Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Stop that,” Shirabu hisses between his teeth. He leans over the counter and reaches out for the coins in Tendou’s grip, but the latter just holds it higher above his head. “You can’t do this to me,” Shirabu whines. Except Tendou can, and he will.

It’s been like this for weeks now – Shirabu slinking in through the glass doors twice a week (minimally!) to the bakery down the street, a few minutes in the opposite direction of his university. In his palm, he holds precisely ¥623 to pay for his usual croissant and hot chocolate plus tax.

Except of course, if he’s paying for service, then he insists that he gets the service he wants whenever he can. There’s only one person he wants to see behind the cash register, and sometimes, said person never comes out of the back before the morning crowd rushes in. That being said, Tendou is not it.

“This is robbery,” Shirabu groans as he goes on his tip toes, hand straining to reach for Tendou’s arm. He swings his hand pathetically at the air before eventually caving and slumping over the counter. “I’m filling a report.”

“Are we in political trouble?” Ushijims asks. He comes out from the kitchen, apron tied neatly into place and oven mittens still on his hands. It’s almost cute; the mittens have happy cartoon snails on them.

“Wakatoshi!” Tendou says brightly. “Call our sleepy friend. This young gremlin won’t give us his money until his prized boy stands behind the cashier.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want anything?”

“Rubbish. He’s got ¥623 prepped. For his croissant and hot chocolate.”

“And tax,” Shirabu adds, spitefully.

“I’ll go get Kawanishi,” Ushijima says humbly.

And that’s it – that’s the name that’s been swimming in Shirabu’s noggin for days ever since he’d picked it up from the latter’s name tag; the name embossed in calligraphic, white hiragana against a black background. Since then, Shirabu’s got the name etched into the sutures of his brain, and it bounces free-reign around in his skull during his spare time.

It takes a good three minutes before Kawanishi enters from the storeroom, eye tired and hair a beautiful mess. Shirabu feels his heart wallop and it’s not unpleasant.

“Are you done napping on the flour sacks?” Tendou asks and Kawanishi pins him with an unamused gaze.

“Shh,” Kawanishi says as he smooths a hand through his hair. He bumps Tendou away from the register and Tendou hands him the money before disappearing into the kitchen.

“That’s mine,” Shirabu tells him, frowning.

“I didn’t notice,” Kawanishi jokes. He offers them to Shirabu on an open palm. “Do you want them back? Or are you going to exchange them for goods and services?”

It’s always like this with Kawanishi. He could sass and it would still make Shirabu’s heart throb with a passionate red, pulsing the infatuation through his veins and reducing him to mush.

Shirabu makes a sound crossed between a whine and a grunt. “My hot chocolate, please,” he mumbles.

And Kawanishi gets to it. As Shirabu turns to go, Kawanishi throws him a subtle wink together with a soft smile, and Shirabu flushes. He feels many things; mostly a swooning, followed by a short hammering of surprise as he trips over his own feet and then a twinge of despair as he drops his croissant.

Kawanishi just laughs at him from the counter.

Going to the bakery is always an eventful affair. Today, Shirabu gets a nice ham and cheese croissant with a Tendou on the side. He stands by the counter, jingling the coins in his hands as Kawanishi keys in the details to the register.

“What do you think of watermelon bread?” Tendou asks. He wags his eyebrows and gleans hopefully at Shirabu.

“Tell him it’s stupid,” Kawanishi says instead. He wipes down the cash register with a dish towel rag, frowning at a stain he can’t take off.

“It’s a summer special,” Tendo adds. He slaps a hand over Kawanishi’s mouth before the latter can say anything.

Shirabu double counts the change in his hands. “Does it taste like watermelon?”

“That’s a secret eurghh – don’t lick my hand!” Tendou pulls his hand away and starts wiping it on Kawanishi’s sleeve.

“You know, despite the red hair, you don’t taste like watermelon,” Kawanishi comments, unperturbed. Then he looks to Shirabu and whispers, “It’s a hint.”

“So it doesn’t taste like watermelon?”

“You ruin the surprise,” Tendou pouts. He glares pointedly at Kawanishi and prods him in the cheek. Kawanishi makes a face.

“That would have been a disappointing surprise.”

“So what do you think of watermelon bread now?” Kawanishi asks.

“It’ll look like watermelon, but taste like bread,” Tendou quips.

Shirabu piles his coins together and puts it in the holder. He shrugs. “It sounds pointless.”

