harry

you always loved walking into the bakery in the mornings. 

even though it’s been hours since you were last here, the sweet scent of pastries and baked goods still lingers in the air like a wake-up call. when you turn the lights on in the back kitchen, you’re met with your work station that you’ve become acquainted with for almost half your life, and maybe the rest of it if you’re lucky.

it’s clockwork every day. you arrive at the bakery at 4:30 AM, make yourself a coffee at the barista station, and start working on the menu your father left you the night before. it’s the same routine, but you love it, you don’t want it to be any other way. 

by the time lia comes at 5:30 AM to help with the remaining pastries that need to be made, you’re already putting out a variety of cookies in different flavors, muffins to go with the patrons’ coffees, and of course, the treat of the day that your father lets you pick every single morning. 

today, it’s a cinnamon coffee cake with a bit of brown sugar crumbled on top. 

you’re washing the bowls you used earlier in the sink when lia comes into the kitchen, tying her apron. she yawns loudly and looks at you with bags underneath her eyes. “you seem to be in a good mood this morning.” you glance over your shoulder as you rinse down the bowls, a slight smile on your lips at the sound of lia’s voice.

you look back at the bowls and reach over to turn off the water. “i’m always in a good mood, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, setting the bowl down onto the dish rack to dry before spinning around to finally face lia. 

“yesterday morning was not like that at all,” she quips in a teasing tone. you scoff and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring her words. instead, you point at one of the counters behind lia, wanting to get back to work before the store opens at 7:00 AM. 

“i put out the two bread doughs for you over there. need me to get you the flour?” lia stares at you for a moment before shaking her head, turning around to walk over to the counter that held the bowls of dough she would need to work on for the day. 

she uncovers them before replying, “i’ve got it. go take a break for a bit.” you’re about to respond, but lia quickly looks over her shoulder at you with narrowed eyes. “i mean it. go outside and take your stupid breather.” when she turns her head away, you roll your eyes and make your way out the back door. 

the air is a bit chilly, but you welcome it. when all the ovens inside are on, it can become unbearably hot, and there are days, especially in the summer, when you consider fixing that damn fan that broke two years ago. but it also ends up being winter again, and you forget about it until the following summer. 

as you take out your cigarettes and lighter from your pocket, lia’s words from earlier start to resurface in your mind. there was a reason for your sour mood the morning before, but you aren’t ready to have that conversation.

when you try to light your cigarette, your hands begin to tremble slightly, and that familiar pain you’ve been having for months now shoots up and down your arms, causing you to drop them onto the pavement.

you mumble a curse under your breath as you grip your wrist, willing the feeling to go away. the nerves in your body feel like fireworks going off with every little movement you make, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. 

but it passes. it always does. 

you take a shaky breath as you kneel to grab your lighter, forgetting the cigarette that now lies wet on the ground. your hands still shake for other reasons you don’t want to admit out loud. the doctor told you to quit smoking; it’ll just make everything worse, but you’ve never been the best at keeping your word. 

you’ve proven to yourself that you’re not the best at being alive, so maybe death can be a consolation prize.

“your mom’s facebook posts always make it seem like you’re dying,” lia points out to you after the morning rush. the comment makes you laugh loudly, prompting a pause to knead the dough you’ve been working on. she brings her phone closer to your face for you to see the post in question. “i’m serious! look at this!” 

you lean forward, squinting at her screen. it was a photo of you from your most recent doctor’s appointment, and the image made your stomach churn.

you sat on the treatment table, caught getting mid-poked by the nurse to draw your blood, unaware that your mother was taking a photo. the caption made you scoff, not even wasting your time to read the entire thing before turning your head back to your task. they were just updates on your condition, the latest information the doctor has shared with you. 

a chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe your hands against your apron. “the ‘keep fighting’ at the end is so crazy…” 

lia leans against the table and continues to stare at the facebook post, scrolling through the comments. “everyone else under it thinks the same thing as me, too.” 

“let them think I’m dying then,” you deadpan, waving her off. 

lia swats at your shoulder and glares, obviously not happy with your words. “you are not dying. i just wish you’d stop smoking…” she crosses her arms, and for a moment, you narrow your eyes at being chastised once more about your bad habits. 

“i will…” you sigh, walking away from the work table. lia’s eyes stay on you as you check the timer on the oven for one of the breads you’re currently baking.

there’s a look of disapproval on her face, and you can‘t help but groan, leaning against one of the counters. your hands grip the edge of the countertop, and you tilt your head back slightly, closing your eyes as you respond, “lia, i will stop smoking eventually.” 

“why not now?” she asks you, her tone challenging yet teasing at the same time. you rub your temple with your hand in irritation, and as you open your eyes again, the fluorescent light above you blurs your vision slightly. a sharp pain runs up your neck, and you can feel it reach your head. your eyes close tightly again, and you bow your head, hoping the feeling will pass. 

you pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping the scene in front of lia could be passed off as a headache, in this weather, perhaps sinus issues. “maybe when the holidays are over… it’s so stressful right now.” 

you’re about to add on more to your statement, but suddenly, the timer goes off, and you wince at the sound. you stumble away from the oven and hunch over one of the other work tables, clutching its sides to ground yourself while the pain persists. lia runs over to the oven, turns off the timer, and then cautiously walks over to you to place a hand on your back. 

but you shake your head, pushing yourself away from the table. you walk away from lia to take a break outside. she watches you worriedly, probably disappointed in your choices, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

it’s the holidays, you try to justify again.

across the country, daniela just got off the phone with her mother. she sits on her bed, staring at the phone in her hands, unsure of how to react to the news she's just received. a quiet knock against her door causes the latina to look up, quickly wiping away the tears that were forming in her eyes. manon notices, though, and frowns, making her way inside the room to see what’s going on. she walks over to daniela’s bed and sits across from her, placing a comforting hand on her knee. manon tilts her head and whispers, “dani? what’s wrong?”

her bottom lip trembles as she looks at the ghanaian girl. tears start to spring to her eyes once more as she takes a deep breath, whispering, “my ex is… dying, i guess.”

the moment you get home, you make a beeline toward your father’s office, feeling a slight agitation with your mother after discovering the post she made on social media.

since lia showed it to you, it seems many people from your past have taken it as an opportunity to reach out and offer their condolences. peers from your high school that you haven’t spoken to since then have randomly sent you red emoji hearts to your instagram dms, telling you how strong you are for fighting this long. 

you bust through the door, your arms crossed over your chest as you look at your father, who doesn’t seem fazed by your sudden intrusion. “can you tell mom to stop making it seem like i have cancer or something?” 

he glances at you, raising an eyebrow at your tone. “you know i can’t control what she does online.” 

you stare at your father, trying your hardest not to narrow your eyes at him. you know it isn’t his fault, and you know he’s right— your mother always had a habit of oversharing, especially on facebook for all her old college friends and distant relatives to see.

it’s a habit you often found yourself fighting with your mother over, pleading with her to get off the stupid app. but as usual, she never listens, and you are left to deal with the aftermath. 

suddenly, a sharp pain shoots up your neck, and you immediately look away from him, shaking your head to rid yourself of the tight feeling in your shoulders.

you release a sharp breath and purse your lips, your nostrils flaring as the discomfort intensifies. your eyes close, and you hear your father get up from his chair, but you stumble back, not wanting to disrupt his peace right before he goes back to the bakery. 

