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Trey Clover hummed a tune along with the music playing through his phone as he carefully pulled out a tray of fresh pastries from the oven. The warm, sweet scent of strawberries and baked dough filled the air and with a satisfied inhale, he brought them out to the front of the shop and slid them into the final empty spot of his display. Once finished, he pulled off his oven mitts and looked towards the wall clock in front.
Almost 7:00.
He untied his apron, threw it onto the messy kitchen desk and hurried over to the main door. Just as the clock struck 7, he turned around the signboard and Clover’s Confections was officially open.
His family bakery, passed on to him only a few months back, was a cozy little shop tucked away in the heart of the town. With soft melodies playing in the background, windows fogged up from the heat inside, and a tactfully planned aroma of sweet bread wafting out the door, Trey has had a steady stream of customers over the past months.
Most of the time it was a new face, passing by when the smell captures them like a delectable hook before they enter on a whim and leave with a treat and a smile. Being located in the midst of a busy hub, the faces are usually a blur to Trey. But even then, he too had his own handful of regulars that were all memorable in their own ways.
The first two were his dearest friends, Riddle and Cater, who have been loyal customers since the day he took over. Riddle has been around for as long as Trey could remember, although they only properly hung out once Riddle started high school and was slowly trying to distance himself from his overbearing mother, Trey with him every step of the way. It was a long, painful process, and truth to be told, Riddle wasn’t there just yet. But when he sits at the counter, snacking on a tart he had uncompromisingly paid for and telling Trey about his loud neighbors, there is a sparkle in his eyes that tells Trey that he was going to be just fine.
Cater he had met during university -which he had taken upon his parents’ insistence. Cater was his assigned roommate and it had taken the two of them overnight to click. Which is a surprise considering how much he found out about the orange-haired boy way later on, and is still finding out only now. But still, regardless of how much Cater tended to hide, Trey was affirmative on how genuine their friendship was and he treasured it all the same. Cater too insisted on paying for anything he bought, even though he tirelessly posted Trey’s treats on his media account with over thousands of followers. He knew the fact that his bakery was even a little well known was because of the influencer whose heart was too big for his own good.
The two of them were his closest regulars. He considered them family over than anything else, and for the future regulars that will be coming-
“Bonjour! Oh, what a beautiful place I have stumbled upon!” A melodic voice booms throughout his bakery and Trey is jolted out of his daydream. He straightens up to see who’s making so much noise at 7:15 and finds a well built young man, maybe around his age, in a white shirt and purple vest. He wore a brown, wide-brimmed hat over his blonde hair that ended right by his shoulders, framing his face perfectly. His eyes glittered as he looked around the bakery, as though it was his first time seeing such a place.
All in all he was well cleaned up and Trey was intrigued.
“Good morning. Feel free to look around-”
“Alas I'm afraid I cannot!” The man interrupts him in a woeful tone, “I am running late for my work and am not one to be nothing but punctual. However I hope to come back soon and till then, au revoir!”
With a graceful bow the man is out the door and running again. Trey watches it all in a daze and wonders why the man even bothered coming inside at all.
For the rest of the day there is no one of note, but the strange blonde man stays in his mind and Trey finds himself slightly disappointed when he finds himself closing up without him in sight. However, the day itself had a good number of customers and he finds the man becoming a faint memory as he goes on with his life.
He meets his first regular on a random Tuesday.
It’s raining that day, which is a rarity in itself, but finding someone hunched over the pavement near his bakery getting soaked was probably an even rarer find. Trey finds himself unable to ignore the hunched figure and fishes out an umbrella from one of the storeroom closets.
It takes him a while to drag the person in, with all the head shaking and attempts to pull away, but Trey is the ultimate winner of the stubborn exchange and he ends up with a drenched, shivering boy forming a puddle in the middle of his bakery floor.
He goes back to the storeroom to find a towel and spare shirt he keeps around as a substitute apron. It takes him even longer to convince the boy to dry himself and change, but his stubbornness once again proves to be unbeatable.
The boy sits at one of the few tables kept inside, his clothes hung over chairs in the kitchen to dry. His shivering had reduced to a minimum and he sipped on a hastily whipped up hot chocolate, a steaming croissant near him.
He’s a young one, likely fresh out of high school. He had dyed blonde hair that was showing blue roots at the top of his head, and faded bruises on his knuckles. Realizing he had brought in a delinquent Trey had kept an eye out for any wounds but there were none, indicating he had not been in any fights whatsoever. Trey takes his time observing him and only smiles when the boy realizes he’s being watched and flushes brilliantly.
He stumbles over, bringing the plate and mug with him as if he’s never been in a customer service establishment before. There’s a sharp look in his eyes that is filled with an unsureness of a teenager rather than some foolhardy delinquent.
Trey takes the utensils from the boy and gently asks him if he’s okay.
He ends up spending most of the evening comforting a sobbing boy and listening to him make promises to a mother Trey has never met but knows would be proud of her son nonetheless.
He leaves with an extra croissant and words of nonstop gratitude.
He comes back a few weeks later, hair a dark shade of blue.
Trey doesn’t recognize him at first, so well put together in his button up shirt and freshly cut hair. But he has the same hesitation and unsureness that Trey could not forget and is delighted to see.
Deuce -his name- brightens up when Trey recognizes him. He leans over the counter, excitedly rambling about his mother (who as expected, had embraced him before anything else) and how he’s applied to a good university and had gotten accepted by them. He mentions hoping to make friends and flushes when Trey assures that he will.
“I’m not a very good student,” he mumbles, thumb brushing over his knuckles. It makes Trey smile, somehow sure that a boy as determined as Deuce would make it through one way or the other. He says so and it has the boy flushing again.
He leaves earlier this time, carrying a paid for chocolate chip muffin and croissant with him.
The day is a special one, because towards the evening, with only thirty minutes left until closing, the door bursts open and the melodic, deep voice of a man Trey had completely forgotten filled his ears.
“Bonsoir! How I have missed you my beautiful!”
He looks at nothing but straight ahead as he says so, the same dramatic pose as before. What intrigues Trey is how different he looked. His hat was crooked atop his head and his smooth blonde hair was flying in every direction, his vest was open and his button up was mostly untucked. He looked so disheveled but still had an undeniable charm to him that made Trey's heartbeat speed up.
“Welcome! Feel free to look around.”
He turns to Trey when he hears him, and his wide eyes soften a little. He gives Trey a light bow, and smiles up at him so brightly it leaves Trey thinking it’s morning again for a second.
“I have been meaning to apologize Monsieur! For running off on you last time!”
“Apology accepted, though I’ll admit it left me surprised.”
“I completely understand,” the man approaches him, looking straight into Trey’s eyes. They twinkled like sunlight reflecting on damp wild grass, it was beautiful, Trey thought to himself and broke away first. “All your baked goods look delicious, I must say. I could smell them from a mile away and getting to see them with my own eyes…magnifique!”
