one pastry for the traumatized guy

Kazuma climbed the stairs to Sekai's apartment building.

He pulled the Nintendo Switch game card from his jacket pocket. Sekai had left it behind last week during one of their late-night gaming sessions, and knowing his senior, he'd probably torn his place apart looking for it by now.

The door gave way with barely a push. Unlocked. Of course it was.

"Senpai?"

Kazuma stepped inside, shaking his head. One of these days, someone with actual ill intent would walk right in, and then what? He kicked off his shoes and went further into the familiar chaos of Sekai's living space—art supplies scattered across the coffee table, empty energy drink cans forming a small pyramid near the couch.

"Senpai... you here?"

The living room sat empty. Kazuma moved down the hallway, checking the bedroom. Nothing. Just an unmade bed and what looked like three different sketchbooks lying open across the sheets.

"I swear I'll kick you if you're sleeping in the bathtub again."

Kazuma pushed open the bathroom door. The tub sat dry and vacant, no sign of his shameless senior curled up inside like some overgrown cat. Where the hell was—

A soft sound drifted from somewhere in the apartment. A moan.

Kazuma froze mid-step. His mind scrambled for explanations. Maybe Sekai had hurt himself? Or maybe—God forbid—he was watching something inappropriate with the volume turned up? That would be exactly like him, completely shameless and—

Another moan, clearer this time.

Kazuma's feet moved before his brain could catch up. He turned the corner toward the kitchen, ready to either offer help or yell at his senior, and—

The world stopped.

Sekai stood between someone's legs. A cute man with soft brown hair who sat on the kitchen counter, half-naked, shirt barely clinging to one arm. The man's legs wrapped around Sekai's hips, hands tangled in that distinctive red-and-yellow hair, pulling hard. Sekai's own hands gripped the man's waist.

They kissed like the world outside didn't exist.

Kazuma froze.

Sekai broke away to trail his mouth down the man's jaw, kissing and sucking at his neck. One of his hands moved to the man's chest, rubbing and teasing the hard buds.

"Sekai-san... mmm..."

The man's voice came out breathy, his eyes unfocused with pleasure. Sekai's mouth fastened on his collarbone, and the man's back arched—

Their eyes met.

Kazuma's soul left his body.

The man's expression shifted from dazed pleasure to pure horror in the span of a heartbeat. He slapped at Sekai's shoulder urgently.

"Sekai-san, stop... please stop—"

Sekai broke away from the collarbone he'd been thoroughly marking, voice dropping dangerously low. "What's wrong?"

The man raised a trembling finger toward Kazuma. "There's... someone..."

Sekai turned.

Kazuma wanted to die. Right there. Immediately. Because his respected senior—his genius, unreachable senior—stood there shirtless, buttons completely undone, lips swollen and bitten red, looking like he'd stepped out of some forbidden fantasy that Kazuma never, ever wanted to have.

They'd known each other for years. Kazuma knew Sekai dated. Knew he had lovers, relationships that came and went. But he'd never seen this. Never wanted to see this. Never needed this image burned into his brain for the rest of his—

"Oh, Kazuma. What are you doing here?" Sekai sounded mildly annoyed, like Kazuma had interrupted him folding laundry instead of making out with someone on kitchen furniture. "Did we have gaming plans tonight?"

Kazuma's mouth opened but no sound came out for a few moments.

"S-sorry, Senpai—"

He spun on his heel and bolted from the kitchen.

His legs carried him toward the front door at sprint speed, but Sekai's hand caught his shoulder before he could escape. That casual arm slung around him like nothing had happened, like Sekai wasn't still half-dressed.

"If you wanted to game tonight, I've got plans already. Sorry about that."

Kazuma turned, thrusting the game card between them like a shield. "No, I just—here, I'm just returning this. I need to bleach my eyes, excuse me—"

Sekai plucked the card from his fingers. "Oh, thanks. Been looking everywhere for this. Didn't realize I left it at your place." He glanced up at Kazuma and broke into laughter. "Why are you so red? Never made out with someone before?"

