Chapter Text
Mydei first met Khaslana a week after his eighteenth birthday.
It had been a rare, quiet morning where Mydei was opening his mother’s bakery on his own. It wasn’t the first time the young adult had opened up their business alone, and his mother had a doctor’s appointment that was a long drive away in another city-state, so Mydei hadn’t complained about it- even if he preferred doing all the opening chores with his mother.
Normally Mydei and his mother did everything together. On a typical day, they’d make it to the shop by 5 AM, prep dough, stock their display case, open at 6 AM, serve customers, clean up, and then close shop at 7 PM before heading home. This was their routine seven days a week every week, for renting both an apartment and a bakery was no easy feat. Even though they lived in Okhema’s less pricey Kremnoan district, the city-state was never known for its affordability.
Opening had gone as normal until the sun started painting blue skies with pastel swathes of pink and blue. Mydei had been wiping down the counters in the kitchen, nearly done with everything and ready to take a break, when the quiet chirping of birds was suddenly drowned out by a distant sound of music. The blonde man paused his cleaning for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at the clock on their wall. It was only 5:45 AM, and there wasn’t anyone- besides Mydei- who would be awake on the block to perform for. Most street performers in the district wouldn’t play until the evening since that’s when the area’s shopping centers got the most foot traffic. Since he and his mother had moved into the area, Mydei couldn’t remember a single day where he had heard someone playing before 4 PM at the earliest.
Tilting his head to the side, allowing himself to better listen, Mydei let out a tired yawn. Whoever was playing their guitar might’ve been a little nutty if they were out here before dawn, but Mydei couldn’t deny that they were definitely experienced. The tune being played wasn’t typical of most Kremnoan music, which wasn’t that rare in the district, but Mydei was surprised that he couldn’t place what region it probably came from. Mydei played his guitar in his downtime, and while he didn’t play as much as he would like to, he was very well-versed in the art. Something about Amphoreus’ history of music intrigued him, and he had spent a lot of his free time as a child learning more about it. It had been a few years since Mydei had heard a song he hadn’t been able to tie back to a region, and since Mydei was basically done with his opening chores already…
With nothing more interesting to do- and curiosity warming his chest- Mydei found himself tossing his cleaning rag to the side and walking out of the bakery’s kitchen, all the way in front of their bakery’s entry doors.
Mydei would be the first person to say that he has a rather mundane life: he rarely served a face that wasn’t a regular customer, he could name the owner of every single business within a two block radius, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he and his mother added something new to their menu. There hadn’t been any notable new faces in the Kremnoan district in years, at least beyond the usual evening rush of Okheman customers. Staring at the man on his block’s corner, Mydei was a little excited when he realized he had never seen this guy around before.
Sitting in a crappy plastic chair to the side of his mother’s bakery was a boy who couldn’t have been that much taller than Mydei- maybe just an inch at best. Mydei couldn’t make out the man’s face from this angle, but he did note some choppy white hair sticking out from under a stained, jet-black hoodie. There was an open guitar case lying just in front of his dirty sneakers, and Mydei’s eyes narrowed at the dirty ankle bandage peeking out from under his jeans. He would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in Okhema’s main district, Mydei noted. The blonde supposed it was in the man’s good fortune that he’d blend right into the Kremnoan district- if one ignored his pasty white skin, that is.
The bakery’s door bell jingled when Mydei swung it open, which apparently startled the guitarist so badly that he almost dropped his acoustic guitar. Thankfully the guy had fast reflexes. A quick glance at the guitar made it clear the instrument was in fantastic condition; Mydei would’ve felt a little guilty if it had gotten scraped up.
The hooded man quickly yanked his guitar further up into his lap and gave it a panicked scan for any marks. When he wasn’t able to find any, the boy let out a sigh of relief, slouching into his chair. There was a beat, and then he threw an arm up on the back of his seat, turning to shoot Mydei a wry look. If Mydei were anyone else, he probably would’ve flinched. Mydei, being who he was, merely gave the man an apologetic bow of his hand. “Sorry for the trouble,” he muttered, voice hoarse from lack of use.
The man squinted at him, clearly judging the authenticity of the statement, before nodding slowly. Looks like he had accepted Mydei’s intentions as genuine. “It’s fine,” the performer decided. His accent was a little amusing to the baker. The guitarist clearly wasn’t a native Okheman. If the drawl in his voice wasn’t just from speaking so early in the morning, Mydei mused that the man might be from a city-state further down south. The man glanced at the bakery behind him and then down at his chair, judging the distance between the two with a frown. “If I’m in the way, I can leave,” he sighed, avoiding Mydei’s stare.
Mydei gave the white-haired boy a shrug in response. “You’re fine here,” the blonde clarified, “I just wanted to check out the noise. You’re pretty good with that thing.” Mydei gestured lamely to the instrument in the man’s lap. Screw Mydei for being bad at small talk- it was barely 5:50 in the morning and he had skipped his daily coffee. The guitarist didn’t seem insulted by Mydei’s pathetic attempt at a conversation, but he also didn’t bother continuing it. He had already turned back to his guitar case, idly tapping on his instrument’s body.
Mydei tiredly scratched the back of his neck. It would be just his luck to try to conversate with someone just as bad at talking as him, but Mydei wanted to commit to it since he was already growing numb to the morning cold. “You been playing for a while?” Mydei asked, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
The guitarist shrugged noncommittedly. “Kinda,” he muttered, scratching at a bandaid on his cheek. Mydei thought he might’ve glanced a pale scar through the curtains of the man’s hair, but his eyes could’ve been playing tricks on him. “It hasn’t been that long, though.”
