∘°要求された°∘

[ R E Q U E S T E D ]

'Is there something the matter?'

パン屋 the soft swinging sign out front read; パン it meant bread, often regulars came in desiring sweet bread sometimes with red bean paste filling. The bakery belonged to Miyamura's family and subsequently in the future passed down to Izumi Miyamura. Yet those shoes were too many sizes too large for his feet. It would be surprising if the boy even made it through highschool.

The bakery stood quite, run by only me and him as his mother was too sick and the lazy part-time worker hadn't shown up. It stood quiet until it wasn't. Pans flung everywhere in distray I had ducked as the silver trays clanged against one another by the slip of his head. For a bread enthusiast this would be their dreams, watching bread fly; however as the loafs came clanking down I watched the money fall with thim as the fresh loaves hit the ground and laid dead.

He fumbled over words before he ran to the back. In the back laid the door to the small alleyway and the bin behind it where all the dropped loaves would subsequently go to waste and the small brown door that led into his lounge room. He obviously chose the second one, fleeing upstairs as I shouted back at him.

'Miyamura!' I shouted back, hearing the door slam,

Things laid clean, I sighed as I rolled dough to make up for the spilt scones. The creak of steps down the staircase followed by the small squawk form the door as it was slowly pulled open. The note skidded across the bench to just in front of me, as he wandered towards the front.

I stared upon the note letting it roll in my hand, before opening it. In messy writing it read sorry, I smiled weakly as I continued on. The front was dead quiet, he came back in with his hair down and the chain from his lip piercing to his lobe wrapped around his ear hidden by all of his hair.

He stood awkwardly, playing with his fingers beside me as if to speak. His fingers outreached to touch the dough yet I slapped them away. I dusted the soft flour off my fingers before combing his hair with them. Pulling his hair into his usual hairstyle so hair would be caught in sight. I washed my hands before we stood there, rolling dough into scones.

His a little square for scones, beginning to deflat as they were too wet. He let out a groan as he crouched down, sighing, I could see the honest tears in his eyes. Everything his parents worked for felt too much for him.

'I can't do it.'

A soft sigh escaped my lips, rolling the balls cupped in my hands, 'Do what Miyamura?'

He looked up with tears in his eyes, 'My parents work so hard to make this bakery and I can't even make a scone.'

It probably wasn't the scone that made him cry. Just the tipping point, I wrapped my arms around him, my hands away from his body in fear I would leave flour handprints upon his shirt and strings of his apron.

'I wish you were going to take over the store, you're so much better than me.' I pulled my head back and gave him a subtle smile,

'Izumi you're probably better than me anyway-' 'No I'm not perfect! You're good with customers, with baking, your scones are perfect and it's like the whole world flocks towards you.'

I giggled 'That's not how it goes Izumi. You put me on a pedestal I don't even belong on and you don't see yourself how I see you.'

Hands pressed softly upon his cheek. The small smudge of flour upon his cheeks. He let out a soft sniff as we stayed watching each other, eyes following eyes till I slowly moved in and caught my lips upon his. I pulled back and smiled, kissing his cheek. Both as flustered as the other as the door rang.

'Hi, what can I do for you today?'

The regular giggled, 'So quiet you began to eat the food hey?'

I giggled with her and licked the flour off my lips before serving her. I returned, to see Izumi's hair up, staring at the scones worried.

'Let me teach you okay.' I smiled,

My head upon his shoulder, hand upon his as I helped him make the perfect scones. He held my hand, fingers soft leaving fingerprints. I sat upon the benchtop, watching him eagerly play with his new found skill, my fingers skimming my lips. Flustered, I stared down until his face drew near.

'Can I kiss you again?' he muttered worried.

'I- sire.' he moved, his lips soft and sweet; covered in sweet flour. He moved away for a soft minute for me to catch my breath before returning.

'My, my it looks like a lot of baking going on in here.' Lori - his mother, giglged,

I had never seen the boy run so fast, he had bolted past his mother and out the door with flour prints on his face and back. It took him an hour to come back and when he did it was like a dog with its tail between its legs; all flustered and red as a tomato.