“y/n, sit down…” the distress in his voice makes your head spin. there’s a pit in your stomach and a loud ringing in your ears that causes your head to ache intensely. your father attempts to place his hands on your shoulders, but you push him away, shaking your head with tears in your eyes. 

“it’s fine, dad… i just… i need to go to my room.” before he could reply, you were already walking out of his office.

you quickly make your way inside your room, shutting the door. you lean back against the door with a loud thud, sliding down against it until you’re sitting on your bedroom floor. you pull your knees up to your chest and close your eyes, silently letting your tears fall, waiting for the pain to go away.

you never liked being the center of attention. 

it’s something that always brought you discomfort, and it didn’t help that your mother treated you like some sort of treasure. she doesn’t do it with ill intentions– you know that; however, there are days when you despise being her only child.

she had nothing else to ever talk about, and if you were being completely honest, it’s not like you had any award-winning achievements. 

high school was like a battleground, and you were just trying to make it toward the end of the day, the ringing of the bell at 3:00 PM sharp, followed by the announcements as an overnight truce. you managed to lie low and stay out of everybody’s way, even avoiding close friendships and especially relationships. 

but with your diagnosis, it came out of the blue, like faulty wiring that was missed for years and passed off as regular stress any other high school student would experience. it was a series of headaches, a tense feeling in your shoulders that a night's sleep couldn’t get rid of.

the blurriness in your vision paired with the pain in your head always came and went, but then came the weak feelings in your arms. you remember the first time it happened– it was at the bakery. You were kneading the dough like usual, like you always had. 

and then, you were frozen. it was as if your brain short-circuited and forgot how to be a human. you stood there unmoving, but you felt everything. 

the pain was unbearable, to the point where you became lightheaded. everything became blurry, and the dough started to look fake. you closed your eyes and didn’t open them again until much later, in a hospital room with your parents hovering over you with tears in their eyes.

that was a year ago, and now you’re 21, taking medication to ease your symptoms and to continue living the life you envisioned in your head.

but you aren’t quite sure if spending the rest of your days at the bakery is really what you want.

when you were 17, it was your dream– a dream you often had that always included a curly-haired brunette with the prettiest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen. 

she would walk through the door of the bakery, the chime from the bell at the top of the door signaling her presence. you would be in the middle of putting out the fresh pastries for the day, and you’d look up to see her already giving you a dimpled smile. in that dream, you always smiled back because she was finally home. 

but, you’re 21 now, and you’ve stopped looking at the door. 

after the horrid week you had, you’re glad it’s finally the weekend. 

usually around the holidays, the bakery stays open longer than usual, making sure everyone gets their peppermint hot cocoa and gingerbread-flavored treat. it’s the busiest the bakery ever gets, but your father still likes to keep it closed on sundays. not for any religious reasons, but solely to give you and himself a break every once in a while. 

the bakery being closed doesn’t mean there isn’t any work to do, though. you still come in at 4:30 AM to prepare for the next day's tasks. 

going to the bakery makes you feel normal. it’s a few hours where you can ignore the looming hospital visits, the pain in the side of your neck, because maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve had your head nose deep in dough for the last three hours.

you can control the pastry menu and the amount of sugar to put in your coffee, but you can’t control what the doctors tell you every week. 

your phone plays music loudly as you hum along, balancing two trays of rolled-out cookie dough in your hands. each task you complete is ticked off as the hours fly by. by 10 AM, you decide to start the bread dough, having already completed most of tomorrow's prep.

as you lock the mixing bowl in place underneath the mixer, you hear a gentle knock on the back door. at first, you believe the sound was in your imagination, but it comes again, louder and much firmer. 

you check your watch in confusion. your father doesn’t come in until 12 PM on sundays, and it’s lia’s day off. you walk cautiously toward the door, staring at it as if it would open by itself. when you open the door, you take a deep breath, preparing for the visitor. 

what you see in front of you causes your breath to hitch. it’s daniela avanzini in all her glory.

she approached you during study hall on a random wednesday morning. 

it was your junior year, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if the cheer captain got the wrong person. but then she said your name as if she had been studying it the night before to make sure it rolled off her tongue with ease. she spoke to you as if she had been practicing the courage to do so, because in all the years you’ve seen the latina, you never saw her be so shy. 

all she wanted to know was what you thought of the book you were reading at the time. 

“i saw you reading it in study hall last week…” she said with a dimpled smile. as she spoke, she played with the strap of her bookbag, her head tilted at you. you looked down at the book, then back at daniela with a slight smile. 

“it’s good… it has a slow start, but it picks up pretty quickly after a couple of chapters…” she nods at your words, an awkward silence falling between you two. daniela looked down at her feet, and it was clear she was trying to find something else to say. you’re unsure why she wanted to waste her time in a conversation with you, but you can’t help but want the same thing.  

you mark your page with a post-it note, closing it before looking at daniela with a sincere look in your eyes. “i’m almost done with it, do you wanna borrow it when I’m done?” she looked back up at you with a gleam in her eyes. daniela nodded eagerly, her smile growing wider. 

“for real? you’ll let me?” she asked excitedly. you noted how she looked like a child who'd finally been given permission to do something she’d longed to do. 

you nodded, extending your hand out to her. “i’m y/n.” 

daniela took your hand, but she didn’t shake it– she simply held it in her own. “i know. you’re in third period with me.” 

“you noticed that?” you chuckled, not realizing you hadn’t let go of her hand. she giggles and rolls her eyes as if the question you asked was ridiculous. 

she looked down at your hands and smiled softly, her hold on your hand tightening. “duh. i’ve noticed you in my classes since freshman year. i always wanted to be your friend.” 

“is that so?” you tilted your head with an amused look in your eyes when you saw the pink tint in her cheeks. daniela nods, her eyes still trained on your connected hands. 