Mydei’s brows raised. This guy seemed way too comfortable with the instrument to be a beginner, and he hadn’t been warming up like one either. Mydei barely knew the guy, however. He wasn’t going to argue with a man who he had literally just met. “Well,” Mydei grunted, “You sound pretty good for a newbie.”
That, for some reason, got the guitarist’s attention. He slowly turned back around to meet Mydei’s eyes, and… geez, where did this guy get that stare from?
Now that Mydei could actually see the man’s face, he found himself mildly uncomfortable by how piercing the guy’s blue eyes were. Ignoring that initial observation, the guy actually seemed way younger than his gruffness suggested. He was probably somewhere around Mydei’s age- maybe a bit older? Mydei was also able to clearly see that there was, in fact, a faded scar on the left side of the man’s face. It had healed… surprisingly well for how big it was. It was only noticeable when contrasted against the guy’s matted white hair, and it wasn’t a particularly impressive scar for the Kremnoan district, so Mydei didn’t react to it past a fatigued blink.
“You play too?” the man eventually asked. He was practically pinning Mydei under that ridiculous stare. As he shrugged in response, Mydei mildly wished the guy would wear colored contacts.
“It’s just for fun though,” Mydei sighed, “I don’t have that much time to play because of the bakery.” Yes, the bakery. The bakery that probably needed to be opened for the day, now that Mydei was suddenly remembering his neglected responsibilities. Mydei had no idea how long he had spent standing in the cold with this stranger, but he definitely had work to do by now.
Mydei rolled his head from side to side, wincing at the loud pops. His mother should be arriving soon, and she’d definitely scold him if she caught him slacking off any longer. He quickly shoved a hand into his apron pocket, found a bill and a handful of coins, and then tossed them into the guy’s open guitar case. “Thanks for the music, deliverer.” The man seemed appreciative of the tip, but frowned at the nickname. What a shame. No one ever appreciated Mydei’s eye for names.
“Like I said earlier,” Mydei called back, “Stay as long as you like. Leave whenever you want. It doesn’t matter.” The guitarist gave him a nod and a hum, turning back to the street as a clear end to their conversation. What a fun guy.
As Mydei turned the bakery’s closed sign to open, he idly wondered if he’d ever see the guy ever again.
Mydei was pleasantly surprised the next morning to hear a familiar set of chords before opening. He and his mother were prepping for a massive catering order they had received yesterday, so Mydei unfortunately didn’t have the time to talk to the guitarist again. He did, however, prop open the bakery door so he could better hear the man’s playing. The guitarist was better prepared for the door bell’s ring this time around. Instead of startling, he had thrown a wave to Mydei over his shoulder, not even looking to see if Mydei returned the gesture. It was more charming than it had any right to be.
The man was there the following morning, and then the one after that, and Mydei stopped being surprised by the man’s presence by the end of the week. On the following Wednesday, his mother shoved him out the door fifteen minutes before opening so he could talk to his “new friend”. By the beginning of their third week, the man started to give Mydei a cautious smile along with his greetings.
Mydei didn’t have a lot of time to think about the guy after their morning chats- running a bakery with only two people on staff was mind-consuming work- but whenever he remembered the guitarist’s smile, he couldn’t help but think the blue-eyed boy was rather handsome when bathed in the sunrise’s waves.
Even if the guitarist color-coordinated his outfits like shit.
Two months into their acquaintanceship (friendship, maybe? Mydei wasn’t sure if he had the right to call the guy a friend), Mydei finally got to know the performer’s actual name.
The more comfortable the guitarist got with Mydei, the more Mydei got to learn about him. He found out that the performer was nineteen years old (as Mydei had guessed), exactly one inch taller than Mydei (which Mydei had also guessed, but was less pleased about getting right), and had been on the streets for at least a year. The man didn’t elaborate beyond that and Mydei didn’t want to bother him by pressing further. In return, the guitarist learned that Mydei’s mother would call him Deimos whenever she felt affectionate enough, that Mydei used to play the bass before switching to guitar, and that the mother-son duo had also been on the streets for around a month before they secured a lease in the Kremnoan district. Somewhere along the way, as the two teased, kicked, and gossiped together, Mydei had forgotten that he didn’t know the man’s name, and had settled with referring to him as Deliverer when necessary.
The morning of, Mydei was eager to give the guitarist his share of yesterday’s tips. The bakery had gotten noticeably more service with the man’s performances (regardless of how much the guitarist argued it wasn’t because of him) and both Mydei and his mother had thought it prudent to give the performer a portion of their daily tips in return. The man refused to receive any money from Mydei’s mother, however, which left Mydei to be the one to hand it over every morning. He didn’t mind, really. It was a nice excuse to watch Amphoreus’ sunrise- not to talk to the guy.
Mydei strolled over and kicked the man’s guitar case open, ignoring the performer’s responding whine as the blonde tossed in his tip. “You’ve been playing extra well this week,” Mydei grinned, folding his arms over his chest. “Thanks for the crowd, Deliverer.” The blonde didn’t bother to hide his snort when the man scowled at the nickname.
“I still have no idea where you got the idea for that name from…” the man grumbled, laying back in his chair. Mydei wished he’d throw the damn thing away. It looked painful to sit in, and it was even more of an eyesore. Mydei was half-convinced the performer kept on using it just to piss him off. Mydei gave the chair a brief, affectionate kick, and he smiled when the guitarist kicked him back.
“It’s not my fault you can’t comprehend my stellar names. Even my mother has started to take to Deliverer,” Mydei gleefully declared.
“I swear to Kephale, if I actually hear Miss Gorgo call me that, I’m going to throw something,” the man scoffed. “Last I checked, I haven’t been delivering anything to anybody.”
