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Amber sunlight peeked over the distant horizon of a sleepy town and lazily stretched its early morning rays through the frosted windows of a brightly lit bakery. Behind the counter, Spamton G. Spamton quietly rolled out a sheet of dough, adding another layer of sliced butter before folding over the dough in thirds and rolling it out again. Trays and pans of freshly baked rolls and cakes sat nearby to cool, waiting to be wrapped and placed on the rows of shelves around the store. He had been up long before the sun, and much earlier than Tenna usually woke up.
Spamton paused to look out the storefront windows. He wiped the side of his face with his sleeve and breathed out a sigh. Outside, the sky was tinged the color of light strawberry cream. Spamton thought about how Tenna would've loved to see skies like these, and he almost wished he had woken him up before he left the apartment. But Tenna needed the rest more than he did. Heaven knew how much stress and anxiety he had been under during all that time spent dealing with the bakery's closing, and the guilt still weighed heavily on Spamton's shoulders with every passing day. Big Shot Bakery was on the quieter end these days, and early mornings like these held a comforting silence that let Spamton bake in peace. Nervously shifting his gaze back down, Spamton turned around to check on the oven in the back.
Besides, he thought to himself as he readjusted his glasses, crows didn't roam the streets this early.
Ding! The oven's timer went off just as Spamton approached. Donning a pair of red oven mitts, he pulled out a tray of delicate pink strawberry cookies, its edges crisped to a perfectly light gold. Spamton gingerly picked up the edges of the parchment paper lining the tray, and carefully transferred the cookies to a nearby cooling rack. He stepped back and scribbled some notes in his notebook of recipes, feeling a small twinge of pride in his chest. Spamton had spent ages trying to perfect the recipe. They were some of Tenna's favorites, after all. He started to reach for one to try but stopped. His heart sank.
Right.
Right. Of course. How could he forget?
Spamton couldn't taste.
Bile rose from the back of his throat. No matter how many recipes and flavors he tried, everything tasted like bland nothingness. All Spamton had were the memories he clung to desperately, the times before his sense of taste slowly slipped away into oblivion. He still remembered with vivid clarity the buttery layers of a flaky croissant, the dulcet notes of cinnamon in pillowy soft rolls. When he closed his eyes, he could still picture the tart burst of blueberries when he bit into a piping hot muffin while Tenna gasped scandalously and accused him of cannibalism. But most of all, he missed the taste of vanilla whenever Tenna kissed him after a long yet successful day at the bakery.
The scattering of light pinks in the sky shifted to deep oranges and yellows. Hometown was starting to wake up. The bustle of cars outside mixed with the faint rumble of a motorcycle. The bakery was going to open soon. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Spamton fixed his ponytail and reached up to grab another mixing bowl to start a new recipe. It couldn't be helped. If he needed a taste tester, he needed to wait until Tenna arri—
"Muffin?"
Spamton violently jumped, dropping the metal bowl in his hands with a loud clatter and whirling around on his heel. Tenna stood in the doorway, hanging up his coat and putting on his red apron while surveying the cluttered kitchen. He spoke in a steady voice, but his plug tail flicked back and forth. "Do you know how worried I was when you weren't at the apartment? You should've woken me up."
His partner was silent, shifting his eyes away. Spamton's hand twitched, itching to scratch at the scars around his mouth, but he clenched his fists instead. It was infuriating enough whenever any of the other Addisons dared to step within a ten foot radius of the bakery, but he despised the jagged lines running down his chin and the last thing he needed now was Tenna telling him off for scratching at them again.
Tenna's gaze landed on the strawberry cookies resting on the cooling rack, and his expression softened. Spamton coughed, and when Tenna turned towards him, he looked away and handed him a worn-looking notebook. Tenna gave him a confused look and took the notebook from his hands, carefully leafing through the pages. It was a book of handwritten recipes, all carefully written down and littered with hastily scribbled notes and repeatedly crossed out measurements. Bulleted notes filled the pages, along with critiques transcribed from Tenna’s blogs, and passing remarks and suggestions Tenna made while trying Spamton’s pastries after he came back home and mustered the courage to bake again.
Tenna looked back at Spamton, an awed expression crossing his screen. Setting the notebook down, Tenna stepped closer to his partner. He reached down and cupped the side of Spamton’s face, turning his head to face his screen. Spamton leaned into his touch, silently looking back up at him.
“You…you did all of this for the bakery?” Tenna asked in a soft voice.
Of course I did, Spamton wanted to say. And I did it for you. Because you found me when I didn't want to be found. You brought me back no matter how pissed off you were at me and still believed in this bakery after all this time. You still believed in us.
But all his voice could muster was a hoarse "Y-yeah."
"Oh, Muffin..."
Pop! A white flower burst from Tenna’s nose, filling the air around him with the faint aroma of vanilla. The gentle smile on Tenna’s face filled Spamton with the comforting warmth of coming home to a slice of cinnamon and butterscotch pie after wandering alone in the cold alleyways for far, far too long. Brushing Spamton’s hair out of his face, Tenna leaned down and kissed him gently.
Spamton sharply inhaled as their lips met, breathing in the flower's scent and melting into the kiss.
After all this time, he thought, some things stayed the same.
Tenna's kisses still tasted like vanilla.