hahaha I finally finished a drawing after Who knows how long... I started playing CR:OB after basically a year and man. I like this funny eel !!!!!

drawn in magma since it's way too fun to use heheh

apolocheese if it looks a bit Shit™️ I kinda winged it anatomy-wise but had too much fun to stop

Just Like Old Times Part 5/Ending

written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: This Kelly Severide, Erin Lindsay, and Gabby Dawson bashing (sorry, I was in a mood while writing this)

WARNINGS: swearing, mature themes, minor violence, alcoholic Kelly, Kelly Severide Bashing, Erin Lindsay bashing, Gabby Dawson bashing

Natalie had pounced on him before he could fumble out an excuse or explanation. She kicked him in the balls and waited until he was on his knees, his face crinkled together like he’d eaten a peeled lemon whole. When he was compromised from pain, his arms going to cup his groin, she laid the strongest blow you’d seen since O’Loughlin smack your ass in front of Jay. Kelly fell to the ground after a loud crack and began to curl in on himself as the cries and moans of pain bounced off the walls in the corridor. You watched as Natalie Manning retrieved her fallen bags calmly and gracefully. Will’s unsurprised eyes met yours before the love of his life stood beside him, facing you. “So, are you going to let us in?”

“Yeah, sure. You guys want some eggs?”

“With chive?”

“Duh, is there any other way to make them?”

“Eggs with ketchup are my personal favourite.” You and Natalie looked at Will with revulsion clear on your faces. “Not in my house you’re not.”

“Y/N... It’s not your house. It’s actually not a house. It’s Jay’s apartment.”

Will was met with the two unimpressed faces of the women who’d each swept a Halstead off his feet... And reconsidered his breakfast choice. “... Chive is good. Chive is very good.”

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“Calanthe honey, I need to talk to you about something important.” 

“Is Jay okay? He didn’t get hurt again, did he?”

“No, honey, Jay is fine. He actually got tickets for a cubs game tomorrow for all of us.”

“Yay!”

“Yes, it’s going to be a lot of fun, but that’s not the important thing we need to talk about. It’s about your biological father.”

“Oh...”

“He... Contacted... Me recently. He wants to meet you. If you want to meet him, I’ll set it up. If not, I’ll tell him that you don’t want to see him. You don’t have to decide anything now, and you can always change your mind.”

“I don’t want to meet him.”

“Honey maybe you should take some time to think about it.”

“I don’t need to think about it. I have you, and Jay. I don’t need him. I’ve never felt bad because I didn’t have a dad, it’s just annoying when Karen makes games and stuff that require dads when she knows that I don’t have one. Or didn’t. Cause I mean, I’ve got Jay now... Right?”

“Yes. You do, he’s promised me numerous times that he’d always be there for us.”

“He told me that too. Plus, I can change my mind later, right?”

“Yes, you absolutely can.”

“Okay, then I don’t want to meet him. He chose to exit my life, I get to choose when or if he re-enters it.”

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FIVE MONTHS LATER

You still hadn’t spoken with Jay about the things he said, mostly due to the fact that he didn’t seem to remember them. It was still partly due to your cowardice though. In your defence, you had a daughter to think about. You couldn’t drag a parade of men and women through your daughter’s life, that wouldn’t be good for her emotional development. And to make things worse Calanthe had gotten attached to Jay. He was now a regular fixture in her life. They went to her ballet recitals and hockey games together. He came over for dinner most days, brought you lunch when he could, and he had taken you both to numerous District 21 fundraisers and events. You’d been ignoring the impending explosion, just focusing on enjoying the three of you as a loving, supportive, healthy unit. “Oh hey, someone tell Halstead his girl is here.” You froze, trying to slow your heartbeat. “She’s not Halstead’s girl.” Erin’s tone, glare, and gritted teeth were more than enough to make the officers shrink away in fear. Not you though, she didn’t scare you. “Detective!” Trudy barked out, eyes lit with fire, “you are a Chicago police officer, not a character on One Tree Hill. Calm down and behave yourself.Y/N, I’ll let Chuckles know you’re here.”

“Thanks, Trudy. Calanthe and I made your favourite cookies the other day so I brought you some.”

“You two are heaven-sent, I swear.” She gave you one of her dazzling smiles as Jay came down the stairs. “Good morning gorgeous. What did I do to deserve this visit? And treats?” His smile was contagious, filling you with energy. “Trudy’s favourite? Y/N, I’m hurt.”

“Hey! You’re practically married to her! Let me have my happiness!” Jay ducked his head and put his hand on your lower back. You were guided over to the office off to the side of the entrance. “Thanks for the cookies but what are you doing here?”

“It’s about Calanthe.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that... Calanthe’s school is having a father-daughter dance... And they won’t let me take her. The PTA bitch Karen said that her dad has to bring her. And... I know that this is a lot-”

“Yes. When is it?” 

“Two weeks on Saturday. But would you mind if you pretend you don’t know? Calanthe wants to ask you herself, I just wanted to make sure that you were actually okay with her asking.” He smiled softly, gently rubbing up and down your arms and pulling you closer. “This is the best news I’ve heard all day. Seriously. I am looking forward to this evening even more now. Calanthe... You... I don’t want to imagine a life without either of you. You two have become incredibly important to me... And I have never been more grateful for anything in my life. I love you- I love both of you.” His eyes were wide, his voice had become panicked at the end. “We love you too.” You wrapped your arms around his middle and tucked yourself into him. You could feel his body exhale against you as he returned the gesture.

“Is the PTA bitch’s name actually Karen?”

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“What smells so good?”

“Mom’s making boxty! She said it’s basically an Irish potato pancake.”

“Boxty? I haven’t had that since I was a kid.”

“Mom said that you said that you missed your mom’s cooking, so she asked Willie if she could borrow your mom’s cookbook.”

“She did all that? For me?”

“Yeah.”

“And my brother actually lets you call him ‘Willie’ he hates it when I do that!”

“Well, I’m cute, so...”

“Oh!,” a hand went to his chest while a look of mock hurt plastered itself on his face, just below his beaming eyes, “and I’m not? I’m hurt Calanthe, hurt. You know what this means... You get a visit from the tickle monster!”

“Eep!”

You entered the living room to announce that dinner was ready when Jay was just about to catch your daughter. “Mom!” She darted behind your legs, “don’t let him tickle me!”

“Oh, so the tickle monster came out, huh?”

“Yes, but in my defence, she implied that I’m not cute.”

“Well you’re not cute,” He tried to hide but you could see his body deflate and his eyes dim, “you’re smokin’ hot.” He perked up instantly visibly happier than before. “Ewwwwwwww mom!”

“Alright guys, go wash up before your dinner gets cold.”

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“Jay... Is it okay if I ask you something?” His eyes darted to you before returning to your daughter’s nervous form. “Of course, you can ask me anything, always.”

“In two weeks, on Saturday, there’s a dance. At my school. It’s a father-daughter dance. And I know that you- you’re not... My dad... But I’d like you to be...” Your heart was stuttering and soaring at her words, “I- will you come with me? To the dance?”

“Yes,” You were shocked by the hoarseness in his voice, “there is nothing I would rather do more.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mom?”

“I’ve already read you two stories, it’s time for bed now.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“What were you going to ask, then?”

“Do you love Jay?”

“Honey... I... Yes. I do.”

“I think he loves you too.”

“Honey-”

“You should date him. That’s what people do when they love each other, right?”

“Yes, you’re right. Tell you what, after the dance, I’ll talk to him.”

“Yay!”

“Now go to sleep.”

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The two weeks flew by, you’d gone dress shopping and gotten her a dress that your pants-only daughter was, for once, excited to wear. 