“yeah. i consider this a win.” she looked back at you with a hopeful look in her eyes. 

you smiled– a genuine smile. “this is a win for sure.” 

your first reaction is to slam the door in her face; however, daniela quickly places her hand against the door, using all her strength to keep it open. she glares at you, a slight pout on her features. “hello to you, too, i guess.” you scoff at her words, attempting to close the door once more, but she doesn’t budge, causing you to groan loudly. 

“the bakery is closed on sundays,” you tell her with a bite in your tone. she doesn’t listen, though, pushing past you to step inside the kitchen. you can feel a headache coming on, but you know this time it isn’t due to your illness – it is very much due to the unwelcome company now inside the building. 

daniela looks around the kitchen, strolling around the counters. you can’t help but squint at her in annoyance. “why are you here right now?” 

the latina doesn’t glance in your direction as she replies, her fingers tracing the cool surface of the countertop. “just wanted to visit.” 

“it’s been like, what? three years since you’ve been here?” bitterness drips from your tone. you cross your arms, keeping your distance from daniela. 

she stops in front of the mixer and looks up at you with a raised brow. “that isn’t my fault, you know?” 

you stare at her in silence, feeling a bit at a loss for words. you open your mouth to say something, but you start to feel the familiar burning in your arm.

it travels up to your shoulders and stops at your neck, causing you to tilt your head slightly to alleviate the pain. you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to mask the discomfort you feel all over your body. 

daniela watches you closely. after all these years, she still knows when you’re putting on an act. “my mom said you were sick.” 

her words cause you to open your eyes. you look at her before letting out a snort, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shake your head. “no fucking way…” 

she frowns, a concerned look in her eyes. “is it true?” you give her an incredulous look, extending your arms out and shrugging as you give yourself a once-over.

“do i look sick to you, daniela?” a chuckle escapes your lips as you let your arms fall back to your sides. you roll your eyes, walking toward the latina, motioning for her to walk away from your station. “now that you got your answer, can you leave? i’ve got shit to do.” daniela crosses her arms, staying where she is, and it causes you to step up to her with a cold glare in your eyes.  “move. daniela.”

she takes on your challenge, stepping closer to you as well. the latina looks up at you with pursed lips as she says, “my mom said that you might be dying, y/n.” 

“so, what if i am?” you reply, tilting your head with a tight-lipped smile. the smile falls as you roll your eyes again, pushing her back with your shoulder. you set the mixer to its highest setting, hoping it would be able to drown out your ex’s voice. 

but she continues to press despite your unwelcoming attitude, “so? i was fucking worried, and you’re acting like an asshole right now.” 

“you decided to show up unannounced at my job. i’m sorry, i’m not giving you southern hospitality at its finest!” you snap at her, aggressively adding sugar to the mixing bowl.

the sharp pain in your neck grows harder to ignore, just like the latina’s stare. her eyes follow your every movement, watching you add more ingredients, her gaze burning holes into your skull as you walk to the dish rack to grab a new baking sheet. with the pain starting to make your head spin and the latina’s presence, you feel as though you’ve hit your breaking point. 

“oh my god! enough!” You slam the baking sheet down onto the counter before turning around to face daniela. she stands there, her eyes wide at your sudden outburst. you point at her with a sharp look in your eyes. “why do you even care, daniela? it’s been years since we last talked!” she narrows her eyes in response to your words, stepping closer to you. 

“of course i care! god forbid i still care about someone i was in love with!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up wildly. a scoff escapes your lips as you turn back around, ignoring the pang in your chest at how she used the past tense in regards to her feelings toward you.

you grab the baking sheet once again, reaching for the parchment paper, and avoiding the way she glares at you as you attempt to continue the task you were doing before she decided to grace you with her presence. 

her words are tuned out as you spread the parchment paper along the metal pan and turn the mixer off. “what else was i supposed to do when my mom told me the news?!” you don’t respond; instead, you begin rolling the cookie dough in your hands, shaping it into balls to place on the baking sheet.

she continues, her tone much more aggravated than before, “i’m supposed to just ignore the person i saw an entire life with after hearing they might fucking die?!” 

it all continues to fall on deaf ears, pretending daniela isn’t in the kitchen with you and that it’s just another sunday to prep for the next morning. suddenly, she turns away from you and walks toward the sink.

you glance up from your task to see that she’s washing her hands. once she dries them, she grabs a pair of gloves and walks back to your station. your eyes widen when you realize she’s about to help you with the dough, causing you to grab her wrist.

“oh, absolutely not!” your glare hardens as you try to push her away again, but the moment you move your head too fast, it feels as though it has split open.

you stumble away from daniela, letting go of her wrist to grip your head tightly. your other hand finds the countertop as you try to keep yourself from falling over. a loud groan escapes your lips as you close your eyes, forcing the tears that start to form from streaming down your face. daniela’s hand finds your shoulder, but you jump away from her touch as if she had burned you.

you shake your head furiously, raising your head to look at daniela with a distressed look in your eyes. “please, daniela. just go away.” 

“i’m not leaving you like this,” she tells you firmly. she keeps her distance, not wanting to overwhelm you further, but it still feels like it's too much to bear.

you slam your palm against the countertop, the baking utensils on it clatter, and one of the bowls falls to the ground with a loud crash. daniela doesn’t flinch, just watching you intently despite your several warnings. 

“i don’t want you here!” you bang your fist against the countertop again, your anger almost becoming blinding. 

daniela steps away from you and takes a sharp breath, her eyes never leaving you. “i’ll be back tomorrow, whether you like it or not.” 

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask through gritted teeth, your hand finding the edge of the countertop to grip it tightly. daniela just shrugs and turns around to walk toward the exit.

before she leaves, she speaks quietly over her shoulder, “i don’t know what your problem is, but i’m not gonna let you push me away again. i’m here now, so don’t think another shitty text telling me it’s over is gonna work this time.” with that, she finally leaves, slamming the door behind her. 

you look at the door, and the pain finally starts to subside slightly. your breaths are ragged as your eyes narrow, feeling something familiar start to fester in the pit of your stomach.

without thinking of the consequences, you angrily push the baking trays off the table. you rip your apron off your body and throw it onto the countertop before running out the back door to “take a breather.”

that next morning, you make your way down to the bakery through the cold, shivering whenever the breeze decides to pick up every so often. it’s a dreary morning in atlanta, the sprinkling from the sky making it much more unbearable.

as you tug your jacket tighter around you, you can’t help but notice how much of a ghost town the city looks during days like this. the usual bright and alive energy downtown brings always hibernates in the wintertime and is replaced with attempts to fill everyone with holiday cheer. 

no cheer in your mood, however. it’s fucking cold. and there’s a 50% chance that your ex would be pestering you today. 

your aggravation grows as you continue your walk, already slipping one of your hands into your pants’ pocket to grab your cigarettes. having one before walking in wouldn’t hurt, you think. but as you get closer, you notice someone standing in front of the building.

they wear a jacket so oversized that it swallows them, and the hood on their head hides their identity. you stop in your tracks, already knowing who it is without needing to see their face. as she turns around, you immediately consider leaving and calling in sick for the day. 

but daniela has always been so stubborn. if you were to turn around, it wouldn’t be without a fight. 

you roll your eyes, opening your box of cigarettes to pull one out. “i told you to leave me alone, daniela.” you place the stick in between your teeth before pulling out your lighter. the Latina grimaces as you light the cigarette in front of her, making a point to puff a cloud of smoke in front of her. 

she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you. “and i told you that i’d come back.” her response makes you chuckle dryly. 

you take another hit, exhaling the smoke out of your lungs as you reply, “don’t you have like, pop-star shit to do right about now?” 