Trey laughs at the high praise, feeling flattered. He waves it off and gestures towards his display case that the man looks down to see at once. He looks delighted to see them, and Trey files it away as one of his favorite looks on customers.
He spends a while in silence, just examining each one of them, compliments spewing out of his mouth as easy as breathing.
“Superbe! Splendide! I can see that your pastries all have significant amounts of discipline and care put into them.”
“Haha, you’re really hyping it up.”
“Non! I can tell! Each loaf is clearly much cared for, there is no favoritism and each of them are lovingly doted on.”
Trey’s ears burned. How had the man figured out that he tried to treat each piece like a child? He laughed awkwardly, looking away from the man and focusing on the clock again. There were fifteen minutes left until closing. “I really wouldn’t go that far…but thanks.”
The man stood up and ran his palm over his shirt to smooth it out. He reached the untucked part of his shirt and looked down. Trey keenly watched the man’s eyes widen and smile twitch ever so slightly. When he looks back at Trey, his smile is fixed again but there is an air of noticeable distance between them.
“Non! Then accept this truth mon boulanger, your baked goods have a beauty all of their own…and I shall return again to admire their presence!”
He’s out and off before Trey can get another word out, shocked that the man had left without buying anything again.
“Next time, you’re going to be eating one of them.” Trey murmurs to himself, fired up for reasons he can’t explain.
Trey’s next regular is an unexpected one, and one he wishes would stop coming altogether.
The first time he came in he had a suspicious look to him, side eyeing and inspecting every corner of the bakery. Trey had mistaken him for a health inspector due to his well pressed suit and judgmental look but the man had assured him he was no such thing. In fact, he ran a restaurant a few blocks away and wanted to see the other establishments with his own eyes. He gives the bakery another once over with smug eyes, glasses glinting against the ceiling lights. Trey feels a flicker of irritation rising up in him, but a customer is a customer and the man leaves with a few blueberry cheese turnovers, a dark chocolate eclair and flourish in his step.
He comes back again the next week with an irritated look on him. There’s no conversation as he curtly asks for a few blueberry turnovers and leaves again.
He begins to come back every Friday, right before the weekend, and never looking happy about it.
It takes his fifth visit for Trey to ask him about his reluctant frequency, the question sets off the young man as though he’s been waiting to be asked.
“Idia seems to have fallen in love with your blueberry turnovers! I don’t- he’s constantly talking about how goated they are and simply refuses to shut up about them,” he runs a frustrated hand over his silver hair, “I’m only coming here due to that reason, please don’t misunderstand. It pains me to fund my competition like this but…”
Trey holds back an eyeroll and reminds himself once more that a customer is a customer. He packaged the turnovers and the extra coffee-flavored toffees the man had requested.
“I'll see you again…I suppose.” It was almost laughable how disgruntled he sounded and Trey found himself looking forward to the man from then on.
The third time the eccentric blonde man that had made himself a space in Trey's mind comes in, he opens the door slowly and cautiously.
Trey watched as he scanned the room with an intensity of a predator in the wild. He stopped on Trey and a shudder ran down the baker's spine at the gaze. To feel so focused on as if he were a target, he's never felt such a thing before. It was exhilarating.
“Welcome,” Trey greeted him and the magic was over.
The man walked in, letting the door close behind. He ran a hand over his wrinkled, but buttoned and tucked shirt and vest and gave Trey a brilliant smile.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Boulanger. It seems that I am in need to apologize again.”
“For running off?”
He managed to look ashamed for his actions, going as far to have a guilty expression like he had done a great offense.
“Oui, please accept my sincerest apologies. I am aware that it is quite shameless to come back like so but-”
Trey stopped him with a raised hand. The man seemed to feel genuinely bad over such a forgettable thing, even going as far as to come back and apologize. Trey couldn't help but feel amused by the strange man as he spoke.
“Just buy something and it'll be fine.”
His words seemed to be a switch in the blonde man whose smile brightened up the entire room. With a swirl he began to go through the display cases.
"You're truly a connoisseur, mon boulanger!"
"Why, I can tell how precise the gold flakes of these are. What an eye for detail!"
"Comme c'est beau! Ah, I could spend my whole day in here!"
Trey watched on with silent amusement, enjoying the onslaught of praises. Something about the way the man said it sounded so wholehearted and honest. The man spent a good while just looking around before pointing at the tarts displayed.
“A tart?”
“Oui! The lemon-raspberry tart please! Ah, takeaway”
With a nod and a smile, Trey took out a single lemon-raspberry tart and packaged it neatly before handing it to the man. Almost unknowingly, he slowed his actions down, feeling like their interaction was going to end. The man himself was sluggish in accepting the package and walking to the door. But before he left he turned back one last time, an ever-present twinkle in his eyes.
“I will be back, monsieur, until we meet again.”
“I’ll be waiting then.”
Trey is sure the bakery dimmed ever so slightly at the man’s absence.
He expects to need to wait a week again for the blonde man and is pleasantly taken aback when he walks in fifteen minutes into opening.
“Bonjour!”
“Good morning and welcome! What can I get you today?”
The man doesn’t look around like he did last evening, walking directly to the boxes of macarons Trey kept on display. It was one of his rarer, more expensive items in stock.
“A box of these please, mon boulanger!” He picks them up and walks over to the counter.
“It’s Trey.”
“Quoi?”
“Uh, my name. It’s Trey Clover.”
He’s not sure why he was giving his name away with such ease, nor did he know what ‘boulanger’ even meant, but he knew that he wanted to know the name of the man standing in front of him. And to learn a name one must always give theirs first.
The man’s eyes lighten up and his posture straightens, as he realizes what Trey was saying. “Trey Clover,” the name rolls off his tongue in a gentle and foreign manner, like a new word he is trying to get used to. He puts his hand in front, and in the same soft tone he speaks up again.
“Please call me Rook, Rook Hunt. It is lovely to know you, Trey Clover.”
Trey shakes the outstretched hand and decides that he could get used to the way Rook said his name.
Rook ends up being the most irregular regular Trey has met his whole life. Sometimes he may come everyday of the week, and other times he may skip out on a whole week leaving Trey mildly worried. There are times he had come twice in one day even. But no matter when he comes, he always brings with him a radiance that lights up the bakery and a conversation that leaves Trey impatient for more.
He learned that the blonde worked at the local animal shelter, a fact he shared with shining pride. His favorite place to go to is the local theatre however, and recently he has managed to be close friends with his ‘idol’ Vil Schoenheit, whom he had ended up rambling about for the rest of his time there. By the time he had finished talking, his spiced apple galette had cooled down and Trey had to warm it up again, unable to explain to himself why the back of his throat felt so acidic and bitter.
Rook found all sorts of things beautiful, ranging from diamonds to splattered puddles. He enjoyed talking about things or people he saw along the way, and no matter what he spoke about, there was always a fascination in his eyes that Trey could not look away from. It was his first time meeting a man who had such a devoted interest in the world.
Rook found almost all things in life beautiful, but when he spoke about these little things, Trey found him to be the most beautiful of all.