Mydei points a lazy thumb at the cash scattered in the performer’s guitar case. “You delivered yesterday’s afternoon rush,” he noted, and then turned his thumb to the guitar in the man’s arms. “You delivered this month’s music, also. The Deliverer has delivered. Done and done.”
The man snorted. “Just call me Khaslana,” he laughed, “I’d rather be a name than an occupation.”
Mydei tapped a thoughtful finger on his chin. “I don’t know about Khaslana…” he mocked. “I think Deliverer fits you better.”
The man- Khaslana, Mydei mentally corrected, smirked. “Then I think Deimos fits you better, too.” Mydei scowled. He would’ve clapped back had his mother not started hollering for him from the bakery’s kitchen.
“Deimos!” her voice boomed through the windows, ignorant of her comedically ironic timing. “I need your help at the register!”
“You heard the missus, Deimos,” Khaslana sneered. “Can’t keep that register waiting!” Mydei only tore himself from the bastard’s side after one last vengeful kick to his chair. The guitarist’s laughter echoed behind him, and Mydei only let the smile show on his face once Khaslana was too far to see it.
Sometime around the third month of knowing the guitarist, Khaslana started to join Mydei for his lunch breaks. Mydei wasn’t sure if it was because he kept going outside to talk to the guitarist or if the guitarist kept coming inside to talk to him. They did it often enough that the two knew it was time to eat when Mydei’s mother would shove two plates into their hands, piled high with her very own cooking.
Mydei had also finally started taking his morning breaks instead of skipping them, which was, to nobody’s surprise, also because of Khaslana. Instead of working through the fifteen minutes and ignoring his mother’s wicked side-eye, Mydei would drag one of their outdoor chairs over to Khaslana and plop down next to him. The building directly across the street was an antique business belonging to an Okheman man named Theodoros, and the two boys would observe the objects in his window displays before arguing over which ones were real and which ones were fake. Given their mutual status as high school dropouts, Mydei was honestly taken aback by how bad Khaslana was at appraising. Perhaps Mydei was just better at art history than Khaslana, for the guitarist could rarely correctly guess a piece’s place of origin on a good day. Khaslana had never shied away from flexing his mental mathematical skills on Mydei, so Mydei never felt too bad about tearing Khaslana’s incorrect assumptions to shreds.
By the fourth month of his friendship with Khaslana, the guitarist had somehow convinced Mydei to let him be his taste-tester. He was pretty useless at it though. Khaslana thought that everything he or his mother made was delicious, so Mydei never got any useful feedback. Sometimes, when it irritated Mydei enough, he would serve Khaslana a completely burnt pastry and watch him choke down the entire thing. His mother, if she was around to witness her son’s tomfoolery, would scold Mydei for it and force the boy to give Khaslana any pastry he wanted as reparations. Mydei had seen his traitorous mother laughing over their antics a few times though, so he knew she was never that upset at her son for his mischief.
In the fifth month of Mydei and Khaslana knowing each other, Mydei’s mother had closed the bakery early to take Mydei out to dinner, and she had asked Mydei if there was anything important he wanted to share with her. Her tone implied that there was something she thought he was hiding from him, but he honestly wasn’t sure what she thought that was. Unsure of what else to say, Mydei asked her if she’d allow him to bring his guitar to the bakery at some point so he could play with Khaslana. His mother had smiled brightly at him when he said that, but when she told Mydei how proud she was of him, the gleam in her eye made Mydei wonder if she had understood it differently from how he had meant it. Mydei still dutifully announced the good news to Khaslana the next day, and the two boys began eagerly planning for a morning where they could improv together.
Mydei couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so excited for anything.
By Mydei’s sixth and final month of knowing Khaslana, a beautiful blonde woman walked into the bakery and bought herself a single slice of galaktoboureko. She said her name was Aglaea, and when she sat down to eat, she sat at the table in the corner of the room where Mydei and Khaslana normally took their lunch breaks. Mydei no longer had the habit of noting every new face that walked into the bakery, but the way Aglaea walked and talked had commanded the attention of not just him, but everyone else in the shop. Had his mother not been on a delivery, Mydei thought he would’ve liked to see them interact. Aglaea had quietly finished her galaktoboureko, and after leaving the store, he watched her drop a handful of bills into Khaslana’s guitar case.
Mydei had mostly forgotten about her by the end of the shift, and only briefly remembered the woman when he and Khaslana stared wide-eyed at the amount of tips the guitarist had gathered that day.
She came back again the following week. This time, she ordered herself a kataifi roll, and left Mydei an even larger tip than last week’s. Before leaving, she asked Mydei for the name of the performer outside, and Mydei had given Khaslana’s name with a tiny sense of pride. He had gone into the kitchen after serving her so he could pull a tray of revani out of one of their ovens. When he returned, however, he was startled when he watched Khaslana storm inside the bakery. It was rare to find Khaslana inside the store during business hours and even rarer to find Khaslana in such a foul mood. Mydei had questioned his friend, but the guitarist had stubbornly refused to explain just what upset him so badly. Mydei quietly suggested that Khaslana take the rest of the day off, which Khaslana agreed to with a huff.
Khaslana’s dour mood was accompanied by a scattered attention span for the rest of the week. The guitarist’s taste-testing commentary was half-hearted at best, even when it looked like he enjoyed what he was eating. He had asked Mydei if they could sit in silence instead of debating the authenticity of Theodoros’ newest shipments during their breaks. Most shockingly, Khaslana messed up several times while playing, little mistakes that weren’t typical for a performer as experienced as him. Those moments seemed to make his mood the worst, and it had upset the man enough at one point that he ended his daily performance four hours early.
