Haechan Angst - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

If you couldn’t tell, I’m basically reading this frat boy series and I’m in love. The line “let me love you until you forget all the pain I’ve made you go through” really made my heart ache.

the bro;

∎ Always drinking beer, he’s one of the most fun frat boys to party with. He is the one to invite people to the frat house parties, be the loudest at football games, and hypes everyone up during a game of beer pong. The thing is, nobody has ever seen him in class. Seriously, is he even a student here? Also, he definitely thinks that any day that ends in a “y” is a perfect day to blackout.

∎ pairing: haechan x reader.

∎ genre: angst; friends to lovers; childhood best friends; fluff;

∎ warning: suggestive; alcohol constumption;

∎ word count: 11k.

FRATHOUSE MASTERLIST.

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— dandelions 

header made by the talented: @neoct-zen 💖

when you’re looking at me, I’ve never felt so alive and free.”[song inspiration: “dandelions” by ruth b.

⇢ pairings: donghyuck x female!reader

⇢ word count: 11.7k

⇢ genre: childhood friends to lovers, neighbors, summer au?, non idol au, mutual pining, not really unrequited love, realized feelings, slow burn, lots of fluff and angst, soft smut

⇢ warnings: explicit language, sexual content, first time, fingering/oral and unprotected penetrative sex (f!receiving), soft dom!donghyuck, hyuck is a sweetheart, sweet sex

⇢ summary: lee donghyuck. your childhood best friend. the love of your life. you both had no idea of the infutuation you had for one another

⇢ a/n: I want to thank everyone who has given support on this, it means so so much to me as this is my first published fic on here. I’m happy yet also nervous for the turn out, I hope it met everyone’s expectations? The details in these weren’t the best or the grammar, but I’m content with what was completed. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

smut warning added with two breaks!

At the age of 8, you discovered an empty grass field located down the street from your home. It’s grass that created an itchy discomfort against your skin, it’s surrounding flowers that were yet to be bloomed and swarms of mosquitoes that attacked your arms and legs - provided a sense of comfort in your life. Daydreaming from hours on end and watching the clouds drift by until the sun finally set, was how you spent most of that summer.

It wasn’t until two summers later that dandelions had begun to bloom on that very field.

When you brought home one of them, your mother told you that dandelions were a symbol of love. It’s said that by blowing off all the seeds in one breath, it meant that the person you loved - loved you back. But, if any seeds remained, the person you have feelings towards may reserve their affections for you.

There was only one person you loved, Lee Donghyuck. 

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Sunflowers | Lee Haechan

soulmate au

pairing: haechan x reader

warnings: character death, hanahaki disease, mentions of blood, one sided love, angst

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst

sypnosis: When you find your soulmate everything falls into place and you're guaranteed a happy ever after....right?

You feel the familiar feeling rise in your chest. The burning sensation in your throat becomes stronger and stronger. It has already been months since it started but you still can't get used to it.

You excuse yourself and run to the bathroom. Each step feels heavier as the pain becomes unbearable from trying to hold in your cough.

As soon as you step into the bathroom you let everything out. The petals keep coming and you feel like you'll pass out any minute.

Much to your horror, the usual bright yellow coloured petals are a deep shade of red this time. Only by the little specks peeking through here and there you can tell that they are sunflowers.

The first few weeks you were fine. But as the weeks turned into months you started to become weaker. And it became much harder to hide.

You would expect that in a world where your significant other was decided for you before you were even born, everything would be easy. As most people would even dedicate their whole life to finding their soulmate.

You too had always dreamed about bonding with your special someone. And unexpectedly that day came when you met Haechan.

The moment you locked eyes everything seemed to fall into place. As if the world around you seemed to move in slow motion. And he was the center of it all.

The more time you spent with him, the more sure you were. It felt different when you were together. It felt like you have known each other forever. He’d understand you and you would too.

The way he looked at you, you could have sworn he felt it too. That he knew what was going on inside of your head. So you finally ask him.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You feel the butterflies go wild in your stomach waiting for his answer.

“No,” he says.

“I don’t think everyone in our world is meant to have one. And I believe that I’m one of them, I think it's an idea created by people who seek fulfillment in others. But I don't think you need anyone for that” he states.

You bite back the confession lying on the tip of your tongue as his indirect rejection hits you hard. That's when the butterflies turn into a sharp pain and it becomes harder to breathe.

That was the day it all started. The first time you had coughed up flowers. The first time you understood what was happening to you.

You've always believed that if something was meant for you, one way or another it would come to you.