“You know mon boulanger,” Rook had leaned over the counter one day, packaged brioche on the countertop. His eyes sparkled underneath the ceiling lights, even more than usual and Trey found himself moving closer as well. “I think one of the most beautiful concepts of this world is love.”
If Trey thought Rook saying his name sounded addictive, then he was wholly unprepared for the way the word love fell from his lips.
He forced his heart to quieten down, swallowing air as he asked.
“Really now?”
“Oui! You tell me first of all, what is love to you mon boulanger?”
He flusters at the question, mind rushing through multiple answers. He remembered his parents who still called and came over every weekend, Riddle and Cater and their times out drinking, he remembered himself waiting by the warmth of the oven and checking the rise of the dough, he thought of blonde hair and emerald green eyes…
“I don’t know,” he answered as honestly as he could, willing his mind to think of something else. “What do you think it is?”
“Ah, non, it is a question we must answer together.” Rook pulls back and grabs the package. Trey wants to reach out and stop him, but instead he just smiles and bids him goodbye. For the rest of the day his mind keeps wandering to the word love, trying to mimic the way Rook had said it.
It is a feat he does not manage to achieve.
After a month of his pastries, greetings, and a handful of regulars, Trey is treated with the surprise of Deuce coming in with someone.
It is a surprise because the teen had always stopped by after university on his way home. It’s usually one of Trey’s busier hours and their talks are always unfortunately minimal, but Trey had learned that the boy was doing great at his track club and not so great in his overall studies. But Deuce never seemed down as he mentioned it, always looking dead set on to keep improving. Trey vaguely thinks that Riddle would quite adore the kid.
The new kid following behind Deuce is a redhead. It’s messier and he has a glint of mischief in his eyes that contrasts greatly with Deuce’s straightlaced stare. Trey watches them enter and gets a vague impression that Riddle would not like this kid.
The boy watches curiously as Deuce greets Trey in exclamation, his eyes taking in Trey from top to bottom. He gives Trey a half smile when Trey turns to greet him as well.
“It’s rare to see Deuce bringing in a friend.”
“Hah! He just called you friendless!’
Trey considers whether he liked this kid as well.
Deuce gives the boy a glare and more or less yells “shut up” before turning back to Trey again.
“That’s Ace, we’re not friends.”
The way Ace’s shoulders sag is almost laughable.
Leaving the redhead to dejectedly look around, Trey decides to make use of his rare free time and make some conversation with the Deuce. The blue-haired boy talks about his upcoming Track competition, his much further away but more nerve-wracking semester finals, and even about some cat that seems to have snuck its way into the cafeteria and made its home there. He speaks with an energetic vigor that Trey doesn’t bother to dampen, simply leaning on the counter with a benign smile.
From the side he could see Ace lingering close by, looking at them, or rather at Deuce instead of the pastries around him. He has an obvious pout on him that has Trey forcing to hold back his laughter again. Deuce doesn’t seem to notice any of it, engrossed in his story of how the cat had attempted to steal away his lunch.
“It seems like things are going well!”
“They are!” Deuce’s grin turned almost shy, “they really are.”
“And? No partner?”
His shyness increases by tenfold and the boy is left stuttering over his own excuses and explanations. Trey is more interested by Ace’s now blatant staring, clearly curious about the answer as well.
“I, well…no, uh- um- there’s no one, I’m not- one chocolate chip muffin please! What about you Ace, choose something already!”
The scene is something of a comedy skit as Ace quickly tries to pretend he hadn’t been listening in and Deuce got on his case of not having made a decision, ultimately dissolving into bickering. Trey’s stomach hurts from the laughter he’s holding in and he’s sure his smile is twisted in a strange way.
The two boys finally make their way out, one holding a muffin and the other a cherry-jam tart. As they do, Trey decides to act out one last time.
“I hope you find a good partner, Deuce, might be closer than you think.”
He winks at Ace and the way the boy blushes and runs into the unopened bakery door is enough to make his whole night.
Rook comes in with a cat. It is an orange little thing, so scrawny and curled up Trey only figures out what it is when he unfurls slightly at the smell in the bakery.
“No pets allowed in the shop Rook-”
“Mon boulanger!” Rook exclaims instead, sounding a little panicked, “is the bicycle parked outside yours?”
“I, uh, yes?”
“Then I beg you to let me borrow it! This little one was found by the sidewalk hurt, and to get a taxi I would-”
Trey stops him by thrusting his bike keys forwards and within seconds Rook is out and off. The situation is so sudden and bizarre he doesn’t even remember he had other customers prior to this until the murmuring around him gets louder and louder.
“I apologize for the commotion,” he gives them all a practiced smile of a mediator, “let’s all hope that he gets to the vet in time, shall we?”
-
Rook comes back again fifteen minutes before closing, carrying the cat with him.
Trey decides to close early, turning the signboard over before moving to the blonde who is standing by one of the tables.
“Mon boulanger-”
“Is it okay?”
Rook blinks at him, clearly surprised by the question before his eyes soften.
“Oui, we made it just in time. It seems that she is simply weakened by a cold. May I put her down on the table?”
“Oh, yes of course. You take a seat as well!”
Leaving Rook to place the cat on the table and sit down, Trey rushes off to the kitchen. He comes back holding a plate and a bowl. He places them in front of Rook and the cat respectively and takes the opposing seat as they both stare at it with gleaming eyes.
There is a similarity between the two that makes Trey smile, and the smile grows when they both look over to him at the same time. He gestures at them to eat and chuckles when they both dive in together.
“Ah!” Rook stops after the first bite, grinning in delight, “sweet potato!”
“You got it, I had a few leftovers from today. It’s not a popular flavor.”
“And you manage to make it this perfect.”
Trey blushes at the praise, internally scolding himself over how he should be used to it by now. Rook showers and bathes him in flattery every single time he comes over and every single time, Trey is reduced to a flustered mess by them. It’s as though his humility leaves the shop altogether whenever the blonde enters.
“Ah, no,” Trey coughed into his fist, “just leftovers.”
Rook gives him a happy hum before diving back into his food. The cat, halfway done, moves away from the bowl and jumps onto Trey’s lap. It startles him, the tiny prickles of its claws sinking into his thighs as it made itself comfortable and curled up on his lap. He sits as still as he can, barely even breathing which pulls a lighthearted chuckle out of Rook who is watching the whole thing.
“Feel free to relax monsieur, cats are flexible ones.”
Trey tries to calm down, but ends up changing the subject instead. “She’s from the shelter?”
“Ah non, but I will be taking her there. I found her on the road nearby, looking fainted. My heart hurt seeing it in such a state I…I am just glad she is fine.”
Trey shares a smile of understanding with him, stroking the soft fur. Rook’s genuineness continues to surprise him more and more, and he finds himself even more intrigued by the man in front of him. They sit in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Once Rook is done eating there is a short bout of argument as he attempts to pay and Trey attempts to stop him.
“It’s after hours,” he points at the closed signboard with a smug expression, “this isn’t a bakery anymore.”
