Kyungsoo’s agreement to accept Baekhyun under his tutelage had led to a vast change in their lives in terms of the increasing frequency of the latter’s presence in Kyungsoo’s daily life. Gayoon scarcely arrived to school with Kyungsoo now, for he cited many excuses in Baekhyun’s name to depart from home early. She wasn’t quite so sure how Kyungsoo felt having to portion his time for Baekhyun, but even if he was irritated, Kyungsoo was too kind to deprive a person in need of his help.  

It was a mark of their friendship and understanding that Kyungsoo diligently kept him away from her, although she knew that Baekhyun sometimes asked about her. Kyungsoo was much too professional to disclose anything besides the most minimal of details, and he took care to practice the same treatment to her curiosity too.

“He’s like any other normal kid,” he said, every time Gayoon dared to venture further than the casual inquiries of Baekhyun’s progress. “Regarding his habits beyond the walls of this institution, I’m sure you’re better informed than I.”

She loved Kyungsoo for being protective. At the same time, she hated him for it too.

She wasn’t sure of her feelings for Baekhyun, though she still gave the park a wide berth. Although she knew he was taken, she found herself flattered when Kyungsoo mentioned his interest on her well-being, as though he was truly interested in being her friend. With days having passed without seeing him turn love-struck eyes at the beautiful Yeonjoo, Gayoon found herself softening to the idea of letting him in as a friend. 

 But as much as Kyungsoo tried to keep his two worlds apart, they came to meet in the hands of Gayoon’s very own mother.

“Bring Kyungsoo this evening, please honey?” she said, over a bowl of today’s breakfast.

It was still early, and the porridge tasted bland on Gayoon’s tongue, which still felt papery from sleep. The morning was bright, evidenced by the sunlight from the windows. Her mother looked more stressed than usual, cheeks sallow, lines mapping out the corners of and eyes. 

“Why?” she asked, blinking at her. She pressed her tongue against the roof , where the porridge had burned her.

“I need him to help with the cakes. Orders are coming in by the dozens, and my hands, yours, and Jongin’s hardly suffice if we’re to finish them all. He’s so good at baking; if he helps, we’ll be able to finish on time.”

“Why did you take so many orders if you knew we won’t have the hands to spare for them?” Gayoon asked, sounding a bit petulant.

“Blame your father,” her mother snapped. “He’s the one who refuses to say no.”

With her mother’s irritation fresh in her mind, she felt it an obligation to convey her wishes to Kyungsoo that morning. It was one of the rare days when he had nothing that demanded his early rise, and the shy sun made Seoul just pretty enough for a walk.

Kyungsoo rubbed his hand over his forehead, then moved his fingers to knead his eyes. “I have to tutor Baekhyun this evening. Tests are about to start, and I have to see that he passes with flying colours for his sake and mine.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you,” she said, suddenly feeling sorry. “My mom never thinks straight when she’s stressed. I’ll talk her out of it –”

“Nah,” Kyungsoo shook his head, clearing his throat. “It’s been a while since I touched something remotely close to a whisk. It’ll be a good stress reliever.”

“Are you sure? It won’t take your time?”

“My time’s not a problem. I just have to think about how I’m going to fit Baekhyun’s.” Kyungsoo frowned, training his eyes onto the sidewalk. “I can’t bail on him when he’s desperate.”

“Then bring him with you,” she blurted, without actually thinking her words through.

Kyungsoo’s frown grew deeper; his eyes were dark and his brows almost touched on his forehead.

 “I’m not a child. I can handle it.”

He still didn’t look away; she thought he was trying to peel her head apart, dissect her feelings to compare with her words.

She punched him lightly on the arm. “It’s okay, Soo. Bring him over. My mom won’t mind.”

“Are you sure you won’t come back heartsick?” he asked with a sceptical note.

She didn’t answer the question. “Paranoia looks terrible on you, Soo.”

“How the hell am I supposed to bake a cake while reviewing binomial expansion?” he asked, throwing his hands up.

She grinned. “It’s a challenge on your mental and physical flexibility. And you love the idea, don’t you?”

Although he was looking ahead, Kyungsoo was smirking.

 It struck her only later that day, as the doors opened amidst tinkling bells to let in a coatless Jongin, that she had just invited the current boyfriend of a girl he still loved to join him in the confines of the same room. Many days had passed and they had grown closer, and their fascination for one another was evident, though unspoken. Jongin smile was brighter with her, and she laughed more freely to his deep, musical voice.

“Hey, Yoon,” he greeted her, as always did whenever he came in.

She looked at him and melted at the innocence of his eyes, oblivious to what was to come. “Jongin, I’m sorry,” she blurted.

“Huh?” He tilted his head at her in concern; she found his eyes travel searchingly over her face, confusion a cloud on their deep obsidian.

“Baekhyun’s coming here.”