"I have, I just don't need to see YOU doing it!" Kazuma's voice pitched higher than he intended. "You've completely shattered the image I had of you—I'm traumatized, and you're paying for my therapy bills—"

Sekai snorted. "You're too uptight. I'm not some untouchable figure. I'm just a man with normal human needs... like having a cute man in my arms."

Pain lanced through Kazuma's chest that he had to physically covered his ears. "Stop. I don't want to hear any more."

He wrenched himself free from Sekai's arm and made a break for the door, shoving his feet into his shoes with zero regard.

"Bye!"

The door slammed behind him. Kazuma took the stairs two at a time, desperate to put distance between himself and whatever the hell he'd just witnessed.

His phone would probably ring later. Sekai would probably tease him mercilessly about this for months.

But right now, Kazuma just needed air.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Kazuma's feet carried him down the street with no destination in mind. He just needed to move. Needed to walk until his brain stopped replaying what he'd witnessed in high definition.

Eventually, he collapsed onto the nearest bench in a small park. For a while, he stared blankly ahead, mentally screaming into the void.

Why did he have to see that? Why couldn't Sekai have locked his door like a normal person? Why—

"You okay?"

Kazuma's head turned sharply.

Someone had sat beside him. Beautiful blond hair. A bright and warm smile. The soft features made the stranger look ethereal, like some kind of fairy tale prince who'd wandered into the wrong genre.

Kazuma's brain short-circuited for the second time that evening.

"No," he answered honestly.

The stranger laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"I accidentally walked in on my senior making out with someone. I think I need professional help now." The words tumbled out before Kazuma could stop them.

The stranger's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It's just making out. The way you're reacting, I thought you walked in on a crime scene."

"It basically was a crime scene." Kazuma covered his face with both hands.

"Was it that intense?"

"He's like an older brother to me. I'm supposed to respect him, not—" Kazuma gestured helplessly. "Not have that version of him in my head every time we hang out now."

The stranger leaned back against the bench, still smiling. "Sounds like your senior is just living his best life. You can't really blame him for that."

Kazuma groaned. "You don't understand. I've looked up to him for years. And now that image is completely destroyed. Replaced by..."

"By proof that he's human?" The stranger's smile turned teasing. "How dare he."

"Exactly!" Kazuma paused. "Wait, no—"

The stranger laughed again, and somehow it didn't feel mocking. Just genuinely entertained.

"I get it, though. There are some things you wish you never see in someone's life."

"Thank you. Someone finally understands my suffering," Kazuma slumped back against the bench.

The stranger reached into a bag Kazuma hadn't noticed before. "Here. This might help."

He held out a small pastry wrapped in parchment paper, still faintly warm.

"This is...?"

"Leftover from work. Consider it emergency trauma treatment."

Kazuma accepted it, mostly because saying no to that face felt physically impossible.

The first bite stopped his thoughts entirely. Buttery layers melted on his tongue, sweet but not overwhelming. The texture was perfect.

"This tastes amazing," Kazuma said around the second bite.

The stranger's face lit up with unmistakable pride. "I made them! Well, the batch came out better than usual today. Sometimes they're a bit too crispy."

"You work at a bakery?"

"Coffee shop with a bakery section. I'm still learning, honestly, but—" He shrugged, looking pleased. "Days like today make it worth the early mornings."

They talked easily after that—about baking disasters and college stress, even the best gaming cafés in the area. The stranger had opinions about everything, and he talked so animatedly, making mundane topics feel engaging.

Kazuma found himself actually smiling, the earlier horror started fading.

Eventually the stranger stood. He pulled a small card from his pocket and pressed it into Kazuma's hand.

"Come by if you want more. We open early."

Kazuma glanced down at the card. A simple design with a coffee shop name and address written.

He was about to ask the stranger's name, but he had already started walking, throwing one last cheerful wave over his shoulder.

