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"Somebody needs to do something about Sephora 10-year-olds...these i-pad babies are so rude and don't do what they're told....oh my God, these kids can't read and have no social skills...Ugh, look at these little consumers and their Stanley Cups."
I am, in fact, actively worried for these children and I refuse to hate them for the ways that society, as a whole, has failed them.
Shane Hollander is wearing his glasses and reading his boring hockey book. This is not a drill. I repeat, SHANE HOLLANDER IS WEARING HIS GLASSES AND READING HIS BORING HOCKEY BOOK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
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now playing ♪ everybody here wants you by jeff buckley
"and our eyes locked in downcast love, i sit here proud"
cw: language, mention of drugs, the usual
Motherhood had taught her a lot. Patience, resilience, love. And the most important thing. The ability to say no, a task she found very difficult when her daughter was as adorably persuasive as she was.
She was a good mother—let the record show. She knew when to say yes and when to say no.
It just so happened that today was a yes day.
And also, purely coincidentally, she had already been craving something sweet. That had absolutely nothing to do with Yume’s devastatingly persuasive big blue eyes. Or the way the sundress Maki had put her in puffed out when she twirled. Or the small hopeful way she’d clasped her hands and said, “maybe please?”
Completely unrelated.
“Can we please get two milk pudding buns,” she said calmly, “a small melon soda float… and a large Vietnamese iced coffee. Extra sweet.”
The cashier repeated the order back in a bored cadence, keys clacking. The espresso machine hissed. Ice rattled into a metal cup. Somewhere behind them, a blender roared to life and then died just as quickly. Sugar and yeast hung warm in the air.
Yume bounced beside her, up on the balls of her feet, fingers twisted tightly into the side seam of her mother’s denim skirt like it was the only stable thing in the world. An energetic whirlwind of yellow gingham and untied shoelaces. She swayed forward every time a tray passed the counter, stretching on tiptoe to see.
“Is that ours?” she whispered loudly.
“No, baby.”
“That one?”
“No.”
“…That one?”
By the time their number was called, she was vibrating.
The milk pudding buns were handed over in thin wax paper, still warm enough that steam gathered faintly when Yn peeled one open to check the custard. The melon soda float came crowned with a melting cloud of vanilla ice cream, neon green fizz. The iced coffee sweated heavily in her other hand.
Yn passed one bun down carefully. “Hold it with two hands.”
Yume nodded solemnly.
She lasted three seconds.
Her excitement burst out of her in one sharp hop, just one, and the bun slipped from her fingers. It fell in humiliating slow motion, custard side down, against the café tile.
A soft, devastating splat.
Silence.
The blender stopped. The espresso machine went quiet. Even the door chime seemed to hold its breath. A few strangers glanced over, already bracing for the inevitable cry.
Yume stared at the floor.
Her small chest rose once. Twice. Her mouth opened. Closed. Her eyes glassed over instantly, lower lip trembling so hard it looked painful. She pressed both sticky hands to her face as if she could shove the tears back in.
“I— I didn’t—” she choked, voice wobbling.
Yn reacted before the first sob could land.
She shifted everything awkwardly into one arm,coffee biting cold against her wrist, float sloshing dangerously,and crouched down. Without hesitation, she placed her own untouched bun into Yume’s chubby little hands.
“Here,” she said gently.
Yume blinked up at her, confused, already mid-sniffle.
“Don’t drop this one, please,” Yn whispered, half pleading, half joking.
She brushed custard off Yume’s fingers with her thumb and leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her daughter’s puffy cheek.
The café exhaled.
Yume clutched the second bun with intense, life-altering concentration. Two hands. No bouncing. Just careful, reverent stillness as she took her first bite, custard smearing at the corner of her mouth.
Yn stood back up, now bunless, holding only her dangerously tilting float and the iced coffee she’d been counting on.
She took a long sip. Extra sweet.
They slid into a booth by the window, sunlight striping the table in pale gold. Outside, pedestrians drifted past in soft blurs of coats and sun umbrellas.
Yume sat on her knees despite repeated instructions not to, legs kicking the booth in excitement as she sipped her melon soda float with exaggerated seriousness. The vanilla ice cream had begun to collapse into the neon green soda. She paused every few seconds to lick custard from her fingers, humming happily to herself.
Yn sat beside her, one arm curved protectively along the back of the booth. She scrolled absently through her phone with her free hand, taking slow, periodic sips of her Vietnamese iced coffee. Extra sweet. Condensed milk heavy on her tongue. Exactly what she needed.
Her eyes flicked sideways.
Yume dragged her tongue across her thumb, chasing the last smear of custard.
Yn looked at the empty wax paper on the table.
Damn.
She really wished she had a bun.
Her stomach tightened in quiet betrayal. She could almost feel the warmth of it in her hands,the cool custard in the center. But motherhood came first. It always did. And this café trip hadn’t even been in the budget for today. It was an indulgence already.