So you held on to the hope you had. But as time went on, you started to doubt that. Because while you became sicker by the day. He started developing feelings for someone else.

At first, she was just the new girl in town. But once she started working at the same place as Hachan, they became closer as ever. And it started going downhill from there. They started hanging out more and you started seeing Haechan less.

You even noticed how the way Haechan looked at you changed. He was still there for you whenever you needed him. But you saw how the spark in his eyes was only reserved for her.

The knock on the door brings you back from your thoughts. You see your hands covered in your blood and the floor around you is filled with sunflowers.

Standing up you look at yourself in the mirror and see blood covering your whole mouth while a few petals stick to your chin. And that's the first time in your life you feel pity towards yourself.

You know that your life is on the line but you don't even know how much time you have left. Small tears start to fall silently as if they emphasize with you.

For a moment you let yourself cry, allowing your pain to ease.

But that doesn't last long when you hear another knock on the door. Pulling yourself together you clean up everything and decide to go to the one place you felt at peace.

-

"You're here once again," Haechan says as he sits down next to you.

"I wanted some fresh air," you tell him.

He looks at you with a worried expression and asks "Are you alright? Something seems off with you these days."

You look back at him and a million things come to your mind. Everything you want to say to him lays on the tip of your tongue once again.

But when the image of him looking at her flashes your mind. Nothing comes out of you. All of it shatters into a million pieces.

So you just put on a fake smile and lie to him.

"It was getting too hot inside which made my head dizzy, But I'm okay now."

"Alright, but tell me if something is up, okay? We're best friends, I have to know," he tells you while smiling back at you.

You nod at him and stare into the void as his words keep repeating inside of your head. "We're best friends, we're best friends, we're best friends..." as if they're mocking you and your pitiful situation.

"Do you like sunflowers that much? I keep finding you here," he asks as he looks to the field in front of you.

The question breaks you more than you imagined.

After a moment of silence when you feel like your voice is stable enough again, you answer him.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?" he asks again.

"Because I'm envious of them," you tell him.

He gives you a confused look and you laugh at him as he furrows his brows and tries to think of why you would be.

"I'm envious of them because they follow their sun across the sky as their sun shines back at them. And every single day he comes back to do the same." You explain to him.

"That's a beautiful way of looking at them. Although I'm not sure about the being envious part" he laughs.

"They are my favourite too."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you already knew that.

"My grandparents had a field just like this one. We would always pick the seeds together but I was too small to reach the top. So my granddad made me this small ladder with a bucket attached to it. I would always be the last one to finish because I couldn't pick them as fast as everyone else. But my granny always waited for me without saying anything, even though she was tired from working all day." he reminisces with a smile on his face.

"You would have been so cute trying to reach them with your small hands," you say.

"Of course I was! I have always been cute" he says proudly.

Which makes you laugh even if you roll your eyes at him.

But the cute moment doesn't last long as his phone starts ringing. You see how his eyes shine when her name appears on the screen. And you feel your throat burning again.

"I have to go, they're waiting for me," he tells you. "It's okay, I had plans too" you lie again.

You wait until he is out of sight and start coughing once again. But this time you don't see any specks of yellow anymore.

-

Comforting yourself with the thought that at least Haechan is happy even if it isn't with you, you decide to write him a letter. Pouring all of your feelings into it so you won't have any regrets when you leave.

The more time Haechan spends with her, he starts to rethink his stance on soulmates. Because when he is with her, he feels like his soul is at peace.

So he decides to tell her. But when the words come out of his mouth, they leave a very unpleasant taste in his mouth.

You drop your pen on the desk as you feel the string that is connected to your heart is cut off, and you finally let go.

You close your eyes as your head falls onto your desk that is filled with beautiful sunflowers covered in blood and the letter addressed to Haechan.

When Haechan gets a call about you, his head starts to spin as his vision blurs and the unpleasant taste comes back.

On the day of your funeral, he stays with you even if everyone else has left. Still not being able to accept that you're gone, he blames himself for not being there for you.

A fresh set of tears roll down his face as he remembers your face that showed all the signs that something was wrong.

"She wanted you to have this," your brother says as he gives Haechan the letter you wrote.

For a while, he only stares at his name on the envelope written in your handwriting. Then he opens it and starts to read.

He feels a pain in his chest he's never felt before. As if someone has cut off a piece of his heart.

"My dear sunshine,

I always thought that I would get to tell you all of this myself one day sooner or later. Or maybe I just hoped for it, because somewhere in the back of my mind I did know that day would never come. Especially after I saw how happy you were.