“Ah but mon boulanger, it was open when I walked in!”
“These weren’t even being sold today, they’re yesterday’s leftovers!”
“Even your leftovers are this exquisite, to accept such craftsmanship without any compensation would only continue to wound my soul.”
“Oh but Rook…I’d rather you just consider it a gift.” He finishes his sentence with a smile he hopes is as sincere as Rook’s own and by pushing the outstretched payment away.
Rook flinches ever so slightly at the contact, and looks conflicted as he stares at the baker. Finally he takes his hand back and clasps them over his own chest. “You’re a cruel one Trey Clover…but I shall respect your wishes.”
Trey relaxes, relieved and proud of his little victory. “Thank you-”
“But instead! I will repay you in a different way.”
Trey almost feels bad over how embarrassed he got over Rook’s words, his devil of a mind immediately jumping into the worst conclusions. He adjusts his glasses, hoping to hide his pinked cheeks as he stutters out.
“Oh- you…there’s really no need…”
“Non! Please wait for my return mon boulanger!” Rook turns around, cat in hand, “I shall reward you handsomely.”
As soon as he’s out of sight Trey crouches down, hiding his face in one hand as his other hand grips the bike key returned to him. The warm bakery feels even hotter now and he can feel the heat on his own cheeks.
“Get it together Trey,” he mutters to himself, wondering if he should have just accepted the payment after all.
Trey didn’t think they would be regulars at first, but there are two people that Trey was beginning to notice -only now realizing that their arrivals had quite an interesting pattern. Thinking back, it must have been going on for months now, and Trey has just been too occupied with…other things to notice them.
One is a white haired boy who only comes for one week a month. But in that one week he comes by every day, and every day he brings with him a different child. He wears light colored clothes and gold adorned jewelry, and has a smile so radiant that it reminds Trey of a certain blonde. He’s sure if the two of them met, the surrounding customers would go blind.
He makes small talk with every visit, pointing out different pastries and even remembering the pastries that were for sale last time, or the times before that. The boy always remembered the items but never when they were available. He lets the kid he brings with him pick out one pastry they want, and pays for it before going on his merry way. He does this every day for one week straight, and now that Trey is recalling it, he’s almost sure that there hasn’t been a single repeat of the children he brought with him. The boy buys himself only one treat as well, always on the last day of the week, leaving a generous tip before disappearing for the rest of the month.
The last time he came in, that being last week, Trey had finally asked the boy about the variety of children. He had assumed the boy, with his sunny smile and kind eyes, to be an orphanage worker.
“They’re my siblings!”
“All…of them?”
“Yep! I’m the oldest!”
He walks off with a laugh as though what he said was completely understandable, holding a mango cream puff in one hand and the hand of his sibling in the other.
-
The other boy was similar, but also the complete opposite. A young beastman, Trey couldn't figure which kind he was based on the ears, but he carried an air of trouble around him that seemed to grow whenever he smiled.
Not that he's ever done anything though. Except for coming once a month, and bringing in a whole horde of children into the bakery on that day, filling up the whole place with squeals and chatter.
Trey had been shocked when it first happened, half dreading the chaos that was about to descend, but the beastman had them all under remarkable control. Not a single excitable running or grubby little hand occurred as he let them all choose one treat they wanted. He didn't choose any for himself as he paid and herded them all out with a thankful wave.
When he came back this time, Trey had decided to make conversation with him as well while the kids discussed the treats they wanted. He had asked what it was like to take care of so many siblings. The beastman howled with laughter, not a single kid bothering to turn at the noise.
“Nah,” he finally replied, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, “these brats ain't mine. I just help out at Gran's orphanage.”
He had gratefully accepted the box of jam-filled donuts Trey had thrown in for free as an apology and left snickering.
It was these two boys that let Trey learn the valuable lesson of never assuming things about others.
He remembers again that some people are indeed how they look when the restaurant owner comes in one day holding a stack of papers.
A survey, he had called it without a hint of shame as Trey read the questions revolving around his future planned themes and upcoming pastries. It was times like these that let Trey be thankful for his imminent patience.
“You know I can tell this is clearly a scheme, right?”
“Oh how hurtful Baker- oh what's your name?”
“Trey.”
“Sir Trey! I'm just a simple businessman trying to enhance my business and keep friendly relations all around!”
“This question just asks for my turnover recipe.”
The man slammed both hands on the counter, now looking almost manic.
“Look, Idia has been going on and on about them for months. I've tried my hand at them, I've gotten F- my chefs to have a hand at them, it's not the same. It's absolutely ridiculous.”
“You're right about the ridiculous part,” Trey muttered, taking a step back.
The businessman wasn't deterred by his ignorance as he sighed and asked.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much for the recipe?”
“Sir,” Trey gave him a strained smile, “I'm not giving you my recipe.”
They go back and forth a while longer, all of the man's attacks swatted away by the impenetrable barrier that was Trey.
“Fine then,” the businessman finally pulled away with defeat. “I'll just have to keep figuring it out the hard way.”
Trey nodded along, “until then would you like to buy some blueberry turnovers for your Idia?”
He receives a glare and the man opens his mouth to snipe at him when the door opens with a loud rattle and bang.
“Mon boulanger! I'm back!”
He sees Rook by the door, sunlight filtering in and covering him in a warmth that makes him positively glow. In his hands there is a bouquet of flowers in hand,
“Rook!” Trey exclaimed, the annoying restaurant owner now forgotten. He eyes the flowers in the other's hand and looks back at him.
“On your way to the theatre again?”
“Oui! Vil has taken a student under his wing, a feisty little thing! I'm on my way to watch their rehearsal!”
“Sounds fun, I'm assuming the flowers are for a practice congratulations?"
“Ah…non,” Rook averted his gaze, glancing around the room as he scratched the tip of his nose lightly. “This is…for you mon b- Trey.”
The admittance is like a rush of cool air surrounding Trey, making feel as though he's floating. He's lightheaded and needs to put his hands on the counter to ground himself.
“Oh…” is all he can say, the cool air now replacing itself with warmth. “Oh, uh,”
He sees the businessman standing behind Rook, a hand over his mouth that shaped a badly hidden smirk. It ruins the moment more than he wants it to but he can't muster up a glare to send him away. He doesn't need to, the man waggles his fingers and practically glides out of the shop, the irritating smirk in place.
Rook doesn't even turn around at the sound of someone leaving, eyes fixed on Trey who had turned back to the flowers again. He gently pushes his arms forward and Trey can swear there was a tremble in them.
It is what propels his own arms forward to grab the bouquet. It is a solid weight. So obviously real and so obviously for him. He admires the soft yellows, and whites nestled amongst the greens until he notices the presence in front of him. Rook still hadn’t left and was standing there, ramrod straight.
“I, uh,” Trey adjusted his glasses, “thank you so much for these, are these roses?”
“Oui, along with peonies and-”
“Chamomile.”
“...Oui.” Rook finally returns the smile, shoulders relaxing.