"Hope your trauma heals soon!"

Then he disappeared around the corner.

Kazuma sat alone on the bench, pastry crumbs on his fingers and a business card in his palm.

He stared at it for a long moment. He was definitely visiting soon.

For the pastries, obviously.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Three days passed before Kazuma finally made his way to the coffee shop.

The place lived up to expectations immediately. Modern tables and mismatched chairs that somehow fit perfectly together. The air smelled coffee aroma mixed with the scent of fresh pastries. Soft jazz played from hidden speakers.

He approached the counter, already planning his order, when his eyes met the barista's.

Brown hair. Soft features. Unmistakably the same face that had been pressed against Sekai's on that cursed kitchen counter.

No.

No.

Kazuma's internal scream rivaled the one from three days ago.

The barista—Taiki, according to his nametag—looked equally horrified. His face drained of color before flushing bright red, and his mouth opened like he wanted to speak but had forgotten how words worked.

What were the actual odds? Of all the coffee shops in Tokyo, it had to be his senpai's boyfriend?

"Welcome," Taiki managed, his voice strangled.

Kazuma cleared his throat. "Hi."

Neither of them moved.

Don't think about the kitchen. Don't think about the kitchen. Don't—

"What can I get you?" Taiki asked, clearly trying very hard to maintain professionalism while his face turned progressively pinker.

"Coffee. Just... black coffee."

"Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"Size?"

"Medium."

"Name for the order?"

"Kazuma."

Taiki wrote it down with slightly shaky hand. They were both trying so hard not to acknowledge the elephant in the room that the elephant had basically started doing backflips.

Kazuma's eyes drifted to the pastry display. He spotted something that looked similar to what he'd eaten in the park. "And one of those, please. The butter croissant."

"Good choice," Taiki said automatically, then looked like he regretted speaking at all.

"Actually—" Kazuma cleared his throat once again. "Can I meet the baker? The one who made those?"

Taiki blinked, then turned toward the kitchen doorway behind him. "Hoku-chan! Someone wants to meet you."

The kitchen door swung open, and the pretty blond guy from the park appeared, dusting flour off his apron.

His face lit up instantly. "Oh! Trauma guy!"

Kazuma wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"It's Kazuma," he corrected weakly. "My name is Kazuma."

Hokuto grinned, stepping up beside Taiki. "Hokuto. Nice to officially meet you, Kazuma."

"Yeah. Same."

Hokuto glanced between them, expression shifting as he noticed the tension radiating off Taiki like visible waves. "Wait, why does Taiki-kun look like he's about to combust?"

"I'm fine," Taiki said quickly.

"You're red."

"I'm fine."

Hokuto narrowed his eyes. "Do you two know each other?"

"No," they both said in unison way too fast.

Hokuto's gaze sharpened, and Kazuma watched realization dawn across that pretty face in real time.

"Hold on. Taiki-kun, didn't you mention something the other day about Sekai-san's junior walking in on you guys?" His gaze snapped to Kazuma. "And Kazuma, your senior who you saw making out—"

"Please stop talking," Kazuma begged.

Hokuto burst into laughter so hard he had to grip the counter for support. "No way. No way. This is perfect."

Taiki looked ready to sink into the floor and never resurface.

"It's not that funny," Kazuma protested weakly.

"It really is," Hokuto wheezed between laughs. "You walked in on Sekai-san? Of all people?"

"I didn't mean to!"

"And Taiki-kun was—"

"I'm going to make your coffee now," Taiki announced desperately, fleeing toward the espresso machine like it might save him.

Hokuto wiped tears from his eyes, still grinning. "Man, what are the odds?"

"Apparently higher than I thought," Kazuma muttered.

"Don't worry. Sekai-san probably forgot about it already. He doesn't get embarrassed about anything."

"That doesn't help me forget."

Hokuto laughed again. Despite the mortification still burning in Kazuma's mind, talking to Hokuto felt strangely easy and natural.