“There we go,” Kawanishi says. “My type of customer. See, that’s what everyone’s been saying.”

“Wakatoshi thinks it’s cute-“

And as if on cue, Ushijima pops his head in from the kitchen. He motions to Kawanishi before disappearing once more into the room. He leaves the kitchen doors open and the scent of something smelling like honey and freshly baked bread wafts thickly into the room.

“Thanks for agreeing with me,” Kawanishi says to Shirabu, flashing a toothy smile. He tosses the rag next to the coffee machines before he turns to follow Ushijima. Shirabu’s heartbeat stutters and he sighs with his whole body. Half of him wants to reach out and pull Kawanishi to a stop, if only for few more minutes of conversation. The other half of him tells him to stop being so obvious.

“I can smell the love in the air,” Tendou whistles at him as Kawanishi disappears into the kitchen. He gives Shirabu a smirk, eyes narrowed and lips stretched wide. Shirabu frowns. He sniffs at the air and while he does smell something, it doesn’t smell much like love. In fact, it doesn’t even smell like honey anymore either.

“Is something burning?” Shirabu asks.

“Don’t change the subject, Kenjirou,” Tendou says. He pours out Shirabu’s hot chocolate but withholds it from him a little longer. “So did you really hate the watermelon idea or was it all the result of love and manipulation?”

But by this point, something does smell acrid and tangy in the air, layering soot in the winds. Shirabu wrinkles his nose and Tendou’s eyes fly wide open. He slides Shirabu’s hot chocolate across the counter before departing with a loud gasp. “My honey pecan cakes! What are those two doing in there!”

“He’s sick,” Ushijima tells him one day as he enters the bakery.

It’s too early for conversations. Shirabu blinks back, confused. “Huh?”

“Kawanishi. He’s sick on leave today. Satori thinks you’d want to know.”

And just like that, Shirabu feels his mood topple; his day already starts to feels sad. He offers Ushijima a smile anyway; it’s not the man’s fault the happiness just got sucked out of him into a swirling vortex of despair. Shirabu clicks his tongue when he catches his train of thoughts – he’s not usually this gross and icky.

If Shirabu thought Kawanishi’s absence hadn’t been bad enough to ruin his day, he finds out how cripplingly wrong he is.

He stands in front of the display cases, upset. First, he squints at the selection and then he tries rubbing at his eyes for good measure. But where his croissants usually are, there is only empty air and space. He frowns and thwacks the glass case with his bread thongs once, as if doing that would make his breakfast appear.

When that, too, doesn’t work, he turns to Tendou who is draped over the counter, drawing patterns into the flour that’s accumulated on the counter top. “Where are the croissants?”

Tendou looks up. “Didn’t Wakatoshi tell you? He’s sick.” Shirabu frowns, lips curling down and Tendou laughs at him. “You didn’t know?”

“That has nothing to do with my missing croissants,” he says curtly. He’s adamant; the day can’t start without his croissant. He’s been looking forward to this all week. Well, to be more exact, he’s been looking forward to his weekly transaction conversations with Kawanishi. But he gets what he gets.

“He’s in charge of making croissants. You’ve been buying his love for months,” Tendou jokes. He leans further over the counter to flash a Cheshire grin, and Shirabu has to stop himself before he grabs Tendou’s nose with the thongs. “By that margin, you’ve been eating his love for months, too.”

Shirabu flushes. He finds himself doing that a lot whenever he walks into the confines of these four walls. “Can you not?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Shirabu groans, heat rushing to his face and turning the tips of his ears bright red.

“Why not, sweet-pea?”

Shirabu makes a face. “Don’t call me that,” he scowls. He wanders down the aisle, looking at the bread and pastry selection, mulling over his substitute.

“What about Taichi? Can he call you that?”

It doesn’t take a genius to know who Tendou is referring to, and if Shirabu had been channeling all his energy into ignoring Tendou, he fails miserably.

His head snaps around and he blinks owlishly at the taller man. “Is that his name?” Shirabu gasps. It’s such a nice name, Shirabu thinks. Of course, it would be. Kawanishi, in all his beauty, would have to come with a nice name.

“You look star-struck. Are you going to ask him out?” Tendou asks. He flicks a crumb off the counter in Shirabu’s direction and the boy pulls away with a frown.