I don't seem to have much time, a couple of months ago I discovered that I have the disease. And every day it becomes harder to breathe.

But I want you to know that you made me happy too, very happy. The day we met I got the feeling that everyone always told me about. The one we grew up hearing about. The one you feel when you finally meet your soulmate.

I admit, you not feeling the same way broke my heart. I always thought that from that moment on I would never experience pain again. But life doesn't always go as you think.

But I don't blame you for anything and I don't want you to blame yourself either. Because you taught me a lot and made even the dull moments beautiful. For that, I will always be thankful.

Thank you for being my soulmate Haechan.

Let's meet each other on the other side of the stars, maybe there is another chance waiting for us there."

The letter falls out of his hand. And everything starts to make sense.

The way you would call him your sun, the conversation you had that day, the flowers, your expression when he started talking about her, and why you seemed so off.

Everything became so clear now.

He starts to sob uncontrollably while he falls onto his knees. His lungs begin to burn and he starts coughing.

That's when he sees brightly yellow coloured petals all around him.

Tagging: @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l

ephemeral | l.dh.

e·phem·er·al adj. lasting for a very short time.

pairing: donghyuck x reader

genre: victorian au, fluff, angst, young!donghyuck, young!reader, ft. brother!doyoung and donghyuck’sbrother!taeyong

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none

summary: you make a new friend at a dinner party that your family is attending. there is much in common between the two of you: you love eating biscuits, you love dancing, you love pretending to be stiff-lipped adults when you don’t have a care in the world.

a/n: this was originally a timestamp but then it ended up being really long and well... guess it’s a fic now :’)

“For you, my lady.” Young Donghyuck pretends to bow the way he has been taught, and he holds out a flower to you that looks suspiciously similar to the ones in the planters.

Your response is a “thank you, kind sir” that is stifled by your hands as you accept his gift, giggling as he hands it to you. You spin and your intricate lace dress flares out around you, and Donghyuck laughs when you almost fall over.

The dinner party you both are at is being hosted by a mutual friend of your families. Though this does not mean that your families are on completely good terms with one another, tonight they have at least been able to maintain a sort of cordiality while in each others’ presence.

Donghyuck and you have never met before, not until he noticed you struggling to reach a biscuit from the light snacks table, when he decided that he would help you. His first instinct had been to tell you that your pale pink dress and matching pale pink bow looked nice — it was his go-to at events like this, where there were many people to please and he had to be polite. But when you had turned to him with eyes shining and a cute “thank you”, the words had died in the back of his throat, and all he could do was stammer out a “yes”.

You learned that he was seven years old, like you, and he learned that this was not your first social event, like him. You both had older brothers (Donghyuck had pointed out one of his, Taeyong, from across the room), you both preferred chocolate wafers over vanilla, and you both liked to look at huge chandeliers while standing right underneath them (and every time you did this, your brother Doyoung would come and scoop you up to get you out of the way, as if he was scared it would fall on you).

And, with so many things in common, you wonder why you and Donghyuck have never even seen each other before.

For the time being, you two had been able to escape the watchful eyes of your parents and older brothers. Donghyuck had found the upper corridor and you had followed him eagerly, wanting to get away from the adults. Adults were boring. So was Doyoung, and although you loved him dearly, he could be quite irritable sometimes (especially at fancy parties, where you both were expected to be on your best behavior). It was more difficult for you, since you were never to speak unless spoken to. Until you had met your new friend, you had never talked so much in one night.

“My lady, may I have this dance?” Donghyuck doesn't know how to spin you, so he simply holds up his arm in hopes that you'll spin underneath it by yourself.

“That’s not how you dance, silly!” You twirl and return to your position, with your hands on his shoulders and his hands clutching your dress. (He would never say it out loud, but he's too nervous to touch your waist.)

“It’s an original style,” he says, making you throw your head back as you laugh.

Donghyuck smiles, and once the music downstairs finishes, he touches his lips to the back of your hand just like all the adults do, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when a dance is over.

It’s meant to be lighthearted but to his surprise, you don’t make fun of it. Instead, you blink at him with wide eyes, giggling shyly as you cover your mouth with your tiny hands.

And Hyuck feels strange, some sort of heat blooming across his cheeks as he laughs, kicking a stray pebble that skids on the tiled floor in order to avoid looking you in the eyes.