Taiki returned with Kazuma's coffee and pastry, setting them down without a word before retreating again.

"Thanks for actually coming," Hokuto said, leaning against the counter. "I wasn't sure if you'd show up."

"The pastry was good."

"So you weren't just being nice? You actually meant it?"

Kazuma met his eyes. "I don't lie. It was delicious."

Hokuto stared at him for a long moment before he smiled sweetly.

"Thanks," Hokuto said quietly.

Kazuma's chest did something strange.

He took his order to a corner table and settled in.

The coffee tasted as good as the atmosphere promised. The croissant melted in his mouth just like before, buttery and perfect. He found himself relaxing into the chair, watching sunlight filter through the windows.

Hokuto's smile lingered in his mind longer than it probably should have.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Kazuma started visiting the coffee shop regularly.

At first, he told himself it was practical. The location sat conveniently near campus. The atmosphere suited studying better than his cramped apartment. The coffee was consistently good. And the pastries—well, those genuinely deserved their reputation.

But somewhere between week one and week two, he stopped thinking for a reason. It just became routine.

He'd claim his usual corner table, spread out his textbooks, and settle in for a few hours. Sometimes Taiki worked the counter, still blushing whenever they made eye contact. Sometimes Yusei tinkered the espresso machine calmly. Sometimes Keito bounced around taking orders with far too much energy for a Tuesday afternoon.

Kazuma made it through exactly twelve minutes of his acoustics assignment before a plate appeared beside his textbook.

"Lemon bar. New glaze technique," Hokuto announced.

"I'm in the middle of—"

"It will get soggy if you wait."

Kazuma set down his pen with more force than necessary. "You do realize I actually have deadlines?"

"And I have recipes that need professional consultation."

"I'm not a professional anything."

"You have working taste buds. That's all the qualification I need." Hokuto slid into the seat across from him, chin propped on his hand. "Come on. One bite."

Kazuma picked up the lemon bar. One bite turned into finishing the entire thing.

"Well?" Hokuto watched him with obvious anticipation.

"The glaze is too sweet. It overpowers the lemon," Kazuma said honestly.

"Thought so." Hokuto pulled out his phone, typing something into his notes. "What if I reduced the sugar by a third?"

"Maybe half. The tartness should be the main note."

"'Main note.' Listen to you, Mr. Music Major."

Kazuma felt his ears warm. "You asked for feedback."

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Can I study now?"

"Sure, sure."

Hokuto didn't move.

Kazuma tried focusing on his textbook, but the blond remained firmly planted across from him, scrolling through his phone with that annoyingly content expression.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Break time."

"The counter is right there."

"Taiki-kun kicked me out. Said I was hovering too much." Hokuto looked up, eyes bright with amusement. "Besides, it's quiet today. Just you and those two office workers by the window."

Kazuma gave up pretending to read and decided to gave Hokuto an attention.

"So, you really like baking."

"Love it." Hokuto's whole face changed when he smiled like that. "Started in high school. My mom taught me the basics, then I just kept going."

"That's why you're in business? To open your own place?"

"Eventually, yeah." Hokuto leaned back in his chair. "Taiki-kun has been helping with the boring stuff. Market analysis, financial planning, all that nightmare paperwork."

"Sounds like he's a good senior."

"The best. Doesn't stop me from teasing him about Sekai-san, though."

Kazuma snorted despite himself.

"What about you? Music major. I didn't know that came with so much paperwork," Hokuto asked.

"Most people don't." Kazuma gestured at his pile of notes. "Everyone thinks it's just playing instruments and looking cool."

"You do look cool, though."

Kazuma scratched his neck awkwardly. "It's mostly theory, history. and analysis."

"Hot guys shouldn't be allowed to be this smart. It's unfair to the rest of us."

"I'm not—" Kazuma fumbled his pen. "That's not—"

Hokuto laughed, voice teasing. "You're fun to mess with."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because it's true."