You were growing antsy. Anxiety gnawing at your insides, making you quite jittery. “Eep!” You jumped up, startled before seeing that it was only Natalie. “Oh, Nat. Sorry, hi, uh, what’s up?”

“I’d ask you how much coffee you had this morning but I know you hate coffee. So, are you going to tell me what’s making you so nervous”

“I... After the dance at Calanthe’s school, I’m going to talk to Jay.”

“About?”

“Feelings. My feelings. About him.”

“Really? This is great Y/N! Just take some deep breaths, okay? I know that this is nerve-wracking. But I think that you’ll feel better once it’s all out in the open.”

“I think so too.” Your best friend hugged you, intended on instilling you with ease and calmness. “Now,” you separated and straightened up, “I need a consult. Tender age male with a gnarly broken leg.”

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The day had finally arrived. Calanthe was deciding what shoes to wear when you heard a knock on the door. Confused as to who was at the door because Jay has a key, you opened the door, and Kelly was there. In a suit. “What are you doing here, Kelly?”

“I heard that Calanthe’s school was having a father-daughter dance. So I’m here.”

“Kelly, what are you doing?”

“I’m here to take my kid to a dance.”

“She is not your kid. She is the biological daughter you abandoned before she was even born.”

“I have the right to-”

“You signed away your parental rights years ago.”

“Well, who is she going to go with, then?”

“Jay.”

“Halstead?”

“Yes.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“Lower your voice and mind your tone when you talk to me. The only time you have ever shown interest in my daughter was when your girlfriend started asking questions. My daughter does not deserve to be thrown aside when you lose interest. She does not deserve to have you pop in and out of her life when it suits you. After your first ‘visit’ I asked her if she wanted to meet you, she said ‘no’. You need to respect that.”

“I don’t need to. She is MY daughter! Not his!”

“You need to go. Calanthe asked him. Calanthe chose him.”

“Calanthe chose him, or you chose him?”

“This conversation is over.” You tried to slam the door but he blocked it with his foot and pushed the door open. Entering your home without permission. “Kelly, you need to leave. Now!”

“NO! I am going to take MY daughter to her school dance, and then we will go out for ice cream with Penelope!”

“Mom?”

“You must be Calanthe. I’m Kelly Severide your-”

“Kelly-” He shoved you into the brick wall on the left side of the apartment. 

“-I am your father. I’m taking you to the dance and for ice cream. Come on.”

“No. Don’t touch me, and get away from my mom!”

“Calanthe, don’t be difficult.”

“I want Jay!” Your daughter shrunk behind you when she saw the look on Kelly’s face. “What are you doing here Severide?”

“Taking MY daughter to the father-daughter dance Halstead!”

“It doesn’t look like they want you here. I think you should leave... Y/N why is one side of your face all scraped up?”

“Jay...”

“Get out or I’m calling for backup.”

“Is that a threat, Halstead?”

“A promise that I will protect my family no matter what.”

“Your fam-”

“You have ten seconds to get in your car and drive away.”

“Don’t-”

“Ten, nine-”

“Halstead-”

“Eight, seven, six-”

“FINE!”

Kelly stormed out and was gone by the time Jay got to one. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. We’re both fine.”

“I’m glad you’re here Jay.” she gripped his waist as tight as she could, he responded by wrapping his arms around the top of her shoulders. “So am I.”

“You two should get going, or you’ll be late.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“The three of us have been looking forward to this for weeks. You two are going to go to that dance, and I am going to Natalie’s for pizza and nature documentaries. Kelly Severide be damned. And then after all that we are going to come back here and have a double chocolate cake.”

“Alright. That sounds good to me. Calanthe!”

“Let’s gooooooooooooo! We’re going to be late.” Jay allowed the pint-size human to drag him out the door, laughing all the way.

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You slammed the door, furious. You’d had fun at Natalie’s, until you had to leave early. At first you had brushed off all questions about your minor injuries. Once the pizzas were finished and you’d watched three episodes of This Strange Rock on Netflix, you could hold them back anymore. Everyone was shocked at Kelly’s behaviour.

*FLASHBACK*

“I don’t even know how he found out what school she goes to, much less that there was a father-daughter dance. He said that he heard about it, but from who? I only told you guys.” Natalie, Ava, Maggie, April, Sylvie, and Kim all shook their heads. Gabby and Erin looked very interested in their glasses of wine suddenly. Something that didn’t go unnoticed and made you sit up straighter. “Gabby? Erin? Do you know anything?”

Kim’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. “You didn’t. Erin, tell me you didn’t.”

Gabby and Erin looked at each other before pursing their lips. “He deserved to know Y/N.”

“No, he didn’t Gabby! He gave up his parental rights before Calanthe was even born! The only reason he ever came around was because he got a girlfriend! And the only reason she found out about my daughter is because you told her!”

“Hey! Don’t get mad at her for doing the right thing Y/N!”

“Erin, Jay doesn’t love you. I’m sorry that you feel hurt but you need to stop acting like this! You almost got Adam and I killed today! You blew our cover because you feel entitled to Jay! You need to stop. He loves her, everyone can see that.”

“What did you two do, anyway?”

“April, you’re Kelly’s friend-”

“Yes I am, but I know when not to tell Kelly things! He’s impulsive and possessive when he’s not drinking a shelf a night, it’s a thousand times worse than when he is! And even then, Kelly did sign away his rights a long time ago. He can’t just change his mind about it. Y/N has said, numerous times, that if Calanthe wants to meet Kelly she’ll make it happen.”

“And my daughter said she doesn’t want to meet him. His unannounced, and illegal, visit only scared her and solidified her urge to not meet him. How could you?”

“I heard Jay talking about how excited he was to Antonio, he won’t even talk to me unless it’s case-related anymore. I didn’t have time to tell Kelly myself, but I ran into Gabby on a call and when Sylvie was busy, I told her.”

“I told Kelly, I know what it’s like to lose a child and I couldn’t let Kelly go through that.”

“KELLY DID NOT LOSE MY DAUGHTER! HE ABANDONED HER! HE MADE A CHOICE TO LEAVE AND NOT CONTACT ME! HE IS NOT THE VICTIM HERE!”

You’d grabbed your things and left, too angry to stay in the same building as those two woefully misinformed traitors. You didn’t miss the look of rage and utter disbelief on the faces of the other women as you left. Nat’s in particular. Erin and Gabby would be put in their place, that you knew.

*FLASHBACK OVER*

Jay and Calanthe wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours, so you decided to angry-clean your home. And angry-cook. By the time your two favourite people returned home the entire apartment was spotless, not one stray dish or article of clothing was left unwashed and unorganized. You weren’t a neat freak so Jay raised an eyebrow at the state of your living room. “Who’s ready for cake?”

“Me!”

“Ha, well alright then. I already served up three plates. I’m assuming you want one too, Jay?”

“Absolutely.” Laughter and stories from the night flowed easily until Calanthe was yawning. It took some coaxing but you got Calanthe, upstairs, out of her dress, and in her bed. Her arm wrapped around her favourite stuffed animal, far, far away in dreamland.

“So, how was movie night?”

“I can tell by the look in your eyes, that you already know something happened.”

“Yep.”

Sigh.

“Erin told Gabby who told Kelly about Calanthe’s school and the dance. They thought that since Kelly is Calanthe’s biological daughter he’s entitled to... Her. He came around because he got a girlfriend and Gabby told her he has a daughter. And she’s been badgering him about her. I talked to Calanthe, I asked her if she wanted to meet him, and she said ‘no’. He just... I don’t know. I don’t want him to treat Calanthe like Benny treated him. Popping in and out of her life, making promises he can’t keep, and leaving messes in his wake.”

“You’re pissed, I get it. You deserve to be. I have to say, I don’t like how Erin has been behaving lately. I think I need to talk to Voight about changing partners.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Her actions are not your fault.”

