Archive of Our Own

Have a nice day, my love ♡

You are my everything, good luck at the exam!

I can't wait to see you again, sweetie.

And all those cliche messages he is paid to handwrite every single morning when he starts his shift. Someone's exam, someone's job interview, someone's romance depends on his pen. Or at least, that is how much pressure he puts on himself. 

No, Maeda Riku isn't an actual cupid walking among mortals, although he often feels like it. He has just a very unimportant job at a local bakery, clocking in at dawn during weekends, just to smash bread into ovens and dip a fountain pen into the ink and deliver all those messages that poured in during the night, then smile behind the counter while handing them over to whoever it was ordered for, pretending to be happy for them while his own romantic heart rots away, little by little.

He can keep pretending that writing romantic notes for others doesn't affect him, but deep down, it's slowly consuming him. He craves that same kind of heartfelt gesture, the kind of unforgettable love connection that seems to only exist in K-dramas. He’s the type to dream of that kind of romance, yet every weekend he finds himself pouring his heart into crafting it for others, all while he struggles to find someone he believes is truly worthy of his own efforts. As much of a hopeless romantic as he is, Riku had always managed to separate his job from his emotions… or at least until a certain customer began placing orders from abroad every weekend. At first, it was just another request, but soon, the regular messages from this one person began to stir something in him, something he hadn’t expected. What once felt like a simple routine now carried an ache he couldn’t ignore.

“Daeyoung, it's Daeyoung again!” 

Squeals Sakuya, bouncing on the spot as he points to the monitor displaying the latest incoming love letter order. Though he’s a high schooler, his enthusiasm and playfulness often betray his age, making him seem more like an excitable elementary school kid. Especially whenever a message from Daeyoung pops up on the screen. This being the fourth time, but it feels like way more than that.

Reason? His letters aren't as simple as those Riku usually writes. His letters are poetry, they are songs, they are the romance novels that would melt even the iciest heart away.

And for that exact reason, Riku's heart gets even icier whenever Daeyoung's order comes in. His hand becomes heavier, his vision blurry. He playfully gags while reading the letter on the screen, fully aware of how hypocritical that makes him. Because, the truth is, he'd do anything for someone to write such a letter to him.

“I love them so much!” Sakuya bounces with excitement, squealing as he expresses his adoration in the most animated way possible. “Do you think they’re dating, or is Daeyoung just trying to seduce Yushi like this?”

“I don’t know,” Riku responds coldly, his fingers typing out a reply on the screen to Daeyoung, informing him that the order will be processed shortly. “And it’s none of our business. GDPR and all, you know?”

“I knooooow,” Sakuya whines, his excitement fading momentarily as the door opens, signaling the arrival of a new customer. “But they’re the cutest.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Riku retreats into the small office, the door clicking shut behind him. He focuses on translating Daeyoung’s words onto the piece of paper, which will soon be slipped into a bag alongside a pistachio croissant.

It is a long message again, summarizing the whole history of the relationship with Yushi, comparing him to a treasure chest, one that is full of priceless jewelry, the one that could make anyone's life a dream. But, even if found, this chest is hidden away, its lock not easily opened by just anyone. However, the one who finally opens the chest will be the luckiest person ever.

This time, Riku held back from drawing little cartoons around the text. He skips the usual heart after Daeyoung's name.

“Riku,” Sakuya calls out suddenly, making him jump and nearly ruin the message he’d just finished writing. “Do you think she’s as pretty as the letters she sends in?”

“She?” Riku frowns, confused about who Sakuya’s talking about.

“Yeah, Daeyoung?”

“Daeyoung is not a she. Daeyoung is a guy.” Riku chuckles, watching as Sakuya’s face crumbles in disbelief.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Daeyoung sounds like a male name to me.”

“But it’s a Korean name. It could be a girl too.”

“No, it couldn’t.”

“Wait.” Sakuya pulls out his phone, typing furiously. “So, Google says it can be a girl’s name… but it’s more common for a guy. Right...” His voice trails off, a reluctant admission of defeat in the air.

“It's a guy. Sure, sometimes he uses boku, sometimes watashi, but he's a foreigner. He probably uses a translator sometimes too.”

“Oh my god…” Sakuya gasps, but the deflated expression on his face suddenly shaping into something exciting, an expression Riku had never seen before, “I've never shipped two guys together. This is even better! He must be super good looking then, Yushi is a textbook pretty boy.”