“No,” Shirabu denies crossly. He gives up on the substitute and just goes for the hot chocolate. When rifling through his wallet doesn’t give him the exact amount of change he’s looking for, Shirabu just upends his wallet on the table. The coins clatter noisily on the wood and amidst the clutter, Shirabu reluctantly admits to it. Softly, so no one can hear him. “Maybe.” After a heartbeat. “One day.”

But Tendou catches on anyway.

“If you wait too long, he’ll get swept away,” Tendou tells him and Shirabu just scoffs.

It’s fine, Shirabu tells himself over and over and over again as he circuits the bread display. It’s just. Fine.

He hears the new voice, clamorous and boisterous. He hopes Tendou’s words hadn’t been a prelude to this – whatever this happened to be.

He casts another glance to the counter, where the new staff is standing, elbows touching with Kawanishi. Shirabu’s eyes narrow and he turns around before they catch him watching. The alarms are ringing in his head, and it’s not exactly helpful.

Shirabu doesn’t like to overreact. He’s calm and analytical. Or he’s supposed to be anyway. He feels an eye twitch as he forcibly stuffs the lid over his unreasonable emotions. He grips the bread tray tightly in his hands and it creaks as he starts to bend it a little too hard. He needs to calm down.

He strategically plants himself by the croissants where he can see the counter from quick side glances. The new black-haired boy is tall with the strangest, out-of-style bowl cut, but if Kawanishi is into that, then Shirabu thinks he can pull it off too. He lets out an irritated huff when he sees the two of them laughing behind the counter.

It’s not a competition. It really isn’t. Shouldn’t be. And there’s no reason why he should feel so personally attacked when Tendou and Ushijima have been running around Kawanishi’s personal space for a longer time.

“Good morning,” Kawanishi greets when Shirabu slides his tray across at the counter. He works at the zipper of his wallet, completely unprepared for the sinking feeling that starts between his ribs.

“GOOD MORNING!!” The new staff echoes.

“This is Goshiki,” Kawanishi tells him. As if he wanted to know. Pfft. But Goshiki has those really big, expressive eyes, and it’s the epitome of innocence and purity.

Shirabu finds himself giving an obligatory response. There’s no reason to feel upset at all. He knows his sudden jealousy stems from an unfounded basis but it does nothing for the bitter taste in his mouth. He still feels sour.

It’s not a competition, he reminds himself, and he goes through the motions like clockwork.

Shirabu doesn’t realise his annoyance until he grips an unoffending croissant with pincer strength, digging the metal teeth of the bread thongs into the soft fluffy material of the croissant. He winces and lets it go when he thinks of Tendou’s words (you’ve been buying his love for weeks now!) and he stares apologetically at the injured bread.

They’re always laughing these days. Or Kawanishi is, at least. He’s not entirely sure what Goshiki is like.

It’s not like he doesn’t want them to be happy. He’s not that horrible, at least he doesn’t think he is. He’s embarrassed to admit it, but all Shirabu wants is nothing more than to be one of Kawanishi’s sources of happiness.

“Hey,” Kawanishi greets when Shirabu slides his tray across. And just like before, Goshiki repeats after him, loud and bright, like fairy lights glowing at maximum power just before they fuse.

Goshiki moves to pack his croissant but he takes a single look downwards, and before he can stop himself, utters a single ‘oh!’, catching Kawanishi’s attention. Kawanishi turns to see and for a moment, stares blankly at the disfigured croissant.

“Did I do that?” he frowns. He looks up and smiles apologetically at Shirabu, and Shirabu feels his heart catch the same way it does when his shoes get caught in cracks on the sidewalk.

Good feelings.

He stands there, charmed until Kawanishi nudges Goshiki. “Tsutomu, can you get a new one?”

The good feeling evaporates.

“It’s fine,” Shirabu blurts as he stands there, lips screwed shut and mood sullen. Everything feels unnecessarily complicated now, and he feels the years drop off his life line because - they’re on a first-name basis already!? All the exclamation marks start jumping to attention in his little mind.

“Are you sure? This shouldn’t even be for sale…”

“It’s an artistic representation of how I feel today,” he tells Kawanishi a little vehemently, and the latter offers him a consoling smile.

“Hang in there,” Kawanishi says and Shirabu feels something implode in one of the chambers in his brain. Too dense. Kawanishi turns to this – this Goshiki Tsutomu person, and gives him a light pat to the head. “Ring him up, will you? I’ll get the hot chocolate.”