“I know, I’m just sorry you have to deal with all this drama, I guess.”

“Hey, as long as you and Calanthe are close to me, I don’t care. Drama won’t scare me away. The two of you hold a lot more importance in my life than you realize.”

“Yeah,” you shifted in your seat, nervous, “about that. Jay, I need to tell you something.” He sat up straighter his eyes tightening their focus on you. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“I know that you probably don’t feel this way, especially cause I’m a single mom and I doubt you would want to get involved with me knowing that she’s part of the package...” Jay suddenly sucked in air and you braced yourself for the rejection you knew was coming. That would break not only yours, but your daughter’s heart. The rejection that would ruin your friendship and be known about in detail by everyone in your social circle by the end of the week (who were you kidding it would be 48 hours max). “I am in love with you. I have been for a long time, actually, since the rubber duck incident.” A dry chuckle escaped your lips, remembering that day in the barracks. His gaze seemed magnetized because you couldn’t resist returning his gaze anymore. “I didn’t search you out after we got discharged because I knew we both needed time, otherwise we’d total our relationship. Granted that’s what’s happening now, and I have Calanthe which could complicate things... I... I am beyond a shadow of a doubt, irrevocably, in love with you Jay Halstead. And it’s okay that you don’t love me back.”

“This... Is the best day of my life.” Your questioning eyes met his elated ones as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you further into the couch and towards his athletic body. “First I get to take the little girl I’ve wished was my daughter since the day I met her, the woman I’ve been in love with since I was eighteen just told me she loves me back, and that I could one day have everything I wish for. You, as my wife, and Calanthe, as my daughter. I have been dreaming about this for so long, and when I was on pain meds, I actually dreamed that I told you, and it felt so real, but none of those dreams, fantasies, could in any way compare to the real thing. God, I love you so much. You and Calanthe... Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” The world faded, and it was just you and Jay. His chapped lips slanted against your soft ones. It was an otherworldly experience, feeling anger, doubt, and anxiety vanish. And replaced with... rightness. It was the only word that fit this feeling of knowing that he was the love you were waiting for. That he completed the puzzle embedded in your soul.

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“Jay,” he turned to look at you holding onto your keys instead of putting them in the lock, to release Natalie of babysitting duties and effectively ending your second date, “remember how you told me about the dreams you had when you were on morphine? About telling me how you felt?”

“Yeah? What about them? You want details, don’t you?” His smirk edged closer to your giddily pursed lips. “No, well yes, but what I’m trying to say is that the confession pain med dreams weren’t actually dreams. You told me that you loved me a few times, actually, high as a kite.”

“Seriously? I did?”

“Yeah...”

“Oh my God.” His ears were flushed pink and you were giggling as you tilted his embarrassed face up to face yours. “Don’t be embarrassed, I hear worse all the time, I’m just happy that you actually meant it and that it wasn’t just pain-killer rambles.”

“Oh? Do you get a lot of men professing their love while on Tylenol three?” His mock jealousy only made you laugh. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Well it’s a good thing you do know me, and know that the only thing I am jealous of is that Will gets to spend all day working with you and I don’t.” Once the laughter almost suffocated you both you slid the key into the lock. “Want to come inside and see Calanthe? From the sounds I can hear she’s still up.”

“More than anything.”

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Please comment on this fic if you want me to write a one-shot for the ‘rubber duck incident’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALSO, comments are just generally appreciated on my fics! Please leave one if you can, it's very encouraging and helps me write more.

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@jayhalsstead​ @jayxhalsteads​ @jaysoffer​ @chicagopd-chicagofire​ @jay-halstead​

I think you guys might like this! (Also my posts haven’t been appearing in searches lately so I figured tagging you guys would make it easier to find)

Okay kids gather 'round, I'm about to lay some unpopular ass truth bombs at your doorstep.

Marco can't cook.

"But Lilac!" you say. "He does the cooking and cleaning for his dad!" Okay let me explain you a thing or two about being a kid and experiencing negligent abuse. This shit's about to get personal.

My dad left my mom when I was 11. My mother was the Womb Haver, which CLEARLY made her the Best Parent, so we stayed with her and she left us to our own devices while she went to work and parties. Lots of parties. Whole shitton of parties. That woman is 58 and can out party me any night of the week, bounce back the next morning, and do it again. She is a warrior! She is an amazoness! She's an alcoholic and my siblings and I raised each other.

As I was The Incredibly Responsible Eldest Child (TM), I cooked for my siblings. What did that mean?

I cooked 25 cent ramen packets. I heated up two cans of Campbell's soup on the stove. If mom had enough money that week, my siblings and I might rock a frozen pizza. I dumped shit into a pan, put that pan on some device that generated heat, and grumpily walked away to go back to the hand-me-down family desktop computer and read Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction.

Not everyone in my particular situation "cooked" the way I do. Please do not think that because my situation worked out in this way, that I assume EVERYONE'S situation was the same. I lived in a low income area and went to a low income school and I wasn't the only Incredibly Responsible Eldest Child (TM) (or Only Child, y'all can hang too). I knew tons of kids that were using the stove top to make elaborate dishes. Also, some kids legitimately enjoy cooking, and learned a lot about food even without A Dark Past. If you want to headcanon Marco in that way, I support you? But sometimes the reading of his past gets a little woobie-ish, like, look at this poor ‘lil abused kid, isn't it cute that he knows the difference between baking soda and baking powder because of his sad sad dad. As someone with a somewhat similar history, that reading tends to make me stiffen and twitch my upper lip with repressed frustration. Especially because it’s NOT REALLY IN THE BOOKS.

Yes, multiple times, it’s mentioned that Marco does the cooking and cleaning for his house. But at literally no moment is he expressly shown to be cooking or enjoying cooking. Here’s what we know about Marco:

In #5, he goes “grocery” shopping. At a convenience store.

Which is why what happened on my way home from the 7-Eleven was so dumb.

I was walking down the street with some low-fat milk, a loaf of bread, and a bag of peanut M&M’s. Since my mom died, I’ve gotten stuck with a lot of the shopping and stuff for my dad and me.

Yes. The 7-Eleven. Grocery shopping. First off, he’s clearly doing a Man Shop, which is when you treat the closest food store to you as a personal pantry and buy two or three items every other day. That’s not really how people who cook for themselves do it up, and I know this as a recovered Man Shopper and current Good Cook. Also, that 7-Eleven? That’s where this kid is going to get ALL his shopping done. Groceries! Cleaning supplies! Toilet paper! 7-Eleven. It’s in walking distance and Marco is thirteen. And convenience stores have mark-ups on their items specifically BECAUSE they are convenient. That loaf of bread is probably 2$ at a real grocery store, but is going to be 3$ at the 7-Eleven, so that’s something to remember when you think about Marco handling his family. He doesn’t have a ton of budget here.

Also, the 7-Eleven isn’t going to have things like fresh vegetables or proteins. How is he going to make carbonara without, like, bacon. He’s beholden to whatever awkward sad trucker food happens to be at that 7-Eleven. He can’t … make much, guys, even if he wanted to.Peter’s not going to get it together long enough to drop Marco off at the local Albertsons and ALSO come back for him. Maybe sometimes on a Saturday Marco makes a day trip to a real store on his bike, but then he can only grab what he can feasibly bring home on said bike. Nothing frozen for sure, perishable items from the coolers are risky, and heavy things might throw him off balance. And it’s not like he had the internet available to look up all the clever things you can do on a budget or have access to recipes for college students. Ya boy is heating up some sphagettios. He’s using that loaf of shitty cheap Wonderbread from 7-Eleven to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He’s a kid, and he’s eating like a kid, and he’s cooking like a kid.