“Oh —” Your startled tone makes him look up, and he sees that you’re holding your baby-pink ribbon in your hands. It must have come undone while you were dancing. You nervously twist the thin string around your fingers as you make your way over to him. “Um... do you think you could tie it for me? I can’t do it by myself.”

Donghyuck has never even touched a hair ribbon, let alone attempted to tie one. He knows how to make knots, but they aren’t pretty like the way you had the bow in your hair earlier. Not knowing how to start, he simply stands behind you, and after a moment of feeling nothing in your hair, you turn around.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?”

“I... don’t know how,” he admits. “I’ve never tied a ribbon before.”

“Oh. Well, you should have it, then.” You hold the string out to your friend. “So you can practice!”

“But don’t you need it?”

“We have lots at home! You should keep it instead. Here —” You take his hand and loop the ribbon around his index finger. “I’ll show you.”

“You take the ends and tie a knot,” you begin, “and then you make a circle with one side, and then wrap the other one around the bottom, and then you push this part through.” You carefully tug the ends of the bow into a neat finish, and Donghyuck wonders how you did it so perfectly. He wiggles his index finger to see the ends move, making you smile. “And now you know how to tie it!”

He seems to have a sudden idea and takes your hand in his, pulling you behind him. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“Exploring!”

As he rounds the corner with you, Donghyuck smacks straight into someone else.

“Oh, sor—” He looks up to see who the stranger is, and is met by Doyoung’s harsh glare. “—ry...”

Doyoung cocks his head to see you standing behind the boy, and his expression is surprisingly unreadable. He’s eleven, meaning that you don’t understand anything he does anymore.

“Doie!” you begin excitedly. “This is Donghyuck Lee! He helped me reach the —”

In one swift move, your hand is separated from your friend’s, and you are pulled behind your brother.

“I know who he is,” he says coldly. And to Donghyuck: “Stay away from my sister.”

You protest, trying to grab his arm. “What? But —”

“No.” Shaking you off, Doyoung walks over to your friend, towering above the younger boy in height. “Don’t even think about talking to her again,” he says, jabbing a finger at Hyuck to emphasize his point. “If I catch you looking at her, I’m going to... I’m going to push you!”

“Doie, please!” You stomp on the floor, frustrated. “He’s nice!”

Doyoung walks back over to you and says, “We don’t talk to people —” He lowers his voice. “— like him.”

“Donghyuck!”

From the other end of the corridor, Hyuck’s brother, Taeyong, runs towards the three of you, his dress shoes clacking on the tiles.

“There you are...” And, upon noticing you and Doyoung, he adds, “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother,” Doyoung says, “tried to hurt my sister.”

“That’s not true!” your friend says, but his words work against him.

Taeyong scoffs, crossing his arms. “Oh, please. Tell your stupid sister to stop messing with Donghyuck, then.”

Doyoung gasps, angrily stepping forward. “(Name) is not stupid! And she didn’t do anything!”

“I’m twelve years old. That’s one year older than you, so you can’t tell me what to think.”

“If I ever see him trying to be around her, there will be trouble.”

“Donghyuck would never actually try to be around someone like her.”

“Fine. You believe that. Let’s go, (Name),” he says at last. “And get rid of this ridiculous thing you’re holding.”

Donghyuck’s flower, which had been clutched tightly in your hand for the past few minutes, is suddenly plucked from your grasp and thrown onto the hallway floor. Doyoung prevents you from picking it up, and he takes your wrist and forces you to follow him.

“But Doie —” You cast a glance at your friend. Taeyong has grabbed his brother’s shoulders to prevent him from moving.

“We’re leaving, (Name). I’m telling Mother.” He then notices at the lack of color on the back of your head. “Tsk, and you’ve lost your bow, how irresponsible...”

Donghyuck sees your upset expression as your brother pulls you away, your hand desperately reaching out towards your friend’s. Your eyes plead with him to reach back, but he feels Taeyong’s vice grip on his collar and knows that he shouldn’t. He stays rooted to where he is standing, swallowing as he merely watches.

And you are led out of sight, out of the corridor and into the main building, down the stairs and back to the prim and proper behavior that is expected of you.

“Donghyuck,” Taeyong says, finally releasing him. “Come on.” He walks down the hallway, and the flower the boy had given you earlier is squashed underneath his brother’s pristine shoes. After one last look at the hallway down which you had disappeared, he obeys.

Your pink ribbon flutters in the night breeze, tethered to Donghyuck’s first finger. It’s all he has left of you from tonight, because you, briefly gracing him with your presence, were never to see him again.

Ahhh! So cute!

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”