He finally leaves with a silent bow and Trey forces himself to snap out of his daze to scurry around to find a vase for them.
The next time Rook comes in he sees the bouquet in a neat, white vase sitting by the countertop and leaves the shop with his brightest smile yet.
Ace comes in all alone. He’s hesitant, a bit fidgety, and clearly trying to not acknowledge Trey who was the only other figure present in the shop.
“Welcome, Ace.” Trey makes sure to emphasize his name and sure enough, Ace flinches like a guilty man that had a spotlight dawned on him.
He turned to Trey, hand on the back of his neck and looking sheepish.
“Baker guy! Uh, Trey right? Right! Heyyyy, I just…wanted to ask if you needed any help around here?”
“You came looking for a job?”
“I…yes?”
“Get real.”
The boy raises his hand in mock defeat, sheepish smile in place, but as he walks closer Trey could see a very familiar hint of unsureness glistening in his eyes.
“Okay so hypothetically.”
Trey gives him his full attention, quite intrigued to hear what he has to say.
“Hypothetically, if you know someone who’s super annoying, like trying wayyy too hard, unnecessarily honest and uptight-”
“Mhm, sounds familiar.”
“But then,” Ace rushes on, “when people start making fun of them you like, don’t actually find it that funny. And then when he’s not around you kinda…kinda, I don’t know okay. I came to buy a cherry pie!”
Trey rests his chin on his hand, smirking “Ace.”
Ace groans, shoulder dropping and his smile along with it. “I’m not, I don’t- it’s just Deuce is…ugh fuck! It’s stupid.”
Trey chuckles, his heart finally melting for the boy and making way for fondness. Despite everything that seemed to make up the redhead, he still had the same hesitance and insecurity that every teenager did.
“You know, caring about someone isn’t a bad thing or a hassle, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“...So what? I’m supposed to just accept that?”
“You don’t have to label it if you don’t want to, but no one else is going to do it for you either.” Trey replied, moving to package a cherry pie for the boy. “Just don’t take it out on Deuce, okay?”
Ace looked away, huffing, “like I would. How did you two meet anyway?”
“Nothing special, try asking Deuce himself.”
He handed the package to the boy who seemed calmer now, the cockiness gone to make way for something far more genuine. He mutters a thank you and books it out of the shop, taking his refusal to call his feelings for what they truly are with him.
“Okay and, what exactly was the reason that you had to make him pick you up from here?”
Riddle shrugged, fiddling with his fingers. Although he always made sure to dress impeccably, today he had gone far and beyond. Wearing a soft looking, dark knit sweater, neutral colored tailored pants, and polished shoes. He had even gone out of his way to put on light make up, something Trey has not seen the boy do in ages.
“I just, what if he stalks me once he learns my home address!?”
“Why would you go on a date with someone who might stalk your home address?”
Riddle bristled, pausing his prim snacking on a mini spongecake after repeating multiple times that he really shouldn’t eat something.
“I’m not! I- he isn’t! He…well,” Riddle’s face scrunched, going into thought.
Trey sighed at the sight. He was about to begin to pray for Cater’s quick arrival when he heard the beautiful sound of the door opening and a singsong voice.
“Who’s been waiting for Cay-Cay!” The orange haired man slid in, twirling right into Trey’s outstretched arms and returning the hug.
“This is the fastest you’ve ever come here on such a whim.”
Cater laughed, hugging Riddle and taking a good look at the shorter.
“When I heard Lil Riddle got himself a DATE, well I had to drop everything and get over here. And boy you’re looking gorge! Just a min, I have the perfect accessory!”
He took off the backpack he had brought with him and began to rummage through as Riddle and Trey exchanged a fond glance. Riddle took his seat back as Cater pulled out an even smaller bag and rummaged through that.
“Soooo, who’s the totally lucky guy? Annnnd where are you two going tonight?”
“His name is Floyd Leech, 24, 6’3, works full-time as a chef at a nearby restaurant named The Mostro. Which was where I suggested going but he shot down.”
“Mhm, yeah, understandably, but more importantly, 6’3!? Okay, get it!?!?”
Trey chuckled as Riddle began to bristle again, insisting that had nothing to do with any of this while Cater attempted to calm him down. He finally found the item he was looking for with a proud “aha!” and pulled out a choker with a red heart,
“Perfect! Show me your neck!” He went behind Riddle, talking away as he helped the other wear it. “He better bring you flowers, those are like a must on first dates you know? Oh, if he does can I get a snap of them though?”
“Are flowers a first date thing?”
“More like, an I like you thing! I mean yeah they have hundreds of meanings, but how much do you gotta like someone to bring them flowers if you aren’t close friends or family?”
Riddle nodded, listening closely as though Cater was imparting some profound wisdom. Trey listened along as well, but his mind was far off into a memory that was beginning to feel like a record scratching realization.
“So if someone gave me flowers-”
“SOMEONE GAVE YOU FLOWERS!?”
The in unison yelling caused Trey to jump, turning to the duo who were staring at him with matching wide eyes. Trey adjusted his askew glasses, raising his eyebrows in concern. He tried to get a word out before he was barreled with questions again.
“Who?”
“When?”
“Wait what kind of flowers?”
“Who????”
Trey raised his hands, trying to stop the forward march of his friends. He was beginning to half regret his admittance when Riddle finally calmed down, clearing his throat and speaking in his usual voice. He pulled Cater along with him.
“Sorry it’s just-”
“Finally!” Cater exclaimed, surprise dissolving into excitement. “Our Trey’s all grown up! Tell us everything, who’s the just as lucky guy?”
All three of them finally went back to their seats, Riddle and Cater leaned forward with their eyes trained on Trey. Who was suddenly feeling inexplicably bashful. He tried to think of a way to explain himself, mind suddenly filling up with images and words.
“Uh, his name is Rook.”
“Weird name but ‘kay.”
“Oh just listen,” Trey rolled his eyes, “he’s been coming here for like a while now and he gave me flowers. So, yeah.”
There’s a short moment of charged silence before it explodes with sparks again, both Cater and Riddle trying to explain to Trey about how bad his explanation was, how romantic it sounded, and god damn was that guy hot? Trey laughed at the chaos, trying his best to keep up with the commentary and questions and when Riddle asked the winning question of the day.
“So will you be courting him?”
Trey stopped, mind and body both freezing at the question. Would he…would Trey be courting Rook?
Did Trey want to court Rook?
He tried to imagine it, the concept of courting twisting up as his ideas derailed. Asking Rook out for a meal, the romantic undertones clear. Soft and deliberate touches as they continue to talk, the night getting deeper and deeper. Rook praising him, intense and truthful as ever and Trey finally deciding to stop his talking by-
“Damn Trey, do you want to share that with the class?”
He snapped his head up to Cater smirking at him, Riddle giving a more curious gaze. Trey didn't need a description of how he looked right now. He took his glasses off and massaged his eyes with an exhausted groan.
“Well, I don't know about courting him but…I'll admit that there is an attraction.”