The occurrence continued.

It felt like Hokuto steadily inserted himself into Kazuma’s life. He constantly interrupted Kazuma’s studying for “important taste-testing business.” He brought over random pastry samples without asking. When he was done with baking or when the shop had slow business hours, he would sit across kazuma and talked about everything and nothing.

Sometimes, Kazuma also met Sekai when he came to pick up Taiki.

"You're here again."

Kazuma glanced up to find Sekai dropping into the chair across from him, uninvited as always.

"Waiting for Taiki-san?" Kazuma asked.

"His shift ends in twenty." Sekai pulled a napkin from the dispenser and produced a pen from his pocket. "You've been showing up a lot lately."

"It's convenient."

"Uh-huh."

Sekai started sketching something on the napkin. Kazuma watched the lines take shape—Taiki's profile, the bright eyes captured in a few simple shadings. The drawing transformed a throwaway napkin into something valuable.

Sekai's expression had gone soft as he focused entirely on recreating the curve of Taiki's smile.

Kazuma looked away, heat creeping up his neck.

Seeing Sekai like this felt strangely intimate, like witnessing something private. The artistic devotion mixed with affection created something that made Kazuma's chest tighten.

He was glad to see this side of his senpai. Really, he was.

Just—preferably only this "General Audience-Rated" side. Never again the "Explicit-Rated" kitchen counter incident.

"It's good to see you happy, Senpai," Kazuma said quietly.

Sekai glanced up, eyebrow raised. Then he grinned. "You're healed from the trauma, then?"

"I'm coping."

"Good. That means we can go back to normal gaming nights."

Kazuma found himself smiling despite everything. "Yeah. Normal sounds great."

The kitchen door swung open, and Hokuto appeared carrying a small plate.

"Emergency taste-testing required," he announced, sliding into the seat beside Kazuma without asking.

"I'm studying," Kazuma pointed out.

"This is more important." Hokuto set the plate down. A small tart, topped with what looked like caramelized peaches. "New recipe. I need honest feedback."

"You always say that."

"Because I always need feedback."

Sekai snorted. "You've been 'taste-testing' an awful lot around Kazuma specifically."

Hokuto ignored him. "Try it."

Kazuma sighed but picked up the fork Hokuto had provided. He took a bite.

The sweetness hit perfectly balanced, just enough to complement the peaches' natural flavor.

"Well?" Hokuto leaned forward slightly.

"It's good," Kazuma admitted.

"But?"

"No but. It's actually really good."

Hokuto's face lit up.

Gradually, Kazuma started noticing patterns.

Over the following weeks, more and more pastries appeared on his table. A butter cookie with just the right amount of salt. A cream puff that wasn't too sweet. A chocolate tart with darker cocoa than the menu version.

Each one landed closer to Kazuma's preferences than the last.

Kazuma figured Hokuto was simply experimenting with variations, trying new combinations because he enjoyed the creative process. Bakers did that, right? Tested recipes on willing victims.

Still, Kazuma couldn't help noticing how Hokuto always watched him carefully during every first bite. His eyes tracked every reaction, like Kazuma's opinion mattered more than the dozen other customers who would happily devour anything Hokuto made.

One evening, Hokuto appeared with a small plate just as Kazuma finished highlighting a particular paragraph.

"New recipe. Just finished."

Kazuma accepted the pastry—a Danish pastry filled with what smelled like almond cream and a hint of orange zest.

He bit into it.

The flavor combination hit exactly right. The nuttiness, the subtle citrus, all worked together into a delicious taste.

Kazuma paused mid-chew.

"This might be the best thing you've given me," he said honestly.

Hokuto's entire face transformed. The teasing vanished, replaced by pure happiness. His smile reached both of his eyes and it made Kazuma's mind did somersaults no matter how many times he had seen it.

"Yeah?" Hokuto asked softly.

"Yeah."

They sat there for a moment staring at each other. Something simmered between them.