Also, shout out to Marco for spending what little money his family has on peanut M&Ms. That is honestly one of my favorite Marco details of all time. You deserve those peanut M&Ms, buddy. You earned them.

There’s also this passage from #45:

When it’s my night to make dinner, I don’t order in. I don’t crack open a can of Chef Boyardee and call that a meal. Please.

I go the extra mile.

I use the oven.

I know. You’re saying to yourself, “But, Marco, man, you’re fighting a war against alien invaders. You and your friends, you guys battle Yeerks twenty-four seven. How do you find the time to cook?!”

It isn’t easy. But with a little help from the freezer aisle and a guy I know called Red Baron, it’s a lot simpler than it could be.

Plus, this particular night, I was trying to make my stepmom feel, well, glad that she’d married my dad. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent behind the whole thing, she made my dad happy. That’s worth something. “

He’s basically saying “I’m doing what I can to surprise and delight my step mom, because she makes my dad happy, and I hate her and this whole situation but I’m making an effort for my family.” If he really spent ages eleven to thirteen caramelizing fucking onions, would he show his appreciation with Red Baron? Which isn’t even that great of a frozen pizza brand? We were a Tony’s family. Sure, you can interpret it as Marco only putting forth the barest of efforts and holding back his Real Talent of serving pecan crusted salmon over lemon risotto because he doesn’t like Nora if you WANT, but you better EARN it.

Do I think he spent all two years not even making an effort to cook? No. I think maybe he goes to the library or a local bookstore, whatever is closest, and finds a cookbook full of recipes based in his mother’s country of origin. He looks up a dish he misses, something she loved to make, something that was uniquely her and her family and her culture. He carefully writes down each and every ingredient, some of which he never really heard of, because he only had eleven short years with his mom and they didn’t have time to go over spices and flours. He carefully budgets for the next few weeks, trying to find extra money here and there so that he can bike to a real grocery store and find everything he needs. He takes the ingredients home and tries his damnest to follow the recipe and he burns shit. He tries again a few days later and uses a half cup instead of a quarter cup at one point. He tries a third time and everything went perfectly and it tastes wrong and it will ALWAYS taste wrong, because she never taught him how to make it the way she made it, because she never wrote down the recipe and now she never will, and he cries wildly in the quiet way he’s invented so as not to disturb his dad. If his dad hears him crying, sometimes he comes to check up on Marco and that’s awkward -- and sometimes Peter hears him crying and doesn’t check up on Marco, and that’s worse. Marco doesn’t attempt the dish again. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back, and so he throws mayonaisse on bread and feeds himself and his dad Oscar Mayer turkey sandwiches.

But he gets to buy all the groceries himself and feed himself whatever he wants and sometimes he has cookie dough ice cream for breakfast and that’s bomb as fuck.

growing dandelions wonho/minhyuk, pg, fluff, angst

minhyuk doesn’t know what looks weirder- that single dandelion rising from a bunch of primroses or the fact that he’s literally stuffing his pockets with little flowers in the middle of the day.

A/N: dudes i gotta beta this but. i’ll come back and fix it later i just really wanna post this

