#adian

The air in the coffee shop was heavy with the scent of butter and cinnamon, mingling with the faint tint of freshly ground espresso. Sunlight streamed through the wide front windows, warming the wooden counters and casting golden light across trays of croissants waiting for an egg wash. Adian wiped a bit of flour from his cheek, his apron already streaked with evidence of the morning's efforts. Summer had announced itself with a symphony of birds just before dawn, and now it crept in through the open window, carrying the smell of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of a lawnmower.

the bell over the shop door jingled, Adian barely glanced up from kneading a soft ball of dough on the counter. His arms moved methodically, pressing and folding, but his normally rosy cheeks were a little too flushed, and a faint sniffle escaped every now and then.

“Adian,” a familiar voice called, tinged with surprise and concern. He looked up to see Zip standing there, his workout bag slung over one shoulder and his brow furrowed.

“Oh, hey, Zip,” he said, his voice scratchy but cheerful. He wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron and attempted to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes before duckinginto his apron and sneezing.

“Uh’dssSSCCH … hehh heh! HhHUh’dssSSCCHhhuhw!!”

“You sound awful,” Zip said bluntly, crossing the room to stand beside him. “Are you sick? You shouldn’t be here if you are!”

“It’s nothing,” Adian replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Just a little cold. I’m fine, really. I have too much to do—besides, the pastries won’t bake themselves.” He punctuated the sentence with a weak chuckle and immediately turned back to his dough, ignoring the way Zip’s frown deepened.

He folded his arms, watching him closely as he worked. “Adian, you’re burning the candle at both ends. You’re pale, your voice sounds like sandpaper, and—no offense—you look like you might fall over any second. Should you even be touching food right now?”

“That’s why I wear gloves,” he quipped, slipping a laugh into his words.

Zip sighed, grabbing a stool and planting himself firmly beside the counter. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead before he could dodge him. “Yep. You’ve got a fever. That’s it, you’re done. Take a seat, and I’ll finish up here.”

“You? Bake?” Adian said with a soft snort, though it quickly turned into a cough. “You can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm.”

“Okay, fair,” Zip admitted, his grin briefly breaking through his concern. “But I can run the counter while you rest. Please, Adian. The world can survive a day without your pastries if it means you get better.”

“I’ll take it easy,” he finally relented, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adian leaned heavily against the counter, his cheeks flushed from both the fever and the effort of standing. A cooling tray of almond croissants sat beside his, their sweet, nutty aroma mingling with the faint citrus tang of lemons from earlier. The warm scents were comforting, but the tickle in his nose had been persistent, annoying him with every breath he took near the open bag of flour.

Determined, he measured out the flour for the vanilla sponge cake he planned to bake, but the fine white powder seemed to hang in the air, taunting him. He sniffled, swiped his sleeve under his nose, and kept going.

"Three cups of flour… two teaspoons of baking powder… and—eh’DZZSHHu! HhHUh’dssSSCCHhhuhw hehh heh! HhHUh’dssSSCCHhhuhw!" The sneezes erupted before Adian could stop it, sending a small puff of flour flying over the counter and coating the edge of his apron. He groaned, reaching for the tissue box he'd wisely placed nearby.

Zip, who had been restocking mugs near the register, turned his head at the sound. "Adian, seriously?" he said, dropping what he was doing and rushing over. "I thought I told you to take it easy. You're sneezing into the flour!"

"I'm not sneezing into the flour," Adian argued, though his congested voice made the statement sound far less convincing. "I tilted my head away. The flour is perfectly fine—I’m just a little…stuffed up." He paused as his breathing began to hitch.

Zip raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. "A little? If you sneeze any harder, you're going to launch powdered sugar into orbit."

“hH-! iHH-! hH-hHDT’iIISSCHHHhuhh!! IiSSCHhhuhhww!!…nduh…hH—! HAH!’atssSCHHUUHww!!”