Shirabu feels the scowl set deeper into his face, permanently etching itself into the mould of his skin. It seems like no one is capable of reading the atmosphere today. For the first time ever, Shirabu thinks he might actually miss Tendou.

“Hello!” ‘Tsutomu smiles at him, flashing teeth and honey-drop, golden eyes. Shirabu eyes him warily. He doesn’t think he hates the boy, but he doesn’t like him either.

He hands him his money wordlessly. He thinks Goshiki is lucky he’s not full on vengeance. He might’ve pelted him with the coins, otherwise.

When he leaves the shop, Shirabu goes to school repenting his horrible thoughts. He’s not as mean as he thinks he is. He takes an angry bite of his croissant but he only feels more remorseful.

“Oh?”

Shirabu meets Kawanishi’s gaze with steely scrutiny, lips pulled straight into a line. He’s not entirely sure if Kawanishi and Goshiki really are a thing, but Shirabu knows he should prepare for the worst. The days have started to string together and the more often he sees them, the closer they look and the worse he feels.

Today is the start of change.

Today, he won’t fall for Kawanishi’s charm. He had put his foot down as he hovered in front of the croissant display. And even when the scent had beckoned him, and the croissant had glimmered at him in all its glossy beauty, Shirabu managed to remain resolute.

“I’ll take this with my hot chocolate,” Shirabu says, voice clipped. He slides the tray over and instead of his usual croissant, there’s a scone. Yuzu and citrus flavoured; a fall special. “Today, I’m buying Tendou-san’s love,” he says bluntly, and Kawanishi just raises an eyebrow.

He rings Shirabu up, packing the scone neatly into a paper bag before getting the hot chocolate. As he hands them over, his lips curl into something amused. He smiles a little, and Shirabu feels himself melt into a puddle. An angry puddle. He’s not going to let Kawanishi win – not today, or tomorrow or any other day.

“Tsutomu made the seasonal special today. He’s going to be happy that you bought his love,” Kawanishi tells him. Shirabu gapes. His reaction happens without his knowing consent; jaws unhinging. Suddenly the scone weighs a ton heavier in his hands.

When he reaches his lecture hall, he slumps into his seat, the scone cold in his hands like a rock. It doesn’t take long before his savior arrives in the form of Yahaba. He slides the paper bag over and plants it in Yahaba’s vision.

“For you,” he says bitterly.

“What’s the occasion?” Yahaba asks, delighted. He takes a peep and his grin stretches wider.

“No occasion. Just take it away from me,” Shirabu replies before he sprawls out on the table, a groan vibrating from within and weaseling past his lips.

The paper bag rustles and Yahaba takes a healthy bite. “It’s good,” Yahaba tells him.

Shirabu really, doesn’t want to know.

The next time he takes the route to the bakery is a few days before Christmas. He doesn’t quite make it into the store.

He’s still across the street when he sees them: Goshiki and Kawanishi facing away from the counter and consequently the glass windows. They’re laughing; it’s enough to halt him in his steps. It’s a normal occurrence but Shirabu feels like he’s fighting a losing battle.

He tries to quell the queasy jealousy that folds over his heart like a firm sheen of green glass. But Kawanishi is leaning into Goshiki’s private bubble, face inching closer and closer, and Shirabu has to turn away before he bears witness to something that would just shatter him.

He hurries down the other way, the coldness of the metal coins cutting into his skin in a painful reminder of reality.

He goes back to Miyagi for Christmas break, and it’s lonely when he accidentally catches himself alone under a mistletoe.

Valentine’s day turns the shop into a hideous pink with pink party streamers rolling over the walls and impossibly pink products lined up on display. The doughnuts are glazed with strawberry chocolate, the Danishes are heavily decorated with icing sugar and strawberries and heart-shaped cakes line the refrigerated display in different kinds of pinks and whites.

Shirabu watches as Ushijima removes an entire tray of heart shaped cookies from the kitchen, complete with pink icing and tied up with fancy white bows.

“He’s been at it all morning,” Kawanishi tells him as he watches Ushijima tenderly arrange the cookies on a shelf.

There are no croissants today but the raspberry sponge cake looked good enough to try. He tries not to give Kawanishi his time of day – doesn’t want to be put through any more agonizing hurt and disappointment. But with him standing across, Shirabu finds that he can’t pretend the lurch in his chest didn’t happen.

By this point, he’s given up on pretending. He knows he’s doomed until he can find someone else to sweep him off his feet. He thinks of Yahaba and feels his nostrils flare at that. His dry humour is one-of-a-kind.