i. When life gives you lemons, bake lemon madeleines. Minhyuk realizes it’s not winter anymore when his eyes land on a bunch of pale yellow primroses rising from a cracked sidewalk, right next to the bus stop. He can’t see much from the windowsill where he put a chocolate pie to cool off but they look pretty indeed, and for a second he’s tempted to go out and grab a few- they would suit those ginger cupcakes he made yesterday, or the cranberry tart Kihyun baked this morning. Spring always tastes like flowers, so colourful and so sweet, and Minhyuk believes that anything he bakes tastes a little better too, but maybe it’s just a silly thought of his. Recipes don’t change like seasons do, two cups of sugar remain two cups of sugar and honey is just honey, but Minhyuk doesn’t want to change his mind. Kihyun doesn’t care much about it- if a small bouquet of daisies and the warm air of April help them sell more and faster, why would he complain about it? More money equals buying the best ingredients on the market, repairing the same old oven they have been using since Middle Age and paying that annoying rent that gives him nightmares every first day of the month. Minhyuk doesn’t think he’s a great baker, not like Kihyun at least. He doesn’t own hundreds of books about French Patisserie or has ever attended a cooking class in his entire life, but he guesses he’s good enough. He surely enjoys his job, and it doesn’t matter if his cookies always come out burnt or ugly- every child is the most beautiful one to their mother, in the end. His fingers are skilled when it comes to kneading doughs and bread, maybe because they’re long and thin, or perhaps because that evil machine is broken 24/7 so he doesn’t have a choice but to use his hands. That’s a detail, anyway. Kihyun let him decorate a wedding cake once, a few years ago. Minhyuk remembers it clearly- it was round and heavy, lots of layers and lots of buttercream, a few roses made of purple fondant here and there and a glittery ribbon tied at the base. It was nothing exciting but it was pretty, and most importantly it was Minhyuk’s first wedding cake, so it wasn’t really his fault if a couple of happy teardrops stained his flour-stained cheeks once the soon-to-be groom dropped by to pick it up. Spring, anyway, doesn’t just taste like flowers- sometimes it tastes like dark chocolate and peppermint, some other times it tastes like orange zests and vanilla, in the morning it tastes like peanut butter and bananas, in the evening it tastes like cinnamon and anise, while on weekends it tastes like sour cherries and almonds. Minhyuk listens as his hand breaks egg after egg- one, three, seven, ten. He can clearly hear that weird familiar noise that Jooheon’s van makes, and Minhyuk doesn’t even have to imagine what’s inside. He knows he brought lemons, probably tons of them, and apples, those green apples that no one apparently likes apart from Kihyun, those green apples that taste like nothing and yet they end up in every sweet on the counter, those green apples that seem to multiply themselves day by day just to annoy the hell out of Minhyuk. He most likely brought sunflower seeds as well, since his father owns a few fields near their village. “Can you guys believe it’s spring already? Christmas was literally yesterday!” Jooheon exclaims while walking in the kitchen, a box three sizes bigger than himself held safe and sound in his arms and a snapback with a sunflower drawn on it hanging from his belt. Kihyun makes the ugliest noise in the world, head and torso lost in the oven because his arms are too short and damn it he can never reach for anything. Minhyuk lightly pats Jooheon’s trembling shoulder and reassures him that no, their oven doesn’t talk. “Don’t mention Christmas around Kihyun, he gets war flashbacks” Minhyuk eventually explains, hands digging in the box to see what they could make with the fruit Jooheon brought. There are lemons, green apples, fresh basil, mint, cherries, mangoes and obviously sunflower seeds- he places everything back in the box and grabs his wallet, handing Jooheon a few dollars. “So what happened on Christmas?” Jooheon whispers dangerously, tucking his bright red wallet into his back pocket. Kihyun groans twice as loud as before- Minhyuk doesn’t want to say he fears for Jooheon’s safety but he kinda does, so he grabs Jooheon’s forearm and drags him outside the bakery. He doesn’t want to deal with flying baking trays again, because it happened, and it wasn’t cute. “We baked seventy-two chocolate cakes,” Minhyuk sighs as he rests his back against the brick wall, “we didn’t sleep, or eat, or anything, there was so much cocoa powder everywhere” he says, lightly shaking his head. Jooheon listens as Minhyuk talks about how much time they wasted cleaning the kitchen, about how Kihyun almost chopped his hand off, about how many tears they shed as soon as the winter holidays finally ended. They also talk about how pretty the fairy lights looked on New Year’s Eve, and how colorful the fireworks were- Jooheon stops Minhyuk as soon as he takes a glance at his wrist watch. He says he gotta go, he’s late for delivery and if he doesn’t literally fly at home his dad is gonna sell him instead of sunflower seeds. Minhyuk is definitely confused but he waves anyway, eyes following Jooheon’s white van until it disappears in the traffic. He’s not really surprised- Jooheon has always been like this, always in a hurry, always running around, always leaving a few sunflower seeds behind him. Minhyuk sees them too, right where he used to stand right next to him. He wonders if he keeps some in his pocket and if that pocket has holes in it, which would be adorable- more or less like the same primroses he saw earlier, the ones silently bathing in sunlight next to the bus stop. Now that Minhyuk can see them closer and better, he’s pretty sure they would look stunning among the glazed donuts they usually bake on Saturday. He picks a few at first, the most colourful and beautiful ones, but eventually he ends up collecting hundreds as his feet take him right on the other side of the road, where a dandelion greets him with its pale white petals and its emerald stem. Minhyuk doesn’t know what looks weirder- that single dandelion rising from a bunch of primroses or the fact that he’s literally stuffing his pockets with little flowers in the middle of the day. He’s about to cross the road once more, cheeks flaming red and that dandelion still in his hands, when he sees him- a lovely mess of lilac hair strands falling on his eyes and a bouquet made of roses and azaleas resting in his arms. Minhyuk doesn’t have to look at the green sign spelling ‘shin’s flower shop’ right above his head to guess that he must be a florist. The fact that he’s wearing a very ugly green apron tied around his waist and that there’s probably more dirt on his cheeks than in a vase says a lot, but Minhyuk stares and he stares back, and it’s a miracle if Minhyuk doesn’t get hit by a car in the meantime. Minhyuk bets he looks hideous right now, jam stains on his pants and at least a meter of black hair hair roots greeting the world, so he unconsciously tries to straigthen the fabric of his clothes with clumsy fingers as an amused smile starts to appear on the florist’s cherry lips. Nothing else happens, apart from him almost dying of a heart attack because of a car honking- he can still hear the florist’s light laugh echoing in his ears as he pushes the bakery door, breath stuck in his throat and knees made of jelly. Kihyun is still inside the oven when Minhyuk comes back, cleaning and brushing and cleaning and brushing, so the latter silently gets back to work. It’s not really his fault if his eyes shyly wander towards the flower shop, and it’s also not his fault if he stares at the florist some more while he’s kneading a massive piece of dough. The rest of the day feels like a blur, mostly because they spend an eternity cleaning the kitchen and the counter and the floor and the sidewalk and the walls and the windows and basically any flat surface Kihyun can spray detergent on. It’s slow and boring but it has to be done, so sometimes one of them puts on some music, a mix of 90’s songs and anime openings, and Kihyun never fails to mention that he totally was a singer in his past life or will be in his next (and Minhyuk finds himself agreeing every single time, mostly because he doesn’t want to get hit by whatever is in his boss’ hands). The bakery closes earlier than usual on Saturday, which is fantastic because this past week has been so busy that Minhyuk thinks his back is slowly turning into wood. He folds his apron with care, stuffing it deep down his bag along with his jacket and trousers. Kihyun does the same right after him, short fingers running through his pinkish hair in a poor attempt to style it and his car keys already resting on the counter. “Do you need a ride?” Kihyun asks after tossing his bag on the back seat. Minhyuk really likes Kihyun’s car- maybe because it’s black and expensive, or maybe because it’s cleaner than a hospital room, or perhaps because it always smells like candy and something else he can quite recall, but he ends up refusing anyway. They part ways when the sun is slowly starting to set, showering their skin with beautiful shades of orange and violet. Minhyuk shoves his hands in the pockets of his washed out jeans and starts walking towards the subway, soft shivers running down his spine as the chilly wind dances through his hair. He doesn’t want to think about what happened early- about how ridiculous he looked with primroses all over himself, about how he literally sprinted away without even saying hi, about how he almost dropped the dough on the floor when he was too busy staring at the flower shop through the window. He doesn’t even want to think about how ugly the tiramisù he made turned out, or even how silly he’s being by choosing another path just to avoid seeing the florist again, which turns out to be useless because life just doesn’t like Minhyuk and now he’s right in front of him- with the same lilac hair falling on his eyes and his ugly green apron, carrying a few vases back inside the shop. Minhyuk mentally slaps himself for not looking at the right street and basically ending up choosing the same old way he always chooses, but it’s probably too late to run to the other side of the road (again) so he just swallows a gallon of saliva and keeps on walking like he’s totally knowing what he’s doing. Except maybe he’s not. “Ah, wait a second!” Because obviously, obviously, the pretty florist has to come out just in time to see Minhyuk almost hurrying his way to the corner of the street- but again, life just doesn’t like him. Minhyuk seriously wonders if running away might be too impolite, but by the time he makes up his mind, the florist is already standing by his side- soft smile on his pink lips, round