The lift doors open and I step out, walking with an extra spring in my step. I hold up my room's key card and examine it, humming a tune as I take my time to saunter along and admire the golden hallways which have a surprisingly high ceiling.

    Just an hour ago, I had a good, long bath and had done arduous research on the numerous diners, cafés and patisseries located around the area. I even went down to the concierge to find the information I needed and to, of course, grab a few brochures. I wanted to dedicate my time solely to satisfying my taste buds tomorrow; honestly, I cannot wait to try out all the renowned, mouth-watering pastries that were shown on the various official websites. Maybe I can even take a few photos and boast to Chanyeol about it.

    I grin as I recall Chanyeol urging me to go all the way to France just to “try out samples” of their amazing dessert. Well, at least that was what he said. He mentioned something about winning a trip-for-one, and I was dumbfounded that he was offering it to me instead of using it himself. I remember I had scoffed then, knowing that it also gave the perfect reason for him to close down the pastry shop for a little while if he were to focus more on his dear record store and his girlfriend.

    “Take a break, and enjoy life a little,” was what he said as he walked towards the doors and turned the sign over to a ‘Closed’.

    “But I have- ”

    “Have work to do,” Chanyeol finishes. “Come on, just take up that offer. Don't be too hard on yourself.”

    Upon seeing that I'm still not convinced, my boss attempted the third time.

    “If you truly love your work, I suggest that you take up the offer,” he said hopefully.

    “And why should I?” I shrugged while Chanyeol's shoulders visibly sagged.

    “Because… because you can research on the cakes and little snacks they have there!” He burst out. “You know, all the éclairs, croissants, and oh! The Opera cake. Just try it and you'll definitely have your stuck to the café futon the whole afternoon- ”

    “Chanyeol.”

    “You could also invent more flavours of macarons and if they taste good enough we can add those to our menu too- ”

    “Chanyeol.”

    “Oh and I was thinking we could add ice cream and yogurt to our cakes. You know, young teenage girls with their taste buds and cravings and all- ”

    “Chanyeol- ”

    “What?” He wails, slamming his hands onto the tabletop. “Stop laughing!” Chanyeol glares at me, and I couldn't help but giggle as I take in the infuriated look on his face.

    “I know that you're going to mend the record store for a while, and I'm fine with it. I really wasn't going to reject your offer, but hey, you look like a deer caught in the headlights!” I clutched my stomach as I doubled over in laughter; the way Chanyeol's face was contorted into one of horror, worry, and shock just kept popping into my mind, making the smile on my face grow wider each time. “Oh god, I feel sad that my best friend is trying so desperately to send me off,” I cracked a joke, which Chanyeol did not seem to get and started to panic instead.

    I plopped down onto one of our counter seats with Chanyeol joining me not too long after.

    “You really do love your record store and your girlfriend, don't you?”

    “Mm,” he folded his arms and lays his head on them, his black bangs falling to the other side of his face. He blinks as he stares up and me, before speaking quietly, “You're the best classmate, employee, and friend I've ever had.”

    I grinned as I heard the sincerity behind his words, but a frown soon formed on my face.

    “Say, aren't you tired?”

    “What?”

    “You know, you have three precious darlings to take care of. Your girlfriend, the record store, and our café.” I drummed my fingers against the countertop as I turn to look at him.

    He was visibly tired, his eye bags growing heavier and heavier each day. Whenever he smiled, there was always a hint of exhaustion hiding behind his lips and eyes; it was as if he barely had the energy to lift up the corners of his mouth. Chanyeol was a tall guy with broad shoulders (a trait which girls admire), but he sort of ‘shrank’, if it was even possible. I'd known him for six years now, but he seemed to have lost loads of weight since the first day I met him in high school. He was a kid who was always under a lot of pressure; I'd seen his parents once and was appalled to find out how strict they were on him in terms of grades and social skills. Chanyeol wasn't the typical friendly next-door-neighbour; his father was a neurologist and his mother was a surgeon. I was not surprised when Chanyeol complained to me about how his parents wanted him to become the best son in their family, to become the most respected child in their relatives' eyes, to ultimately follow in their footsteps.

    He didn't like that.

    He told me when we were fifteen (our first year of being friends) that he hated the way he lived. He was into music, and he was awed by the thought of a melodious tune being produced just by strumming your fingers over the chords, or letting your hands fly over the keys, or even slamming your fists down along with your drumsticks. He was like any other teenager, loving the things most kids are obsessed about.

    But Chanyeol was different with the other boys because he adored sweets and pastries. It was a coincidence that I found out he simply loved collecting boxes of chocolates and tubs of ice cream; he was like me and probably a few other girls in that sense, which made him my closest friend because we both had a common topic and a sweet tooth.

    I remember the teacher asking us what he wanted to be when he grew up. Everyone else was chattering away excitedly because he was the new transfer student the teacher had been mentioning to us about these days. Chanyeol was already extremely good-looking and attractive even when he was a teenager.

    “I want to open a record store and a café when I grow up,” he replied, almost too innocently, which prompted laughter from the students. I was probably the only one who thought that was sweet.

    I love the way he plays the guitar. I am captivated every single time he flicks the chords with his fingers, making me sigh in contentment as the beautiful music flows straight into my soul. Chanyeol was pure talent, but no one seems to acknowledge it. It was such a pity; he was a boy with dreams (be it weird or not) and he had the right to chase them, but it would be hard.