“Haven’t seen you around as often,” Kawanishi tries again when Shirabu says nothing.

“I’ve been busy,” he replies somberly.

Kawanishi takes it as his cue to shut up, and it makes Shirabu feel rotten inside. It doesn’t help when Tendou sidles up with an empty tray in his hands and winks at Shirabu from where he stands.

“Do you want a kiss with that?” Tendou asks when Kawanishi totals his amount on the register. The taller boys says nothing; his face is impassive and Shirabu can’t get a read on him. It agitates him.

“No,” Shirabu says crossly. In all honesty, a kiss would be nice. A kiss would be great. But he’s not going to admit that; they’re going to have to drag it out of him even if it costs him his life. He doesn’t want to make things harder for himself anyway, it’s difficult enough as it stands.

“Are you sure?” Tendou asks. He wriggles his exceptionally expressive brows and Shirabu’s lips pull back in distaste. Tendou nudges Kawanishi in the arm before slithering back into the kitchen to get a fresh tray of raspberry puffs.

They don’t exchange anymore words. But just as he’s about to leave, Goshiki comes in from the store room with a broom. He waves happily at Shirabu. The kid is painfully oblivious, and Shirabu sees a piece of Ushijima in him.

Suddenly Shirabu is struck with an epiphytic idea and it takes a solid form in his supposedly docile, peace-loving mind. He turns back to Kawanishi. “On second thought,” he says, trying his best to sound cool. Inside his heart is hammering and he has to quell the rising restlessness. “I would like a kiss to go with that.”

He says it loud enough for Goshiki to look up from where he’s sweeping the floor and Kawanishi blinks surprised. Shirabu doesn’t miss the confusion in his eyes but he turns away to look at Goshiki – his inner devil rises from the depths and he wants to make sure the poor boy has heard.

Shirabu pins Goshiki with a straight stare, and for a while, they engage in an intense battle of stares. Goshiki is the first to look away and while Shirabu would have loved to live in his moment of glory, the metaphorical rug gets pulled under his feet as Kawanishi pecks him on the cheek.

He didn’t think Kawanishi would actually do it. His heart turns to stone at the reality of it and he feels himself burn with the sudden shame and realization that he just forced a kiss out of someone who’s clearly attached.

They’re both glowing at this point and the atmosphere lathers thick and heavy between them with awkwardness. Behind him, a customer gets in line and clears her throat when Shirabu stands rooted to the ground. It’s enough to startle him into action.

“Uhm,” he mumbles. He reaches for his paper bag and hot chocolate, eyes shifting around anxiously. His heart is in his mouth, and his tongue suddenly feels too heavy. His mind blanks and his word catalogue gets effectively flushed down his brain’s toilet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kawanishi tells him quietly and Shirabu nods. He moves out of the queue and leaves quickly. He doesn’t look back until he crosses the small street. From outside, he can see the cashier counter and Kawanishi looks ridiculously charming as he serves up a smile and rings up the next customer.

His heart sinks a little because he knows he won’t be coming back the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. He needs to get a grip and move on.

He doesn’t visit the store for a long time after that. The next time he walks into the store, Goshiki is by the counter. Shirabu gets assaulted by the loud voice before he even makes ten steps into the store.

“Welcome!” Goshiki waves at him.

It’s been weeks. Yet his heart still betrays him and spills emotions into his veins, making him soften up around the edges in the saddest way.

“Is he sick?” Shirabu asks quietly. He slides the tray across the counter, waiting patiently as Goshiki charges him the usual.

“He has a make-up class today,” Goshiki tells him. Shirabu figures it’s only natural for boyfriends to know each other’s schedule. Shirabu hadn’t even known that Kawanishi was still currently studying - but of course, Kawanishi would. It just makes Kawanishi all the more perfect for him. Too bad Goshiki got there first.

“Huh.”

“You must’ve been really busy,” Goshiki continues to prattle, still completely oblivious to the surging angst under Shirabu’s bitter mood. “We haven’t seen you in weeks.” When Shirabu doesn’t say anything, Goshiki eyes him, visibly concerned with his eyebrows furrowed and lips tugged down. “Has everything been okay? We’ve missed you.”

Shirabu sighs tiredly. He really can’t hate this happy bunny. He fishes for his coins and counts the exact change before putting them on the coin holder. “You missed my money, you mean.”

