𝓑𝓐𝓑𝓔 💐

He did? Jihan had no idea how she could come to such a conclusion–the pair met in the station often, yes, but conversation was sparse. When she visited, Jihan’s head would rise from a stack of paper, meeting her eyes for only a fleeting moment before glancing away. That direct contact always served to put him on edge, no matter the recipient, but with Chae-yeong, it was heightened. She was a revered figure, it didn’t make him nervous per se, but he certainly had no desire to initiate conversation that surpassed a nod when others were present. A low noise of thanks, perhaps, would escape the back of his throat. 

And so, the way she spoke to him with such familiarity made him curious. But Jihan noticed that she seemed to be like this with everybody, a welcoming expression forever graced her features, putting those around her at ease. Jihan couldn’t say that he was jealous of such a countenance, but he certainly wished that he possessed just a modicum of her unrestrained nature. He finished the treat, and conjured some restraint as if to stop himself from reaching for another. Icing sugar coated his fingers, and so his hands lowered to wipe them at the black fabric that covered his thighs. Streaks remained, but it didn’t look entirely out of place. Creases on his jacket, and droplets that had fallen from a coffee cup, already added to his haphazard appearance.

Jihan blinked as she spoke. He didn’t really understand what she was talking about, as his simple question seemed to have gained him a rather complex answer, but he could stand and listen. It would take a few short moments for Jihan to process it fully, but within that time, he could clearly see that her fondness for her profession shone through. It was admirable, he supposed.

“Well,” Jihan began, “I enjoyed it. I imagine that it doesn’t last too long in the bakery.”

Her final question hung in the air, and Jihan struggled to find the answer, simply because he couldn’t remember. He had been young when his mother passed, or at least, of an age where nostalgia just simply teased him–it was never concrete. Scents and sounds would touch upon a memory, always out of reach. His mouth grew dry, lips opening only to fall closed. “Jjigae.” Came his eventual response. “I would eat it when it snowed.” He still did.

✿ : › There’s always been something about him. That way he carries himself, a tea cup on a crooked tea tray, ceramic grit, smooth but unfurled with flaws. Signs that he didn’t take care of himself to a degree that makes her fingers twitch a checked-motion to help. Settle him, help, defend him from himself and the negligence of being a workaholic.

She never does.

His expression grows too difficult to read, a bog at night, something deep and she’s not adept enough in all things Jihan to register that askew glint for more than a catch of the lighting. So she tilts her head to watch him breathe and think.

There’s something beautiful about men like Jihan, all mystery and magnetism hidden beneath layers of dust that you need to look beyond to see.

Something about his words whispers too solemn, too serious for the question she’d asked. She didn’t like to linger on the past for too long herself, but she wanted to get to know him. Her fingers drift into her coat pockets and she wonders if she made a mistake.

“Ah,” she inhales, glances around. No one fills the room but them, the sounds of Jihan’s colleagues grows loud in the other room but she still has precious time with him. But now her chest feels tight. His tone, what is this tone? She’s afraid of it.

She wants to know him more than anything, but she can’t push to ask further what he means. “It’ll snow soon.” She points out, takes a step back and tries to gather herself. He’s just being serious, it’s not something to stress about, she reminds herself. She doesn’t know him well enough to be certain that what she’s picking up is sadness. “I should go, there’s too much to do at the shop, those knuckleheads will mess it up without me there to strong-arm them. It’s been very nice seeing you Jihan.”

CHAE-YEONG ; (2/?)  ━ ; ( task )

She’s frighteningly slow to realize that she isn’t alone, she blames it on the hangover, the monstrous pain and stiffness. It’s reminiscent of a horror film, peeling herself to sit up to spot a limp body to her left, contorted and wheezing. She clambers back away from them (him. definitely masculine at least in form) and without realizing, her hand drives into a fleshy surface, draws her attention to her other side. A second body? What the hell crime scene is this?

This person (there’s TWO), he’s more beautiful than she expected, like a fairy with the light dusting dark grey hair, eyes shut as he’s seemingly sleeping for the moment. She removes her hand from where she had pile drives his stomach with a sound that’s an amalgamation of chuckle (at the ridiculousness) and a horrified groan. 