“See I told you! Bless you by the way.” Zip sighed deeply, his hands resting on his hips. " You’re not going to get anything done if you keep sneezing every five seconds. Please, Adian, let me help."

Adian paused, his hands hovering over the bowl. He hated admitting defeat, but his body felt like it was made of lead, and the sneezes were relentless. Reluctantly, he stepped aside and gestured toward the ingredients. "Fine. But you follow my instructions exactly. No improvising, no shortcuts."

Zip grinned, grabbing an apron and tying it around his waist. "No problem. I've watched you enough times to know how it’s done—or close enough, anyway."

As Zip carefully measured out the flour under Adian’s watchful eye, he perched himself on a stool, sipping tea and giving directions between sniffles. As Adian sat on the stool near the counter, his head resting in his hand as Zip fussed with frosting for the cake, the familiar jingle of the doorbell echoed through the coffee shop. He didn’t look up at first, focused on the soothing steam of his tea, but Zip froze mid-spread, his grin turning sly as his gaze shifted to the newcomer.

"Well, well," Zip said, leaning close and whispering, "Your knight in shining caffeine is here."

Adian’s heart sank and soared all at once. He turned his head slowly, his stomach twisting with the mix of feverish dizziness and nervous energy. There he was—Zora. The grey-haired, kind but stern-eyed regular who always ordered a black coffee and a slice of whatever was new. His smile was bright and easy as he approached the counter, but it faltered just slightly when he took in Adian’s pale face and tired expression.

“Adian,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay? You look—uh, under the weather.”

He straightened abruptly, as if sitting up might disguise the dark circles under his eyes or the congestion in his voice. “Oh, hi, Zora. I’m fine. Totally fine. Just a little cold, that’s all. Nothing serious.” His attempt at a smile came out more like a grimace.

Zora frowned, his concern deepening as he glanced at the tea and tissues nearby. “You don’t look fine,” he said gently. “Should you be working right now? Don’t they let you take sick days here?”

“He’s stubborn,” Zip chimed in, smirking as he piped frosting onto the cake. “Won’t listen to a word I say about resting.”

Adian shot Zip a glare, but Zora didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small packet of handkerchiefs. “Here,” he said, offering them to his. “They’re just something I carry for emergencies.”

The gesture was so simple, yet it made Adian’s cheeks burn—not from the fever this time, but from the flood of embarrassment and warmth that his kindness stirred in him. “Oh, thank you,” he murmured, accepting them with a hesitant hand. “That’s…really thoughtful.”

Zora gave a soft smile. “It’s nothing. I just don’t like seeing you like this. You should—”

Before he could finish, Adian abruptly stood, his mind racing and his face aflame. He couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing his sick, disheveled, and far from the composed baker he imagined. “I—I need to check the oven!” he blurted, though there was clearly nothing baking now.

He avoided looking toward the register where he had stood moments ago, opting instead to busy himself by tidying the counter. Zip, now seated comfortably on a stool with a cup of coffee in hand, watched him with a knowing smile.

"So," he said casually, dragging out the word. "You want to talk about it, or should I start guessing?"

Adian shot him a glare, his voice coming out with an exaggerated innocence. "Talk about what?"

Zip raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face growing wider. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you sprinted out of here like a cartoon character the moment Zora showed up and had the nerve to be nice to you."

"I did not sprint," Adian muttered, his focus on reorganizing a tray of muffins even though it didn’t need reorganizing before grabbing the edge of his apron and wiping his nose.

Zip leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "You like him," he said simply, the hint of mischief unmistakable in his tone. "Don't even try to deny it. It's written all over your face."

Adian sighed, his hands stilling on the tray. "I... don’t know what you're talking about," he replied weakly, though his reddening cheeks betrayed him.

"Come on," Zip said, his grin softening into something more genuine. "I mean, he’s a good guy—kind, thoughtful, and he's clearly into you, too. Why are you pretending you don't have a crush the size of Mount Everest?"