“N-NO! THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT.”

“I was kidding,” he says, drooping flaccidly. It’s so hard to be actively mean to him. He can see why Kawanishi has taken a liking to Goshiki. Shirabu folds his arm over the counter and pins Goshiki with an unwavering stare. “Don’t you hate me?”

Goshiki tallies his amount before turning away to prepare the hot chocolate. “Hate you? Is there a reason why I should?”

Shirabu makes a motion with his hands, exasperated and also really upset. “I forced a kiss out of your boyfriend…?”

The reaction delays for a full 30 seconds, and by the time it registers in his head, Goshiki lets out a loud ‘HUH?!’ before dropping the cup of hot chocolate and scalding his hand. He whips around immediately, face flushing a nice shade of mottled ruby – a matching red, first-degree burn blossoming on his left hand. “What boyfriend?” he gasps, entirely flustered.

“Are you okay?” Shirabu grimaces. He leans over the counter for a better look-see and winces at the colour. “You need-“

“Who are you talking about-”

“Do you have ibuprofen-”

“Are we talking about Taichi-san-”

“First, you need to run-“

“Taichi-san likes you the most!” Goshiki yells hysterically. Their conversation had been getting progressively louder but in that instance, a blanket of silence is hastily thrown over the two of them and they both immediately clam up, no longer trying to out-speak one another.

The silence morphs into a wall between them and Tendou pops in from the kitchen to emphasise it by shushing them with a finger to his lip. They both nod like naughty school boys caught in an act.

Shirabu is the first to break the silence. “What.”

“Taichi-san likes you,” Goshiki repeats. He uses his other hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Although, he probably won’t like it that I’ve told you.”

Shirabu blinks, taken aback. He thinks back to the kiss he witnessed and his heart shrivels into a seed. Despite the flow of time, it still hurts to think about it. “But he kissed you,” he mumbles, confused. All these feelings inside of him - cresting like ocean peaks and dragging him under like sand pits, whirling in a vortex – has him so confounded.

“HE KISSED ME?!” Goshiki’s hand flies right up to his mouth, eyes going wide open and he looks a little short on passing out on the spot.

“Why are you surprised! I should be the surprised one!” Shirabu gasps, exasperated.

“HE KISSED YOU!” Goshiki cries, though muffled. Shirabu gets a flashback of the softest peck on his cheek and he feels his face burn. He wants to be selfish about it, he really does, but it doesn’t really pay if it means hurting Goshiki in the process.

“I know that!” he replies, sullen. The conversation has him toeing the fine line between sanity and hysteria.

“Okay that’s it,” Tendou says, reemerging once more. “I’m taking over. Both of you. So noisy,” he tuts. He takes one look at Goshiki and his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that a burn Tsutomu?”

“No, I-“ Goshiki doesn’t get a word in edgewise before Tendou ushers him away to Ushijima. He takes the aloe gel from the cabinet before shoving it into Goshiki’s palm and pushing the smaller boy into the kitchen.

“Wait-“ Shirabu starts but Tendou looks at him, eyes wide and googly.

“Aren’t you going to be late for class?” Tendou asks him and Shirabu looks at his watch in horror. And by golly, he will be. Tendou sees him off with his hot chocolate and Shirabu rockets down the streets.

Returning to the kitchen, Tendou sighs and shakes his head. He gestures towards the door way and tells Ushijima,” Aren’t young kids in love funny?”

Shirabu doesn’t really know what he wants when he walks through the door. Half of him suspects a masochistic streak in him. Nothing else explains why he’d continually inflict pain on himself but the other half desperately wants to clear the air.

Ushijima is by the cashier this time. He has his apron on – a nice design with fluffy dogs and blue birds – and he’s wiping the register with the hem of it. The croissants are on the display rack; it’s enough of a tell-tale sign that Kawanishi is somewhere in the store.

Shirabu picks it because evidently, he hates himself enough.

Ushijima waves at him when he goes to checkout his croissant. “How are you?” he asks politely.

It’s easy to misunderstand Ushijima due to the sheer size of him coupled with his impassive demeanor, but underneath it the misleading exterior, Ushijima is just an extra-value sized container of kindness.

“I’m good.” He fidgets. He can’t stop himself fast enough, and out of habit, he asks, “Where’s Kawanishi?”

“He’s counting our stocks in the storeroom. Satori says math majors should be made to do the math.”