glasses resting on top of his head and a golden name tag shining under the remaining sun rays. “I have something for you, follow me.” So Minhyuk does. He doesn’t know why, but he does. He’d like to ask if that’s how he tricks his customers into buying flowers they probably don’t need, but as soon as he steps inside the shop, a beautiful mess of colors and scents makes him feel dizzy for a second. He kinda understands why customers might take so long to choose- Minhyuk himself can’t stop looking around, can’t stop brushing his fingertips over petals of all shapes and colors, can’t stop wondering how much time it takes to take care of every single plant. Minhyuk is still admiring a flower crown when the florist calls him over the counter, glasses now on the bridge of his nose and fingers busy folding thin pieces of paper. “I saw you were picking primroses this morning, so I thought you’d like these as well” he says while gathering a bunch of tiny pansies and daisies, wrapping them in red paper and sealing everything with a brown stapler. Minhyuk later walks out of the flower shop with the little bouquet in his right hand, cheeks burning bright and eyes too embarrassed to look at nothing else than the dirty sidewalk. He thanks Hoseok with a deep bow and he bows back, wishing him a great evening. Minhyuk totally doesn’t stop right behind the corner to smell those colourful gems, and he totally doesn’t get a little jealous over the fact that Hoseok owns a name as pretty as he looks. Later that night, when the stars gather themselves around the moon and the bouquet stares at him from his desk, Minhyuk falls asleep and dreams of tall dandelions and soft, lilac hair. ii. When life gives you strawberries, make strawberry millefeuille. Spring is a wonderful season until it’s Monday morning and it seems like it’s November all over again, with heavy raindrops hitting the street and thick grey clouds dancing in the sky. Minhyuk enters the coffee shop when it’s barely six am and his hair is already dripping wet, creating ugly stains on his light blue sweater- his favorite light blue sweater, too. He orders a cappuccino with extra sugar and extra milk and extra foam, not really caring if that’s gonna give him cavities because cavities are surely better than falling asleep on a custard pie and then shielding himself from Kihyun’s wrath with a lid. He plops down at the same table he chooses every morning, with the same menu resting on top and the same pieces of gum stuck underneath it. The shop itself isn’t pretty or fancy but it’s cozy and it feels like home, so Minhyuk doesn’t really mind if his cappuccino looks a little ugly- he knows it tastes good, and also looks aren’t everything in life, which is funny because his fingers fly to his hair to comb it as soon as he sees Hoseok’s little purple head at the counter. Hoseok sees him too and grins, latte held between his fingers and white hoodie completely dry. He hands a few coins to the barista and a second later he’s sitting right in front of Minhyuk, who’s still casually trying to hide himself behind the menu. “Good morning” Hoseok says with his stupid voice and his stupid face, fingers gently pulling the menu down. Minhyuk greets him with a small nod, the smallest nod in the world, because up close Hoseok looks like one of those paintings that are just too beautiful to be real so you just kinda stare- and Minhyuk would love to stare but staring would be impolite, so he tries to focus on his cappuccino instead. Hoseok doesn’t talk much but he’s friendly, if that makes sense. He rambles about the weather, about the flower shop, about the spring festival that everyone is so hyped about. The village is tiny and old, everyone knows everyone, so festivals are always a big deal- and a lot of work, since decorations don’t make themselves and food just doesn’t appear like magic, but spending time together is always heartwarming after all. Minhyuk realizes he has been doing nothing but looking at Hoseok for the whole time and now his cappuccino is frozen, which might be okay in summer but not today, so he just sets it aside and mentally bids goodbye to his only breakfast. “You don’t have an umbrella, do you?” Hoseok asks out of the blue, eyes looking at the small lake that Minhyuk’s wet hair slowly created on the table. “When I went out it wasn’t raining yet” Minhyuk explains shyly, trying to dry the wooden surface with a few disposable tissues. Hoseok simply nods quietly, standing up to throw his empty cup away. They both stand on the doorstep when the first thunder echoes in the sky, making Minhyuk flinch for a second- but then Hoseok opens his umbrella and holds it above them, not really caring about personal space. “Let’s go?” And that’s how Minhyuk ends up in front of the bakery with his hair a little bit drier and his heart a little warmer, his cheeks a bit redder and his soul a little bit happier. “So who’s that?” Kihyun inquires after they both wave at each other and Hoseok is about to disappear inside the flower shop. Minhyuk replies that he’s a friend- he doesn’t tell Kihyun that he literally met Hoseok the day before, that he felt something in his stomach when their fingers accidentally brushed against each other, that if he tries hard enough he can still smell his cologne, that the hamsters in his head slip into a coma everytime he sees him. Because that would be silly, Hoseok is just a friend- hell, he’s just an acquaintance. That evening, when the sky is clear and water puddles decorate sidewalks like polka dots, Minhyuk musters up the crumbles of courage he has left and steps inside the flower shop. Hoseok is standing next to an old lady, chatting about carnations and orchids, pointing at flower wreaths. She buys one of those, the biggest one, made of white roses and golden ribbons. She says she’ll surely come back, maybe with his daughter this time, and Hoseok spots Minhyuk right after she leaves. They don’t talk at first, and it’s weird how silence between them never seems to be embarrassing. Hoseok’s hands look rough, but they are gentle as they cut and trim and fold; Minhyuk wonders if he’s running too fast- he wonders if this is love at first sight, because maybe he’s in love for real, and everything suddenly feels silly and wrong for all the right reasons. He wonders if perhaps he’s getting sick, or maybe he should blame those flowers, even though he’s smart enough to understand that he should only blame himself. “Thanks for this morning” Minhyuk mumbles at some point, thoughts loud in his head and gaze dancing among a colourful bunch of tulips. Hoseok simply shrugs as his hand picks a sunflower from a vase near the geraniums, cutting its stem with a pair of scissors and then wrapping it in soft golden paper. Later, when Minhyuk stares at the sunflower on his kitchen table, he decides that Mondays aren’t so bad, even if they consist of storms and tasteless, frozen coffee. iii. When life gives you apricots, bake apricot croissants. Time sure runs fast when you develop feelings for someone who literally only knows your name and a few other details, like how much sugar you put in your cappuccino or your favorite milkshake flavour. It’s weird how their friendship started, but now Hoseok waits for him every single morning, right next to the old bus stop where they first met; they have breakfast together if they have enough time to actually sit down and chat for a few minutes, which happens rarely but still happens, and Minhyuk swears he’s the luckiest person in the world when Hoseok greets him at six am with his sleepy eyes and his sleepy voice. Minhyuk learns quickly that Hoseok likes his coffee sweet and borderline nauseating like a cake with too much whipped cream on top, which is just a detail on the list of reasons that makes him fall for him a little more everyday. On good days Minhyuk brings pieces of treats they didn’t sell the day before, mostly slices of apple pie and crunchy raisin cookies, and they eat them while sitting on the doorstep of the flower shop- icing sugar all around their lips and crumbles gathering in their laps. But it feels nice, and Hoseok always steals bits of Minhyuk’s treats in the end (because they taste like heaven, he says). They sometimes go to the local market on Sundays as well, if Minhyuk isn’t rotting in bed after a week spent baking and cleaning and baking and cleaning. Hoseok has a soft spot for fabrics and shiny pieces of paper and decorations and glitter and basically anything that he could use to make pretty bouquets and flower crowns- Minhyuk admires how his hands can give birth to such little masterpieces, and Hoseok always replies that his dad taught him all the secrets and tricks, and he does that with a smile so tender that makes Minhyuk want to melt on the spot. Minhyuk often buys spices and special kinds of flour, the ones Kihyun asks him to get, and Hoseok fills the silence with so many questions about cakes and baking in general that Minhyuk wonders if his throat will hurt by the time they part ways (but he ends up explaining everything he knows, which isn’t much but it’s enough, and it’s funny how his eyes keep trying to avoid Hoseok’s soft gaze- because it’s embarrassing, and those butterflies in his stomach make him want to throw up). A month isn’t much, but at some point it feels like they have known each other in their past lives too, and Minhyuk finds himself staring at the piece of fondant he’s moulding with scared, unfocused eyes. He asks himself if his feelings are valid- if he’s allowed to like Hoseok, if he’s not a weirdo, if this whole mess will tear their friendship apart. He asks himself if he’s being obvious or if he’s being dense, he asks himself if maybe he should start taking a few steps back, and his thoughts are so loud in his head that he wastes the entire night just staring at the ceiling. It’s the beginning of June when they accidentally meet at the laundromat next to the coffee shop. Minhyuk wishes he had chosen a better outfit instead of his pajama pants and a silly Iron Man sweatshirt, but his whole wardrobe is inside his bag and those were the last clean things his hand could grab, which feels pretty pathetic but that’s also a part of being an adult. Hoseok’s smile is as big as the moon and as bright as the sun, and Minhyuk starts to suspect his meals must consist of stars and stardust, but his eyes land on his bare arms and he can literally feel the first butterfly flying its way to his throat. Hoseok says he has to wash his green aprons and a few pair of jeans because dirt is worse than dust- it gets everywhere, and Minhyuk agrees, since he knows a thing or two about stained clothes. “It’s weird,” Hoseok mumbles while looking inside his paper bag, “I ordered a vanilla milkshake but they gave me two.” Minhyuk is folding his third t-shirt with so much anxiety that his fingers are about to turn it into confetti. “You don’t happen to like