The bakery, 6:30 AM. A sleepy village still wrapped in mist. And inside the kitchen? Total chaos.
"You burned the croissants?!" Jun-seo practically screamed, waving a blackened tray like it was a crime scene.
"It's not my fault the oven's hotter than the sun!" Kwang-su shot back, backing away with a guilty grin. "Besides, who the hell makes croissants at 6 in the morning?"
"We do! It's on the menu! It's been on the menu for ten years!"
Kwang-su raised his hands. "Relax, Bread Boy. We'll just call them... extra crispy."
Jun-seo let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a scream. "You are the worst partner I've ever had."
"You haven't had that many partners, have you?"
Jun-seo froze. "W-what does that even mean?"
Kwang-su smirked. "Nothing. Just asking. Curiosity."
"You're unbelievable."
Ten minutes later, they were somehow covered in flour—again. Jun-seo was rolling dough when Kwang-su decided it was the perfect time to "accidentally" knock the flour jar with his elbow. It exploded in a white cloud, dusting Jun-seo head to toe like a powdered donut.
Jun-seo stood completely still.
Kwang-su waited for the reaction.
"You done?" Jun-seo asked, eyes barely open under the flour.
"I mean... it's a good look for you."
Jun-seo slowly wiped his face and pointed to the mop. "You're cleaning that."
Kwang-su groaned. "But I'm fragile. Manual labor might kill me."
"Oh, please. You're built like a broomstick. You'll survive."
While he mopped and Jun-seo remade the dough, the air between them shifted—still tense, still snarky, but with a strange rhythm to it. Like they were getting used to the dance.
"You always this uptight?" Kwang-su asked, tossing a towel onto the counter.
Jun-seo didn't look up. "You always this annoying?"
"Pretty much."
A pause.
Then Jun-seo, without looking away from his dough, said, "You've got flour on your face."
Kwang-su wiped his cheek, but Jun-seo glanced up and shook his head. "Other side."
"Oh. You gonna help or just judge me from your flour throne?"
Jun-seo rolled his eyes but stepped over anyway. He reached up, fingers brushing against Kwang-su's cheek. A few soft pats and the flour was gone.
For a second, Kwang-su didn't move. Didn't speak.
Neither did Jun-seo.
Then Jun-seo blinked and stepped back like nothing happened.
"There. Try not to look like a powdered ghost next time."
Kwang-su grinned, trying to ignore how fast his heart had jumped. "You like touching my face that much, huh?"
Jun-seo's face turned red. "I hate you."
"Liar."
Before Jun-seo could respond, Kwang-su turned away with a smug little skip in his step. Jun-seo just stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at the back of his head.
Still, for all the arguing, all the disaster-level teamwork, and all the flour storms—there was something starting to rise between them.
And for once, it wasn't just dough.