She clamps her lips together to contain her breath in an attempt to be as quiet as possible-- begins the climb, swinging a leg over him so that she may climb off of the bed and out into freedom. 

He hadn’t been expecting a hug, as he wasn’t much of a hugger himself, not unless he was close to the person. He accepts the hug despite of this, flour and all, albeit a bit awkwardly. “It really has,” he replies, smiling at her as they step away from each other. At the announcement that this was her place, his eyes widen. “Really?” he exclaims, glancing around the locale. “You own this place? It looks really great.” 

His question about her mother goes unanswered, he notices, but decides to make no mention of it. If he remembers correctly, Chaeyeong didn’t have the best relationship with her mother, hence why the girl hadn’t wanted to be there during the fashion shows. As his relationship with his own mother had gotten even worse since the last time he met the older, he figures it would be best not to get into it, as he was sure the both of them would rather talk about just about anything else. 

“Awesome! Thank you so much,” he replies, relieved to be able to give his roommate the gift he had envisioned. “I was thinking just a few cupcakes with yellow and red frosting, maybe some decorations with Iron Man’s head on them or something. You can go crazy with them, I’m sure they’ll be great.” He doesn’t have a completely clear vision in his head, but he’s sure the baker will do a good job with them, as everything else in the bakery looked amazing. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he muses. How long has it been? It must have been at least 2 years, maybe more. Kenji doesn’t remember exactly when his mother had stopped dragging him along to all kinds of fashion events, deeming him too sick to do anything but give her a bad reputation. How had he been? How honest was he meant to be? During the time they had known each other, Kenji’s mental and physical state had gotten progressively worse, but every time the older had asked, Kenji had brushed her off, insisting he was fine. Still, he’s sure she had been suspicious despite his assurances. He had never really been a good liar. 

“I’ve been alright,” he replies. Alright was neutral enough, and technically true — at least if one were to compare his current situation to what it had been the last time they met. He is doing a lot better now. “I did eventually manage to graduate high school. I honestly still struggle a bit with Korean, but I’m getting there. I go to school here now,” he tells her. “What about you, noona? How have you been? I still can’t believe you own a bakery.” 

✿ : › No note came of resistance, she was blissfully ignorant, high on the electric excitement of reconnection. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d end up with something like this either, I guess it just happened.”

She investigates his handsome face like a treasure map. It’s all more mature than she remembered and in some ways he looks better than she had recollection of. Towards the end of their time spent together he began to look ragged, weathered like a storm. She never learned why that was, he wouldn’t tell her, but she had worried for him. A friend to her, even though their relationship was a nightly affair, only triggered by happenstance and they never spent time together outside of those dark, loud fashion halls. “I’ll make something special~,” she replies sweetly.

“It’s been 2, I’m pretty sure. It’s been too many, I didn’t mean to lose track of you,” she seems sheepish, as if it was a silly mistake and not one that had saddened her when she ran away. She’d had ample time to grieve all of the friends she left behind in fleeing from her past life. “I’m happy,” her tone is sobering, genuine, “Ayy, your korean sounds great, it sounded good even then, to me. We never had a hard time whispering together and laughing at ugly clothes, so it was good to me.”

Kenji, she smiles brightly, warmth blooms. Was she always so sentimental? Or could it be that years and loneliness of tearing apart her life just to rebuild it in her own image had created a sloshing, bottomless pit of clingy, sticky heartache that translated directly into a need for friendship and closeness. She’s like a too sweet old lady at this point, she needs saving from her own emotional self.

“Things are going well for me, I mean─ I’m totally in debt but it was worth it. This place is the only thing I have now, so I guess I just have to make the best of it. I’m more happy that it brought me you. I know we didn’t become that close but I still look fondly on that time. Because of you I was able to survive so much torture at the hands of fashion,” she says it conspiratorially, light-hearted words but in a lot of ways it isn’t far from the truth. She was having a hard time when they met, and his friendship however limited, was a vessel to hold her afloat.

