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Bread Bug Bakery was usually closed before noon. Its sole employee, a boy named Sig, could only make so much bread in a day and that bread tended to sell quickly to boot.
But here Sig was, mildly miffed that he was still in his kitchen at 12:01 in the afternoon. He wasn’t actually annoyed at the reason why he was here, he actually had volunteered for it, but something about not keeping to his schedule always got under his skin. An uncomfortable feeling that almost rivaled the feeling he had when he was making something not related to bread. Which he was doing now.
Cake was what she wanted.
That golden-haired singer girl with the cat-eared hat. Amitie. She was Sig’s friend and her shows were one of the few things that kept his life from existing solely in the bakery and his home above it. Just a few blocks down the road was the low-rent theater she usually performed at. She didn’t draw much of an audience, always flubbing up her singing and getting way too self conscious whenever he saw her perform, but it was always a soothing show regardless and it was one of the few things in the outside world to make him happy.
Amitie made him happy. So if she wanted cake, she was going to get cake.
The only problem was that Sig had never made cake before. Sure he had helped his family make cake when he was younger and before they were separated, but that only meant he was in charge of the uneven frosting. This would be his first time starting from scratch.
He had tried to tell Amitie this but, other than saying he’d try, his words were lost in the morning rush and Amitie’s shouting that she couldn’t stay long. She had an important show tonight to prepare for and he should just make his favorite cake, despite him not having one since he got sick eating a bowl-full of frosting when he was a kid.
Luckily he had a recipe book and half the ingredients on hand already. A basic vanilla cake was what he decided on and with a quick trip across the street for the rest of the supplies, he was ready to go.
Sig was comfortable with bread. He could bake it in his sleep, which helped since he tended to fall asleep while it was in the oven. He preferred things this way. Coasting through his job, living life at his own pace. Occasionally Amitie would come over to hang out while he baked and he always appreciated it when she did. The feeling that he wasn’t making her spend time with him because he was always in her audience. That they chose to share their little worlds together. That on those days she hung around, she was practicing her music. Singing just for him. Even making up a little song about bugs because he’d enjoy it. Butterfly Heart, she called it.
This was why he was working so hard. Cake, he couldn’t coast through. He had to follow the recipe, make sure things were right. That this cake would be perfect. He didn’t know quite how to make sure it was perfect, but he would do his best. He’d make as many as he could and sample just the smallest bit of them all-- small enough to hide with frosting- and decide the best from there. The frosting, too, needed multiple iterations before he even decided on the flavor. Chocolate, strawberry, cream cheese… Eventually, he decided once more on vanilla.
She wanted his favorite, after all. So she’d enjoy it no matter what.
Right?
A lot of baking, Sig had learned, was waiting and making sure nothing caught on fire.
With enough frosting made and the knowledge he’d get sick if he sampled any more of it in his mind, Sig was stuck waiting for another batch of cakes to finish baking. He was starting to get happy with them all, adding his own little touches as he made each one. Making it moister, reducing the salt, putting just a touch of marshmallow fluff in as he mixed…
He was happy with it as he was putting it all together, but why was he so unhappy now?
It was too basic, he felt. Vanilla on vanilla. There was no way Amitie would like it. She’d want something popping with flavor and covered in sprinkles-- something he utterly loathed. Something as bright and exciting as she was. Something that made her heart pound like she made his.
But it was too late to even start on another batch. Showtime would start right after the current batch of cakes finished cooling. So now he was trapped with these bland, lifeless cakes and his own thoughts.
What was so important about tonight’s show? Why did she need a cake for it? Why did she ask him for one?
None of it made any sense to him and all he could do was feel like he had failed her no matter how hard he tried. As he tasted the final batch, he liked the cakes enough. But were they any good? He had no palette for them.
Nevertheless, time had run out. Chosen cake in hand, Sig made his way to the theater.
Whatever the special occasion was, it had certainly drawn a crowd. The entire theater was packed. Guests squeezed by each other in fancy suits and dresses that didn’t fit the run down theater at all.
As he passed through the crowd on his way to the dressing room, Sig couldn’t help but overhear some conversations. “She looks a little childish, but if what they say is true…” “Imagine being featured and yet performing in such shambles…”
Sig knocked on the dressing room door. Something that looked like Amitie opened it. Even though it wore the same face, it couldn’t be her. Never had Sig seen or imagined that Amitie’s hair could be such a mess or that she could have so much panic on her face.
“Sig!” She nearly shrieked. “What’re you doing here?”
“You wanted cake.”
“Oh, right! Today’s been so busy I completely forgot! Come in, it’s less noisy in here.”
Sig had been in Amitie’s dressing room a number of times before. Today it was a mess. But that was the norm for it. The singer hopped like a rabbit over to her desk and quickly cleared off a spot for the baker to set down the dessert. “Well, you made it. I’m sure it’s perfect.”
A burst of laughter erupted in the hall. “What’s with the crowd?” Sig asked.
Amitie bristled, an army of chills going up her spine. “Oh no, the crowd.” She grabbed onto Sig like he was a lifeboat. “How am I going to face so many people? I’m going to be a complete mess out there. This is way too much for me.”
Sig scratched his head. “Are you sure? I thought making the cake would be too much, but I got into it.”
Amitie eeped in a way that clearly said she was sorry she asked for something that made him anxious.
“Maybe,” Sig thought aloud. “Just do what you normally do. Don’t think about the audience. Act like I’m the only person watching.”
