Chapter Text
The bakery sat between the stretch of becoming and being.
The warm amber light spilled from the pendant lamps hanging above the counter, turning the glass display cases into mirrors that reflected an unfinished dream back at itself. The shelves stood stocked but untouched, rows of neatly packaged bread and pastries waiting for customers who had not yet arrived. Everything looked ready, yet the room carried an unmistakable feeling of something still holding its breath.
The scent of butter lingered in the air, softened by vanilla and yeast. It clung to the walls and settled into the wood of the counters, warm and comforting in a way that reminded Ash about childhood kitchens and sleepless nights spent studying recipes. Beneath it was the smell of fresh paint and newly assembled furniture—a reminder that this place has not always existed.
Nothing was loud. The refrigerator hummed steadily from the backroom. A ceiling fan rotated lazily overhead. Somewhere in the kitchen, a cooling rack gave a quiet metallic ping as it adjusted with the drop in temperature. The sounds were small enough to disappear if someone started talking, but in the silence they felt enormous.
The chairs were still stacked on the tables. The menu board rested on the counter waiting to be mounted in the morning. A ladder stood forgotten near the window where string lights had been hung earlier in the afternoon. Every unfinished detail felt temporary, as though the bakery had paused itself for one last night before stepping into the world.
Beyond the windows, the city continued without noticing it. Cars passed. Streetlights flickered. Strangers walked by without glancing inside. But within the bakery, time moved differently. The room seemed suspended with anticipation, balanced delicately between memory and possibility.
It should have felt like the beginning of something.
Instead, it felt like waiting.
Ash stared at the hanging photo on the refrigerator. Held by a magnet, it displayed a group of friends. Their eyes filled with glee, smiles that reached both ends of their ears. They were happy—effortlessly so—that Ash found himself wondering when exactly that version of them stopped existing.
The bell above the door rang once.
Not sharp.
Not loud.
Just enough to break the stillness gently.
Ash turned around and saw a group of people clamoring to get inside the narrow door. They were bickering, like good old friends. Ash forced a smile, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Andito na pala kayo,” he exclaimed, letting them sit on the stools laid out for them.
“Oo naman, hindi namin mamimiss to ‘no?” Faire replied, placing the plastic bag filled with drinks on the counter. Ashton leaned against the counter, facing the crowd as he smiled. Franz and his girlfriend sat cuddling beside each other as they passed some snacks around for the group to share. JC, on the other hand, was gossiping with Priscilla as if they haven't seen each other in the past week.
Ash breathed a sigh of relief. For once, he saw them all together.
He heard the oven ring. “Must be the pastry,” he shared as he started wearing his oven mitts. The group stood up in excitement, Faire started clapping her hands, holding them near her lips. The smell was divine—the hints of vanilla and honey made Faire exclaim with delight. “Gago, ang sarap,” she murmured.
“Asan si Enzo?” asked Ash as he placed the tray on the counter, letting the smell of the pastry fill the room. Just then, Enzo entered the room, just in time holding a bag of chips in his hands. “Sorry, traffic talaga sa may EDSA at—yan ba yung?” he asked.
“Yeah, the famous Ensaymada de choco, the very first thing I learned to bake,” he shared. The group gathered around the tray, smelling the scent even further. “Uy, uy, uy. Cool niyo muna yan, mainit pa yan,” he warned. They shared a giggle, moving back to their seats as Ash and Enzo took theirs.
“Angat ka na talaga, Ash. Noon, dream mo lang to. Di ko nga alam kung totohanin mo talaga eh, HAHAHAHA,” Enzo laughed. Ash snickered as well as laughter filled the room. “Oo, totohanin ko to eh pangarap nga di ‘ba?” he followed.
The laughter lingered long after the joke ended.
Outside, the city continued its restless march towards midnight, but inside the bakery nobody seemed eager to leave. The warmth from the freshly baked ensaymada still drifted through the room, carrying hints of melted chocolate and butter.
“Pwede na ba?” Faire asked probably for the third time. Ash rolled his eyes. “Kunting hintay pa,”
“Grabe torture,”
“Takaw mo, teh,” JC exclaimed. Faire rolled her eyes at him.
The group erupted into another round of laughter.
Eventually, the steam rising from the pastries softened into thin wisps. Ash pressed the back of his finger lightly against one of them and nodded. “Okay na ‘to,”
The announcement was met with a chorus of cheers. Everyone reached forward at once.
“Hoy, isa-isa lang!” Ash shouted.
“Unahan na to,”
“Priscilla, wag yan. Akin yan!”
Too late.