vanilla milkshake, do you?” There’s something in Hoseok’s voice that doesn’t feel quite sincere- but Minhyuk would kill for a vanilla milkshake, so he tries not to sound like a maniac when he replies that he absolutely adores it with every little cell of his body (even the dead ones). “You’re kidding?! What a crazy, random happenstance!” Hoseok exclaims while handing it to him, the tip of his ears slightly red and a proud smirk painted on his oh so pretty lips. That’s how they spend their Saturday night- sipping vanilla milkshakes at a laundromat, nostrils filled with a warm scent of fabric softener and a familiar noise echoing in the room. It’s not fancy or romantic but it’s not a date either, so it’s okay if they just end up talking about work and that spring festival and how ugly the posters on the wall look and about how fun could it would be if an ufo suddenly crashed on Earth. Minhyuk doesn’t want to get his hopes up but that’s hard, especially when Hoseok accompanies him home and it inevitably feels like a real date, with them sitting on a bench nearby because neither of them wants the night to end just yet. It’s two am when Minhyuk throws his house keys on the kitchen table and lets himself fall on the sofa, cheeks burning red and hair defying gravity. He runs his fingertips on the soft white narcissus Hoseok stole for him from someone’s private garden and sighs- that night he falls asleep like that, still dressed up and still holding his flower, and he dreams of bright pink peonies and warm, brown eyes. iv. When life gives you cherries, bake cherry tarts. June doesn’t start well. It starts with Kihyun aggressively spraying detergent on the marble table, lips pressed into a thin line and dark circles blacker than charcoal. It starts with hot, pouring rain, that kind of rain that makes your hair frizzy and your clothes humid. It starts with a sparkly beige envelope resting on the counter, a thick elegant card that Minhyuk reads it over and over and over until Kihyun gets so frustrated that sprays detergent on it as well. “I cannot believe my sister is getting marred” Kihyun’s lisp sounds angry and loud as he presses his beloved detergent to his chest. Minhyuk watches as his boss storms into the kitchen for the third time in a minute and follows him, eyes staring at hundreds of cake magazines scattered all over the floor. There are handwritten notes, drawings, diagrams- everything looks like a mess and Kihyun looks like one as well, with his mismatched uniform and a faint shadow of moustache decorating his face. He most likely didn’t get any sleep, drank coffee like water and skipped meals just to plan the whole cake- but he’s trying to stay positive, he loves his sister to death and he wants only the nicest things in the world for her, even if he hasn’t seen her in months (and the fact that she decided to get married in a tiny old village no one gives a fuck about is quite weird, but Minhyuk doesn’t ask and Kihyun is silently thankful for that). June doesn’t start well. Even though Hoseok often drops by to say hi at the end of the day, Minhyuk feels bad for not seeing him as often as he normally does- they don’t get breakfast anymore in the morning, since Minhyuk starts working earlier than usual; they don’t go on random little dates, the ones in which Hoseok’s fingers always find their way to touch Minhyuk ones, because Minhyuk is busy trying not to have a mental breakdown as customers’ orders multiply themselves day by day; they don’t go to the local market or waste their nights waking around empty hallways, but Hoseok says it’s okay, they will have plenty of time to catch up once the wedding is over. He brings flowers every single day, the ones he says remind him of Minhyuk the most, and it’s heartwarming how they look so soft and gracious. He brings white lilacs at first- their scent is so strong that it fills up the whole bakery. He brings moonflowers and gardenias, daisies and carnations, roses and plumerias, and then leaves with whatever sweet treat Minhyuk offers him. Sometimes it’s a slice of melon cheesecake, sometimes it’s a bunch of cookies covered in white chocolate and mint, and some other times it’s a muffin filled with maple syrup and pecans. When Kihyun finally notices how the bakery is slowly transforming itself into a garden and asks for some kind of explanations, Minhyuk just brushes it off by saying that Hoseok is just a very affectionate friend who has lots of love to give, and Kihyun’s eyes roll back so hard they almost get stuck. How could someone like him even feel the same way Minhyuk feels? He deserve so much more- not just a clumsy baker with questionable fashion choices and a few coins in his pockets. “Minhyuk, are you being serious? Do you give flowers to all your friends?” Kihyun’s words sound gentle and stern at the same time, but Minhyuk’s reply never comes. He keeps filling little tarts with a bunch of custard he just made, lower lip squeezed between his teeth and that funny feeling in his stomach slowly torturing him. He can’t remember the last time someone accepted his feelings because that never happened, not even in high school, and somehow it sounds too good to be true. Hoseok liking him, thinking about him everyday, comparing him to such pretty flowers- it’s just unrealistic. They drop that topic when the clock hits nine thirty and the bakery is finally ready to close. The sky is beautifully painted by dark shades of blue and violet, that kind of violet that reminds Minhyuk of those pansies Hoseok gave him when they first met. That evening Hoseok isn’t waiting for him- it’s way too late, but he leaves a bouquet of white tulips on the bakery’s doormat and Minhyuk feels his heart melt a little more as he picks it up. He goes home with his head heavy and his heart heavier, and he dreams of pale pink hibiscus and puffy, warm lips. v. When life gives you persimmons, make persimmon cheesecake. The evening before the big day, when Kihyun is busy angrily ironing his suit at home and the first stars start decorating the velvet sky, Minhyuk finds himself still face to face with the wedding cake, pieces of dusty pink fondant in his hands and a cup of hot coffee nearby. He thinks about Hoseok- like he has been doing for days, weeks, months, and carefully dips his paintbrush in a droplet of water to attach the flower to the base of the cake. His hair is still a mess, half black and half dyed, and his cheeks are stained with food colouring, but it’s late and the bakery is closed to the public, so why should he care? He’s cleaning his fingers with the hem of his apron when he gets a text from Hoseok, which is just an invite for a walk outside. He replies that it’s okay, he’s done anyway, but he doesn’t write that he would have accepted no matter what, even if the cake was half baked. Hoseok has a pale gardenia in his hands when they meet twenty minutes later. There’s a playground near that neighbourhood, and even though the air feels humid and smells like rain, they both decide to walk towards it. Minhyuk sighs, limbs heavy as the iron chains of the swing he’s sitting on keep screeching. Hoseok is sitting right next to him, lilac hair covered by a black snapback and a soft yet understanding smile painted on his face. He listens as Minhyuk talks about how he ruined two whole litres of cream because he whipped it for too long and it became butter, about how angry Kihyun got when he accidentally forgot a bunch of cookies in the oven, about how stressed he is because of his poorly styled hair. “If you want, I can dye it for you” Hoseok casually proposes as he wraps a blade of grass around his index finger. Minhyuk has tried to imagine how it would feel, to have Hoseok’s fingers buried deep through his hair- but now that he’s sitting cross legged on his bathroom floor, eyes not daring looking up from those shiny baby blue tiles and heart beating furiously in his chest, he wonders if maybe he should have declined his offer. When the clock hits midnight and he comes back home, Minhyuk lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He places the gardenia on his desk, right next to a bunch of other flowers, and tucks a strand of jet black hair behind his ear. That night, when Minhyuk’s nostrils are still filled with the smell of dye and Hoseok’s sweet cologne, he falls asleep and dreams of a warm breath hitting the back of his neck and kind, gentle fingers dancing in his hair. vi. When life gives you peaches, bake peach crostata. The next time Minhyuk finds himself in Hoseok’s small but comfortable flat, he’s sprawled on the bed- hair sticking to his forehead and thumb scrolling down his Facebook profile, sunlight creeping through thin orange curtains and the smell of coffee lingering in the air. Hoseok is right next to him, busy reading some kind of magazine with a bunch of plants on its cover, glasses on the tip of his nose and fingertips covered by tiny little bandaids. Hoseok laughs when Minhyuk complains about it being a long week, even though it’s a sunny Tuesday evening and they both have a hard weekend waiting for them. Eventually Hoseok starts chatting about this new amazing and wonderful magazine that he bought yesterday morning before opening the shop, which is just a guide to growing exotic flowers with some free seeds in it, and then Minhyuk talks about how much he wants to visit the seaside in August because he really needs a vacation, and they keep chatting and chatting and chatting until the coffee gets cold. “So did you meet anyone interesting at the wedding?” Hoseok casually asks, taking a sip from his Captain America mug. Minhyuk stares at his own relationship status on his profile before shaking his head negatively, expecting Hoseok to burst out laughing at any moment. He did meet some nice guys, one of them being Jooheon’s best friend, Hyunwoo- his shoulders were broad and his skin was gently kissed by the sun, his eyes were warmer than a bonfire and his voice was tender, but he wasn’t Hoseok- no one could be Hoseok. They spend the rest of the evening sharing a cup of ramen, one of the many cheap cups of ramen that live inside one of Hoseok’s cabinets, and when Minhyuk gathers his stuff to go home, Hoseok says goodbye with a baby blue iris. That night, after Minhyuk places his flower on the bedside table, he sends Hoseok a text- and then another one, and another one, and four more. [10:23] to: hoseok :^) i rlly like the flower. have a wonderful night and sweet dreams xx [10:25] to: hoseok :^) lets grab breakfast tmrw morning. my treat [10:25] to: hoseok :^) also. im kinda glad i didn’t find any1 interesting @ the wedding [10:28] to: hoseok :^) no 1 could b 2 anyway lol ur my #1 haha pls ignore that lol goodnight ily [10:29] to: hoseok :^) omfg forget that too [10:29] to: hoseok :^) wait no. i really lov you like [10:32] to: hoseok :^) anyway. GOODNIGHT 4 REAL this time [11:34] to: hoseok :^) i love you