“Like it’s just us?”
“Like we’re the only people in the world, I think. Is that the phrase?”
Amitie couldn’t answer. She was too busy biting her cheek, lost in her own thoughts. The only thing that snapped her out of it was the call of, “Five minutes to showtime!”
“Ah!” Amitie shouted. “I have to get ready. Go get your seat and we can have your cake after the show!”
“We?” Sig asked, but she was already showing him out the door.
The seat saved for him was his usual seat. Amitie knew he liked things to keep a pattern and she had noticed he liked Seat E-22. It also let her know exactly where to let her eyes wander every time she got on stage. So with the curtain rising and one last attempt at a calming breath, she wandered on stage, eyes already set on Sig.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said to the world, but to Sig in particular. “You being here means the world to me.”
And so the show began. It was the usual set of songs she did every night, with the exception of some old favorites that had fallen out of her rotation as encores. She really wanted to impress the crowd, it seemed.
The band behind her was visibly exhausted by the end of the fourth encore, but Amitie was brimming with even more energy than usual. She had slipped up once or twice tonight, but that was far less than usual and recovered with grace each time. The only thing stopping her from going even longer was a buzzing in her earset.
“Ah!” She said, voice booming through the speakers. “Oopsie! Looks like I’ve gone a bit long. I’m being told that we need to get on with the big finale. It’s a song I’ve been working on for a bit, you probably know it all by now though.” A shared confusion enveloped the crowd with the exception of Sig. If he was conscious enough, he’d be surprised that he wasn’t confused. But right now all of his focus was on Amitie as all of her focus was on him. It was a world just between them in that moment. “It’s called Butterfly Heart.”
Amitie bopped around the stage, twirling about like she couldn’t resist herself as she sang. The band matched her step in rhythmic harmony, jazz-infused wonder beating out of the speakers. Amitie’s voice was soft but full of life, singing along to the backing in sweet, sugary synchronicity.
As the song died down, the night caught up to her. Face red, she took a bow and the curtain closed on her.
The crowd cheered. Sig was the last one clapping.
The audience had cleared out. They seemed happy, Sig thought. Really they were on the very edge of his focus, but their murmurs sounded pleasant. He didn’t have time for that, though. Not when he was once again in front of Amitie’s dressing room.
He reached out a balled hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could.
“Sig!” Amitie shouted, grabbing that outreached hand and pulling him in. She twirled him around in laughter-filled joy. “So? How was it?”
Sig took a moment to think. He wanted to give some kind of professional review of the show, but he was no music critic. He was just Sig and, to Amitie, his response was more than perfectly Sig. “I liked it.”
Amitie’s voice pitched as high as it could as she made a happy squeaky-toy noise, even though she was now the one squeezing Sig into a hug. “I’m so happy you liked it! And Butterfly Heart?”
“I liked it.”
Another glass-breaking noise and another hug. “Oh gosh, I hope others like it when I get the chance to sing in front of a big audience.”
“Wasn’t there a full house?”
Amitie’s irises shrunk and the excitement rushed out of her body with a forcible wind. “Ah. I didn’t notice them.”
Both of them looked at the other, the reality of those words hitting them both. In a world where her theater was full and her dream of being a wonderful musician was one giant leap closer to being realized, she was too focused on Sig to live in it. Instead, she more enjoyed the world where Sig was the only one watching her and she was singing only for Sig.
The pair blushed and looked away.
Sig’s eyes settled on the desk. “Why did you want a cake?”
Amitie folded into herself the way she always did when she talked herself into a nervous panic. “I was anxious. Some reporter for the paper watched the show last week and did a super-positive write-up on me. This morning Director Accord was selling tickets as fast as you sell bread and I needed something to keep me from having a full-blown meltdown. I thought having cake with you would be something to look forward to.” She pulled a second chair to the desk, eager for both of them to forget their blushing embarrassment. “Now c’mon, let’s eat.”
She took the cutting knife Sig had brought with the cake and sliced pieces off for the two of them. Though Sig took a fork in his hand, he didn’t move it afterward, too focused on Amitie.
Amitie was far too hungry after the show to be distracted when there was food right in front of her. She simply plunged her fork into the cake, tore off a small chunk of it, and put it in her mouth as Sig leaned forward with rapt attention.
Before she could even react, Sig blurted out, “Sorry it’s so bland.” He wasn’t one to say things without thinking on them for a bit, much less to do any blurting. So when he said this, Amitie simply smiled.
“Bland? Are you kidding? Sure, it’s vanilla, but vanilla doesn’t actually mean basic , y’know. Some people might be fooled that it’s not tasty just by looking at it from the outside, but they’re missing out on the amazing taste when you stick around and dig into it.” She laughed. “It’s the perfect Sig cake when I think about it like that. So of course it’s delicious!” Then she froze. “Oh shoot, I completely forgot to pay you! Um, how much would you charge for a cake?”
Sig shrugged. “I ‘unno. I don’t want to charge you. It was fun trying something, even if it might have gone bad.”
“But I still wanna repay you!” And then an idea struck her and she blushed. “Hey Sig, do you mind if I try something that might go bad?”
“Huh? Sure.”
Sig watched carefully to see what she was trying to do, but all she did was lean in toward him. And then their noses touched. And then her lips were on his.
It only lasted a moment. But the feeling of it stayed on his lips for a while. It was a soft, somewhat moist touch. Sweet and sugary and perfect.
Like a slice of cake.