They spend the rest of the night squealing, delving into gossip and memories until Riddle’s date finally shows up. Three minutes late and a bouquet in hand.
The flowers, slowly drying out, have now been hung upside down in the kitchen to dry. Trey was thinking of making pressed bookmarks with them, perhaps a nice addition for the store. He is sure Rook would love the idea.
His thoughts about the blonde seemed to summon him as he opened the door with his usual vigor. But this time, after doing so he stands to one side and keeps the door open, bowing a little in welcome.
Trey watches as two figures walk in and he can tell immediately. This was Vil.
A tall, slender figure walked in behind a shorter more excitable one. He walks in but it looks as though he's floating, each step light and graceful. His skin glowed, not the same way Rook's did, but in a more spotlight, attention-inducing kind of way without even a blemish in sight. He looked around the shop, expression calm but unreadable.
Trey's heart sped up, so this was the Vil that had Rook so enamored. Trey could understand. One glance and even he felt enamored by the man standing before him.
That man's sharp eyes finally landed on Trey. He raised his chin, giving the baker a once over that made him want to hide. It's been a while since Trey has felt so intimidated in his own territory.
“So you are Trey Clover,” Vil’s voice, a velvety soft thing filled through the shop. Trey found himself nodding in response, unable to speak out his usual greetings.
“How long has it been since you opened this shop?”
The question was an order, and in command Trey’s voice found itself and answered.
“It's a family shop actually, so it's been around for…26 or so years? I only inherited it this year.”
“Still looks well maintained, seems like they gave it to good hands.”
“Thanks-”
“How old are you?”
“Uh, 25.”
“How many siblings?”
“Just…Just me.”
“Hm, you went to university?”
“I-I did, degree in Business studies.”
Vil blinked in surprise, “you got your degree in business?”
“Well,” Trey chuckled nervously, re-positioning his glasses, “I am running a business after all.”
There's a beat of silence and finally Vil’s lip curls upwards, a small, but kind smile taking place. He walks forward and stretches out his hand.
“I'm Vil Schoenheit.”
Trey takes it, as if he's handling a delicate pastry layer of a mille-feuille, “Uh, yeah, Rook has…has mentioned you before.”
“Oh? Rook has mentioned you before as well. Not just once too, he-”
“Monsieur Vil,” an exasperated voice interrupts him and they both turn to see Rook standing by Vil’s side. It is the first time Trey has seen such a bashful look on the blonde’s face, cheeks slightly pink. “There is no need to talk about everything.”
Vil smirks at him before going back to Trey, taking his hand back.
“He loves to talk about this shop, and I do agree it is quite a lovely one.”
“Thank you so much-”
“And is constantly going on about the mild mannered Baker working here. I take it that's you?”
Trey feels his own cheeks warming up as well, glancing around the room before letting his eyes fall back onto the table. “Well, I'm the only one who works here…”
“Vil,” Rook tries again, but Trey doesn't look up to meet his eyes.
“Gosh Rook, don't be such a bore,” Vil waves him off, “I was curious about the man you won't stop going on and on about, you can't blame me for that.”
It's almost laughable how easily Rook is getting shot down. Vil was a force that could not be messed with, and for all the doubts Trey had sowed in himself over the man, they were reaped with nothing but respect and awe.
“Trey.” The man’s voice is firm and Trey forces himself to calm down and look up. There's a twinkle in Vil’s eyes that Trey could not interpret. His smile widens a fraction more as he speaks.
“It truly is a pleasure meeting you. You're a fine man.”
“Thank- Thank you.”
“A good looking one too…say, what's your thoughts on acting?”
“Uh?”
Vil laughs, apologizing for his joke as Trey awkwardly laughs along, unsure that it was a joke at all. Next to them Rook had gone silent, his face mostly hidden under his hat. Trey had the urge to pull his chin up and get a good look of the blush on the man's face, he wanted to memorize it.
Vil seemed to notice his stare, nudging Rook out of his stupor. Trey averted his gaze as soon as Rook looked up, accidentally locking eyes with Vil’s unimpressed stare.
“Well, I'm assuming none of us are idiots.”
“Wha-”
“And of course I am not so stupid to not realize I should be giving you some space-”
“Monsieur Vil-”
“So I shall be taking my leave. Oh, but I would like to purchase a box of your macarons, Rook brought some last time and they were-”
“An’ gimme a slice of the apple pie!”
“What kind of mannerless request is that you-”
Trey watches as the duo from the theatre leave the shop, Vil still scolding the still pouting younger boy over manners. It reminds Trey of a mother hen and the very thought makes him huff with laughter.
“Trey,” the soft voice of Rook snaps him out of his laugh and he turns to see the man still not looking up at him. He seems to be fiddling with his fingers, staying quiet for a second before speaking with an exhale. “lf you would allow me, I would like to escort Vil and young Epel back to the theatre before going on my way to work…But…”
“...But?”
“But…I duly promise to be back by tonight so-”
“Alright.”
Rook’s head snapped up, and in the brief moment of them facing each other, Trey watched in wonder as heat rushed to the man’s cheeks. A faint, warm pink spread across his face. It ended all too soon as Rook whirled away from him, pulling down the hat he wore to cover his face. Trey considered it a pity, but he let the man go, half excited to see him again tonight.
Plus, the flush he got to see on Rook’s neck was a just as pretty sight.
The rest of the day continues to be just as eventful. It starts when his regular beastman walks in towards the start of the afternoon, shepherding around the usual pack of children. They all greet Trey one after the other and Trey receives and greets back each one of them, even though he doesn’t recognize one from the other.
As usual, the children begin to look around, pointing and trying to pick out their treat for the day. The only difference is that their caretaker goes up to Trey and tells him he needed to grab an item he had forgotten to buy from the grocery store next over. He promises to come back within a few minutes, hopping out as Trey assures him that it’s fine. The children are well behaved after all.
And then the white haired boy walks in, alone.
“Good afternoon!” He calls out jovially, waving at the man.
“Welcome,” Trey greets back, “you’re alone today?”
“Mia’s sick,” the boy explained, “I was gonna bring someone else with me, but Mia cried harder over that so I’m here to get her a treat anyway!”
Trey hums in understanding and gestures at the shop for the boy to look around, but instead he only then spots the very many children filling up the shop and gasps in surprise.
The children all look at the boy in eerie unison and Trey watches with disbelief as they all click at once.
The beastman comes back to a stranger buying all the children treats.
“Woah- hey, what!?” He turns to Trey with an accusatory glare but Trey just raises his hand in mock defeat. He tries to explain himself when the other boy cuts in, speaking up for them all.
“I’m sorry! It’s just that, they all reminded me of my siblings and I had to get them all a little something! I promise you it was one treat each, and um,”
“Uh, no…it’s fine,” the beastman looks down at the grinning children before sighing in acceptance. He moves to his pocket and takes out his wallet though and Trey can feel an argument bubbling up, “but let me pay ya back. Please.”