“they know i’m taking a break for a while,” she points out, still glaring at you. you know you’ve struck a nerve within her somehow, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, continuing to smoke your cigarette until it reaches its end. you exhale again slowly, your eyes on her as if challenging her to do something about it. 

daniela doesn’t give you a chance to react before she pulls the cigarette out from your lips, dropping it to the ground, and then stomping it out. your eyes are wide in surprise, flickering between the cigarette and her.

you’re about to ask her what her problem is, but she turns around, making her way toward the back door like she already knows the routine. and maybe she does, but you’re already too annoyed to dwell on the thought further. 

“open the door before i fucking freeze to death out here!” she commands, staring you down as if you were the crazy one in this situation. 

you walk up to the door and dig in your jacket pocket for the key. “i don’t have to let you inside, you know? i can just send you back home,” you spat as the door opened. she stands there for a moment, her eyebrow raised at you. she wants you to say it to her face, to tell her to go away, and to never come back. 

but you step aside, allowing her to be the first one to go in. you don’t miss the way her lips curl into a smile as she walks past you to go into the building, and you ignore the way your heart beats with familiarity when you get a whiff of her perfume. it’s the same one she always wore in high school– vanilla and some sort of floral combination. the bottle was expensive, you remember that. 

you know that because for your six-month anniversary, you bought her that same bottle. it took extra shifts at the bakery, and you had to mow a couple of lawns, but it was worth it when you saw how her eyes lit up.

it’s the same perfume she’s had since middle school, but when you gifted it to her, it became special. it became everything to her. 

“y/n! close the fucking door! it’s getting cold again,” daniela yells, successfully snapping you back to reality. you turn your head toward the latina and realize she has already turned the lights on in the back kitchen. the door slowly closes behind you as you walk inside, your heart still loud in your chest as you come down from the memory. 

you watch as she walks to the bin beside the sink, grabbing an apron for you and herself. the way she remembers the kitchen like the back of her hand still melts the annoyance you had earlier away. she throws the apron in your direction, and you catch it wordlessly, turning around to hide the flush in your cheeks. 

as you tighten the apron around you, daniela begins to walk around the kitchen, as if looking for something. you accept her presence, looking down at your feet as you speak up, “he keeps the list in the walk-in now…” she stops in her tracks and looks at you in surprise. you sigh, tilting your head toward your father’s office. “he doesn’t keep it in the office anymore… i don’t know why, don’t ask.” 

for the first time since seeing each other again, she smiles at you. a genuine smile that shows off the dimples in her cheeks. you look away, shaking your head as you begin to grab the equipment you will need for the morning. “we’re already off schedule. come on.” \

at some point, lia finally comes into the bakery, but by the time she’s there, daniela has helped you complete most of the prep that needed to be done before the first morning rush. 

lia stands there in awe next to you as she watches daniela pull out the last batch of cookies that needed to be made out of the oven. the korean girl leans closer to you and whispers, “the daniela avanzini of katseye is doing my job…” you roll your eyes at lia, turning the mixer's speed to a higher setting to tune out the fangirl’s words. the whirring from the machine becomes louder, but so does lia as she whispers again, “like, she’s good at it.” 

“she used to help out every once in a while,” you reveal, turning off the mixer once you’re satisfied with how the dough looks.

lia widens her eyes and shoves you. “are you serious? what else have you been hiding from me?” she asks in exasperation. you ignore lia and take the bowl away from the mixer to cover it with plastic wrap. but she doesn’t let the subject go, only digging further into the conversation, “like, what do you mean she helped out?” 

“i just liked hanging out with y/n at the bakery,” daniela suddenly adds, inserting herself into the conversation. she glances at you for a brief moment before looking back at lia with a slight smile. “they taught me everything i know.” with the number of times you’ve rolled your eyes today, you’re surprised they haven’t fallen out of your head. you grab the mixing bowl, walking past the two girls to place it inside the walk-in freezer. 

lia follows you inside against your protests. she leans against the freezer door with her arms crossed, looking at you with a furrowed brow. “so, what’s the backstory?” 

you place the mixing bowl on the shelf and shake your head. “no backstory.” 

lia sighs and tilts her head, still blocking the door for you to exit. “so, she’s lying?” 

“i didn’t say that,” you groan, running a hand through your hair. your eyes dart around the freezer, feeling trapped by the older girl’s questions. “it’s just… the backstory is irrelevant.” 

“irrelevant? i thought it was hot back there because of all the ovens that were on, but it’s actually all that,” lia waves her hands around animatedly, trying to emphasize her point, “tension that is making it hard to breathe in there.” 

you press your finger to your lips, shushing the older girl. through gritted teeth, you whisper, “there is no tension.” lia smirks at you, raising an eyebrow at your defensive attitude. 

she steps away from the freezer door and gestures toward it. “there’s a backstory, and I’m gonna figure it out! especially if she’s gonna be around a lot more…” you murmur a “whatever” under your breath as you brush past lia, exiting the walk-in.

you take a deep breath, looking over to one of the stations to see daniela diligently working on the next part of the to-do list. she looks up, and you feel your breath hitch when your eyes meet. 

“what’s the treat of the day?” the latina asks, looking back down to continue kneading the dough. your mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and you berate yourself for becoming so speechless over daniela avanzini. it’s an effect she always had on you, and it seems evident that it’s still true to this day. you shake your head, walking quickly to the other side of the kitchen to keep your distance from the girl. 