That was the first time he truly understood after weeks: Hokuto genuinely cared what he thought. Not just as a general taste-tester, but specifically Kazuma's opinion mattered to him.

But he still couldn't figure out why Hokuto did that.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The staff gathered around a table covered in sticky notes and sample cups. Seasonal menu planning always turned into chaos.

"Pumpkin spice," Keito suggested.

"Boring," Yusei said mildly.

"Everyone loves pumpkin spice."

"Everyone is tired of pumpkin spice."

Taiki scribbled something on a notepad. "What about a chestnut latte? Feels more autumn without being obvious."

Kazuma sat at his usual corner table, textbook open but attention drifting toward their discussion. He'd been coming here long enough that this felt strangely comfortable—being part of the background while they worked.

"We need pastry ideas too," Hokuto added from where he leaned against the counter.

Kazuma spoke up without thinking. "That Danish you made with the almond cream would probably sell well."

The conversation stopped.

Yusei tilted his head. "Do we sell a Danish like that?"

"Yeah, you know—the one with orange zest," Kazuma explained. "The filling had this really nice texture, not too sweet, and the citrus balanced everything out perfectly."

Keito straightened. "Wait. Hokuto-kun never made that for us."

Taiki looked equally surprised. "I don't remember seeing it on any test batches either."

All eyes turned toward Hokuto.

He laughed, the sound coming out slightly strained. "Ah—well, you know. Just experimenting with things."

Kazuma felt something weird in his chest.

The butter cookies. The cream puffs. The chocolate tart with darker cocoa. The peach tart. Every single pastry Hokuto had brought to his table over weeks.

Nobody else had ever tasted them.

All those recipes had been made only for him.

"You should make it for everyone. They were all really good. It'd be a waste not to share them," Kazuma said.

Silence stretched uncomfortably. Hokuto's expression froze for a heartbeat.

Then he smiled normally again. "Maybe I will." He straightened and turned toward the notepad. "Anyway, I've got a better idea for the menu. What if we did a brown butter sage scone? Savory autumn flavor, pairs well with coffee—"

The conversation moved on, but something felt wrong.

Over the following days, Hokuto acted completely normal with everyone.

Except Kazuma.

No extra samples appeared on his table. No interruptions during study sessions. No sitting across from him during slow afternoon hours asking about his classes or complaining about business assignments. No random conversations about nothing in particular.

The absence became impossible to ignore.

Kazuma caught himself glancing toward the kitchen more often than necessary, expecting Hokuto to emerge with a plate and that familiar teasing grin.

But Hokuto stayed busy with prep work, with customer orders, with literally anything that kept him away from Kazuma's corner.

Kazuma realized with growing discomfort that those small interactions had seeped into his daily routine. He hadn't anticipated a sudden emptiness and didn't know how to fix.

One afternoon, Kazuma deliberately waited near the entrance as closing time approached.

Hokuto emerged from the kitchen, apron removed and bag slung over his shoulder.

"Good work today, everyone!" he called toward his coworkers.

"See you tomorrow, Hoku-chan," Taiki replied.

Kazuma stepped forward before Hokuto could reach the door.

"Hokuto."

Hokuto paused, surprise flickering across his features. "Kazuma? I thought you'd left already."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not—"

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

Hokuto laughed, but it sounded forced. "I haven't been avoiding you. Just busy with the seasonal menu prep, you know how it gets—"

"Hokuto."

Something in Kazuma's tone made Hokuto stop. His smile wavered.

"Please, just tell me," Kazuma added quietly.

For a long moment, Hokuto said nothing. Then he exhaled slowly.

"I thought you'd notice," he murmured.

"Notice what?"

Hokuto's face flushed. He looked away, fingers tightening around his bag strap.

"I made all those pastries only for you. I kept adjusting recipes, trying to match your preferences as closely as possible, because I wanted—" He paused, color deepening across his cheeks. "I wanted you to keep coming back."

Everything clicked into place.