Trey can feel the refusal on the other’s lips. He can almost see pride and generosity going to war. But the white-haired boy proceeds to surprise him yet again.
“Sure! Uh, you can ask him for the total?”
On cue, Trey hands the receipt to the beastman who gives it a glance and nods. He opens his wallet when the white-haired boy continues to speak.
“But let me buy something just for you!”
All the adults in the room (just the blonde boy and Trey) freeze.
“Um, why?”
“Because…I thought you were super cute when you came in,” the white-haired boy rubbed the back of his neck, his smile still confident and joyful as ever, “so I thought, man I’d really like to get to know him!”
The beastman is blushing now. The other is so forward that Trey feels like he’s blushing as well, considering leaving them to their own devices. He watches as the beastman places the money on the counter, looking conflicted and hesitant.
Impressively, the other picks up on those emotions too, hurrying to speak up.
“Of course you don’t have to! It’s just an offer so, you can say no…obviously. I won’t be mad or anything, it’s not like I’m forcing-”
“No, no I…uh,” the beastman fumbles over his words, pausing to form a sentence when one of the children speaks up.
“Ruggie likes donuts.”
“Kira!” The boy, Ruggie hisses at the young girl whose mouth was a mess of chocolate. The white-haired boy giggles at the exchange and Trey finds himself smiling as well.
The sound only makes Ruggie blush brighter. He straightens himself up and awkwardly clears his throat and speaks again in a steadier voice.
“Yeah, uh, alright.”
“Alright as in…I can buy you something?”
“Um, yeah.”
The boy’s smile widens even more, turning to Trey who is already taking out a box of glazed donuts. Seeing Trey already at work the boy turns back to Ruggie, who is so red it’s comical.
“I’m Kalim by the way! I- oh wait, do you want my number?”
“Your nu-!? I, uh, yes, yeah that’d be cool.”
“Okay, um, a paper, wait,” Kalim checks the pockets of his jacket and pants, Ruggie discreetly doing the same as Trey slides over like a savior with perfect timing.
“Well, I’m letting customers add a little note to cards, see? How about that?” He pointed at the little box of colored square paper and pen kept on the countertop.
Kalim grins at him, taking out a pen and paper and jotting down his contact. Within a few minutes they’re all out of the shop, Ruggie holding his box of donuts close to his chest, the card stored in his wallet and Kalim switching between talking to the hyena and the group of children with him. Trey watches the sight in a dazed fondness, shocked over the series of events. He hopes to see them come back again together the next time it happens.
During the evening, there is a hooded figure lingering by the door. He has been there for the past thirty minutes and Trey has the police’s number ready to dial with one click, eyeing the squirming figure.
The figure is hunched over, but even then he looks significantly tall. His hood is large, and he has his arms wrapped around his stomach, as though he’s going to be sick. He has turned to the shop multiple times, and has even made eye contact with Trey once or twice before quickly looking away. It’s a disastrous sight and Trey was beginning to confirm his suspicions that whoever it was, they were targeting his bakery.
Leaving the phone on speed dial to the police, he moves a bit further away from the counter and pretends to mess with the microwave behind him. Sure enough, he hears a tinkling of the bells and from the door opening and from the well polished wall tiles he sees a tall, hooded figure sauntering in.
He doesn’t pull out a gun like Trey half-expected him to, instead looking through his displays. He hears faint muttering from the figure but he fails to make out what he’s saying.
It goes on for fifteen minutes before Trey finally decides to do his job and speak up.
“Do you need any help?”
The hooded figure squeaks and Trey finally gets a good glimpse at the man. Unnaturally pale skin, electric blue hair in a ponytail that had strands loose, and a terrified look on his face. He finally realizes that the man was just nervous. Nervous to enter a shop, he’s heard of such people before.
“I, um, yes…pls?” The man’s voice is as low as a whisper but Trey nods. “You got that, sandwich-y things?”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Um, blueberry sandwich-y things um,”
“Oh! The turnovers?”
“Idk man, is that it? Do you have them?”
Trey gives him an apologetic smile, “I’m afraid not, they’re not in this week’s menu til Friday.”
The man’s face drops, a horrified look. He’s fidgeting harder, muttering even faster about how disappointing this is, and how he was so failing his mission. It was a stressful sight and Trey tried to calm him down the best he could.
“Are you sure you don’t want a substitute? Perhaps you could tell me the issue, I’m sure I have at least an expertise in pastries.”
The man relaxes just enough to speak at an audible level, “kay storekeeper uh, so my hub- my husband is…sick. And he buys from here alllll the time, always bringing back the super goated sandwich- I mean turnovers so…I’m useless at healing so I was gonna be like “surprise! It’s your fav!” but that’s an epic fail too!”
He pulls the hood over his face and groans.
Trey nods in understanding, moving towards the display case. He feels a bit bad for not being able to recall anyone who bought his turnovers “all the time” and liked them to such an extent.
“Well, if your husband is sick I wouldn’t recommend turnovers in general. How about something easier on the stomach?”
“Like what?”
“Scones? I have strawberry, raspberry, and coffee flavored ones.”
“He…He likes coffee.”
“Perfect! I’ll package you some of them!”
“I guess.”
Seeing the man biting his lower lip, still looking down, Trey placed the box of scones down and pushed a square paper and pen towards him.
“You can write a note for him to go along with it, a get well soon card.”
He eyes the paper and slowly raises his hand. His hands are trembling so hard that Trey offers to write for him, to which the man grateful accepts.
“To Azul,” he murmurs, letting Trey write it down in a neat, practiced cursive, “uh, GWS. Pls rest more and…don't die, I guess? Bring your health bar up already kekekeke.”
“Do you want me to write the laugh too?”
“Huh? Uh, no- actually put in a lol.”
“Want me to write an I love you?”
“I love!?” Trey notices the strands of the man hair flushing a pink alongside his face, “if- I mean if you want-”
“It’s your letter…”
“Okay, include it.”
“Done, and from…?”
“Um, Idia.”
The pen froze and Trey’s head snapped up so fast it hurt his neck. “You’re Idia?”
“...Yes?”
“Is your husband a silver haired man with glasses and an asshole look,” he doesn’t mean to say the last part but Idia just cackles at the description.
“Yeah, that's hundred percent him.”
Now it is Trey's turn to laugh, remembering the teasing looks Azul had given him the last time he had come over. He casually folds the card and puts it in the side of the box.
“Well he hasn’t been coming here for himself, I thought you were aware of this.”
“Wh-What do you mean?”
“Every time he comes he’s always talking about how much “Idia” liked the turnovers. And he’s extremely jealous about it too, but he keeps coming anyway because “only for his Idia”, “as long as Idia wants it” and-”
Idia doesn’t wait around to hear the rest, grabbing the box and rushing off. Even the pale skin of his hands were flushed and Trey had to bend over to laugh, holding his stomach with smug victory. He isn’t sure if Azul would be coming back anymore, but he hopes the man does, one final time.
As closing time approaches, Trey is surprised by his final pair of regulars walking in.