The pastries were pulled apart with a soft tear, releasing a ribbon of warmth and chocolate into the air. The room filled with satisfied hums and exaggerated reactions.
“Gago,”
“Oh?”
“Ang sarap. Ash, pwede ka nang yumaman dito,” Enzo jokes.
“Libre niyo muna ako bago ako yumaman,”
Laughter echoed against the walls as crumbs scattered across the counter and napkins disappeared one after another. The bakery finally felt lived in. Not perfect. Not finished. Just alive.
One by one, the pastries vanished from the tray.
Until one remained.
Golden brown. Untouched.
Nobody reached for it.
Nobody asked for it.
The last ensaymada sat quietly at the edge of the tray, cooling beneath the warm glow of the hanging lights.
Faire glanced at it briefly before looking away.
The others continued talking, trading stories and teasing one another as though nothing was unusual.
Ash found his gaze drifting towards it anyway.
Just one left, exactly as planned.
He told himself it was a habit, nothing more.
Yet every few minutes, his eyes returned to the empty seat nearest to the window. A seat that remained vacant—the same seat he had not allowed anyone else to take.
Outside, the cars passed beneath the streetlights.
Inside, the untouched pastry waited.
The chocolate had begun to settle beneath the crust. The steam that once rose from its surface had faded into nothing, leaving only the lingering scent of butter, honey, and vanilla.
Ash stared at it.
One pastry.
One empty chair.
One absence he had spent years pretending not to notice.
His fingers brushed against the edge of the tray.
Warm.
Not as warm as it used to be. Not as warm as—
“Ash, focus!” A burst of laughter filled the kitchen. Flour exploded across the countertop. “What the hell?” Ash shouted, coughing as a cloud of white powder hit him directly in the face.
Across from him stood a boy barely holding himself together from laughter, a measuring cup still clutched in his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he managed between wheezes. “Hindi ko sinasadya.”
“Sinadya mo 'yon.”
“Oo, medyo.”
The kitchen smelled different back then. Not polished wood and fresh paint. Not a bakery waiting for customers. Just butter, sugar, and a cramped apartment kitchen that barely had enough counter space for two people. Yet somehow, it felt bigger than the entire world. “Kung gusto mo talagang matuto mag-bake, kailangan mong matutong magmeasure nang maayos,” Ash complained, wiping flour from his shirt.
The boy grinned. “Or…” he said, stealing the measuring spoon from Ash's hand, "pwede nating tantyahin."
“Hindi gano'n gumagana ang baking.”
“Sabi mo lang 'yon.”
“Sabi ng science.”
“Eh di awayin ko yung science.”
Ash tried not to laugh and failed miserably. “Oo na, sige. Let's do it your way,” he murmured, showing a slight smile to the boy. They tried it again, pouring the exact amount of flour, eggs, and following the recipe by hand.
“Maiba ako, saan galing ‘tong recipe mo?” asked Ash. The boy taught for a second, whisking through the batter as Ash prepared the chocolate filling. “Sa mama ko,” the boy started.
“Sabi ng papa ko, love na love talaga ng mama ko yung ensaymada tas noong pinagbubuntis niya ko, linilihian niya yung chocolate…kaya ayun, gumawa siya ng recipe niya,” he smiled, showing off the cake batter to Ash.
After an hour of mixing, molding, and baking, it was finally time to take it out of the oven.
“Perfect.”
The boy held up the freshly baked ensaymada like a trophy.
“Sabi sayo ‘eh. Kuhang-kuha.”
“‘Di naman.”
“Same nga.”
“‘Di nga.”
“Sabing kamukha nga!”
Ash laughed despite himself. The boy took a bite before it had even cooled. Instant regret.
“INIT!”
“Sabi ko sa'yo.”
The kitchen filled with laughter. For a moment, everything felt endless. The smell of butter and chocolate lingered in the air.
Warm.
Familiar.
Comforting.
The same smell drifted through the bakery now.
Ash blinked.
The apartment kitchen disappeared. The flour-covered countertops vanished. The laughter faded into the low hum of the refrigerator.
He was standing beside the display counter once again. The untouched ensaymada still sat where he had left it. It's cold now. Around him, the party had begun to dissolve.
Empty bottles crowded the counter. Crumpled napkins lay forgotten between plates. Brooke and JC were gathering their things while Franz searched for his car keys beneath a chair. Faire yawned dramatically. Ashton stretched his arms over his head.
The clock above the register read 12:47 A.M. Somewhere along the way, hours had passed.
“Uy, Ash,” someone called. He looked up. Enzo was already standing near the door. “Mukhang kailangan na naming umalis,” The others murmured their agreement.