“peppermint chocolate poptarts,” you tell her, grabbing the ingredients needed for the treat. 

she smiles as she sprinkles flour over the dough. “yum, i remember liking those.” 

your response tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. lia steps back inside the kitchen to hear it, and she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face at your words. “it was your mom’s favorite. you can save her one, if you want.”

when you get home later that day, you attempt to walk past your father’s office and straight to your room, wanting to avoid any other mentions of your ex. but of course, as soon as your hand touches the handle, he comes out into the hallway. “y/n!” a sigh escapes your lips as you slowly turn to face your father. “dani-girl came to help at the bakery today?” he asks with a broad smile that exudes excitement, the nickname leaving his lips as if it were a habit. 

you hold back a groan as you reply, “yeah… she insisted.” he nods at your words, still smiling as he looks down at his phone. 

he straightens his glasses on his face, squinting down at the screen. “her mom texted me earlier to tell me dani was there with you!” your father looks up from his phone and sends you a warm smile, continuing, “how was it? just like old times?” you lean against your bedroom door and attempt to put on a smile, not wanting to disappoint your father. he always held a soft spot for daniela and often asked if you ever reached out to her after her debut in katseye. 

and every time, your response was the same. “she has better things to do, dad. she’s just gonna leave me on read.” 

you shrug at him, still saving face. “yeah, it was definitely kinda weird.” he laughs at your words, taking a step toward you to pat you on the shoulder. he keeps his hand there, squeezing it gently. 

his expression softens as he replies, “maybe i’ll try to catch you guys sometime at the bakery while she’s here. it’s always nice seeing dani-girl.” he pats you on the shoulder again before walking away to go back into his office.

you wait for him to shut the door so you can allow the smile on your face to fall. before going into your own room, you feel your phone buzz against your thigh. you reach into your pocket to grab it, and immediately, you’re met with a message from daniela. 

you hesitate, your thumb ghosting over her name. your father’s words linger in your mind as you decide to tap on the notification, leading you to the text thread between you and the latina. your stomach drops when you notice the messages previous to the new one you received.

they’re all from daniela– her checking in on you, her sending you birthday messages; if you scrolled back far enough, you’d find the last message you ever sent her, officially ending the relationship you two had. 

a shaky breath escapes your lips as you read the new message from her. i’m coming to the bakery tomorrow at 5 AM. 

you type your reply slowly, your fingers shaking slightly. yeah. that’s cool. see ya.

the next day goes the same, and then the one after that. now, it has been a week since having daniela at the bakery, and not much has changed with your attitude toward her. although not as snarky as you were before, you are not any kinder. it doesn’t deter the latina, though; if anything, it only fuels her desire to continue being in your space.

you want to say it’s annoying– frustrating, even. but you have to give the girl some credit for her continued willingness to work beside you every morning. if she had hurt you the way you hurt her, you would’ve done everything in your power to erase any trace of the girl. 

a part of you reasons that’s why you let her inside the bakery every morning. perhaps you were trying to atone for your actions. 

but then, you remember how you even got put into this situation with daniela, and the urge to throw her back outside comes back stronger than before. 

“did you ever learn how to make a cherry pie?” you freeze at her words. you’re in the middle of cutting the bread into loaves when she asks the question, and you can’t tell if your heart stopped because of what she said or it’s because of your condition. either way, you slowly place the bread knife onto the counter before taking a glance at the latina. she’s already looking at you, a genuine curiosity in her eyes. 

you open and close your mouth, unsure of how to respond. something sharp shoots up your neck, and you look back down at the counter, wanting to hide the discomfort from the latina.

“no, i never got to it.” you finally reply, quietly. daniela nods and looks away, taking the way you avoid her eyes as a sign to stop pestering you with the past.

“pies are so hard to make.”

“why?”

“my dad never taught me. he hates making the crust.”

“that’s the best part of pie!”

“he says there are too many ways to do it.” 

“why not learn the easier way then?”

“we don’t sell pie at the bakery, so i guess it doesn’t really matter.” 

“i really like apple pie.”

“really?”

“yeah… al a mode.”

“you’re speaking my language.”

“...”

“should i learn?”

“will you make me an apple pie?”

"what do you think?”

“apple pie on demand sounds nice.” 

“that’s a lot of ingredients to use.” 

“i think i’d be worth it though.” 

“i think so too.” 

“...”

“make a cherry pie.”

“why?”

“i don’t know, i’m craving cherries right now.”

“will you learn with me?”

“we have to do it the easiest way, though.”

“no, full send, graham cracker crust, and we pick the cherries fresh.” 

“you’re on your own then, y/n.” 

“god, you’re no fun.”

“...”

“will you?”

“of course, dumbass. i’d do anything if it meant with you.”

“dani,” you call out to her suddenly. she closes the oven before turning toward you, a surprised look in her eyes. the nickname rolled off your tongue without you even noticing. daniela stares at you, and for the first time since her arrival back in your hometown, you stare back with no hostility in your eyes. 

for one day, maybe you want to stop fighting, call a truce to a war that’s been one-sided this entire time. the unanswered texts from your end, the letters you threw away upon receiving them. the sender stands in front of you despite your actions. for years, you were angry at her for leaving you behind. 

but, it’s not her who left, is it? 

“will you learn how to make one with me?” she furrows her brows at you at first, but her eyes soften in realization. a slight smile spreads across her lips, and for a brief moment, you join her. 

your father looks down at the cherry pie in your hands when he arrives at the bakery later that afternoon. it’s the ugliest (and probably the most disgusting) thing you've ever made, but when he looks at you and daniela, standing side by side for the first time since she left for los angeles, you can tell it’s his favorite creation of yours. 

he looks at you and points at the pie, an amused smile on his lips. “how many tries did this take?” 

“five times,” daniela chimes in, a bit sheepish. you shrug your shoulders and shove the pie into his hands with a grin your father hasn’t seen in years. 

“and we used all the flour,” you add carelessly. daniela laughs beside you, and it reminds you of when you were seventeen, and you were convinced you’d marry her. 

your father was convinced, too. so was your mother, and even daniela’s parents were convinced. 

what stopped you? no one is sure. and when you look at daniela, her dimples deep in her cheeks, her bright, toothy smile– you start to realize that maybe, you weren’t too sure either. 

the latina tilts her head, squinting at you with curiosity. she’s probably wondering what was going through your head. 

an apology is at the tip of your tongue. it wants to fall from your lips with little dignity you had left. but you simply smile back at her, bumping her shoulder with yours playfully. she giggles, and it brings you back to a time when she was yours, and you were someone to be proud of. 

your heart aches, but it isn’t your illness. it’s the what-ifs that come back to haunt you. they tear you apart, piece by piece. amongst all those pieces, though, one still belongs to the girl in front of you. and as your father stands before you both, you know he’s thinking the same. 

“how’s the pain been lately?” your doctor asks during the appointment. your leg bounces nervously as you reflect on the last few days. 