If any emotion had passed across Jongin’s face, she didn’t see it. He came to her and patted the stool beside him, prompting her to tell the tale.

“I’ll summarise,” she told him, and he nodded without complaint. “Mom wants Kyungsoo here, but Kyungsoo feels bad about cancelling on Baekhyun, so I told him to bring him here.” She searched his face, tried to find something behind his mask. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think how it’d be with you –”

Jongin squeezed her lightly on the shoulder. “Why are you worried about me? If I were you, I’d be more concerned about myself.”

“He’s Yeonjoo’s… you know,” she said, hesitating at her words.

Jongin shook his head. She didn’t know if it meant he didn’t want to hear her name, or if it was only to keep her guilt at bay. “Right now, you’re the priority. I’ve seen you so crushed once. I’d rather not have to see you like that again.”

He spoke lightly, as how any friend would when he spoke of his concern, but there was weight in his words, something not quite like friendship. She imagined something deeper, saw webs of pasts and futures entwined–thoughts and feelings that words couldn’t explain.

Suddenly, she felt dazed. “I’m fine.”

Jongin smiled lightly and ran his palm over her hair, his touch a soft flutter. “Good,” he said softly, and then left to get changed. It took her moment to thaw her muscles, to ease her body into movement.

 Although Baekhyun was familiar with the bakery’s interior, she still caught him staring at the shelves and displays, marvelling. Kyungsoo was an impatient windstorm; he blew into the bakery with the purposefulness of a soldier with orders from a king.  He was in the midst of saying something to Baekhyun as he came in, but his words passed easily over her head in favour of watching the latter.

Baekhyun’s eyes had a twinkle to them as he roved his gaze over the freshly baked buns oozing with chocolate cream. He bit his lip, perhaps to quell his hunger. They got brighter when he reached the cakes by the counter, the cupcake tower by the register, and then to her behind the window, where they dissolved into smiling crescents.

There was a loud smack that made her jump a little; Jongin had just punched his fist square into the middle of a rising mound of dough.

“There’s a table you can have somewhere in the back.” Kyungsoo’s voice got louder as they neared, echoes transforming into full projections when he swept open the door. “I’ll have to make myself scarce, but if you need any help, just yell my name. Or maybe I should just park my bowl next to you,” he added wonderingly.

Baekhyun looked like he was jolted out of his reverie. “No, no! I mean, I’ve already encroached on your evening and too much of your free time. I think you deserve a little time off. I’ll try to manage.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re a good teacher. I think I’m getting the hang of things. I’ll try not to make myself a bother.”

Kyungsoo blew air out of his lips, but nodded his assent. “I’ll go get changed.”

As he left, he chanced Gayoon a glance, concern lost in its sternness. Gayoon had a growing suspicion that the anticipation for their meeting had brought upon another level anxiousness for Kyungsoo, which led him to be rather terse in his dealings with Baekhyun.

She smiled at him briefly to soothe his worries.

There was a great deal of rustling as Baekhyun prepared his things: the thumping of books, the swipe of an open zipper, the slight yelp as pens scattered. Although much of the noise he made remained muted and unobtrusive to the general peace of the kitchen, his presence was a clear bell to her head.

A pair of hands took her wrist, halting it, drawing it away. Though crusted with flour, Jongin’s fingers were warm and so was the silky texture of his voice. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure you don’t need that much salt.”

He released her hand; her vision focused, and she realised that she had been reaching for the salt bowl instead of the one with orange peels.

 “Sorry.” She reached for the proper ingredient. Jongin’s scrutiny felt warm against her face.

Kyungsoo made a great deal of noise upon his entrance, severing the awkward air of silence. He slid into position beside them, a bowl in the clutches of his fingers, and set it on the table with a flourish. “A bit more forceful, Jongin. Bread tastes best when you knead it with all your worth.”

Gayoon spared him a withering glance on Jongin’s behalf. “Oh, leave him alone. He’s doing fine.”

“I was just telling him. It’s for improvement. If we’re gonna do something, might as well go all out so that we can reap the best of our efforts in the end.”

“This is why people don’t like working with you,” she scolded him. “You’re so ridiculously controlling.”

“Only in my kitchen,” he said, relishing the sound of eggs cracking in his hands.

“Well, this is my bakery,” she mocked, teasing him a little by running her floury fingers through his hair.

Kyungsoo gave an undignified shriek and tried rub his yolk-stained fingers onto hers. Jongin, who had observed them with easy chuckles since the start of their banter, intervened as a knight would for his lady, pinning Kyungsoo’s hands with a wide smile. Gayoon laughed, revelling in Jongin’s protection, occasionally taunting Kyungsoo over his shoulder.