Ace and Deuce walk inside hand in hand and if Trey had an ounce of Cater in him, he would have squealed. But he doesn't, choosing to raise an eyebrow and smirk instead.
It works wonders, both of them flushing matching shades of red. Trey has seen many people blushing today, love in the air on a random Tuesday.
“So-”
“Not a word.” Ace snaps, not in a rude manner but a rather defensive one. It still makes Deuce nudge at him but he doesn't say anything further. Not that it deterred Trey who continued to speak.
“Am I supposed to assume this is some friendly hand holding or?”
Ace groans while Deuce tries to stutter out an explanation. There's a lot of fumbling and nudging and it turns into a full on argument when Trey asks who asked who out.
Still, he sees the mutual adoration they both clearly held for each other, and the fact that they still haven't let go of each other's hands. Trey’s happy for them, and he says it so. It doesn't help the boys cool their flustered states, but they get an extra cookie with their items and all is well.
Finally the time to close comes and Trey walks at a turtle's pace to the door.
There is no sign of Rook.
He stands by the door.
Still no sign of Rook.
He puts his hand on the signboard and turns it slowly.
No sign of Rook.
His heart clenches, but Trey takes a deep breath and shakes off his muddled thoughts. He was overthinking, and his excitement of seeing the other man was making him impatient.
He busies himself by cleaning up the kitchen, he preps for tomorrow morning, he does an inventory check, he counts today's accounts, and even as two hours pass by in a flash, there is not a hair nor hide of Rook.
A sagging feeling named acceptance forms in his chest which he is forced to acknowledge. It was late now. The chance of Rook coming back was…not zero but just as low.
He recalls the blush, the shyness, he dissects reactions and begins to wonder if he had missed the regret in them. Whether he was so caught in his own feelings he managed to ignore Rook’s dissatisfaction.
He sighs and gets up, putting on his coat to leave.
He is stepping out of the shop when he hears a yell that makes his heart soar.
“Mon boulanger! Attendez!”
Rook is running, a disheveled mess of unruly hair and untucked shirts as he reaches Trey who is already opening the door and ushering him inside.
Rook pants heavily for a few seconds before he gathers himself. Trey stands by the door, wanting to offer the man a seat but Rook doesn't give him the chance to say it.
Now calmed down, he faces Trey and thrusts something forward, it is a small box, wrapped in green and tied up with a darker green bow.
“I wished to walk a mile in your flour dusted shoes so,” his voice turns uncharacteristically quiet, “I baked something.”
That alone is enough to make Trey pause. He doesn't pause for long, almost rushing to take the box from the other. He opens it up and inside is a bunch of cookies. Uneven in shape, a little browned, dusted with powdered sugar that had clearly been applied with more enthusiasm than precision.
Rook looked away from the box, “I did follow the recipe, truly. However I now realize that I have severely underestimated the journey you had taken to reach this far. If…If they are unpalatable please don't hesitate to dispose of them at once.”
Trey doesn't hear a single sound in his surroundings, eyes zeroed in on the box of cookies he had received. Someone had baked for him.
He picked up one of them and took a bite.
There was a crunch where it shouldn't be, followed by the taste of pure sugar and for some reason, something herb-like or floral.
He asks Rook about it who winces before answering, “it was a severe miscalculation on my part, but I may have added some juniper for the flare.”
Trey ate the whole cookie, chewing and swallowing. He dusted the crumbs on his fingers into the box and gave Rook a smile.
“Tastes a little like you.”
“...Pardon?”
Trey feels a little mischievous as he answers, his tone a teasing one.
“A little strange,” he takes a step closer, “super intense,” he takes another step, “very sweet.”
He's inches away from Rook now, who is standing very still. His eyes are sharpened on Trey and it reminded him of their third meeting. The eyes of a hunter, he thought, admiring the shine in those eyes.
“You are not merely sparing my pride?” Rook murmured.
Trey hummed, reaching around the man to put the box down on the table.
“I can tell it was made by someone who clearly put a lot of care and effort into them. I love it.”
The phrase works like a charm and Trey watches in close delight as a beautiful magenta overcomes Rook’s features.
“Monsieur…”
“Really? You're going to call me sir right now?”
“Ah…mon- Trey…”
“Your Trey?”
Rook flushes even deeper and has to lean back to put a hand over his face, his other hand placed in front of Trey's.
“Trey, please.”
Trey laughs, taking the chance to grab Rooks's hand and interlocking their fingers together. Rook looks at their interlocked fingers with wide eyes, previous flustered finally leaving.
“You came back to talk, didn't you Rook? Because we're not idiots.”
“Oui, we're not.”
“So, what is it?”
Rook hesitated, glancing downwards multiple times. His confidence faltered with every glance.
“Mon boulanger I…I am not in a state…I-”
“You look fine Rook,” Trey reached his free hand up and smoothed down the few pointing strands of hair while tightening the grip of his other hand. He wasn't going to let Rook run away, not this time. “You look beautiful even as you are.”
Rook looked at the hand on his, pinning him down like a struck arrow.
“…Toujours si perceptif,” he murmured, but squeezed the hand back.
He took another deep breath and locked eyes with Trey once more.
“Apologies for my continuous hesitation…it is because I admire you. I longed for this moment to be…perfect. A deserving and beautiful one but…Trey, I feel deeply for you and…and if you could accept my heart that I have bared for you then, it would be my utmost honor.”
Trey let out a shaky exhale. His veins thrummed with exhilaration, even when using such flowery words for his confession, they sounded as honest as ever. Rook stared at him with deep, shining eyes.
“Rook,” Trey began as well, “I like you too.”
Well, he's never been much of a poet anyway.
It seemed to be more than enough for Rook who lit up, his glow back at full force. He lunged forward, wrapping both arms around Trey. It was warm and comforting, just like Trey imagined it would be. He returned the hug just as firmly.
“I will plan out a date far more fitting than this, I swear it on my heart that now belongs to you.”
“Pffft!” Trey threw his head back and laughed, still in Rooks's embrace. He let the man admire him, enjoying the utmost attention.
“Oh Rook,” he breathed out, leaning closer. Rook’s eyes widened, realizing what the other was aiming for. Unlike Trey’s slow pace, Rook was quicker this time, pressing his lips against the baker's.
The kiss was brief, a gentle acknowledgement of their feelings. It was the perfect amount of romance for Rook who was pulling away with a satisfied smile.
Trey had none of that, grabbing either side of the blonde’s head and pulling him back close again. Rook understood the message, this time placing his hands on Trey's hips and tilting his head. He let the other push in his tongue, letting Trey do whatever he wanted until he was satisfied.
Finally, Trey pulled away, flushed pink. Rook had regained his usual composure, simply breathing heavily with a pleased smile.
They stare at each other in silence, letting it do all the talking. It took them a while to start speaking again.
“Mon bien-aimé, your tongue is as sweet as you- is it the cookies?”
Trey burst into laughter, fondness overflowing as he leaned in once more. Enjoying the sweetest thing in this shop to his heart's content.