    I told him when we were eighteen that I would support him no matter what, be it a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, an economist, a CEO of a company, or the owner of his very own pastry shop and record store.

    In the end, he did it. He achieved his goal; every cup of tea and dessert he made was bursting with colours, love and joy. He brought a smile to every customer he served, and I was there for him that whole time. It took a lot of convincing on his family's side, and they weren't too pleased to find out that he was actually serious about it. His father was especially nasty about it, thinking that Chanyeol probably just treated this as a hobby and an obsession and will soon get over it once he had fully ‘matured’. His sister supported his decision though, and Chanyeol was determined to approach his parents to lend him the funds for him to start his own business when he was in university.

    Needless to say, he went through many problems, and it took at least half a year for him to prove himself to his parents that he was capable of surviving the business world while doing the things he loved.

    In my eyes, Chanyeol was an independent kid.

    But now, seeing his tired frame lying before me, I started to feel bad for him.

    “You should really take a break.”

    “Yeah, I should,” he mumbled, tracing circles on my cheek. “Sometimes I think to myself if I had made the right choice persevering then. My parents and my family are all expecting me to give up and come running back to them. You know I won't do that; it's just getting increasingly tiring. I mean, we can't predict what will happen in the future! What if our business goes downhill over the years, and I'm forced to return to that daily mundane routine my family planned for me?”

    I shook my head and I take his hands into mine. He gave me comfort when I needed help, and now it's my turn to provide that flame of warmth for him.

    “It's about pride,” he continues, his smile turning into a sad one. “If I return, everyone will say that I'm a person who gives up easily, or a typical rich kid who can't do without their parents and their money. I am such a disgrace.”

    “Look at me,” I sat up and took ahold of his shoulders. “Chanyeol, look at me.”

    All I got in return was pair of forlorn-looking eyes staring right back at me.

    “Chanyeol, we've talked about this. Everything is going to be fine. Look at all the business we've made!” I pulled open the cash register and pointed at the stacks of dollar bills nestled within. “We can do this, Yeol. You've made it this far, it's a shame to lose hope.”

    Gazing at him silently, I enveloped my arms around him, him soothingly on the back. I smiled when I felt him return my hug, and I closed my eyes in contentment.

    “Don't worry, Chanyeol. I'll stick by you no matter what. I'll never leave you - not now, not ever,” I whispered softly into his ear as he rested his head on my shoulder.

    “Did I mention that you're the closest friend I've ever had? God, I can count on you for everything,” he muttered as he pulled me in even closer. “Thank you. For giving me strength. For loving and caring for me when I started my new life in Korea. For staying by my side ever since we were fifteen.”

    “Hey, that means a lot to me, Yeol,” I mumbled. “That really, really means a lot to me.”

    After moments of sweet, comfortable silence, he pulled away and smiled at me.

    “That's why I want you to go for this trip. Take it as a short vacation, a break, a breather, anything. Just go have fun for one week and I'll pick you up from the airport. I'll expect a new recipe from you once you return,” he grinned mischievously and I slapped his arm.

    “Yes Mr. Park, you'll see such a great improvement in me that you'll be on your knees begging for me not to quit, if I ever will anyway,” I mocked as Chanyeol raised a hand to pinch my cheek.

    “Take lots of photos!” he laughs and his phone rings just then.

    It wasn't hard to miss the large smile that was starting to form on his face. I wriggled my eyebrows and he glared at me playfully before moving to a corner to take the call. As he leaves for the restroom, I stare at his retreating figure while I play with my hair. It was so sweet to see how a girl could completely change this giant's life. I was glad that Chanyeol found his happiness and finally regain the urge to smile over the silliest of things.

    I wonder when it would be my turn.

    And so the day after the next I left Korea to enter a whole new paradise and class of marshmallows, chocolate fondues, buttercream cookies, fresh milk and strawberry shortcakes.

    It was incredibly warm, but there are so many places that caught my attention. I spent my afternoon sitting on a café futon browsing through my cookbook while munching on an Opera cake (its taste of caffeine filled my mouth at the first bite), and boy, Chanyeol wasn't kidding when he said that my would be stuck to the chair for more than a few hours. I sent him a text to which he replied with an “I told you so! Now go get your second one!”, making me giggle as I readjusted my sunglasses.

    And so I spent my first day sightseeing and enjoying a cup of coffee along with my cake, feeling exceptionally guilty and sinful knowing that here I was having a whale of a time while Chanyeol was still busying himself with the record store. But, I countered my thoughts, he wanted me to take a break since I deserved it anyway - as long as I come up with a great recipe, the amount of time I spent on vacation shouldn't be a waste.

    I now stand in front of my room with at least six brochures and itineraries clutched in each hand, but something is not quite right.

    Did I not lock my door?

    Oh no, I gasp as I notice the small creak in my doorway. I must not have locked the door properly when I left for the lobby, making me cringe at the thought of someone entering my room.

    No one would enter, I did a lame attempt to comfort myself as I place my hand on the wooden door and pushed it in at a slow, excruciating speed. No one would dare.

    I release the breath that I've been unconsciously holding as I scan my bed, side tables and couch, realising that everything is left the same way as it was before, clean and untouched. A frown grew on my face as my eyes flitted to my curtains.

    Hold on.

    What the hell is that?