One by one, they started saying their goodbyes. The bakery grew quieter with each departing voice. Until eventually, the bell above the door rang one final time.
And Ash was alone.
Almost.
His gaze drifted toward the last pastry. The empty chair beside the window remained untouched.
Ash sighed, his gaze drifting back to the lonely pastry on the edge of the counter.
His fingers moved towards it, careful not to damage the pastry with his shaky hands. He carefully lifted the plate and walked towards the refrigerator.
The refrigerator’s cool air blasted onto his face, spilling against his skin. Inside were containers of dough, cartons of milk, blocks of butter, and tomorrow's preparations all neatly arranged on their respective shelves.
He hesitated for a moment, then slipped the pastry inside, alone, waiting.
Ash moved back to the counter, retrieving a pen and a sticky note from it. His hands scribbled the words ‘for later’ for the person that'll be opening the refrigerator after him.
He went back to the refrigerator, still open, still illuminating the singular pastry on the shelf. He sighed, pasting the note on the rim before closing the door.
The soft hum of the compressor returned. Ash rested his hand against the handle for a moment longer than necessary.
“Bukas,” he murmured. “Gagraduate ako,”
He turned off the lights one by one, picking up the empty bottles and the crumbs on the floor. Behind him, the untouched ensaymada remained exactly where he left it.
The lock clicked into place behind him.
For a moment, Ash stood on the sidewalk and stared at the darkened windows of the bakery. The amber lights were gone now. There was no laughter, no voices, just his reflection staring back at him.
He adjusted the strap of his bag and started to walk home.
The city had quieted considerably. A few convenience stores remained open, their fluorescent lights spilling onto the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. The occasional car passed, headlights sweeping across the empty streets before disappearing again.
By the time he reached his apartment building, exhaustion had settled heavily into his bones. The climb to the third floor felt longer than usual.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Silence greeted him—not unusual, just familiar. The apartment was modest—a couch pushed against one wall, a small dining table near the kitchen, stacks of cookbooks occupying every available shelf. The room carried the faint scent of coffee and paper.
Ash tossed his keys into a ceramic bowl near the entrance—a clink echoing against the walls. He kicked off his shoes and loosened the collar of his shirt. His eyes landed on the frame hanging above his bookshelf.
He stopped. The diploma sat exactly where it always had. Perfectly centered. Perfectly preserved. A reminder that he had never bothered taking it down.
The gold lettering caught the light from the hallway lamp:
Diploma in Professional Baking and Pastry Arts
The paper had yellowed slightly with age—not much—just enough to remind him how long it's been. His eyes drifted over the familiar lettering: the seal, the signatures, the date.
It was a lifetime ago. Back when he almost never earned it. Back when he had packed everything into cardboard boxes and convinced himself he was done.
He was done with school.
He was done with trying so hard to fit in.
He just wanted to build his own bakery.
Ash let out a dry laugh. A memory resurfaced before he could stop it.
“Tumigil ka?”
The apartment disappeared, and suddenly, Ash was twenty years old again.
He stood there, helping out in his boyfriend's old food stall alongside his father. Ash held onto the spatula in his hand, passing the food he poured into bowls onto the waiting customers. “Iba pa ‘rin yung may diploma ka. Hindi ka lang baker, Executive Chef ka,” the boy started.
“...Sai, hindi ko naman kailangan ng diploma para matupad pangarap natin,” Ash argued.
“Isang taon nalang yun, Rye. Isang taon na lang, sayang din yung opportunity,”
Ash walked to the back of the house, encountering Sai’s father inside cutting up some vegetables and some spices. “Sai, gusto ko lang naman magtayo ng bakery. Mang Lito, di naman kailangan ng diploma kapag ganun, di ‘ba?”
“Oo, sakin mo nalang ibigay tuition mo. At least mura pa,” the pair laughed, snickering between each other. The boy stared back at the two of them, shifting his eyes from one to the other. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes drooped and his concern was seen in his eyes.
Ash woke up the next morning, his head still buzzing from the alcohol last night. The birds chirped outside his window, the morning bled on the floor as he felt the warmth of the Sun on his skin. Ash looked at the time: 7:47.
Shit.
He was supposed to be at the bakery 17 minutes ago.
Ash stumbled out of the bed, nearly tripping over a pile of clothes on the floor. He brushed his teeth while trying to pull on a shirt, immediately regretting his decision, and nearly choked on the toothpaste.
“Jusko,”
By 8:00, he was sprinting down the apartment stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder and his keys clenched between his teeth.
The city was already wide awake.