As it often did, Jihan’s head tilted. What did she find amusing? Had he said something to warrant such a response? His lips pressed thinly, as if preparing to be berated. But such didn’t come–instead, a curious gaze followed how blatant amusement transformed her features. Jihan still didn’t quite understand the reason behind this, the resounding giggle that echoed, as a joke hadn’t left his lips. 

Jihan blinked. Disbelief glistened, as did wonder, as he considered her answer. They were all for him? Why? Perhaps he was in no position to complain–his shoulders ached from where they had been curled abnormally over his desk, eyes strained behind glass lenses as he perused the evidence of samples that he had gathered the day prior. Chae-yeong was a complete juxtaposition, bringing the scent of cinnamon into the space. A heady jerk back into reality, and the coppery scent of blood that forever seemed to singe him.

Voice quiet, if not a little firm, Jihan issued a response. “Oh,” A nod came, two in a quick succession. “If this is the case, I might not share. The others can be lazy, they don’t deserve them.” Jihan’s fingers delved inside the box, plucking out the delicacy that had caught his eye the moment he had looked inside. 

His cheeks were full as he took another bite. Eyelids fluttered momentarily as if he were savouring the taste. Chae-yeong was a deft hand, and Jihan was not hesitant in enlightening her to his thoughts. ““These are very nice. How do you make them? Are they baked or fried? I also feel as if another recipe has been used. It tastes a little different from before.”

✿ : › With cautious control her features contain contentment as she watches him think, each thought both clear and hidden from her. How can he think so loudly, yet so far from her realm of understanding? The truth is, she doesn’t know Ji-han very well. He is someone her heart pangs to know, but something falls short. He’s too far from her right now, so she has to continue braving the pilgrimage to get closer. 

His words make her laugh, a tender, small sound, ringing of a bell or water over rocks. “You definitely deserve them, though, it’s also okay to take breaks sometimes.” She agrees with him almost conspiratorially, nods with a smile, looks around as if anyone was near to hear when it’s only he and her.

He’s... How can a man like that be so cute? She lifts a palm, presses it to her stomach as she watches him eat. Her smile could blind, sunlight contained and eyes glittering. Such a simple affair as watching someone eat her food so wholeheartedly. She thinks at times like this that this career and life she picked for herself was the correct choice, where she belongs.

His questions catch her off guard›  not only because she hadn’t expected him to notice a shift in recipe but they rarely made it this long before she left › regardless, she’s more than happy to express in small talk with him. Leaning her hip against a filing cabinet as she answers. The cold from walking in had yet to seep away so she warms her hands by rubbing them together as she speaks in a low, conversational tone, carrying on far longer than she intended. “Ah, my maejap-gwa? Well, you have to make small cuts across the middle and then you fold the end pieces through so that it makes this pretty braid. My mother never cooked a day in her life, but when I was a little girl, my maid made them for my unnie when she felt down. I think they’re the best when they’re done like this, I changed some things from how I used to make them, I wanted to get the recipe closer to how she made them, but─it’s too long ago for me to remember,” she rubs her hands together more firmly, the friction not creating enough heat to unthaw her hands. “Did you ever have any treats that you liked as a child, Ji-han-ssi? Did your mother like to cook?”

CHAE-YEONG ; (1/?)  ━

@wychaeyeong

She was drooling. When WASN’T she drooling when she came into this particular bakery? Everything always smelled so amazing, and they tasted even better than it looked and smelled. Ai was pretty sure she spent most of her free time in this bakery, pining over the baked goods that lined the shelves. The staff even knew her by name at this point. “Oh this ones looks delicious… is it new? I want it,” She points at a cupcake in the display, finger almost touching the glass but not quite. “What flavor is it?”

✿ : › A mixer meticulously spins in a metallic bowl, a whirlwind in the center that Chae-yeong stares into. Like a boatman at sea, staring at the sirens vorticose call, ready to pull her under. Except this time, her thoughts aren’t of beautiful women final hours, but instead, why she’s short on flour, whether she should fire the young high schooler she just hired who nearly set fire to her kitchen. Wandering thoughts. A businesswoman’s thoughts, as it turns out she really is one of those. All those years in university that her parents pushed her into the major had inadvertently paid off in an uncanny way.