Another bun wasn’t an option.
“Excuse me?”
Both of them looked up.
A man stood beside their booth, tall enough that the overhead light caught the sharp angles of his face. His suit was tailored within an inch of its life. A briefcase hung from one hand. In the other, wrapped carefully in fresh wax paper, was a milk pudding bun.
His hair fell slightly into his eyes. His eyes, tired,softened when they landed on Yume.
He offered a small, almost hesitant smile.
“I saw your girl drop her bun back there,” he said. “I thought I’d get you another one.”
God.
He was handsome.
Yn blinked up at him, caught off guard, then composed herself with practiced ease. She gave him a sheepish smile.
“Oh—no, no, I can’t take that, sir. I’m sorry.”
Yume’s eyes were already locked onto the pastry.
“It’s alright,” he said gently. “I bought it for you.”
“Well,” Yn replied lightly, tilting her head, “what kind of mother would I be if I taught her it’s okay to take food from strangers?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice.
The man huffed a quiet laugh.
“Fair point.”
He shifted the briefcase slightly under his arm and extended his free hand instead.
“Hiromi,” he said. “Hiromi Higuruma.”
A beat.
“Not a stranger anymore, am I?”
Yume looked between them with intense interest, soda straw still in her mouth.
Yn arched a brow, a slow smile curving at her lips despite herself.
Well.
That was unfortunately charming.
Yn looked at his hand for half a second too long.
Lawyer hands, she thought distantly. Clean nails. Faint ink mark near his thumb. A thin silver watch at his wrist.
She slipped her phone into her bag and shook his hand.
“Yn,” she replied smoothly. “And this is Yume.”
Yume immediately waved with the hand not gripping her straw. “Hiromi Higu— Higu—” She squinted. “Mister Hiromi.”
His mouth twitched.
“Mister Hiromi works.”
He crouched slightly so he wasn’t towering over the booth anymore, bringing himself closer to Yume’s eye level.
“I promise,” he said gently, holding the pastry out again, “it’s not poisoned.”
Yume gasped softly, scandalized.
“Mommy,” she whispered, loudly, “is it poisoned?”
Yn pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
“No, baby. It’s not poisoned.”
“You dropped yours,” he said to Yume. “That’s tragic. No one should have to experience such a heartbreak before six.”
Yume nodded gravely. “It was really sad.”
“I could tell.”
There was a softness in the way he said it that made Yn’s chest tighten unexpectedly.
She exhaled slowly. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he replied simply.
He placed the pastry on the table in front of the two.
Yume leaned closer to Yn and stage-whispered, “Mommy, he’s giving you his bun.”
Yn gently pressed a hand to Yume’s knee. “I see that, baby.”
“I promise there’s no hidden agenda,” he said teasingly. “I just don’t like seeing someone give up dessert. Even if it does come with the job."
His gaze held hers a moment longer than strictly necessary.
The café noise seemed to dim around them.
Yn looked at the bun.
Then at him.
Then at her daughter, who was already grinning like she’d orchestrated this.
She exhaled softly and accepted it.
“Thank you,” she said, quieter now. “That’s very kind.”
That did something to her chest she didn’t appreciate.
He adjusted his grip on his briefcase.
“I won’t interrupt your afternoon any further," he added. “But I’m glad I did.”
A beat.
His eyes flicked once more to her hand still holding the pastry.
“You should eat it while it’s warm,” he said gently.
And then, with a small nod, he stepped back.
Yume immediately turned toward her mother, bouncing.
“Mommy! Take a bite!”
Yn watched him walk toward the door, posture straight, movements unhurried. He didn’t look back.
Which somehow made it worse.
She peeled back the wax paper slowly.
A phone number was written on the inside.
"Well that's can't be sanitary." She grumbled.
Still warm.
She took a bite.
Sweet custard filled her mouth.
Yume kicked her legs happily. “See? Like Yuuta said. Good things happen for good people."
Yn swallowed, eyes drifting once more toward the café entrance.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Apparently they did.
extra! extra! read all about it! (no seriously read it)
im back guys! (im not)
And I sorta remembered the plot I was meant to do so here's this chapter
And it was my birthday on the 14th so this is my gift to you guys (?) idk how that works
Ignore any typos I'd fix them but then this chapter would never be posted
Yn signing her old teacher up for Scientology is based off when my friend and I got tipsy senior year and she went on hinge and signed anyone over 30 who matched her up for the US military and Scientology
And the whole milk bun and cafe thing is based off 85 degrees bakery bc they don't have it in the state I'm doing uni at and I miss it
Also I hate Jeff Buckley I just listen to songs and I'll like it and be like "I should use it for a chapter" and I always forget the song so. Someone remind me idk.
But I decently like this chapter for once
Also a lot of yall have been removed from the taglist because of your setting so get that checked out I'm not leaving you on anymore
Send asks I miss you guys
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