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Park Chanyeol was many things: a collector of hobbies, a laugh-slapper, and the lead guitarist in an indie band. His friends could probably expand that list, but of all the traits they would add, grace wouldn’t be one of them.
Which is how Chanyeol landed himself with an ice pack to his nose and the most beautiful man he’d ever seen frowning down at him with concern.
To be fair, he was left unsupervised after their last gig. Jihoon got antsy when he was away from his studio for too long and Jooheon was already on the phone with Changkyun about a club they were going to after the show.
So he shouldered his guitar case and chose to walk home, enjoying the chilly fall air on his skin. He always worked up a sweat under the stage lights, even when he did strip out of his flannel to show off the guns in his sleeveless tee.
He’d paused to put said flannel back on after the first block, only to swear when he spotted the broken up chunks of sidewalk at the next intersection, the caution tape; he’d forgotten all about the construction on Franklin. Jooheon had picked him up earlier, so he’d been chatting with him instead of paying attention to the detour they’d taken.
It wasn’t like he was going to be too far out of his way, but he would be backtracking a little, sweeping down Brooks instead to reach his apartment. At least it wasn’t down one of the shady sidestreets that was poorly lit and always felt a little uneasy to traverse, even at his height.
There was little open this time of morning, the sunrise wasn’t scheduled for a few more hours. He could spot a few illuminated apartments and one business with the lights on a little further down the block.
But even before his approach, the air was full of a warm, yeasty scent. Chanyeol’s stomach grumbled and he remembered the greasy burger he’d scarfed down before the show, hardly comparable to something so fresh and delicious smelling.
Nearing the establishment, he could get a full visual on the sign; The Bakers on Brooks.
While no savant in the kitchen, Chanyeol knew that bread was a labor of love, and more importantly, time. One of the guys he dated in college, Seokjin, had been in culinary school and went on and on about things Chanyeol only briefly understood like proofing and egg washes. While he hadn’t retained much, it helped him understand why the bakery lights were on so early/late.
The storefront was charming; sleek, classic lettering in black and gold. This close the smell was stronger, drawing him in like characters in old cartoons, seemingly dragging him by the nose.
From the window, he could see racks of freshly baked bread, but it wasn’t that kept his attention. Just behind a counter at a worktable was an individual that was, in his humble opinion, incredibly gorgeous. Thick lips and warm, round eyes suited his face, even with his brows furrowed in concentration. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows (which was always such a look on anyone), and he was working dough with strong, seemingly capable, hands.
Chanyeol was transfixed, and hopefully not slack-jawed, as he watched the man work. Pushing the dough out and then pulling it back in, he’d then spread some more flour on the surface to keep it from sticking. There was a little dusted on his black apron, a touch on his cheek like it was artfully placed there.
Engrossed in his unplanned voyeurism, Chanyeol hadn’t really been paying attention to exactly how close he was to the window he was peering into or noticed how uneven the sidewalk was outside of it until his shoe caught an unwieldy seam and he beaned his nose against the glass in a dull, vibrating thud.
Disoriented, he reeled back and the streetlights danced around him as he stumbled, off balance from the guitar case swinging behind him. “Fuck!”
There was the ringing of a bell, or maybe it was in his head, and suddenly he was ushered into warmth, gently guided into a padded booth. It was a bit awkward with this guitar case, but somehow they managed to get both him and his instrument secured in the seat.
Head still spinning, he heard a low, smooth voice tell him to wait a moment.
That was when the handsome baker had returned with an ice pack, helping bring it up to his face. Chanyeol was grateful for the attention, how the cold almost burned against his skin before relieving some of the throbbing rippling through his sinuses.
“I know you probably think I’m a drunk,” Chanyeol managed after giving himself time to collect his thoughts, voice a little more nasally sounding than usual, “but I’m just...stupid.”
A laugh left his rescuer. “I’m not here to pass judgment. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Taking a glance at the man up close, alive with interaction rather than caught up with his work, Chanyeol confirmed that he was handsome. And kind too, if he was willing to bring a swollen nosed idiot into his shop at two in the morning.
“Just my nose and dignity.” Chanyeol went to his old reliable technique of humor to manage uncomfortable situations, even ones of his own making. “Sorry for interrupting your work.”