“on a scale of 1-10? maybe… a five?” the doctor eyes you for a moment before looking back at the computer and typing your response. 

he lets out a sigh and glances at you. “it’s always a five.” you shrug your shoulders in response, biting your lip. your doctor turns his attention back to the computer and types as he speaks, “have you cut down on your smoking?” 

you look down at your hands, avoiding his eyes when he turns his head toward you once more. you take a sharp breath before you reply, “not really, no.” 

“i have to be honest, y/n. if you haven’t cut back, then i can’t imagine the pain only being a five.” your mood starts to sour at his words. a slight warmth creeps up your neck as your irritation grows. the white walls of the room are too bright, and it feels as though they stare at you with judgment. 

you sigh, throwing your head back as you reply, “it’s been an eight most days, sometimes it’s a 9.” 

he nods at your words, appreciating your honesty for once. you hear him type at the computer, and you close your eyes, imagining you were anywhere else but here. he speaks again, his tone much more sympathetic, “have you been taking your meds as instructed?” 

you keep your eyes closed as you shake your head. you whisper, “no. ot at all.” from the corner of your eye, a tear falls. it slides against your cheek, and you bite your lip, trying to keep yourself together. 

your doctor walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. he rubs it gently as he says, “do you want to get better, y/n?” your head falls, and you close your eyes tighter, feeling your tears wanting to escape. a broken breath leaves your lips as you nod your head frantically, somewhat desperately. 

“i wanna be good,” you reply, your voice wavering. “i didn’t care before, but now i do.” you wipe your eyes furiously, feeling ridiculous for crying in front of your doctor. but he remains with you, his hand still on your shoulder, providing you comfort as you continue to crumble on the treatment table. your tears begin to fall freely onto your lap as you speak again, “what if i’m too late?” 

the doctor squeezes your shoulder and leans closer to you, whispering, “y/n. you’ve still got all the time in the world to get better.” 

it’s as if his words are the final blow to your facade because suddenly, you reach towards him, gripping his shoulders as you allow yourself to cry.

you cry loudly, with everything to lose.

a few days pass, and you’ve fallen into a comfortable routine with daniela. 

her inevitable departure terrifies you; it makes you want to run away all over again. 

these quiet moments at the bakery, though, keep you planted in place. it’s as if you could pretend she never left to begin with, and this is your reality. this entire time, your life was filled with pastries and a brunette girl you couldn’t help but fall in love with the moment she spoke to you. 

as you both work on the treat of the day, gingerbread truffles, daniela looks up at you for a moment, gazing at you from the corner of your eye. you feel her stare, and it causes a heat to creep up your neck slowly, reaching your cheeks in that way it used to when you were together. you try to ignore her, but it becomes difficult when it becomes a distraction. 

your head turns toward her, and your heart stops when you see a twinkle in her brown hues. she smiles softly at you as if you didn’t hurt her that summer you broke things off, as if you didn’t leave her with nothing but a message. her smile tells you that she still doesn’t quite understand why you did it, but she forgives you anyway. you smile back at her, not understanding why she continues to be kind to you when all you did was push her away. 

suddenly, you look away, your cheeks burning as you continue to mix the ingredients in the bowl together. you’re confident that it’s okay to set it aside, but you’re afraid that if you stop, then who knows what would happen next. “stop staring at me…” you murmur, sprinkling in another pinch of sugar for good measure. 

daniela giggles and tears her eyes away from you. she continues mixing the white chocolate as instructed, a smirk on her lips as she notices the effect she is starting to have on you. “you used to love my eyes on you.” your cheeks burn even more at her words, and you have to scoff to play it off. the latina nudges you teasingly, her smirk remaining. “maybe you still do.” 

“you wish…” you reply, your voice betraying you when it cracks under the weight of her comment. the latina giggles again and sets aside her bowl, reaching over to grab yours from your hands. you narrow your eyes at her, frowning at the way she took your job from you. she simply shrugs, turning around to take the bowl to the walk-in. 

she shouts over her shoulder before walking inside, “someone has to get these done before we open!” you watch as she disappears into the walk-in, and you try to fight back the smile that wants to form when you realize she said “we.” you walk away from the counter to go into your father’s office. once inside, you grab your water bottle and reach into your pocket for your pill bottle. 

three tablets as instructed, to help with the pain and to improve neuro functioning– whatever the hell that means. you take them anyway, taking a sip of water right after. you place your water bottle back onto your father’s desk and turn around, jumping back slightly when you see daniela at the doorway. 

“jesus christ! you fucking scared–” 

“my mom and dad want you to come for dinner tomorrow night, you in?” she says it to you as if you have no other option. the thought of seeing Daniela’s parents again makes your stomach churn– especially her father, whom you made a promise to that you wouldn’t hurt his little girl.

you’re surprised, with everything that occurred, that there hasn’t been a bounty on your head. daniela must have noticed the slight distress on your face, because she steps toward you and gently grabs your wrist. “they want to see you again… i promise, they aren’t gonna rip your head off, or anything.” 

you frown at her, murmuring, “your dad might murder me.” 

she rolls her eyes, tugging at your arm. “he’ll be pretty upset. but, i think they’re both still under the impression that you’re on your deathbed.” 

“good, let’s keep it that way,” you tell her, chuckling slightly. daniela beams at you, her other arm reaching out to grab your other wrist. she bounces up to you with an excited grin on her face, causing you to widen your eyes when you notice how much closer she has gotten to you. when she notices your expression, she immediately lets go, stepping back shyly. 

“sorry, i got a little… crazy there,” she murmurs, looking away briefly. you look at daniela, your heart racing as you remember the day you met her all over again. you always loved the latina’s usually fiery and confident demeanor, but with you, she was soft, as if safe in your presence, letting down her guard. 

you wonder whether you're still her safe space. 

the question lingers in the back of your mind as you run a hand through your hair, clearing your throat. you gesture at the kitchen and chuckle awkwardly. “yeah… i’ll be there. let’s, you know, get back to work.” 

she looks back at you and nods, smiling before turning away to walk out of the office. you turn around to take another sip from your water bottle before following her out.

being at daniela’s house again makes you nostalgic. her mother greeted you warmly, and her father shook your hand with a grip so tight you almost thought he would break it. you couldn’t blame him if he did– you did break his daughter’s heart. 

but during dinner, it felt like nothing had changed. daniela’s mother asked you questions about your life, including whether you planned to own the bakery one day. she reminisced about the days when you and daniela were in high school, telling you how happy she was to see a new face, one who wasn’t daniela’s cheer friends or the random boyfriends she brought home. 

the entire time, daniela’s cheeks were pink in embarrassment as you laughed at every word her mother said. you ignored the way her father stared you down silently, as if observing your intentions with his daughter all over again. 

once dinner was over, you found yourself sitting in front of the lake silently behind her house, your legs pulled up to your chest as you stared at the water gently lapping against each other. daniela sat next to you, your shoulders inches apart.  