A pretty voice punches through her fog like a lighthouse light and she starts, looking up with big eyes. “Ah, Ai!” She smiles, bright, big. The woman had become a favorite, flipping off the mixer in favor of hand folding the mixture to give the woman her full attention. “Ah that, I improved upon my Yaksik recipe, there’s cranberries now, here let me get some for you,” she hurries herself to gathering a serving plate and the sweet rice from beneath the counter as she asks, “How have you been, I’ve missed you.” She says it cutely.

         Sometimes she considers the deficit of keeping such terrible employees, but before she can convince herself to let them go, she sees their smiling faces › ›  that alone is worth the trouble.

         She’s running the shop alone today, it seems. Flying solo › she’s used to it, so it’s only a little sweat to brow by now. Luckily, with it being such a siberian weekday afternoon, she hadn’t found much luck in customers. Only a few stragglers who won’t let snow and bitter cold keep them from a doughnut.

       In the process of running a dust-cloth over the counter, she’s alerted to the tingling bell of someone entering. Customers were somewhat few today, a simultaneously good and bad thing. Less money, but less stress. There’s no one else in the store when the door opens and she spins around, apron in place and hair a messy braid, looping over her shoulder. ‘Hello, welcome,' she says as she spins with a wave. ( @wyinsu )

@wychaeyeong

It was nearing his roommate’s birthday, and Kenji had decided he wanted to get Chai something. Seeing as they didn’t know each other that well yet, he wasn’t quite sure what to get the younger male. Art and superheroes were the two most prominent interests Kenji had noticed in his roommate so far, but he had no idea what to go for within either of those — and then there was the issue of him possibly buying something the other already owned. He had eventually decided on just keeping it simple, getting him something from a bakery, because who didn’t love baked goods on their birthday?

After some quick googling, Kenji had found a bakery that seemed promising and headed out. The bakery was located in Cheonpu, an area he frequently visited to take pictures of the views, but rarely visited any stores in. He had checked the approximate location of the bakery, confident he would be able to find it. And sure enough, he was able to locate it easily. 

The sweet smell of cakes immediately hits him as he opens the door, welcoming him inside. It didn’t seem to be too busy at the moment, although there were a decent amount of customers scattered across the tables. Kenji immediately heads for the register, where he’s met by a redhead. 

“Hi, do you…” he begins, trailing off once recognition hit him. It took him a few seconds to place her face, but he definitely knew the baker in front of him. The two of them had met multiple times at fashion events in Seoul, as they were both children of fashion designers that had dragged their family with them for support. Not that Kenji and Chaeyeong had been very supportive; instead, they had been making fun of the whole ordeal. Neither of them had wanted to be there, which had resulted in a temporary friendship. 

“Han Chaeyeong? Wow, I never thought I’d see you here! How have you been? Is your mom still dragging you to her shows?” he asks, so eager to play catch up that he almost forgets his original mission. “Oh, yeah, and I wanted to ask if you make custom cupcakes? A friend of mine has his birthday coming up and he just loves Iron Man, so I thought it’d be really cool to buy him some Iron Man cupcakes.” 

✿ : › Today had been tedious, with an excess of issues sifting through her consciousness and it wasn’t even midday yet. Displeasure over shipping costs and the fact that one of her new employees had failed to properly order enough flour for the week. Like a teapot slowly boiling to a whistle, Chae yeong’s shoulders are tense just after lunch rush.

         She wouldn’t have noticed him if not for his attention, focus firmly in reading through the papers strapped to the board in front of her. A desperate scramble to balance her books and order last minute supplies after a bumbling mistake left her feeling frizzled. 

       His voice is familiar, she notices instantly, a wallop of recognition, clanking through her spine as she glances up. Cognizance, bulky and impossible to deny, a sunlight touches her eyes with warm glow. 'Kenji?’ She gives out his name quietly like a prayer, a specter who may not be real. 

       But he is how many years since they’d met? She recalls with protracted clarity settling into squeaking chairs at runway shows, heads tilted together she can remember the brush of his hair tickling, his breath against her cheek always up to no good, giggling and making fun. It was only thanks to him she had managed to survive those droll days. 