Every carefully chosen flavor. Every time Hokuto watched his reaction. Every adjustment that brought each recipe closer to something Kazuma would love.

Hokuto had been showing care the only way he knew how.

And Kazuma had completely missed it.

"When you suggested I make them for everyone..." Hokuto's voice dropped even quieter. "It stung a little. But I know you didn't mean anything by it. I just—I built up expectations that weren't fair to you. It's not your fault. I just needed some distance to get over it, okay? I'll be fine. I'll go back to normal soon."

"Hokuto—"

But Hokuto was already moving, walking past him toward the door with quick steps that didn't invite following.

The door chimed as he left.

Kazuma stood frozen, chest tight with an emotion he couldn't name.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The game soundtrack blared from Sekai's TV, but Kazuma barely registered it. His character died for the third time in a row.

"You're trash today," Sekai commented, not looking away from the screen. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

Kazuma's grip tightened on the controller. His thoughts kept circling back to Hokuto standing in the coffee shop's entrance, flushed and vulnerable, saying words that rewrote every interaction they'd had.

I wanted you to keep coming back.

The memory replayed itself endlessly.

Hokuto bringing samples to his table. Always watching his face first, searching for reaction before asking questions. Remembering that Kazuma preferred less sugar. Adjusting recipes based on offhand comments Kazuma barely recalled making himself.

The teasing that felt different somehow and Kazuma had completely missed.

Yes, Hokuto flirted naturally with customers. Bright smiles, easy charm, harmless attention that made people feel welcomed.

But with Kazuma, it had been more genuine. More attentive.

Kazuma had thought Hokuto treated everyone that way.

He'd been wrong.

Hokuto had been expressing affection the entire time, and Kazuma had been too dense to notice.

And he finally realized the tightened chest sensation whenever Hokuto was around him was actually a form of affection too.

"I'm heading out, Senpai," Kazuma muttered, dropping the controller.

"Seriously?" Sekai finally glanced over. "We just started—"

But Kazuma was already grabbing his jacket.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Kazuma arrived at the coffee shop before opening hours.

Kazuma knocked softly before letting himself into the kitchen.

Hokuto stood at the workbench, shaping dough with hands. He looked up, surprise flickering across his face.

"Kazuma? We don't open for another hour—"

"I know." Kazuma stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I wanted to talk."

Hokuto's expression shifted, guarded now. He returned his attention to the dough. "About what?"

"The pastries." Kazuma moved closer, stopping at the edge of the counter. "I genuinely didn't realize they were... personal. I wasn't trying to dismiss what you were doing. I just—" He exhaled roughly. "I'm sorry."

Silence stretched between them. Hokuto still shaped the dough and not looking up.

Eventually he sighed. "You're really slow."

But when he glanced up, he was smiling properly again.

Relief flooded Kazuma's chest.

"Actually, I didn't keep coming back just because of the pastries," Kazuma admitted awkwardly. "I mean—they were amazing. But that wasn't the main reason."

Hokuto paused, hands stilling against the counter.

"I came back because of you. Because I liked... your smile. I liked being the person you smiled at. And when you stopped talking to me, the coffee shop felt wrong. Empty, somehow."

Kazuma felt his face heated up, but he pushed forward anyway.

"So—I want you to do it again. Smiling at me, talking to me. Looking at me like how you used to."

"Like what?" Hokuto's voice came out softer now.

"Like I'm someone worth making special things for."

Hokuto's face flushed beautifully, color spreading across his cheeks. He was painfully pretty.

"I'll try paying more attention this time," Kazuma added awkwardly. "To your… gestures, and what you're actually saying."

Hokuto stared at him and giggled. "Is this a confession?"

Kazuma's blush deepened.

Before he could properly answer, Hokuto stepped around the counter. He moved close, lips hovering near Kazuma's mouth.

Then he grinned and kissed Kazuma's cheek instead.