“my mom is so happy you aren’t actually dying,” daniela shares through a giggle. her words make you smile; the thought of her mother still caring about you, despite the bitter end between you and her daughter, allows you to feel relieved. 

you nod, keeping your eyes on the water. “no death anytime soon, i swear. my mom is just… dramatic…” daniela laughs and bumps your shoulder with hers. you bite your lip to suppress your smile, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying being around the latina again. 

she looks at you, grinning widely. “god, i love your mom… she’s kinda crazy.” that makes you laugh loudly, your head thrown back. the tension you felt earlier in your shoulders starts to fade away as you continue talking to daniela, falling into a comfort level you haven’t felt in years.

you don’t feel bitter when she talks about los angeles and her members from katseye. instead of tuning her out, you finally listen when she shares her experiences so far and what she's been through. 

suddenly, she changes the conversation, her head turning back toward the lake. “we had our first kiss here.” 

for some reason, her words cause you to laugh, your head thrown back as the memory comes back to you. you shake your head as you stare up at the stars above. “oh my god, don’t bring that up, please.” 

she bumps her shoulder against yours again, staring up at you with an amused look in her eyes. “why? it wasn’t that embarrassing…” 

“dani, i literally fell onto you in the water. i didn’t even mean to kiss you,” you scoffed, still looking up at the stars. 

she scoots closer to you, your shoulders finally touching. her eyes remain on you as she teases, “did you mean to kiss me right after that one, then?” 

your cheeks burn as the memory continues to play in your head. it was the summer right before your senior year, and she convinced you to go on a late-night swim. you intended to pick her up and throw her back into the water, but as you tried to catch her, you slipped and fell, with your lips crashing against hers clumsily.

when you pulled away, you were afraid you ruined everything. but her dimpled smile shone brightly despite the darkness that shrouded you both. her arms were wrapped around your neck, and you remember the feeling of her fingers playing with your hair. 

you kissed her again. and again. and again until you needed to catch your breath. 

you turn your attention back to the latina with a slight smile on your lips. your heart races as the memory replays in your mind over and over again. “i had to make up for the sucky one, you know?” 

it’s her turn to scoff, swatting your shoulder playfully. “it was perfect no matter what.” 

a silence falls between you two. you continue to stare at each other, unsure of who should speak first. 

daniela tilts her head as she ends the silence, “so, you’re not gonna die… but, if you don’t take care of yourself, there’s a chance you would?” the way her voice wavers a bit causes you to glance at the latina. 

you remain silent, gazing at the water again. she speaks again, her voice shakier than before, “you’re still the person i wanna tell everything to, you know?” she continues to look at you with glossy eyes. “you’re still the person i wanna run to at the end of the day.” 

“why?” you ask quickly, your brows furrowed as you look back at daniela. you’re hyperaware of how close you two are, with your hands only inches apart. your pinky reaches out to her, but you retract it, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

she shrugs and takes a deep breath, an airy chuckle escaping her lips. “i don’t know… i think a part of me will always want to be yours.” 

her words linger for a moment. you gaze at daniela, and even though the years have flown by, it’s still daniela avanzini. not from katseye, but the daniela avanzini from the cheer team. daniela avanzini, the homecoming queen.

she’s daniela avanzini, and she loved you with her head held high and danced around in the kitchen with you late at night because it just made sense. daniela avanzini took you to prom despite her friends' protests back then and spoke highly of you while she was away at dream academy. 

daniela avanzini hopped on the first plane back to georgia because she thought you were dying. daniela avanzini did that even though you broke her heart into a million pieces because you were scared of what the end would look like. 

“watching you leave was the hardest thing i've ever done.” you confess. 

she grabs your hand– proving once again she’s much braver than you ever could be. “you know i had to.” 

“i know.” you squeeze her hand, holding her gaze. “i know. i’m sorry.” 

daniela looks down at your connected hands. her thumb caresses your skin gently as she whispers, “i was gonna come back.” she tugs at your hand and lets out a shaky breath.  “i always intended to come back to you.” 

tears threaten to fall from your eyes at her words. you stare at her, tilting your head, hoping she’d notice the regret in your expression. “i just didn’t think it was on your priority list at the time.” 

she looks up at you with glossy eyes. “i have to go back next week,” she suddenly tells you. her eyes dare you to run, to make an excuse to leave because of what she said. 

but you only nod, not letting go of her hand. you silently plead for a second chance, for a new start, maybe to even dance around the kitchen one last time. 

the week daniela has to leave, she can’t come to the bakery. she told you she had to make her rounds of saying goodbye to friends and other family members, so she’d be busy until the day she gets on the plane to go back to los angeles– back to her life, her reality. 

it breaks your heart, not because she’s leaving, but because there are still things left unsaid. 

you aren’t sure if this was goodbye or a way for you to pick up the pieces. 

as you ruminate over the conversation you had with daniela the night before, you continue rolling out the gingerbread dough for the treat of the day, avoiding lia’s evident smirk as you murmur, “i don’t know why you keep staring at me like that.”

she rolls her eyes and snatches the rolling pin out of your hands. you look up at her in exasperation, reaching out to grab it back from her, but she pulls it away from you, her brow raised in amusement. 

“you already miss her…” she says it in a sing-song tone that makes your brows furrow in irritation. you manage to snatch the rolling pin back, rolling your eyes as you toss it into the sink on your way to the barista station.

lia watches you curiously but quirks a smile when she realizes. “you’re making another coffee instead of, “taking a breather.”" you don’t see it, but she puts the last few words in air quotes, and a wide grin spreads across her face. 

you send lia a glare, turning on the espresso machine with a loud click. “i just don’t feel like going outside. it’s cold,” you deadpan, but lia tilts her head and places a hand on her hip, that knowing smirk on her lips signaling to you that you’ve been caught trying to be better.

“don’t make this more difficult than it already is, alright?” you sigh in an exasperated tone. lia nods, going back to cutting shapes out of the dough. 

a slight smirk remains as she continues to speak, “you’ve been taking your meds too.” you narrow your eyes at the older girl, grabbing the espresso once it’s done pouring your shot. 

“why are you all up in my business all of a sudden?” you groan, grabbing a coffee cup from the shelf. you pour the espresso into the cup before crouching to open the fridge below the station. 

as you reach for the oat milk, lia replies, “if you start being bad again, i guess i’ll just have to call daniela for assistance.” you scoff, standing back up to pour the milk into the cup. 