      Throwing the board down she bites her lip, containing a smile that seems too excessively overjoyed even for a ball of sunshine like her. Bolting around the counter she pats her only other worker in the shop for the day to take the mantle before stepping into the open space. 'It’s been so long.' She invades his space without thinking of consideration, nor the plaster of flour she may be dusting him down with. 'I’ve been good! This is my place,' she steps back, gestures around and waves as a customer seated laughs at her. 

As he was wont to do, his steps were careful. Jihan moved slowly, as if he stood on a bed of ice that threatened to crack. It was just the way he was—suspicious of every surrounding, calculating carefully his responses. Jihan’s expressions, however, didn’t play by the same rules. He only bore one, and it spoke of nonchalance. Beneath it, his Anxieties, sadness, and sometimes amusement, loomed. It all lay concealed by a mask, as expressing how he truly felt was often a task that proved difficult.

The only clue that Jihan was surprised was the vision of his mouth forming into a little ‘o’, as if he were expecting her to turn tail and find the others he believed her to truly seek. He supposed it was kindness that brought her out of the way like this, but he didn’t understand what warranted it. For a while, he had been wary. Such things didn’t come without a price, or without some disguised intention that lay dormant beneath such actions. Jihan concluded that she was not malicious, this doused by the fact that many times he had heard praises being sung about her. But for food, people would say anything. Jihan wasn’t sure whether the adoration of his coworkers was enough to go by. Were people really this nice? The answer remained inconclusive.

Jihan looked around once more, appearing almost cartoonish as he wondered why she had gone out of her way to see him. He was still getting used to it–this was not the first time she had stopped by. To begin with, he simply stared blankly, bewilderment lining his features. Now, Jihan was coming to expect her visits (which were often married with warm smiles and buttery pastries) on Friday afternoons. His index finger scratched at his temple, and the realisation left him as a sigh. “Oh. I see. But I’d like you to know that you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Nearing, he slowed to reach for what she offered. He was thankful for it, despite his racing thoughts. “No, I haven’t eaten,” Jihan answered, quite matter of factly. He wasn’t sure why she was so concerned with his eating habits. Did it seem as if he was losing weight? “I’ve been busy.” Jihan’s eyes were drawn to the box, and he opened it to be met with a concoction of sugar. They were wide as they perused the goods, and at the sight, a rumble sounded.

A furrow to his brow, his gaze lifted. “These look delicious. Are you sure that they’re all for me?”

✿ : › His words tread all over the malleable, fertile ground she had intended to lay for them. To plant seeds › well, sew more seeds than she’d already been tending to for weeks upon weeks now › and hope that at least some take root › › ›  that he may realize for once what she’s trying to say. It isn’t as if she had said it with any subtly, but perhaps anything short of spelling it out would fail to make the grade with him. She remains unruffled.

        ‘Ah,’ is all she says to his words. She should leave this one alone, she tells herself.

        She doesn’t venture to be so daring that she hold his gaze when he takes the items from hand, instead she looks away. Absorbs the masculine lines of his hands like a sponge, soaks in the sight of veins and the conscientious way he seems to move. His motions are so determined, like a creeping water-droplet as though the world were slick glass and he has to be careful or he’ll slide too far and end up somewhere spread too thin.

      When she looks back up, she cheerfully smiles yet again, eyes crinkle shut and she shows teeth, licks her lips after as she salvages her composure seconds before it takes a nose dive. 

      His tone makes her laugh, giggle that sounds like a the curling note of a song, a piano key hit a little too hard. Slightly abrupt maybe but she can’t refine it, he just makes her giddy when he gets like this. It’s cute, in a way. She almost intends to ask what he had been busy with but she doesn’t want to see him seal that small snippet of off-hand away. Return to business and freeze all the warmth she worked hard to create.

   Drawing attention to the box he’d accepted she brightens considerably. His compliment makes her skin warm as she nods. ‘of course they’re for you.’ She smiles, ‘they’re always for you. I mean━if you want to share them, you can but, I always bring them for you. It’s a good reason to come see you every morning.’ She declares outright and it nearly feels like she overstepped but it’s too late to turn back.