The week after, Khaslana had shown up on Monday morning with a radiant grin, yapping as if the previous week had never happened. Mydei had dutifully tried asking his friend about what happened, but the man remained tight-lipped as always. The blonde gave up on asking within a few days.
The final week of the sixth month began with Khaslana and Mydei inside the bakery at 5:05 AM. Mydei should’ve been opening up right now, seeing as his mother was off at another medical appointment. However, when Mydei had walked up to the bakery, he had found Khaslana on the ground in front of it, curled up in a ball with red-rimmed eyes, and Mydei dragged his friend inside without a single word. Mydei flicked on the lights and locked the door behind him, only then following Khaslana to their table in the corner.
Five minutes later found the bakery’s opening chores completely untouched, the two young men sitting together with varying degrees of distress on their faces.
“Aglaea… asked you what?” Mydei winced when his voice cracked. Khaslana’s hands were clasped together so tightly Mydei was genuinely worried he’d cut off his blood circulation.
Khaslana repeated his earlier sentence without a single ounce of joy in his voice: “If she could get me in a contract with her record label.” The blue-eyed boy dropped his head onto his fists, the thunk far too loud for the silence before dawn. Mydei had seen plenty of expressions on his friend by now, but he couldn’t remember a time where he’d seen the man so genuinely conflicted before now. “It’s… actually the second time she’s asked me this, Mydei,” the guitarist admitted, and Mydei grimaced. His friend’s previous behavior was starting to make a lot more sense to him. “The first time I thought she was just- fuck, I don’t know, joking with me? But she asked me again yesterday, and she gave me this business card, along with a deadline to respond, and I-”
Khaslana cut himself off to take a breath. Mydei politely pretended not to hear him choke over his clogged throat.
Mydei wasn’t sure what he was reeling over the most. Some useless part of him was still hung up on the fact that the woman wasn’t a model, or a clothes designer, or anything else involved with the world of fashion. Music? Really? Nikador knows Mydei would’ve never guessed that. But more importantly…
“Khaslana…,” Mydei spoke slowly. “Isn’t this… a good thing? You know you can’t afford to turn this down.”
Mydei’s voice may have sounded firm, but his heart trembled with every word. He and Khaslana both knew that this was more than a once in a lifetime opportunity- this was the kind of thing that only happened in fiction. They should both be ecstatic that Khaslana had gotten a golden ticket into the music industry, but instead they were talking as if a loved one had just been announced dead, which didn’t make any sense at all. They had literally joked about this happening not even a week ago, but then again, neither one of them had taken it seriously. Why would they have?
Khaslana tapped his fingers on the table, a rhythm that made sense only to him, before he bit down on his lip. It was a nervous tic of his that he had promised to try to stop, but Mydei didn’t have the heart to tell him to cut it out. Khaslana opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Blue eyes nervously met Mydei’s own before glancing away, fingers one again hitting the table. “I…” The guitarist’s eyes squeezed shut, voice faltering. “I know. I know that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, but I don’t think I want to take it.” The words were whispered like a confession, and Mydei couldn’t even try to hide the shock on his countenance. Khaslana opened his eyes once more, staring desperately into Mydei’s eyes. “It’s just that- I mean- ugh,” Khaslana moaned. The guitarist dipped his head and started to run his hands through his hair. The silence begged for Mydei to speak, but the blonde didn’t dare say a word. After a few seconds, his hands dropped into his lap. His voice was almost apologetic when he admitted, “I don’t think I want to change how things are right now.”
If Mydei were to be honest with Khaslana, he’d admit he felt the exact same way. Even with the sudden uptick in the frequency of his mother’s medical appointments (and their accordingly strained budget), Mydei was happier nowadays than he ever remembered being as a kid.
Before Khaslana, Mydei had yet to befriend anyone else his age in the Kremnoan district, and now Mydei truly considered Khaslana his best friend- first and only. It might’ve been stupid of Mydei, but he was eighteen and a half years old and had only realized how lonely he was once he actually had someone to look forward to seeing. It embarrassed him, really, just how attached he was to the guitarist. But beneath that? He was endlessly grateful. Mydei was more grateful for Khaslana than he knew how to convey.
Mydei was so grateful for him, in fact, that he held his tongue, and swallowed down his true feelings. For the past few months there had been a nagging feeling in his gut that told him that Khaslana was destined for a bigger stage than the small crowd of a bakery’s morning rush. Khaslana had always looked most handsome in the light. And honestly, even under a contract, it’s not like most musicians achieved international fame, but there was something about Khaslana that told Mydei that the guitarist could do it- even if he wasn’t quite sure what was holding his friend back from taking it.
If Khaslana needed a push, then Mydei would give it to him. It was the least he could do.
The two boys spent the rest of the hour sitting side-by-side at their table so they could list out every single pro and con of him taking Aglaea’s offer. They rationalized the odds of Khaslana actually making a mark in the music scene, and even drafted out backup plans in case things didn’t work out given he did take Aglaea’s offer. The two barely even noticed Mydei’s mother walking in, for on any other day she would’ve scolded her son for not getting the bakery even remotely ready for opening.
Instead, that day had been the only day Mydei’s mother ever allowed the bakery to open an hour late. Khaslana had insisted on helping them set up, even when Mydei tried reluctantly shooing him outside. “It’s my fault Mydei didn’t get anything done,” the white-haired boy miserably confessed, and then slapped his hand over Mydei’s mouth when the younger man had started protesting.