“Ah.” The man brushed his hands down his apron. “It’s fine. Did you pull a pigeon and not see the glass?”
Chanyeol looked down, then immediately regretted the blood flow into his swollen nose and looked back up again. “I just saw the most attractive baker inside when I was walking past and like a moth was drawn in...only to kiss the window with my face. You should really get that sidewalk looked at.”
Clearly this was not the reaction the man expected, brows taking a journey from low on his forehead in confusion to high with surprise. Soon enough he was red to the tips of his ears. “I...that’s the weirdest way to try and pickup a guy.”
Chanyeol had the decency to seem a little sheepish about his admission. “Man, I wish I was that smooth, that I planned this. Well, maybe not. It’s a shame to do anything to mar this face.”
“At least it’s not a concussion.” The man teased, smile wry even as his cheeks were still colored with a flush. “Let me lock the door back up and you can stay for a bit. I don’t want you walking home until you feel like you’ve fully recovered.”
Chanyeol smiled, toothy and bright, hoping it still had some charm even with an ice pack obscuring half of it. “That’s a lot of faith in a stranger.”
“I’m not worried. I’ll just bring out the glassware if you get any ideas.” The man had a very quick, dry delivery of the retort. Somehow he made the interaction feel very comfortable even if they were complete strangers.
Chanyeol watched as the man went right back to his workstation and kneading the dough once more. “I’m Chanyeol, by the way.”
“Kyungsoo.” Finally, there was a name to the face.
“A pleasure, despite the circumstances.” As much as he was weak to attractive men, he was also fascinated by learning about people’s passions and work. He’d attended dance classes with Jimin and Jongin once, attended a number of art museums with Namjoon, and even took a woodworking class with Yoongi once; it felt nice to see people’s passions, learn about the intricacies of a field.
Despite inviting an audience, Chanyeol wasn’t sure Kyungsoo enjoyed the attention. Then again, he probably wasn’t used to it, working the hours he likely did.
“How long have you been a baker?” He broke the silence, lowering the ice pack briefly to wriggle his nose a little. Wincing at the sting, he at least surmised it wasn’t broken.
Kyungsoo began to split the dough into smaller portions, shaping them with practiced movements. He didn’t look up as Chanyeol addressed him. “About six years formally, although I helped my mom in the kitchen since I was a boy. How long have you played?”
“About the same, although I don’t know if an indie band would be called formal.” He brought the ice pack back up again.
Placing each ball of dough into pans, Chanyeol watched as Kyungsoo started to arrange herbs atop them, brows again knit in concentration. “Was that where you were tonight?”
“Mhmm. Had a show at Exodus. We’re Plucked and Loaded.” Chanyeol almost added the snooty, snarky retort of “I’m sure you haven’t heard of us” to his response, but that was more a slight than a brag, in this case.
Kyungsoo briefly looked up, but his expression remained fairly neutral. “I’m not into the scene enough to recognize the name. Most of my musically inclined friends are more pop or classically based.”
“It’s not enough to quit the dayjob or anything, but it’s a lot of fun.” Chanyeol lowered the icepack again and leaned over to check his nose out in the reflection on the napkin dispenser.
He heard Kyungsoo chuckle. “Don’t worry, I think your face survived the blow.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol’s smile bloomed and he slid a hand into his hair as he turned his attention to the baker once more. “Looking good?”
Kyungsoo raised a brow. “I didn’t say that.”
“But would you?” Chanyeol tossed out the lure again, hoping for a bite.
The shorter man chuckled and shook his head, smile still on his face. “I would.”
“Then the nearly-broken nose was worth it.” Chanyeol couldn’t stop smiling, sore face be damned. “So how do I score a date with a handsome baker who thinks I am equally handsome?”
Kyungsoo laughed again, eyes crescenting. “By asking him directly, maybe?”
“Hey, Kyungsoo? Mind if I treat you to dinner, sweep you off of your feet?” He spread the charm on thick, keeping the tone light, easygoing.
Kyungsoo stopped working and leaned against the counter. There was almost a smirk on his lips as he replied, “I think that’s only fair, as earlier I swept you off yours.”
Chanyeol felt his chest go tight and his knees weak. He’d not expected the other man to be so smooth. Not wasting another moment, he took out his phone. “Name the place and time."
"I'll bring the ice pack, just in case," Kyungsoo replied with a smile.