“Oh... ” It’s almost cute. Shirabu finds himself smiling a little. “I’m just so used to seeing him at the store front,” he says embarrassed.

Ushijima hums. “There wasn’t any point keeping him here when you stopped coming around so often. Should I call him out?”

This is his chance. Shirabu knows one when he sees one, and he tingles under the skin, desperate for the interaction. “Yes, please.”

Kawanishi appears with a clipboard in his hands and hair falling over his eyes. It’s grown long since the last time they’ve met, and he clearly hasn’t gotten it cut. He has reading glasses on, and Shirabu feels his life span shorten another five years.

“Hi,” Kawanishi says quietly. Shirabu smiles back but it feels forced and awkward.

Shirabu doesn’t remember the last time he’s spent less than five minutes at the counter, but this is definitely some kind of record breaker. He doesn’t think he’s ever checked out his purchases as quickly as he just did, and in the short span of time where they were both just centimetres apart, Shirabu doesn’t find his voice.

It’s not supposed to turn out this way and it becomes even worse when Kawanishi offers him an apologetic smile. His gut clenches uncomfortably when Kawanishi says, “Hey, I’m sorry about that time with the kiss.” He hands Shirabu his hot chocolate. “I should’ve known you were just kidding. I’m sorry I went ahead with it.”

When Shirabu doesn’t take his drink, Kawanishi leaves it on the table. He waits patiently as Shirabu works the words in his mouth, rolling them over and tasting them on his tongue.
“I liked it,” Shirabu admits. He wrings his hands together, unsure what to do with them. He glances off and the door to the kitchen is open. He wonders who else is in there; who else is listening to his pathetic attempt at mending bridges. “But it wasn’t right,” Shirabu mumbles. “Your… boyfriend and…?”

He doesn’t know where he’s going with everything. He’s just getting more tangled in his own web of thoughts. But it’s enough to get Kawanishi’s attention. He frowns, confused.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Kawanishi says slowly.

This is it. This is the tricky part with all the missing puzzle pieces. Shirabu takes a deep breath and gestures wildly. He makes a sweeping gesture across his forehead to emphasise the bangs. “Your colleague… The-“ He does the sweeping thing across his forehead. The bangs, he tries to say.

Lucky for him, Kawanishi isn’t a total egg case. He squints in disbelief when the realization settles. “Ts-Tsutomu?”

“Yeah,” Shirabu answers quietly. He gestures. “Your boyfriend?”

“Excuse me? My who?”

“You kissed him!”

“I did what?”

“I saw it!” Shirabu says exasperated. He grips the edge of the counter, knuckles going pale. ”You were both. Facing away from the door. And.” Shirabu makes even more wild gestures, this time accompanied with awkward body movements. He mimics the ducking down motion, but Kawanishi doesn’t seem to get it.

“I’ve never-“

“You were! You were leaning and, and, and-“ Shirabu shuts down, his whole face turning beet red. Kawanishi seems to have suffered from second hand embarrassment, and he scrubs his face that’s slowly starting to go pink.

It’s awkward. But not a bad kind of awkward – Kawanishi starts laughing first. It’s not something Shirabu expects; it’s an airy wheeze and he doubles over the counter, burying his head in his arms as his shoulders quiver with the intensity of it. Everything is ridiculous. Shirabu finds himself holding back a chuckle but it bubbles past his lips anyway.

“I don’t know what you just said or did,” Kawanishi wheezes, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. “But that was funny.’

“I really did see it,” Shirabu says lamely. He opts for a pout to seem a little more intimidating. “He was standing next to you and you were leaning down, towards him. It was months ago.”

“I really don’t remember.”

“Well, think harder,” Shirabu complains, voice turning into a whine.

Kawanishi mulls it over, eyebrows furrowing. Then it hits him, and he ends up laughing again, only this time, he laughs harder. His voice disappears as the silent laughter takes over, and Shirabu is very confused.

“Am I missing something?” Shirabu frowns.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” Kawanishi snorts between his laughter. He wipes his eyes and massages his jaws when he’s done laughing but his lips keep quirking. “Tsutomu smuggled an apple strudel from the kitchen for me. I was leaning in for a bite.”

Nothing has ever felt more ridiculous in his life. Shirabu grimaced. It’s inane and absolutely laughable, and he’s never felt more mistaken in his life.

“So that’s-“

“Nope.”

“He’s not-?”

“Nope.”

