“Ajumma!”

He’s taken aback by the younger voice that rings through the open window. Seunghyun stops, thoughts stalled as he looks up at the older building with mild interest. Perhaps, as the ticking of his watch tells him, he should be getting back to the studio but the weather was just too beautiful to ignore inside that cramped, studio. He needed the fresh air, was desperate to clear his head, forgetting the others as they no doubt continued to bicker about the length of their solos and the lack of freedom they were given by Jiyong. This was nothing more than a short break in his busy schedule, one that seemed to have an endless list of all that should be done to just sustain his popularity for the next few months. He continues walking, a hint of freshly baked sweets drawing him closer to the front of the building.

He needs this break.

“Ajumma!” the voice calls out again, seemingly tinged with annoyance.

“Aish!" an older woman’s voice now, she continues on in some English that sounds harsh. He’s always felt a bit awkward in the foreign language but he feels a bit of regret for not paying much attention to the language; the argument sounds interesting as it seems to be nothing more than playfulness.

He stops, the voices louder through an open door that enters into a bakery shop. The smell is heavy here; the air somehow thick with the sweet smells of baked sugar and fresh bread. The arguing stops and he turns away from the decorative window display to find a woman looking straight at him.

“Are you coming in? You know, you’re blocking the air that’s getting out; I’m blaming you if we lose any profit.”

Seunghyun blinks at the woman, wondering if she can tell that he’s Korean. From her rapid English, however, she apparently can’t see him outside the shop. She’s standing too far for him to make out her expression at his blank stare but he can hear the sigh that escapes her lips.

“Hey, come in. I can’t see who you are under that hoodie and those glasses.” The tone is softer and this time he can understand her-the Korean she speaks is somewhat choppy. “Are you lost? Not many Koreans come into our shop.” she continues, muttering something about how they understand English if they do walk in. Seunghyun ignores the jab as he steps in.

The smell is heavier in here, engulfing him sweetness and causes his mouth to water at the thought of something sugary, bready, and deep-fried. All of it freshly baked, as the hanging, flickering neon sign tells him from behind the counter.

It’s a small shop, few tables are offered to potential customers and Seunghyun has the feeling this place is more along the lines of ‘get-your-stuff-and-get-out’ from the look she's giving him from behind the register. The shop’s walls are lined with glass cases for the different sweets that are all so very eye-pleasing, tempting him even more. The décor leaves much to be desired, some tile cracking and the wallpaper dated and peeling in some corners. Yet the small space doesn’t feel quite old or out-of-touch with modern age, instead Seunghyun finds himself strangely comforted by the antiqueness of the bakery.

She clears from behind the register and Seunghyun notices how the bits of flour in her hair, the small droplets of batter on her cheeks, and the all-around floury mess of her apron fit her laid-back posture. She’s leaning on the counter, blowing a strand of hair that fell from her messy bun while completely ignoring the wisps that stick to the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her chin rests on her wrist, her fingers, though covered in cracking batter, are elegant and he can tell she has a manicure. There seems to be little makeup on her face and Seunghyun can’t help but feel some appreciation for that little observation.

“Done staring?” there’s a hint of laughter in her voice and Seunghyun feels his cheeks flush at the amusement that twinkles in her eyes.

“Sorry.” He swallows, his throat tight from both embarrassment and shyness; no matter how much time had passed, Seunghyun had always felt awkward around girls. Even more so, pretty girls.

And she’s pretty.

“Are you Korean? An English learning student?” she taps her chin, head tilted as she look at him with curiosity evident.

“Korean. I was just passing by and I,” he clears his throat, missing her smirk as he nervously looks away to stare at a glass covered tower of cakes, “I smelled the bread.”

“Ah, the bread pulled you in?”

He nods, resisting the pull to look back into her eyes for fear of it making him to some God-awful thing like stutter, or blush, or do anything that reduces him to acting like a schoolboy with a crush.

“Ah, I understand; the bread does smell heavenly, doesn’t it? Ajumma bakes it, she owns this place. Which is strange to me, she completely advertises it in English yet she’s native here. Aish, I’ll never understand that old bat’s mind.” She shake her head, chuckling at the latter sentence, giving him a soft smile. He finally meets her stare and attempts to smile back. “You know, you don’t have to hide your face here. Plus the heat gets unbearable once noon hits. And her air conditioning doesn’t work. Here, wait a moment, kid.”  she sighs, stretching her arms as she makes her way to the backroom.

Seunghyun flushes, an image of her sweating (under different circumstances) flashes in his mind and he feels the heat crawl up his neck.

“Ah, no I’m fine; I should get going…” he nearly stumbles over his words, raising his voice over the sounds that come from the back. Seunghyun begins walking back out, slowly so that he can catch her goodbye.

“Oh, so soon?” her voice rises; he catches a hint of annoyance and cringes slightly. He never had done well with angry women. “Ay, pabo, don’t come in here and waste my valuable time with your dilly-dallying.” she walks back out with her hands on her hips, balled into small fists. He spots new bits of dough on her apron and watches as she picks off a piece, popping into nonchalantly before blowing hair out of her face before introducing herself. Adding "...most likely your noona but don’t stress the formalities, kid.”

Seunghyun stares for a moment, grateful for the glasses and hood at the moment. She is direct in the way she speaks, he’s impressed by her non-traditional ways. Usually the women are quiet, respectful, and willing to please. Yet this woman, obviously around his age if not older, was direct, blunt, and seemingly laid-back. He could say that she was rude but it didn’t come off that way. There’s a friendless to her, warmth that drew Seunghyun to stay though he knew he should be going.

But he couldn’t find himself leaving. Not even with the now continuous buzzing his pocket, repeating signals that he needed to get back now.

And so, he introduced himself.