Vendors arranged fresh produce beneath colorful tarps. Jeepneys rattled down the streets, packed with commuters heading to work. The smell of garlic fried rice drifted from roadside eateries while tricycles weaved through the growing traffic.
Ash checked his watch. 6:28. Too late. Way too late. His pace quickened. The bakery sat only a few blocks away, but every red light felt personal this morning.
As he turned the final corner, his stomach tightened.
A line had already formed outside. “What?” Ash slowed. Then stopped completely.
People stood beneath the bakery's sign, chatting among themselves while peering through the windows. Some held phones. Others pointed toward the display cases inside. The OPENING TODAY banner fluttered gently above them.
His chest tightened. For years, this had existed only in notebooks. In spreadsheets. In late-night sketches. In conversations that began with someday.
Now strangers were waiting for him to unlock the door. The realization was terrifying. And wonderful.
A grin threatened to break across his face. Then he remembered something. The pastry. The last ensaymada. Still sitting in the refrigerator. His smile faded slightly.
The thought arrived so suddenly that it felt almost intrusive. He wondered whether it would still taste good. Whether the chocolate had hardened overnight. Whether—
The bell above the bakery door rang from inside. Ash blinked. Jaz stood on the other side of the glass, arms crossed. She pointed aggressively at her wrist. “Late ka na!” Ash laughed despite himself. The nervousness dissolved immediately. “Coming!”
He jogged toward the entrance. Toward the customers. Toward the bakery. Toward the future he had spent years building. And somewhere in the refrigerator behind the kitchen, hidden from view, an untouched ensaymada waited for someone who still hadn't arrived.
Enzo came with a sweet smile on his face, trying to see the bakery in action. “Uy, astig. Totoo na talaga ‘to,” he smirked, ordering one pan de leche and placing it on an empty table.
“Wait, paano hinahati ‘to?” Ash turned just in time to see Enzo pressing a knife into one of the trays, testing the softness of the pastry. “Bro, ganyan lang ‘yan, parang cake.”
“No, no, no—hindi ‘yan cake,” Ash said quickly. “Slice it gently, otherwise—” The knife pressed down anyway. And the ensaymada gave way with a soft, familiar tear.
Too familiar.
Ash froze.
The sound wasn’t just pastry splitting.
It was—
The restaurant was dim that night. Too dim. Just warm lights hanging above a table set for two. Ash remembered the way the fork had clinked against the plate before anything else was said. “Ang weird mo,” the boy had laughed, picking at his dessert. “You brought me to a bakery for an anniversary dinner.”
Ash had shrugged.
“We’ll have ours someday.”
“Technically, it'll be yours.”
“It’ll be ours.”
The boy smiled at that.
Across the table, candles flickered over half-eaten pastries and untouched coffee.
Ash was excited, holding onto a delicate, small box on his right hand. “Sai…” he started, the boy looked up at him with glee. Ash took out the small box out of his pocket and showed it to Sai. Sai’s eyes opened, his chest tightened and his eyes drooped as he looked back at Ash.
“This necklace would be a symbol of my eternal devotion to you. The plans we make, the bakery we'll soon share, will always be our—”
“I don't think I can do this anymore,”
The words landed softly. That somehow made them hurt more. Ash laughed once, nervous and confused. “What?”
Sai looked down at the necklace. Then at the table. Anywhere but him.
“Sai?”
The restaurant noise seemed to fade into a dull hum. Plates clinked. Someone laughed from another table. A waiter walked by carrying wine. The world continued. Ash did not. “I can't do this,” Sai repeated. His voice trembled.
Ash stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Waiting for a joke. Waiting for the punchline. None came. “Did I do something?”
Sai shook his head. “Then what's wrong?”
Nothing. Just another shake of the head. Ash felt his stomach twist. The necklace suddenly weighed a thousand pounds in his hand.
“Sai, talk to me.”
Sai inhaled sharply. His eyes glistened. For a moment, it looked as though he might finally say whatever had been trapped inside him for weeks. Instead, he reached into his pocket. A folded piece of paper. An envelope. A plane ticket slipped halfway out.
Ash's gaze froze. His mouth went dry.
The date.
The destination.
He didn't need to read the rest. The silence between them filled in every blank. “No.”
Sai lowered his eyes. “No,” Ash repeated, this time barely above a whisper. The bakery sketches pinned above their apartment sink. The lease they had renewed together. The recipes scattered across their kitchen counter. The promises.
Every future he had built suddenly stood on rotten foundations. “You're leaving.”
Sai swallowed.
A long pause. Then a tiny nod.
Ash felt something cave in his chest. “When?”
Another silence. Another answer that wasn't really an answer.
Soon.