“please do not waste her time like that,” you tell her, a bit disgruntled as your eyes skim over your options for flavor.

lia pauses her task and looks at you, her amused expression softening slightly. “your dad told me you guys were high school sweethearts…” 

you take a sharp breath in response, leaning against the counter of the barista station as you take a sip from your coffee. “something like that, yeah.” 

“have you… been thinking about getting back together?” you look down at your coffee cup and shrug, contemplating your response. lia continues speaking as she cuts out more shapes from the dough. “also, why did you break up with her, anyway?”

you swirl your coffee around, watching it mix as you reply quietly, “she was following her dreams… i didn’t think i could be a part of it.” 

“did you even try, though?” lia replies, placing the shapes onto another tray lined with parchment paper. you continue to stare at your coffee cup; the urge to go outside becomes unbearable, but you fight it, taking another sip. 

you place the coffee cup down onto the counter and glance at lia with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “i should have.”

you watch as lia places the trays of gingerbread into the oven. she closes it and starts a timer. once she’s done, she walks over to you and grabs your coffee cup from the counter to take a sip. you glare at her as she shoves the cup back into your hands. 

“she’s here now, though,” she says simply, looking up at you with a teasing look in her eyes. your glare hardens, but after more thought, it softens.

you take another sip of your coffee, place it on the counter, and check your watch for the time. you’ve successfully avoided taking a break outside. the realization makes you bite your lip, leaving lia at the barista station to wash your hands. 

as you walk to the sinks, you reply over your shoulder, “not for long.”

despite how painful it was to get up that morning, you still managed to make it to the airport in time to say goodbye to daniela.

her parents stand off to the side, allowing you both to have a moment to exchange goodbyes. 

you start to get a sense of déjà vu as you look at daniela with her luggage in hand. it brings you back to a time when you felt as though everything was falling apart. she spoke dreamily of the opportunities los angeles offered her, and you tuned them all out, wanting to avoid the inevitable. watching her walk away felt too real, too much for you at the time. 

and now, here you are, doing it all over again. 

“this was a fun trip, you know, even though i thought you were like, dying.” a chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.

“i still can’t believe you did that…” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. there’s a slight pain in your arms, but you ignore it, not wanting daniela to worry as she makes her journey back to her home. 

she checks her watch and frowns, looking at the security gate. she has to go now. 

“of course i did… i care a lot about you, you know? even if… you know…” you nod, giving her a slight smile. 

you gesture toward the gate, avoiding her eyes. “well… i’ll still be at the bakery,” you tell her. it’s a simple statement, but underneath it is an invitation. it’s a silent way of telling her that she’s welcomed back, if she ever wants to come back, and you’d be there with open arms. 

daniela looks up at you, her eyes full of hope. suddenly, she lets go of her bags, throwing her arms around your neck. she hugs you tightly and rests her head against your chest. you stand there in shock, your brain not fully processing that she’s in your arms once again. but once it registers, you wrap your arms around her torso, pulling her closer. 

“i love you,” she whispers against your chest. her arms tighten around you as she nuzzles deeper into you. “i think i’ll always love you.” 

you close your eyes and rest your chin on top of her head, tears streaming down your face as you whisper back, “thank you for learning how to make a pie with me.” 

those three words feel stuck in your throat. but what you said instead is the closest way to do it.

two days later, you’re not at the bakery at 4:30 AM. 

when lia comes in, she tries calling you, but you don’t answer. 

there’s no treat of the day. 

by the time the morning rush ends, your father finds you on your bedroom floor. 

unresponsive, not moving. cold to the touch. 

on your nightstand is a handwritten apple pie recipe. 

you never got to finish it, though.

there was something about the smell of a hospital that never quite bothered you. 

it became almost comforting, because every time you wake up after a fall, the strong scent of sterile equipment and recently washed hospital blankets fills your senses, and you realize: you’re still alive. 

this time around, though, the sweet scent of vanilla and lavender is the first thing you can smell, and for a moment you panic, wondering if you’re still stuck in a dream.

but as you slowly open your eyes, the weight of daniela’s head resting on your arm becomes more real. you groggily glance over at her, blinking a few times to get a clearer picture. she sits in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs and leans over the bed just to sleep soundly against you. 

you can’t see her face, but the way her shoulders rise and fall with every slow breath she takes tells you she has fallen asleep at some point. you’re not sure how long it’s been since you collapsed in your room, and you aren’t sure when she came running to your side again, but as you look at daniela, it starts to dawn on you. 

everyone who knows about your disease often tells you over and over again how brave you are. they always send you kind messages about how you’ll overcome this, how you’ll live a good and fulfilling life. 

but you’ve been afraid your entire life, even before your diagnosis. 

your arm that isn’t connected to a machine lifts itself from the bed. you reach out to daniela, placing your hand on top of her head as you’ve done so many times before. she slowly stirs, and for a split second, you consider retracting your hand and pretending nothing happened, but for the first time in so long, you feel brave.

daniela turns her head toward you, smiling tiredly. her hair is a bit of a mess, and it looks as though she hasn’t slept well in days, but to you, she is still the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. 

daniela closes her eyes again, a smile still on her lips as she whispers, “good morning.”

you’re awake, you’re here, and you’re here to stay. 

you play with her curls as you whisper back, “i love you.”

you lean against your station, heaving tiredly as you use your apron to wipe the sweat off your forehead for the nth time that morning. 

lia leans against the counter that’s across from you and glares, fanning herself with her hand. “you said you’d fix that damn fan…” you groan, throwing your head back dramatically. 

“i know… stop reminding me!” before lia could express another complaint, she’s cut off by the sound of the entrance doorbell ringing. she groans, gesturing for you to take the customer who just walked inside. you roll your eyes, wiping away the rest of the sweat on your face as you walk to the front of the bakery. 

as you get to the front, you stop in your tracks when you see her. and she’s accompanied by five other girls. 

they all smile at you, but your eyes focus on daniela. she gives you her dimpled smile, her eyes twinkling with happiness and excitement. 

“i told you i’d stop by!” she tells you, giggling softly at your slightly surprised expression. a smile finds its way onto your lips as you hold her gaze and nod. 

you walk up to the counter and reach out to hold her hand. “i didn’t doubt you for a second.” 

for the treat of the day, it's cherry pie with a graham cracker crust. you made sure to let her and everyone else know that it can be done à la mode. 

“are the cherries picked fresh?”

“yeah, i made sure to pick the good-looking ones at the grocery store.”

“you’re so stupid.”