“This is awkward,” Shirabu blanches. He shuffles his feet and reaches for the hot chocolate. “Well I better get going then,” he says, mystified and embarrassed. It’s his fast pass out of the store, and he’s using it.

Kawanishi pulls the hot chocolate out of Shirabu’s reach just as his hand is about to curl around it. He holds it hostage and he purses his lips, the playful light dimming in his eyes. “Are you still going to avoid me?” Kawanishi asks quietly.

There are two reactions Shirabu has to this: the first is a dizzying joy and relief that comes with knowing that Kawanishi had missed him just as much. And the second is a firm blow of embarrassment to the gut.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you,” Shirabu denies weakly.

Kawanishi sighs. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

He sees it; the soft honesty of Kawanishi and Shirabu feels his breath catch. He’s always known there was something special about him.

“I’ll see you,” he says, a little lightheaded with infinite adoration. And he does. The next day, and the day after. And the day after that.

The bakery installs a new bell overhead and it jingles obnoxiously as Shirabu walks in. Kawanishi looks up from where he’s wiping the coffee machine, and he grins. Ushijima, too, looks up from where he’s arranging the donuts and gives him this really troubled and forlorn look. “He’s sick,” Ushijima tells him before going back to his donuts, and Shirabu allows his eyes to travel to Kawanishi at the counter.

He goes up to the counter first. A new habit he’s been at ever since they smoothed things out between them.

“Good morning,” Kawanishi says to him.

“Hey yourself,” Shirabu replies. Kawanishi hands him a tray and bread thongs from behind the counter. “So uhm, who’s sick?”

Kawanishi laughs. He leans over the counter and rests his left cheek on his hand. “Tendou-san is.”

They both stand there mute as Ushijima sighs and goes back into the kitchen. When the door swings close he nudges Shirabu with his other hand. “Hey, do me a favour.”

“Shouldn’t you ask a little more nicely?”

He casts a furtive glance towards the kitchen door before glancing back and pointing at the pie display a few columns down. “Tsutomu made those this morning with Ushijima-san. He’s worried no one will buy them.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

Kawanishi flashes him a different smile, lips curling at the corners ever so slightly. But it’s enough to reduce Shirabu to a soft, putty substance. “Take a guess.”

“You want me to buy one?”

Kawanishi nods, eyes never leaving his face. Shirabu fidgets; Kawanishi has him wrapped around his fingers but he’s not going down without a fight. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll take you on a date,” Kawanishi replies easily without batting an eyelash. He stares straight at Shirabu like he knows what he’s doing and this has all been part of the grand scheme of things.

Shirabu feels himself go hot under the collar and his cheeks start to burn. He fumbles with the bread thongs and snaps it repeatedly, agitated. “What makes you think I’d want to go on a date with you?”

Kawanishi rolls his eyes but keeps the smile. “Please?”

He pretends to think it over but inside, he already has the answer pegged. “Only because you asked nicely,” Shirabu mumbles, lying through the skin of his teeth and face turning redder by the second. He pouts as a last resort, masking his emotions but Kawanishi pokes him in the cheek.

He turns away before Kawanishi catches the wobbly, love-stricken grin on his face.

Goshiki comes in from the kitchen as Kawanishi rings him up. The boy orbits in the background, anxious to do something before the morning crowd comes in but something catches his eye and he slithers up to the counter, slotting himself into the space next to Kawanishi.

“Oh! You’re getting a slice of apple pie today?” Goshiki pipes. He tries to play it off as a cool, impartial comment. But Shirabu knows, and it’s above him to be so horrible as to withhold nice comments from the boy.

“It looks good,” Shirabu offers. Kawanishi looks up, giving him this pleased look, and Shirabu is convinced he’s doing the right thing. Next to Kawanishi, Goshiki just shines.

The boy nudges Kawanishi in the arm and says, proudly if not somewhat abashedly, “It looks like Shirabu-san likes my baking more than yours.”

“Yeah?” Kawanishi says amused. “Good job. Drag the money out of him.” Shirabu scrunches his nose but he can’t say he’s annoyed.

For the first time in a long time, Shirabu leaves the shop walking on clouds. He feels feather light and he thinks, if he wants to, he could probably touch the sky.

Life gets better when notices writing on his Styrofoam cup. A number. A name. And a heart.

It’s the cheapest tactic in the book but it tickles his fancy in all the right places. He tightens his grip on the Styrofoam cup and takes a bite out of the apple pie.

It really, does taste good.