Written for Edzia, for your kindness & because you’ve been victimized by Jung Daehyun’s iness.

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Crack the shutters open wide, I want to bathe you in the light of day

And just watch you as the rays tangle up around your face and body

I could sit for hours finding new ways to be awed each minute

‘Cause the daylight seems to want you just as much as I want you

“Crack the Shutters” by Snow Patrol

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The day starts ordinary enough.

It’s early February, a month into his school’s spring semester. Snow from the week before still litters the sidewalks and drains, no longer pristine white but a dingy gray. A biting chill fills the air, making his nose Rudolph red and numbing his fingers. Gloves forgotten in the morning’s haste, he tries his best to warm his hands by burying them further into his jacket’s outer pockets.

Cars creep by him on city streets that are becoming congested in morning rush hour. An occasional honk can be heard from impatient morning drivers, wanting to express their frustrated annoyance.

It’s why during the week he prefers taking public transportation despite having a car and license. He rather use his commute to relax before starting his work day. Besides he’s young and healthy, and he sees no reason to pay a membership fee to some gym when all he has to do when he overindulges in food is get off a stop or two early and walk a longer distance.

With a backpack on his back carrying workday essentials and the baby face he’s been told he has, he knows he looks more like a student than the teacher he is. The first year he taught he carried a briefcase but that always felt too fussy and pretentious, so he opted for a backpack the next year which gave him the added bonus of keeping his hands free.

Normally around this time, he’d still be waiting for his bus to arrive, but he left earlier this morning wanting to swing by the new bakery that had opened near the school.

While filling his “I’m a teacher, what’s your superpower?” mug yesterday with a brown liquid that claimed to be coffee, he overheard a few female coworkers chatting about the shop’s cute decor and gossiping about the even cuter barista that worked there. He doesn’t much care about either one, but his ears did perk up at the mention of cheesecake so good it’s worthy of cheating on your diet.

That is exactly his style.

Spotting the sign, Young at Heart Pâtisserie, his mouth waters as his mind fills with images of sweet treats. He’s still obedient to traffic rules — he feels it’s important to set a good example for his students even when they’re not around — and crosses the street only when the pedestrian signal indicates that it’s okay.

Taking a hand from the warmth of his pocket, he pulls open the door, stepping aside to let customers exit before entering himself. The warmth hits him first, wonderfully welcoming, then his olfactory receptors kick into overdrive. It smells heavenly, of coffee and sweet pastries and freshly baked bread. French music plays in the background, adding to the ambiance and making customers feel like they’ve been transported to a different country.

Most of the tables are already full, which is fine since he plans to take his order to go. The walls are painted a soft shade of toffee with white wainscoting covering the bottom half. White tabletops gleam in the lighting, while a small replica of the Eiffel Tower and a framed postcard depicting a scene of Paris in the springtime sit atop each one. The chairs are mint green with white cushioning.

The wall opposite to the seating area is lined with large glass display cases that are b with sugary sweet concoctions and an assortment of savory goods.

Before a large group of people come in together, he hurries to stand in line so he won’t be late for work. His eyes peruse the menu while he waits for the customers in front of him to finish their order. He wonders if getting two slices of cheesecake, a chocolate eclair, and some kind of sweetened coffee drink — not sure which one sounds best, he plans to ask for a recommendation — would be considered over-kill. Plus, maybe, a slice of quiche. He’s never tried it before, but savory or not, it’s in a pie-shape so he reasons that it has to be good.

He understands why his coworkers were so enamored with the place after their first visit. It’s unique and different. It’d be a nice date out, going to the movies then stopping in for a late night treat. He looks at the menu again, maybe he’ll—

“Hi, may I have you—” He stops, sentence unfinished, as Daehyun gasps, his head jerking to lock eyes with the man behind the counter.

It happens in the tiniest, most microscopic moment. The air changes around them charged and pulsing with energy, while the surrounding noise becomes muffled over the deafening sound of blood rushing to his ears.

He doesn’t need to take off his jacket and roll up his sweater’s sleeve to know the words just spoken are now, and forever, inscribed onto his left wrist.

“.”

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*The unfinished line, “Hi, may I have your order?”

Youngjae is my bias, but Daehyun continues on his quest to completely wreck my bias list, and then there is Yongguk standing to the side looking ing hot and I’m just like LET ME LIVE BAP, LET ME LIVE.

I’m actually super excited about this story, and I hope that maybe you are too. I’d appreciate if you took some time to let me know what you thought. Feedback and constructive criticism are appreciated.