Something in their mutual despair, or perhaps in the way the two could barely manage to stand apart from each other, must’ve evoked enough pity in Mydei’s mother that she allowed Khaslana to take Mydei’s cleaning chores while he and his mother started baking. After flipping the closed sign to open, Mydei’s mother took Khaslana into her arms and gave him a firm hug. “The district’s library is only a three block distance from here,” she announced, pointing down the street. “It has computers you can use for free. Take today off so you can do your research. No decision should ever be made hastily.” Khaslana had always been weak to Mydei’s mother’s affection, and he had taken off after a short series of goodbyes and a promise to return once he made up his mind.
Mydei’s mother had asked Mydei if he wanted to take the day off so that he could join Khaslana at the library. Mydei had seen the tremble in her wrists when moving trays earlier that morning though, so her dutiful son had refused to let her work alone. “I’m sure Khaslana will come back soon anyways,” was how Mydei reassured his mother of his choice, keeping his tone more calmer than he actually felt. Mydei hadn’t been lying, though; he had meant every single world. Khaslana was a very fast learner, and he doubted the man would need more than a day’s worth of research to make his choice. Furthermore, Khaslana’s attendance record was even better than that of Mydei’s mother, and the man had only missed two days of playing in the last six months where he had apparently been too sick to leave his shelter bed.
If nothing else, Khaslana had always kept his promises to Mydei. Mydei trusted that he wouldn’t stop doing so now, even with such an important decision on the horizon.
Even when a few days passed, and he hadn’t seen neither hide nor hair of the man. Khaslana would come back when he was ready. Even if it took a week.
Even if it took a couple weeks.
Even if it took a month.
Khaslana would keep his promise.
Nine months after Mydei first talked to Khaslana, Mydei’s mother was hospitalized. Her health record had been exceptionally clean before her diagnosis, so she and Mydei were optimistic it wouldn’t take her more than a week to get discharged. Mydei handled the bakery on his own, and always made sure to visit his mother once he closed the business up. He was confident he could handle a few weeks of running everything alone; after all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have any practice with it.
Eleven months after Mydei made his first friend, Mydei’s name was known amongst all of the staff at his mother’s hospital. Every few days or so, Mydei would wake up extra early so he could make and hand out coffee to every staff member assisting his mother. Her head doctor, Dr. Anaxagoras, had always accepted the offering, even if he only gave a quick thank you grunt in response. Surprisingly, after a rare day where Mydei had made half-hearted dromas latte art in all their drinks, Dr. Anaxagoras had thanked Mydei with a dry but enthusiastic smile on his face. The man had been noticeably friendlier towards Mydei after that. Dr. Anaxagoras’ assistant, Dr. Hyacine, was notably easier to please than her boss, and she had gotten into the habit of showing Mydei cute pictures of her fat little pomeranian whenever he gave her a drink. Both doctors were a little eccentric for the Grove’s respectable medical reputation, but they were honest with him. They would even update Mydei on his mother’s health over the phone so that the man could keep the bakery running for longer hours. Mydei was endlessly grateful for it. The bills were starting to rack up, and the extra work was the only one Mydei could keep their bank accounts above the water.
Twelve months after Mydei met the guitarist, the lease to Mydei and his mother’s apartment ended. He had gotten multiple letters asking if they wanted to renew it, and Mydei made sure his mother didn’t know about a single one. Between rent and medical bills, Mydei would prioritize the latter. It wouldn’t be their duo’s first run in with homelessness, and Mydei knew they would make it through as long as his mother was fully recovered before her discharge. The Grove’s visiting hours supposedly closed at 10 PM, but Mydei had never been kicked out for spending the night next to his mother’s bed. He sometimes wondered if the hospital’s visiting policy posters were outdated. Mydei wouldn’t point it out to any staff though. The Grove’s visitor chairs were more comfortable than the bakery’s floor, and he made sure to not stay overnight too many times.
Near the end of the month, Mydei found a sticky note in his journal reminding him to open the bakery door around 6:30 AM, and he crumpled it up and threw it away. He couldn’t remember why he wrote that- Mydei could only open up shop after visiting his mother, after all, and he never managed to make it back earlier than 8:30 AM.
Thirteen months after Mydei met their block’s street performer, the blonde reunited with a woman he had met during he and his mother’s first month of homelessness. Cipher was just as much of a mischief maker as she had been when they first knew each other, even with the cast on her ankle, but something in her must’ve mellowed out in the years after. If not that, something else must’ve happened, for Mydei didn’t recognize the fatigue in her blue eyes. Cipher gave a quick greeting to Mydei’s mother for the brief period she could manage to be awake, and once she fell back asleep, the gray-haired woman scolded Mydei for the weeks he spent sleeping in improper “beds”. In exchange for completing her house chores, Cipher allowed Mydei to temporarily move in with her. “For as long as Miss Gorgo is at the Grove,” Cipher had decided, and while Mydei’s pride tried to keep him from accepting her offer, he knew Cipher wasn’t doing it out of pity.
Fourteen months after Mydei’s eighteenth birthday, Mydei accidentally walked into a purple-haired woman while running to his mother’s room. The very next day, the two had been shocked when she walked into his bakery, and the two had introduced themselves then and there. Her name was Castorice, and apparently her sister was resting a few rooms down from his mother’s room. The two quickly bonded over the struggle of being youths with bills to pay, and the two began ridesharing to the Grove to ease each other’s financial burdens. After one such ride, when it had been Castorice’s turn to drive, Mydei had been dropped off at his mother’s bakery. He was surprised when he found his precious guitar neatly tucked away in the very back of their storage closet. Mydei had wondered where his instrument had gone once their lease ran out, but he literally hadn’t had the time to try to find it. Slightly amused, he wondered what would’ve made him bring his guitar to the bakery- it’s not like he had any reason to play it here, after all.
