The shopping trip had been uneventful – relaxing, almost. Jihoon seemed to know exactly what to do, or at least kept giving orders. The dynamic duo of astounding height difference returned home with a lot of baking related items. Way too many, owing to their complete lack of planning ahead or any semblance of expertise.

Unpacking their amassed goods they took up most of the space in the communal kitchen - butter, flour, sugar, eggs and more - strewn across the surfaces not cluttered up with dirty dishes.

Jihoon had vanished into the corridor, going from door to door to individually yell at the other residents he suspected responsible for the unwashed kitchenware. He took pride and pleasure in this noble endeavor.

Meanwhile Mingyu considered his options. The last thing he wanted was any more terrible incidents. The cake had to be simple, quick to make and delicious. He didn’t want Wonwoo to choke on it so it couldn’t be too dry, it had to be moist. Chocolaty maybe? Did Wonwoo like chocolate? Should he put coffee beans in or pour Monster on the dough or something? Store-bought cake might have been a better idea, but that felt too impersonal.

He scrolled through various recipes on his phone but nothing was satisfying all his criteria. Jihoon rejoined him at last with a few people he had guilt-tripped into cleaning up their own stuff. Together the boys worked out something that seemed to be – on paper – the perfect cake.

Nothing went right.

♦

Mingyu’s shirt was covered in flour and dough splatters, his hands were wrinkly from mashing so many wet things together for an hour. There were butter stains on the ceiling – curtesy of a back-riding, butter stick swinging Jihoon – and little oil puddles under all the cabinets.

Mingyu’s everything hurt. His legs from standing around, his fingers from folding dough, his arms from mixing by hand, his spine from his roommate and his head from pure frustration.

At last the abomination was fully created.

However, since the recipe was a homebrew, it was hard to say how long it should bake. Mingyu sat down in front of the oven and watched the entire procedure, waiting for the floppy mass to harden.

That never happened. The dough was still wet and wiggly in the middle when black crusts began to form at the rim. It wouldn’t get any better. Mingyu sincerely hoped Wonwoo would understand and appreciate how much effort had gone into it. Which was more than doubtful. He wasn’t sure he would eat that thing himself. But it wasn’t finished yet.

He pulled the black rimmed, yellow centered mistake of a baked good from its spot in the oven, proud of himself for not burning his hand, and pulled the butter cream icing out of the fridge. Except it had been in there for too long and hardened more than Mingyu could hope the cake ever would.

The boy yelled for Jihoon after putting the frosting in the now open but still hot oven to quicken the melting process.

“You done?” asked the little guy as he entered, looking up at the flour covered, lanky boy who futilely kept wiping strands of hair from his face.

“I guess.”

“Good, Wonwoo texted me, he wants his bag back already and doesn’t care about your apology surprise. He actually thinks that weird.”

“You told him?”

“I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Um…”

Jihoon shot Wonwoo a message while Mingyu poured the molten frosting on his wobbly creation. The pitifully small cake crumpled under the assault of the thick liquid, which formed a puddle in the center and around the gooey dough. Enthusiasm unhampered, he emptied a medium bottle of colorful sprinkles in top, turning the ugly mess into an ugly but flamboyant mess.

“You know you’re supposed to let frosting cool, right?” said Jihoon with a diabolical grin, enjoying his observer position immensely.

“But I had it in the fridge, like you said.”

“It goes on the cake, then in the fridge.”

“Oh.”

♦

Wonwoo found the two boys in the kitchen as he expected. He entered quietly, spotting his bag on the table right away.

Mingyu was standing in front of the open freezer, desperately fanning cold air onto his cake. He froze in mid motion when he spotted the beautiful boy whose name he now knew. And who wore a beanie still, but a different one.

“Beanie! …I mean Wonwoo. So sorry for taking your bag. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Thanks, here’s your bag in return. I have no idea what you’re thinking either.”

“So sorry, really. But hey, I kept you awake and you didn’t die.”

“What?”

“The caffeine.”

“Right… well, I’ll be going then.”

Jihoon was innocently sitting in the corner and quietly chuckled to himself.

Practically jumping in Wonwoo’s direction, Mingyu held up his mess of a cake. “Look, I made this.”

“That’s… great? Um…”

“For you as an apology.”

Wonwoo’s face took on the trademark completely-spaced-out expression. “Apology?”

“For, like, everything. The picture and-“

“So you did take a pic! I thought I must have been dreaming. You really did that. I can’t believe it.”

“Uh oh.”

Jihoon’s chuckles grew a bit louder. The two taller boys were having an uncomfortable standoff with Mingyu still holding up his cake.

“Wonwoo, I’m-“

“Sorry, I know. You seem to be sorry a lot.”

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Well, you’re being stupid about it. And about everything else.”

“I made a mistake okay, but I’m trying to fix it!”

Jihoon was now laughing openly, his face getting red.

Wonwoo pointed right at Mingyu. “Fix it? With that other mistake? How is that even a cake? And who does that?”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it, beanie boy.”

“I’m not mean, you’re mean. I’ll have you know, I’m a f***ing delight if it isn’t about puppy faced boys freaking me out.”

“You… I… puppy faced?”

Jihoon was bright red and silent, fighting for air through his laughing fit.

Now it was Wonwoo’s turn to be defensive. “You’re the creep who photographs people in their sleep. I only said…”

“So,” said Mingyu, “you think I’m cute, huh?”

It took Wonwoo about five seconds of uncomfortable silence until he seemingly concluded that there was no way out. He snatched the mistake-cake out of Mingyu’s grip and handed it right back into the puppy-like face. The butter cream covered pile of goo smashed into Mingyu’s unprepared visage. Wonwoo didn’t just smack it into his head - he rubbed it.

Jihoon collapsed in the corner, mouth gaping, eyes teary, face tomato-colored.

Wonwoo lowered the plate.

Mingyu rubbed his eyes free and across his lips. “That… that tastes horrible.”

“Sorry?” said Wonwoo weakly.

“Oh, now you’re the sorry one?”

“That might have been an overreaction.”

Wiping more half backed batter off his face, Mingyu held eye contact. “Maybe we’re both prone to some nonsense. We could make a team – keep each other from overdosing on dumbness.”

Plate cast aside, his hands behind his back, Wonwoo bit his lower lip. “I guess we can try that.”

“Great. Mingyu and Wonwoo, the dream team.”

“You’re name is Mingyu. That makes us… Minwoo? Wongyu?”

“I still think of you as Beanie boy.”

“Mingyu and Beanie… Meanie?”

“That sound stupid.”

“Perfect for us then.”

In the corner Jihoon made retching noises. “You f***heads are sweeter than the butter crème everywhere on the floor. That reminds me, somebody needs to clean up. And I don’t mean me. Well, see you later, idiots.”

The End