Adian groaned, slumping onto the stool next to him. He turned the handkerchiefs over in his hands, avoiding Zip’s gaze. "I don’t know. He’s just...he’s different."

"Different how?" Zip pressed, sipping his coffee with evident enjoyment.

Adian hesitated, struggling to find the words. How could he explain it? The way Zora smiled at him like he was the only person in the room. The quiet patience he had when he asked about his day, genuinely listening as though his small triumphs and frustrations mattered. Or the way he noticed the tiniest details, like when he changed the design on the pastry tags or swapped out the vase of daisies for sunflowers.

"I don’t know, okay?" he said finally, throwing up his hands. "He’s just...nice. Really nice. And... thoughtful. And he has this way of—of—ugh, I can’t explain it. It's embarr-….HhHH-hhdSSHhhhhuhw!...u-uh-!’hhEEHSsscCHHuhh! HEhssHHhuhww. Ugh embarrassing.”

Zip chuckled, shaking his head. "You don’t have to explain it, Adian. Anyone who’s been around the two of you for more than thirty seconds can see it. You light up when he’s here—even when you’re sick and trying to pretend you’re fine."

Adian groaned again, burying his face in his hands. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

"And you’re obvious," Zip shot back, giving a playful nudge. "Look, just give the guy a chance. Let him know how you feel—maybe not when you’re sneezing onto the floor, but you get the idea."

Adian peeked at him through his fingers, his voice muffled but tentative. "You think he’d even want to...?"

Zip laughed. "Adian... He watches you bake like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Trust me—he’s already halfway there."

Despite being himself, Adian felt a small smile tug at his lips. Maybe Zip was right. The beginning of summer wasn’t just for pastries and sunlight might just be the start of something sweeter, too.

—--Time skip to present day —-

The apartment smelled like vanilla and caramelized sugar, the warm scents wrapping around Zora as he stepped through the door, his grocery bags rustling. He set them down on the counter and glanced into the kitchen, where Adian stood hunched over a mixing bowl, his cheeks red from exertion—or from the fever he had stubbornly insisted was “just a little cold.”

“What are you doing?” Zora asked, his voice carrying equal parts amusement and concern. He crossed the room, eyeing the state of the kitchen: flour dusted across the counter, a scattering of eggshells, and Adian looking like he was ready to collapse at any moment.

“Baking,” Adian replied, his voice scratchy. He sniffled and continued stirring the batter with determined movements. “The contest is tomorrow, and I promised myself I’d enter my triple-chocolate cake. It’s going to be amazing, Zora. Just watch.”

He rubbed his nose with his wrist before taking a step back and looking up a dazed expression in his face. “Oh no I’m going to HhHH-hhdSSHhhhhuhw!...u-uh-!’hhEEHSsscCHHuhh! HEhssHHhuhww sneeze.”

Zora leaned against the counter; arms folded as he studied his. The memory of his sickness in the pastry shop flashed in his mind. Watching his sneeze into the flour, fighting to pretend everything was fine, he had realized his stubbornness wasn’t just an act of pride—it came from his heart, from the love he poured into everything he did.

“You really don’t change, do you?” Zora said softly, his tone laced with affection.

Adian paused, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tired eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

Zora smiled, stepping closer and brushing stray hair from his face. “I mean, you’re as impossible as ever. Sick and feverish, and you’re still here, trying to make the perfect cake. You know, I think this is when I first fell for you—back in the pastry shop, when you were sneezing into the flour and bossing everyone around like it was nothing.”

Adian groaned, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “You always remind me of that day. I was a mess.”

“You were adorable,” Zora countered, leaning in to kiss his temple. “And you still are. Stubborn, hardworking, and full of heart. That’s why everyone loves you—and why I do, too.”

Adian’s cheeks flushed deeper, though he wasn’t sure whether it was the fever or Zora’s words that had done it. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his lips quirked in a small smile.