Minhyuk spends the rest of the night staring at his ceiling, eyelids sticky with sleep and fingers playing with the hem of his bedsheets. He listens as his heart beats furiously in his chest, fast and loud like a rocket, until the sun slowly starts painting his room with its tender shades of orange and the phone screen lights up after hours of being still- and that’s when Minhyuk can finally fall asleep, cheeks warm and heart at peace. [05:45] from: hoseok :^) breakfast sounds amazing im starving alrEADY orz lets go to the golden fields this sunday [05:46] from: hoseok :^) also. im glad u didnt find any1 interesting @ the wedding. id be jealous [05:46] from: hoseok :^) ps. i love you too vii. When life gives you bananas, bake banana bread. The bakery is always quiet on Mondays. Summer sometimes seems to last forever, with its suffocating warmth and its bright colors, with its short nights and its never ending days. Minhyuk’s hair is getting long, black shiny bangs falling on his eyes, and he sighs as he wipes his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his double-breasted jacket. The thought of getting a haircut always stays in the back of his head, but every month is just never the right month, and then there are priorities, and he’s always busy with work- and suddenly it’s winter and it’s freezing all over again. Kihyun is filling éclairs next to him, his trusty pastry bag squeezed in his right hand and a freshly ironed apron tied tightly around his waist. He asks about Hoseok- about their relationship, about why the hell they aren’t together yet, about the absurd quantity of roses that now decorate the counter. Minhyuk keeps kneading the dough he has been kneading since 2007, fingers stuck in a sticky mess of flour and eggs and mind busy not thinking about the butterflies in his tummy- he promises he’s gonna confess, not now but soon, and Kihyun walks away while shaking his head. Minhyuk is really planning his confession, though. Maybe he does stand a chance, he thinks as he walks towards the flower shop on a hot Saturday evening, a bag filled with little treats and his new shoes shining under the sunlight (they weren’t on sale so he was reluctant at first, but he was sure that Hoseok would have liked them, so Kihyun bought them for him since he kinda felt bad). “Wanna go somewhere?” Hoseok suggests after tucking the shop keys inside the pocket of his washed out jeans. Minhyuk just nods, trying to ignore the fact that Hoseok sounds anxious- sad, too. He doesn’t like this feeling, he doesn’t like it at all, and he likes it even less when Hoseok says he has news to tell. Hoseok talks slowly but his words are messy, unsure, trembling. They are sitting near the river when Minhyuk hears his heart slowly breaking, piece after piece, watching it drown into the river’s clear water. Hoseok’s hand gently cups Minhyuk’s cheek when he says he has to leave for a while. Minhyuk stops listening almost right away, already feeling the first butterfly in his stomach slowly dying. He assures him that it’s okay though, friendships don’t just end because of distance, and they could call or send texts and maybe video chat too, if they miss each other. “I had something to tell you, too” Minhyuk manages to mutter, not really sure if his confession was even worth it at this point. “I know.” Minhyuk realizes he’s crying only when Hoseok’s thumb gently wipes a teardrop away from his cheek, and he bets he probably looks silly with his red face and runny nose and trembling lips, but the next thing he knows is that Hoseok is holding him tight against his chest and suddenly everything hits him like a truck. Minhyuk cries, obviously. He cries until his throat is sore and his vision gets blurry. He feels safe in Hoseok’s arms- and the fact that he probably won’t feel like that for a long time makes him want to throw up. Hoseok kisses him for the first time when it’s dark and the river is quiet. Minhyuk’s fingers gently tangles themselves in his lilac hair, pulling and pulling and pulling like they are not close enough- and then it’s time to go, it’s midnight, and Minhyuk holds Hoseok’s hand until they are in front of his house. They have a few more days before Hoseok’s departure, and it’s alright if they just spend them doing nothing, simply enjoying each other’s company. Hoseok talks about his mother, his family, the reason he has to leave, and Minhyuk understands, he would have done the same for his parents. There’s a grateful smile on Hoseok’s lips, and Minhyuk feels a little less sad. On their last night together, Hoseok says goodbye with a single dandelion he picked near the sidewalk. It’s nothing special, but he promises he will be back soon, and Minhyuk begs him to kiss him again- so Hoseok does, and Minhyuk sheds bitter tears when he watches Hoseok’s back getting smaller and smaller. viii. When life gives you pineapples, bake pineapple bars. It’s hard at first, to live without someone’s presence. The clouds look a little greyer, the stars don’t shine much, nights feel restless, breakfast becomes tasteless- but then it becomes a routine, and things feel normal again. Both Minhyuk and Hoseok are busy with work, but they always find some time to call each other. Hoseok talks about his hometown, he says a lot of things changed since his parents got divorced, streets are wider and trees greener, and Minhyuk still complains about Kihyun being a clean freak. Their relationship might be young but it’s still beautiful, and every single time Hoseok says i love you, Minhyuk feels those damn butterflies just spinning in his stomach. Time flies when a relationship gets steady- calls get shorter, texts get fewer. On Christmas, two years after Hoseok’s departure, Hoseok sounds weird again- he says things are getting really well, work is wonderful, he missed home so much, and maybe, just maybe, he might decide to stay. Minhyuk sounds cheerful on the other line, he’s happy for his boyfriend, he only wants the best for him, but when the call ends Minhyuk feels his vision getting blurry again and he understands that he’s losing Hoseok. “He’ll come back” Kihyun assures Minhyuk after patting his shoulder, stains of cocoa powder all over his cheeks and apron. But Hoseok calls in February and he says he really wants to stay, even though he’s still not completely sure about it- and Minhyuk finds himself agreeing, as long as he’s happy. ix. When life gives you oranges, make orange parfait. Minhyuk finds himself staring at Hoseok’s old flower shop on his way to work. It’s been years and yet it still looks so damn pretty, with its white door and its soft beige doormat. He remembers Hoseok’s ugly green apron, and smiles to himself- it seemed a little too beautiful to be real. But he still leaves a little piece of cheesecake on the doormat, because maybe that will bring Hoseok back. x. When life gives you lemons, bake lemon madeleines. Minhyuk realizes it’s not winter anymore when his eyes land on a bunch of pale yellow primroses rising from a cracked sidewalk, right next to the bus stop. He can’t see much from the windowsill where he put a bunch of vanilla cookies to cool off but they look pretty indeed, and for a second he’s tempted to go out and grab a few- and he does, when Kihyun is too busy talking with Jooheon about those apples that he loves so much. March is a wonderful month for flowers, he finds himself thinking as he fills his pockets with tiny pretty flowers. There’s a weird dandelion growing among them, and Minhyuk picks that as well, because the more the better, right? “Ah, wait a second!” Minhyuk turns his head towards that voice, dandelion still held between his fingers. His eyes meet a beautiful mess of soft lilac hair, the same lilac hair he fell in love with two years ago- and that same old green apron, glasses on the tip of his nose and a bunch of red roses in his arms. He suddenly feels something weird in his stomach, and when Hoseok’s pink pouty lips turn into a smile, MInhyuk feels the first butterfly flying his way to his throat. “I have something for you, follow me.” And for the second time, Minhyuk does.