One and a half years after Mydei’s eighteenth birthday, Mydei’s mother died. Mydei was left with nothing other than an empty bakery and an obscene pile of medical debt to pay off.
Mydei no longer remembered what had made the time after his eighteenth birthday worth counting.
Now that Mydei is twenty-five years old, he’d like to think that he has everything mostly figured out. Financially, he’s doing better now than he ever had in the past seven years. With Cipher’s eye for budgeting, he’d finished paying off his mother’s medical bills a year ago, and had already paid off his student loans another year before that. With his debts settled and done, his business was booming better than ever.
He and his current staff, Cipher and Castorice, got along like a house on fire and more importantly ran his business more efficiently than he could on his own. Despite Cipher’s penchant for childish pranks, the bakery’s finances were handled far better under her than they (admittedly) ever did under Mydei. Castorice, on the other hand, drove through Amphorean streets like a beast. Their deliveries arrived faster than ever before, and while Mydei sometimes wondered how her driving didn’t screw up their pastries, he was more than happy to let her commandeer their delivery van. Cipher’s charisma and Castorice’s etiquette made them great at handling customers, enough so that they had earned Mydei’s full trust in being left alone on the floor. He still couldn’t thank them enough for helping him remodel the bakery way back when, also. It sometimes ached when he remembered how it used to look under his mother’s ownership, but the two girls had been right: being surrounded by the memory of his mother hadn’t been helping him. There was so much Mydei had to thank them for, and he could only hope that they could tell just how grateful he was for them.
Professional life aside, Mydei’s social life had also shockingly improved. Mydei had even entered his first ever relationship once he was twenty-one! Even if he and Hephaestion had broken up more than a year ago, Mydei was still grateful for the experience. After the breakup, Hephaestion had remained the closest thing Mydei had to a best friend, and he had been the push Mydei needed to go to counseling and properly grieve his mother. Mydei (fortunately) was friends with more people than just his employees and his ex-fiance- he had managed to retain the friend group he had formed while enrolled at his local community college. He, Hephaestion, Perdikkas, Leonnius, Ptolemy, and Pecuesta had grown thick as thieves after accidentally discovering their shared love of music in their econ class, and the group occasionally jammed out together alongside their other meetups.
With his debts paid off and people worth hanging out with, Mydei finally had a social life that justified shortening his business hours. After years of a no-holiday, no-weekend schedule, Mydei now only kept his bakery open Monday through Friday. With the additional time in his week, Mydei had started hitting the local gym after closing up the bakery. More importantly, the free time allowed Mydei to adopt two little chimeras, affectionately named Fig Stew and Beagle Coconut. Fig Stew was a sleepy cuddler while his partner, Beagle Coconut, was a mischievous drama queen, and the two furry creatures kept Mydei’s apartment from feeling lonely after Hephaestion had moved out.
Mydei’s life was finally coming together. After every tragedy he had withstood, everything was finally starting to look up for him, and it had him in a better mood than ever. It had him in such a good mood that he was capable of tolerating his bakery’s expanding customer base.
When Cipher had realized their sales were going up from bigger crowds, she, Cas, and Mydei had been ecstatic. The extra tips were an extra bonus, and Mydei now often closed the bakery for lunch break so that he could treat the two girls out of appreciation for their hard work. There had been a brief moment where Mydei wondered just why business was growing. The blonde hadn’t done any new promotions or released any advertisements for the bakery in the last few months.
There were only two notable events that Mydei could remember happening before the influx in sales, and the first one was the day two twenty-something year-olds burst through the bakery’s front door with stars in their eyes.
The duo, a pair of identical twins with matching gray-hair, had been chittering excitedly to each other. Even though the Kremnoan district had recently seen more foreigners, the two still stood out amongst the rest. If not for their accent, then for the way they giggled about “finally finding the bakery” and that a “Silver wolf finally stopped trolling us”. The two loudmouths started filming the inside of the bakery without a care in the world, and Mydei had decided to zone them out until a sudden camera flash blinded him mid-step, and he nearly dropped his tray of fresh kopehai because of it. He carefully set the tray down on top of the display case, and when his vision cleared, he shot a lethal glare at the two nuisances.
“Good afternoon,” he spat, customer service be damned, “Unless you’re here to purchase anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” That finally snapped them out of their bubble, but Mydei doubted the authenticity of the remorse on their faces.
Despite their initial nuisance, the two twins- apparently named Stelle and Caelus, not that Mydei had any intention of remembering them- had bought enough food and drinks to feed a small army of six, and the additional tip they dropped alongside the order was enough to make up for their commotion. Before they left, however, they gave a bizarre request demanding that Mydei take a selfie with them. “It’s for our instagram,” Stelle pleaded, puckering out her lower lip pathetically.
Caelus next to her was no better; his pleading eyes were nearly wet with tears. “We’ll tip you extra if you let us take just one picture!” he begged.
Under any other circumstance, Mydei would’ve turned them down without hesitation, but he could tell these two were stubborn, and a line was starting to form behind them. With a reluctant sigh, Mydei allowed the twins to take a selfie with them, and instantly regretted it when they let out shrill squeals of delight. They happily set themselves down on the counter (adding to Mydei’s evergrowing list of chores) and threw their arms over his shoulders. If Mydei weren’t the victim of their mayhem he probably would’ve been impressed by their synchronization. When Stelle went to take the picture, however, she frowned at Mydei’s sullen look. “Can’t you smile?” she grumbled. Mydei shot her a scathing look, and she instantly snapped her mouth shut. Thank fucking Nikador. The girl got her photo, and finally the twins left the store, squabbling all the while over who deserved to post the picture on their instagram first. Mydei could only helplessly stare at the now-soiled counter and the long line of impatient customers lining out the door.