Kazuma chuckled despite himself. His hand caught Hokuto's arm, tugging him closer until their bodies pressed together properly.

Then Kazuma kissed him.

Sweet and warm, taste like sugar and morning coffee. Hokuto's hands came up to rest against Kazuma's chest, fingers curling into fabric as he leaned into the kiss with a soft sound.

Kazuma's arms wrapped around Hokuto's waist, holding him steady.

When they finally pulled apart, Hokuto's smile was radiant.

"Took you long enough," he murmured.

Kazuma couldn't argue, so he just smiled back.

The coffee shop became Kazuma's favorite place for reasons that had nothing to do with pastries anymore.

END

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

EXTRA

Kazuma stayed to help with whatever he could, because he had nothing to do in early morning anyway.

The next fifteen minutes were genuinely peaceful.

Hokuto worked through the morning prep efficiently while walked Kazuma through small tasks. Kazuma washed trays, arranged cooling racks, handed over ingredients when Hokuto called for them. Their elbows bumped occasionally in the narrow kitchen space. Neither of them moved to create more distance.

Then the front door opened.

Taiki stopped short when he spotted Kazuma standing behind the counter with an apron that clearly belonged to Hokuto. His expression cycled through surprise, recognition, and amusement within the span of three seconds.

"Kazuma-kun?"

Kazuma straightened awkwardly. "Good morning Taiki-san. I, uh. Didn't have morning classes. My apartment felt boring, so I figured I'd come help out."

A beat of quiet.

Then Taiki smiled. "Right."

Kazuma was thankful to Taiki who let it slide.

Taiki set his bag down and produced a thick textbook from inside, sliding it across the counter toward Hokuto. "You asked for this. Strategic Marketing, chapters seven through twelve."

Hokuto accepted it with both hands. "You're a lifesaver, Taiki-kun."

"I need it back before Thursday." Taiki adjusted his bag strap. "And since you're covering my shift today, please don't let anything burn. I have three chapters left before my exam and I can't afford distractions."

"Got it, got it. Trust me," Hokuto replied cheerfully.

Taiki looked like he didn't trust Hokuto enough.

Then Sekai trailed in behind Taiki, yawning loudly. He rubbed his eyes, two-toned hair disheveled like he'd rolled straight out of bed. He blinked slowly at the sight of Kazuma and Hokuto standing too close together in the kitchen.

"Oh? You two finally fucking?"

He should've known that his own senpai was not as considerate as Taiki.

"SENPAI—" Kazuma's voice cracked embarrassingly. "NO WE ARE NOT— WHY would you— I have told you clearly before that we are NOT discussing these kind of things—"

Sekai flinched and scowled. "Calm down, it's barely seven, what the hell is wrong with you? I was just asking—"

"Don't ask!"

"—you looked suspicious, I was curious—"

"You're always curious about the wrong things!"

Taiki stepped between them, his hand grabbing firmly around Sekai's arm. "We're leaving."

"But I wanted coffee—"

"We'll get Starbucks." Taiki was already steering him toward the door.

"That's overpriced garbage—"

The door swung shut behind them, cutting off Sekai's complaints.

Kazuma exhaled through his nose, pressing his fingers to his temple.

Hokuto leaned sideways against the counter, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth. "...No?"

Kazuma turned to look at him.

"You don't want me?" Hokuto tilted his head as he went closer.

"That's not—" Kazuma pressed his lips together, exasperated. "Hokuto. We have been together for literally fifteen minutes."

"That's long enough to think about it." Hokuto's grin widened mischievously. 

"That's not how this works—"

"Then how does it work?"

Kazuma groaned, covering his face with one hand. Finally, he mumbled through his fingers, "…Let's see after a few dates."

Hokuto laughed warmly. He swiped a finger through melted chocolate on the counter before smearing it across Kazuma's cheek.

"My boyfriend is way too uptight," Hokuto said fondly. "Good thing I'm here to fix that."

Kazuma groaned again, but he smiled anyway.