The music began at ten am precisely, just as it had for the past two weeks.
Karan ducked her head, hiding her smile as Shion perked up with the first notes from the guitar. A few beats later a melodious voice rose above the clamor of voices, weaving a song over the noise.
Predictably, Shion wandered to the massive store front window, under the guise of cleaning it. After two weeks of this, Karan swore she had the cleanest window on the street, but Shion seemed unaware, gazing out with an awestruck look on his face.
“Why don’t you go say hello, Shion?” She asked in an off handed manner, shuffling through her paperwork, as if she weren’t paying attention.
Shion flushed bright red, ducking his head. “I shouldn’t interrupt him.”
Karan sighed. This could take a while.
Two hours later, like clockwork, the music stopped. It would begin again in exactly fifteen minutes.
As he had for the past week and a half, Shion burst into action, darting around the bakery, selecting the choicest items of the day, packaging them carefully, placing them gently in a bag with a cold bottle of water. Bag held carefully between his hands, as though he carried the most fragile of gifts, he exited the shop.
Karan had watched with amusement the first time this had happened, wanting to see her son approach the object of his affection. She knew the routine now though.
Shion would walk down the block, past three storefronts, to the small wooden box set up between shops where the guitarist made his stage. He would set the bag down, labeled carefully to its intended recipient, a small note of appreciation attached. He would look around, half nervous, half hopeful, making sure the musician hadn’t seen him. And he would leave, hurrying back to their shop, flushed with his success.
Also, like clockwork, the guitarist would watch from across the street, from within the small bookshop. He would wait til Shion turned away, smile playing on his lips as he returned to his post and examined his gift.
They were hopeless, Karan thought, looking up as the bell announced Shion’s return.
Shion sank back against the door, eyes gleaming, face a brilliant red, clutching something to his chest.
“What’s that?” Karan asked, surprised at this change in routine.
“It’s a book!” Shion exclaimed, holding out his prize. “He left it for me! See, there’s a note! ‘To my mysterious baker!’”
“Oh? Well, now, that’s sweet of him,” Karan said, hope blooming. “You really should go speak to him now. He deserves a thank you, at the least.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t! I know! I’ll leave him something special tomorrow!” Shion hurried up the stairs, depositing his present in their apartment before returning to work.
Karan shook her head. She was right. They were hopeless.
The next few weeks were, in her opinion, absurd.
Shion continued with his stealth missions of providing lunch. The guitarist continued to leave gifts in return, first every few days, then every single day. Their notes became longer, almost a conversation, if you were a hopeless teenage boy who couldn’t be bothered to actually speak to someone. Karan ground her teeth, determined to let them work it out at their own pace, watching them with mounting exasperation.
Shion was in his glory, however. He moved about the shop with uncontained glee, his happiness infectious, the flush of young love bright in his eyes. He danced around, quoting from the books he’d been given, chattering on endlessly.
The guitarist was called Nezumi. He’d left a note for Shion, telling him, and since, all Karan heard was 'Nezumi said… and Nezumi likes… and Nezumi thinks… isn’t Nezumi a great singer?’
The fantastic Nezumi had taken to wandering the block as he performed, passing by their shop with increasing frequency. Karan wanted to bang her head against the wall, watching as Shion would duck behind the shelves, peeking out to catch a glimpse of his raven haired love.
“Just… go say hello. Please,” Karan begged as Shion pressed himself against the window, watching until Nezumi turned to come back their way.
Shion mumbled an excuse as he ducked into hiding once more.
Hopeless.
Finally, a day came that broke the routine.
Ten am rolled around, and Shion perked up, waiting for the music to begin, confusion marring his face when it didn’t. By ten fifteen, Shion looked worried, stocking the displays in a haze. By ten thirty, he couldn’t focus, giving up all pretense of working, standing by the door, wringing his hands.
“Maybe he’s just sick, sweetheart, I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow,” Karan soothed, her own worry unimportant. Shion nodded, clearly not hearing her, leaving his post and heading to the kitchen glumly.
Karan fretted. She didn’t know what to do, it wasn’t like she knew where Nezumi lived, she couldn’t go track him down. She doubted the guitarist would give up so suddenly though. He had to be sick, it was the most likely scenario.
At eleven, the bell above the door chimed, announcing a customer. Shion didn’t even poke his head out of the kitchen to greet their guest, lost in his dark cloud of despair.
Karan looked up from her books, smiling easily, greeting on her lips.
Nezumi stood in the doorway, uncertain smile on his lips, bouquet of flowers clutched awkwardly in his fist.
“Oh thank goodness!” Karan exclaimed, rushing across the store to seize the teen in a hug.
He stiffened, shock on his face. “Er… hi? Is, uh, is Shion around? I’m…”
Karan laughed. “I know who you are Nezumi! Oh, I am so glad to see you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She scowled suddenly, smacking him lightly on the chest. “You are late, young man. We were worried!”
Nezumi flushed, looking down, scuffing his shoe against the doormat. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I… wasn’t sure if I should come.”
Karan sighed. “Hopeless, both of you. Now! Shion is in the kitchen. Wait right here!” She steered him across the shop, planting the baffled teen in front of the counter.
“Shion!” She called, entering the small kitchen. Shion looked up glumly, flour smeared across his cheek, hair more wild than usual in the humidity. “There’s a customer for you.”
Shion eyed her with confusion, wiping his hands on his apron and crossing the room.
“For me?” He asked, head still ducked as he entered the main room. “Who…”
He looked up.
Nezumi scowled, holding out his bouquet and scratching the back of his neck. Shion froze, blush starting at the base of his throat.
“Nezumi…”
Karan ducked into the kitchen, hands clutched to her breast, watching as the teens faced each other for the first time.
“I… I apologize for worrying you,” Nezumi blurted out. “Uh… these are for you.”
Shion smiled, taking the flowers gently, pressing them to his chest and inhaling deeply. “Thank you.”
“So… er…” Nezumi scowled, trailing off, eyes on his feet.
Shion stepped closer, peering up at the taller boy hopefully. “Yes?”
“Would you let me take you out?” Nezumi blurted, locking eyes with Shion. “I know I don’t have much to offer, and you could do so much better, but… I want the chance to make you happy, if you’d allow me.”
Shion frowned. “Idiot.” Nezumi looked stricken. “How could I possibly do better? You’ve already made me happier than I thought was possible. Of course you can take me out.”
Nezumi smiled, soft and mystified. “Oh… well… good.”
Shion beamed, shaking his head. “Good.”
Nezumi flushed. “So… lunch?”
Shion turned, looking for Karan. “Mom? I’m going out, will you be okay here alone?”
Karan beamed, bustling out of the kitchen, shooing them toward the door. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Now, get out of here you two. Have fun!”
Karan watched as the walked down the street, Shion shyly reaching out for Nezumi’s hand, smiling so brightly when their fingers tangled together.
Hopeless, she thought fondly.