Much of their afternoon was spent in laughter, with the occasional moments where bowls exchanged hands. Jongin, now versed with Kyungsoo’s habitual intimidation, was now very much immune to his occasionally passive-aggressive attacks, even supplying his own witty replies. In between their jibes, Gayoon was smiling; the comfort of their easiness was akin to the familiarity of home.

An hour or so passed mixing and pouring. The bread was done, so they moved their attention to cakes. The third cake she was tasked with required her to consult a recipe, for it was one of the rarer orders. Her eyes scanned the ingredients, practiced, cataloguing the whereabouts of each. They paused at the last, stayed, then strayed to the shelf by Baekhyun’s table.

Gayoon realised with a jolt that after her initial response to his lingering smile, she’d barely noticed his presence. She recalled Kyungsoo leaving her side at various points of his preparation, speaking in low tones, returning with his hands clean.

She cleaned hers, breathed in the floury air, and made up her mind to go to him.

Baekhyun heard her before she could say anything, turning, brightening at the sight of her with a smile. He had books scattered haphazardly around him, pen crooked, one hand tangled in his dark locks. He pulled away his hand when she came, swivelling away his chair to let her pass.

“Sorry.” She reached for the bottle, tucked it into her apron.

“No problem.” Baekhyun stretched, straightening his hunched back. He tilted his head at her, dark chocolate eyes open, cordial. “I should be the one saying sorry. I’ve failed to offer my gratitude to the host.” Although tired, his voice retained a note of humour. “Thanks for letting me hunker down in your kitchen.”

“It’s not problem! You’re not really in the way, anyway…”

Baekhyun smiled briefly, twirled the pen in his hands. “I feel bad actually, to the both of you. You and Kyungsoo. Especially him. I always thought he looked a bit unapproachable, but he’s been nothing but helpful to me.”

“Kyungsoo looks hard, but he has a kind heart,” Gayoon said, sincere, mind flashing to the many times Kyungsoo had come to her aid and anchored her friendship.

Baekhyun turned in his chair, draping an arm over the back. He fixed his gaze onto the two figures behind them, their clattering bowls, their swishing whisks.

“Would I be interrupting?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve been poring over this for almost half an hour and my head is starting to pound. I really hate having to bother Kyungsoo, though.”

Gayoon stared at his papers for a while, fingers tightening on the bottle in her apron. Finally, she slackened her grip, pulling them away, rubbing them over the clean spot on her apron.

“Let me see, maybe I can help.” She didn’t know if it was right to offer, but the words, once out, left her chest light and giddy.

Baekhyun looked to her in surprise, but then his face lit up in a smile, and he happily pushed his papers towards her. “This.”

She spent a good quarter of an hour scribbling down the working, explaining. He was attentive; he drunk in her words, asked questions where the meaning slipped him. At one point, he made a joke by asking something that was ludicrously out of topic, and Gayoon had to stifle her laugh in her sleeve.

When she was done, he graciously thanked her. She left with a smile that threatened to pull up into a grin.

The air between Kyungsoo and Jongin when she rejoined them was not the same atmosphere before she left; it was dark and charged, the opposite of lightness and laughter.

Confused, she decided to ignore it. She tapped Kyungsoo and he turned to her questioning eyes. “You should check on Baekhyun. I think he has trouble with a few questions.”

Kyungsoo nodded, expression abstract, distracted. His attention easily shifted to the batter he held delicately in his hands, and his fingers resumed their work with the wooden spoon.

Gayoon realised, belatedly, that most of the darkness exuded from Jongin.

From the corners of her eyes, she studied him, her own hands slow with her work. He remained stubbornly tight-lipped as he drew his lines across the batter, hair veiling eyes, muscles rippling taut.

A few moments later, Kyungsoo sauntered away from them and returned with Baekhyun in tow. The latter was as curious as ever, fond of watching them work and b with questions. Gayoon answered everything freely, though sometimes she had to catch herself before she uttered the secret ingredients they swore to never tell.

She felt herself loosening, indulging in the few moments of his attention. He spoke to her more frequently than he did them, lingering close, even helping her to empty the bowl into a pan once. She entertained him because Kyungsoo’s focused determination on the culinary arts allowed no room for distraction, and Jongin scarcely spoke a word throughout the period of Baekhyun’s presence.

She didn’t pay much mind to it, distracted by the foolish bliss of finally being in Baekhyun’s company, until the last cake was in the oven and Jongin almost flew into the changing room, ripping off his apron before he even reached the door.

Her eyes followed him, his trail, the burning heat he left behind in the echoes of his footsteps. When he re-emerged, his countenance was fraught, and he had a cap jammed over his head, flattening his bangs, drawing shadows into his eyes.

“Leaving, Jongin?” she called, feeling her heart drop.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Homework.”

He was out before she could get another word out.

When she finally drew her eyes away, distraught, she saw Kyungsoo staring at the door as well, frowning. His eyes met hers and it deepened –with thought, with meaning.

One she didn’t understand.