After that day, Mydei asked Cipher if she could withhold from taking her lunch breaks when Castorice was on delivery. Cipher only conceded after she forced Mydei to tell her the day’s events in excruciating, embarrassing detail, and her cackling had lasted so long Mydei began to feel that the humiliation wasn’t worth it.
Unfortunately for Mydei, the twins weren’t the only strange customers to walk through the door before his customer boom. Two days after Caelus and Stelle’s departure, a small ginger girl burst through the door, careful to keep her phone from falling off its selfie stick when she shut it behind her. “Believe it or not, chat,” she had dramatically declared, shooting her camera a wild grin, “Today we are at the bakery that’s rumored to be the origin story of Amphoreus’ most beloved idol!”
Mydei was leaning against the counter with an unimpressed look, arms folded over his chest. Cipher, who had been obnoxiously leaning against him, scoffed. “I can’t stand these damn conspiracy theorist TikTokers,” she grumbled. If the woman had a tail, it would certainly be lashing by now.
“Yes, you heard me right! Two days ago, two Instagram influencers posted a selfie in this very library, along with an entire essay on why they believe that we may have finally located the bakery where the man, the myth, the legend Phainon began his music career!” The ginger spun around in a slow circle, hoping to get every detail of Mydei’s bakery on the stream. “Now, I know just as well as you all do that we’ve had multiple false findings for this so-called restaurant, but the Trailblazers have bet their professional careers that this bakery, here on the third block of Okhema’s Kremnoan district, perfectly matches everything Phainon said when he described where he used to perform when he was a teen!” The girl finally completed her circle, her giddiness practically radiating off of her, and then suddenly screeched when Cipher yanked the phone out of the girl’s selfie stick.
“Good afternoon,” the gray-haired woman drawled, leering over the ginger with a menacing look. Mydei would’ve felt bad if the streamer hadn’t pissed him off the second she walked through the door. “I’d hate to break up your cute little stream, here, but unfortunately only customers can sit inside the restaurant. If you can’t buy anything, that means you’d be loitering, sooo…” Cipher’s voice trailed off.
The ginger girl was sweating like crazy. “O-Oh! I, I see, that- of course that makes sense!” she stammered nervously. “Let me just buy um, uh,” she began rifling through her pockets in a panic, patting them down and paling when she wasn’t able to find anything in them. “Um, it would appear that I m-must have… forgotten my wallet at h-home…” she trailed off. Her yellow eyes turned to Mydei, silently begging for mercy.
Mydei tilted his head to the side with a huff. “Policy is policy,” he stated, glazing over how Cipher literally made up said policy half a minute ago. “It appears it’s time for you to leave, ma’am.” The ginger practically bent over in half, belting out a quick apology, and sprinted out the door in a flurry of embarrassment only when Cipher tossed the phone back to her.
“Don’t worry, little lion,” Cipher giggled impishly, ignoring Mydei’s eyeroll. “I ended her stream the second I snatched her phone from her.” Her playful smile dropped into a considering frown. “We might actually need to install that policy, though,” she mused. “Something tells me that this girl and those twins you met aren’t going to be the end of customers harassing us.”
The crowds a week later had proven Cipher right, even though Mydei hadn’t doubted Cipher in the first place. The bakery’s usual customer count had slowly risen until they suddenly doubled in size. Unlike the first three nutcases, the majority of these folks were definitely Amphoreans, but there was still a baffling percentage of foreigners from other countries. With the increase in customers can a decrease in customer etiquette, and Mydei was relieved that Cipher had put up their new list of customer behavior policies before the crowds had gotten so bad. Mydei, Cas, and Cipher all had begun to bring face masks with them to their shifts; it helped hide their identities somewhat from the obnoxious amount of photos that got taken of the bakery. The new rule demanding purchase before service was a fantastic boon for their income, and it also granted Cipher a new beloved pastime of kicking out customers who didn’t come to buy anything. Cas and Mydei weren’t extroverted the way Cipher was, and it had taken a lot of work over the month to adjust to the extra levels of socialization. All three were powering through it, however, and Mydei was even able to receive occasional help from his college friends once he confessed the extra stress on his plate to them. Things became manageable, everyone adjusted to their new way of life, and Mydei still firmly believed that things were looking up for him.
This was the only day this month that Cipher and Cas had gone to take a lunch break without Mydei joining them. They had been surprised at his decline, but the blonde had a very late breakfast and felt too full to justify going out yet. The two girls had been worried about letting him run the bakery solo, but Mydei had been in a good, confident mood, and had waved the two girls off without a care in the world. Sundays were usually their least busy day, and they didn’t typically get too many customers between 1 and 2 PM, so Mydei rolled his sleeves up and began cleaning down the front counters while he didn’t have orders to take.
Mydei had his back to the counter when the front door swung open. The blonde called out a half-hearted greeting, more focused on restocking the karithopita slices in the display case, and only bothered to look up when he heard a set of footsteps finish making their way up to the register.
Those were some bright blue eyes.
They were really bright blue eyes. Kind of familiar in a way, too. Mydei wasn’t sure why the sight kind of pissed him off.
