counter.
Gojo is wearing a tie, a bouquet in hand, and his face is red. He looks like he’s dressed for a date, Suguru thinks, he looks nice. Suguru ignores the clenching feeling in his chest.
“Hi, Gojo-san, what would you like today? I made some earl grey macarons, if you would like.”
“Your number.”
“What?”
“I would like your number, Geto-san.”
Suguru’s eyes widen, and he’s about to reply when his muffin timer beeps, cutting through the tension in the air.
“Sorry, uh, give me a moment.” Suguru rushes to take the muffins out, setting them unceremoniously on the counter, still reeling from the surprise.
Gojo is looking down, fidgeting, when Suguru finally returns to the counter.
“Sorry, I had to take the muffins out —”
“I mean what I said, Geto-san, can I please take you on a date?” He sounds so deeply earnest, as if there’s a chance that Suguru would even say no.
“I close at eight, would that be good?” Suguru smiles, eyes barely able to contain his excitement. Gojo positively beams, and Suguru melts a little. (He supposes that’s fine, now that he knows that Gojo likes him too.)
“I’ll pick you up here, at eight then!” Gojo seems to be absolutely buzzing with energy, and Suguru has never seen him this energetic, even with the sugar that he’s watched Gojo consume. Gojo seems to pause for a moment, before remembering the bouquet of flowers in his hands, and thrusting them into Suguru’s hands. “These are for you,” he says, “I’ll see you later!”
Suguru watches fondly as Gojo rushes off, exhilaration clear on his features.
And he’ll never admit it, but it’s the same exhilaration coursing through his blood.
(Later on, when Suguru asks Satoru what brought him into the bakery in the first place, he smiles and says: I thought the guy at the counter looked pretty sweet. Suguru wants to smack him.)