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Peach Blossom Cookie had been lonely for as long as he could remember. The only times he ever had company were when Mystic Flour Cookie ascended up his mountain to drink tea with him and ask about any visitors. He always answered with no, however much he wished he had visitors, there had been none, and she would nod with that unsettling yet understanding smile of hers as she set her cup of tea down on its ceramic platter.
Now, as Peach Blossom Cookie began to tie his hair into his usual bun, he realized he would have to lie to her for the first time. He wasn’t a bad liar. He was actually quite good at it; he’d lied to himself for years, telling himself he was fine in solitude, and he’d lied to the sun when it rose over Earthbread every morning as he told it he was happy to see it rise another day—really, he’d much rather stay asleep for eternity, but his peach baos had tending to be done.
No, the problem wasn’t Peach Blossom Cookie. The problem was Mystic Flour Cookie. She was impossibly observant, even with her eyes closed most of the time, and could sense even the smallest shift in a cookie’s demeanor or tone. It would be especially risky to lie to her now, considering the reason for his potential deceit was the one thing she’d been chasing down for weeks.
The reason groaned moodily from his place on Peach Blossom Cookie’s fluffy mattress. Peach Blossom Cookie glanced over his shoulder fondly, shaking his head at Dark Cacao Cookie’s dramatically splayed position. The other cookie met his eyes with a look that wasn’t quite a glare, but definitely wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“I want to continue my journey. I want to leave.”
As much as the pouty statement skewered his heart in a way that made his throat ache, Peach Blossom Cookie couldn’t help but smile. This warrior had been so serious, so uptight when he’d first arrived, and now he was making demands like a temperamental child. It was endearing, in a way.
He sighed, turning back to his mirror to slip the peach-shaped bun cover over his hair. “We’ve been over this, my dear. Your injuries are too fresh to risk reopening if you continue on your journey now.”
Dark Cacao Cookie huffed, and the mattress made a noise that sounded like he was getting up out of bed. “Don’t call me that.”
A moment later, completely contradicting the cookie’s harsh words, Peach Blossom Cookie felt bandaged yet muscular arms slip over his shoulders, and he looked up at their reflection just as Dark Cacao Cookie placed a kiss on the top of his head. Peach Blossom Cookie’s heart soared, and he was sure the warrior’s hands clasped over his chest could feel it.
Dark Cacao Cookie had only been at the garden for a week at most, yet he’d developed such an affection for the keeper of these gardens that he now expressed it openly, which Peach Blossom Cookie could tell was a rarity. On the first few days, Peach Blossom Cookie had been the one to initiate interaction, mostly to treat his wounds and offer comfort, while the warrior had kept his words to a minimum and constantly asked when he would be fit to go back out into the world.
Then, Peach Blossom Cookie began opening up to him, speaking to him as if he was a diary—he might as well have been, with how little he acknowledged the other cookie—and Dark Cacao Cookie, with nothing better to do besides roam boredly beneath the peach baos for hours on end, would listen intently as if he were being told the most interesting story in the world. After that, he understood Peach Blossom Cookie on a deeper level, going from silently criticizing his gentle nature to observing him like he was a zoo animal he’d just read an informational plaque about. Peach Blossom Cookie found that part amusing, seeing as how he’d spent hours watching Dark Cacao Cookie in the same way—without all of the psychoanalyzing, of course. Obviously…
Over the course of that first week, the two had realized that they only had each other in this fragrant sanctuary. The birds and trees were company of sorts, sure, but if Dark Cacao Cookie didn’t want to go insane from hearing himself talk to the same strip of bark for hours at a time, his only other option was actually talking to Peach Blossom Cookie. And talking, they did.
They talked a lot. There wasn’t much to do, besides talk. Peach Blossom Cookie would find Dark Cacao Cookie wistfully looking out over the mountain while peach blossom petals drifted in the wind around him, and they’d have a conversation about anything and everything that was on their minds. Peach Blossom Cookie had learned that, despite his cold and stoic attitude, Dark Cacao Cookie was full of amazing thoughts and feelings so complex that only someone who’d had enough time alone to think of them on their own would fully understand them.
Eventually, they started touching. Well, he wouldn’t say started, more like they just wouldn’t stop. Peach Blossom Cookie would finish replacing the bandages on Dark Cacao Cookie’s chest, but instead of leaving, he’d sit there for a while, his hand lightly resting over his heart. Dark Cacao Cookie would offer his hand to Peach Blossom Cookie to guide him up the steps to his chambers, and their hands wouldn’t separate until they absolutely had to. Peach Blossom Cookie would teasingly grasp Dark Cacao Cookie’s shoulders while he was inspecting his injuries, and instead of immediately moving on, he’d take a moment to massage the tension out of the other cookie’s muscles.
The real change happened when one night, Dark Cacao Cookie had been sitting at the foot of Peach Blossom Cookie’s bed while the garden keeper braided his long, black hair, and he’d asked bashfully if they could sleep in the same room. Peach Blossom had allowed it—and by allowed, he meant he’d been embarrassingly eager to say yes—and they’d ended up sharing his bed.
After that, affection was easy. Physical contact was less hesitant, late night walks under the moonlight were frequent, and kisses were bound to be shared at some point.
“Peach.”
Peach Blossom Cookie blinked, surprised at his own drifting thoughts. Dark Cacao Cookie had finished decorating his hair with blossoms for him, and was now looking at him in concern. Peach Blossom Cookie smiled. That concern was so precious, yet so fragile. All of their relationship was. He leaned forward and touched their foreheads together. Dark Cacao Cookie took initiative and gently slid their lips together, causing warmth to bloom in Peach Blossom Cookie’s chest. He tasted sleep in the other cookie’s mouth, along with the familiar sweetness of the peach baos.
Peach Blossom Cookie rose from his chair once they’d parted and pushed past the other cookie to open the wispy curtains covering the windows. The sun was already high in the sky, its warm rays streaming into the room as if they’d been held back for eons. He eyed the distant, pale stone staircase outside, feeling a sense of relief when he saw that the rain from a few days ago had washed away the jam. Mystic Flour Cookie would surely be suspicious if she saw evidence of a wounded traveller on his mountain.
He looked over at Dark Cacao Cookie, who only stared back. Was this cookie really worth risking his relationship with the Master of the Ivory Pagoda, and potentially his own safety? He’d only known him for a week, and yet the thought of giving him up to Mystic Flour Cookie, of having him taken away, made his heart tighten and his fists ball up.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, he decided. He took a deep breath. After he sent Dark Cacao Cookie on his way, Mystic Flour Cookie would come, and he would tell her the same thing he’d been telling her for ages. He would give nothing away. Nothing would change.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Peach Blossom Cookie would be forever changed by this chance meeting. Even if no other cookie knew, even if he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else, he would know.
And that was all he needed.