Across from Mydei stood a tall, well-dressed man, who was staring at Mydei with a slightly stunned look in his eyes. A navy blue overcoat covered up the majority of his outfit, but it somehow nicely framed the white long sleeve and black turtle neck he wore underneath. He didn’t wear any jewelry beyond a handful of golden necklaces and a matching golden brooch pinned between his jacket’s left breast pocket and its lapel. He was awfully well-dressed for the district he was in, Mydei noted. He would’ve stood out like a sore thumb from the outfit alone, but those eerie blue eyes and casually wind-blown hair would’ve also been enough to do the trick. If they were anywhere else, the blonde man might’ve reluctantly found him a little handsome, but there were few things less attractive in a customer than their ability to waste Mydei’s time.
The longer they stood there, the more Mydei’s relaxation bleeded out of him, scowl overtaking his lips. The customer was staring agape at Mydei for some reason that Mydei couldn’t care less about finding out. “Can I help you,” Mydei scoffed, “Or did you come inside in hopes of catching a fly with your mouth?”
The sound of Mydei’s voice seemed to shake the man out of his stupor, previous speechlessness quickly fading away into what looked like, Mydei observed with dread, a besotted grin. A pink flush overtook the customer’s face while Mydei’s low mood only soured further. Out of courtesy and nothing more, Mydei warned, “If you aren’t here to buy anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Immediately the customer shoved his hand into one of his coat’s pockets. Eyes not leaving Mydei’s face, the man blindly pulled out his wallet and zipped it open. He was practically glowing with delight. “My apologies about that,” the man laughed, rifling through his wallet with the speed of a man held at gunpoint. “Do you still serve bougasta here? If you do, I’ll take two of them, please.”
Mydei’s eyes narrowed at the odd choice of words, but at least the man wasn’t stalling any longer. Mydei pulled out two of the bougasta from his display case and started wrapping them up. The man watched him do so eagerly, and Mydei pushed aside the quiet sense of deja vu to focus on his growing irritation instead. He handed the packaged bougatsa over to the man in exchange for his credit card, and as he slid it through the card reader, Mydei ignored the man beginning to speak up so he could quickly glance at the clock on the wall. Cipher and Cas still had twenty minutes left of their lunch break. What a nuisance. He reluctantly turned his head back to his customer, only now allowing himself to hear whatever he was rambling it.
“-so I’m sorry for my fumbling earlier, Mydei, really,” the man insisted, throwing a handful of bills into the tip jar. Mydei blinked. What the hell did he miss if the customer was already referring to him by his nickname? Uncaring of Mydei’s astoundment, the man continued talking away. “I was just stunned by how much the bakery has changed. I know it’s been so long since I’ve last been here-”
What?
“So I really shouldn’t have been that surprised over your remodeling. But you also look so different from how I remember you, ha! I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss your shorter locks, but the shoulder-length look is rather charming on you-”
Huh?
“Which caught me off guard even more than the remodeling, and I was just so excited to see you that I just didn’t know what to say!”
Mydei should be the one fucking saying that. What is Nikador’s name is going on here? It’s been years since a customer has singlehandedly left Mydei unable to say a word, and with the man apparently done talking, the two fell into an uncomfortable silence- at least for Mydei. The white-haired man in front of him, on the other hand, was ogling Mydei without a care in the world. Just who the hell is this guy? Did Mydei get a stalker alongside the influx of customers? Surely Mydei would remember a man this ridiculously conspicuous… At this point, Mydei was ready to tell the man to take his bag and leave, but something about the man’s prying stare kept his throat dry and body unable to move. A few seconds became several, and then several became thirty, and Mydei embarrassingly began to wonder if Cas and Cipher would return to find their boss stuck in a staring competition with this weirdo.
A sudden buzz of a phone and accompanying ringtone tore the man’s head away from Mydei, and the baker couldn’t help his sigh of relief, trying to settle his racing heartbeat. He was surprised by the sudden hiss that left the blue-eyed man’s mouth when he checked his screen and declined the call, a sound that was somehow infuriated, embarrassed, and devastated all in one, and his eyes snapped back to Mydei’s with a disgruntled look. “I’m-”
The phone rang again, and Mydei sent a quick prayer to Nikador asking Them to bless whoever was calling the man. The man ran an aggrieved hand through his hair (and why did that feel oddly familiar?) before tacking his bag of bougasta with obvious reluctance. “I’m so sorry Mydei,” the man whined, looking somewhat like a distressed dog, “But if I keep ignoring this manager he’ll file another complaint against Aglaea and I can’t afford to put her through that, so I’m going to go, but I promise I’ll come back, okay? I’ll see you soon!” For a brief second, Mydei wondered where he heard that name before, but the thought was wiped from his brain when the man finished his goodbyes with a clear, “Bye! Tell Miss Gorgo I said hi, will you?”
With that said, as if he hadn’t just turned Mydei’s world completely over, the man tucked his phone between his shoulder and his ear and pivoted away with the bag of bougatsa in his other hand. The last thing Mydei heard before he was gone was a scathing remark of “Lygus, do you remember that thing I said about not calling me on days off-?” before the door swung shut behind him. Had Mydei not been reeling from the mention of his mother, he probably would’ve laughed over how visceral that man’s hatred towards that “Lygus” was. Instead, Mydei remained standing behind the counter, probably gaping like an idiot at how a stranger casually namedropped his dead mother like she hadn’t been dead for nearly eight years.
The door swung open again, and Mydei barely registered Cipher’s “Yoohoo, little lion, we brought you leftovers~” before it cut off into a panicked cacophony of Cipher and Cas crowding him, asking the blonde if he was okay. Mydei took a deep inhale, shutting his eyes, and then bent over the counter and slammed his head directly into it. The worried mixture of voices only grew louder in response.
Mydei should’ve just closed the fucking store and joined Cas and Cipher for lunch break.