“The oven is beeping, take the buns out.” Riku commands the younger, relieved that the alarm saved him from his own contribution to Sakuya's enthusiasm.

Because, in fact, he feels the exact opposite.

The mood takes an even worse turn when Riku finds himself behind the cash register as Yushi walks in. And, of course, he's the one who has to hand over the pistachio croissant with a romantic note tucked inside.

But today, Riku holds onto the bag a little longer, watching Yushi's expression closely, something he’s never dared to do before. Their eyes lock, an unspoken tension building as their fingers both curl around the top of the bag, as if silently contesting whose hands it will end up in.

“Are you happy?” Riku asks, completely out of line with his role behind the counter.

“Excuse me?” Yushi chuckles, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Do the notes make you happy?” Riku’s voice sharpens, like an interrogation.

“Yes.” Yushi answers softly, but his gaze drifts around the bakery, his eyes searching for something that’s hard to name.

“Then why doesn’t it look like it?” Riku presses, noticing the flatness in Yushi's expression. “You should appreciate Daeyoung more.”

“I do. He's very important to me.” Yushi responds, but it doesn’t sound like a defense. His voice softens, and a faint smile slowly breaks through his usually stoic demeanor.

“Right,” Riku clears his throat, suddenly aware he’s crossed a line. But even as the realization settles in, a wave of sadness fills his chest. “I just... wanted to say that most people send in soulless, cliché notes. Daeyoung’s different. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I know that. Thank you.”

The sudden rush of embarrassment hits Yushi as he realizes Riku always knows exactly what’s inside the bag. It had always been so obvious, but somehow, it never occurred to him before.

"Man, did I miss Yushi?" Sakuya says, stepping out from the storage room with a box of frozen goods. Riku doesn’t answer, his focus fixed on something far beyond the counter, onto the spot Yushi's silhouette was disappearing into.

Weeks pass, and Sakuya finds himself sitting hunched over the screen, tears brimming in his eyes as he frantically searches for a message from Daeyoung. This is the first Saturday in over a month that there’s none.

“What if they broke up? What if you altering Daeyoung's messages ended it?” Sakuya asks, his voice trembling with worry.

“I didn’t alter them, really,” Riku protests, his tone defensive. “I just fixed the grammatical mistakes. That’s all.”

The atmosphere grows tense, both of them acutely aware that it’s not entirely the truth.

Riku's job is to copy-paste the exact message from the orders, even if filled with mistakes, nonsense or the notes being utterly dumb, as he often found them.

Well, Daeyoung's were anything but dumb, even his language mistakes only added to its charm, but Riku started alerting his notes bit by bit, slowly losing control over it. 

“I hope Yushi doesn’t take photos of the notes and send them to Daeyoung,” Sakuya would sigh, clearly disapproving every time he'd snatched the notes off the table to read it. Riku would just nod absently, but inside, he shared the same hope, not because of how he altered the notes, but because the thought of them texting in such lovey-dovey ways always made him feel a strange, uncomfortable ick.

He had to remind himself that he doesn't even know Daeyoung. He doesn't know his age, what he does for a living, what he looks like, but at the same time, transcribing his notes weekly made him feel like he knew him on levels deeper than anyone. He knows how he appreciates people he loves, he knows what makes him happy, he knows how he likes to make others happy. He also knows what Daeyoung compares a person he loves to, and how he describes it in the most beautiful ways. His mind wanders, allowing itself to imagine what would someone like Daeyoung compare him to. Or, in fact, what would Daeyoung himself compare him to.

The shift is nearing its end, but instead of Sakuya looking forward to his after-school activities or post-part-time job plans, he’s hunched over a broom, swiping the floor absently.

“Still nothing from Daeyoung?” he asks, his voice low with frustration.

“Nope,” Riku responds, polishing the empty shelves where the pain au chocolat had been fully sold out today. He tries to keep his voice as neutral as possible, hiding the flicker of discomfort that’s slowly growing inside him. He can't quite place the feeling in his chest. Is he relieved that there is no sign of Daeyoung and Yushi showing off their grand love in his face, or is it the sadness that he didn’t have Daeyoung's message to respond to today. Because, the way he chats to Daeyoung through emails is different from other orders. He can't explain how, but it is.

“Riku, did you do it on purpose?” Sakuya’s eyes narrow, sharp and intent, almost as if he’s trying to pierce through Riku.

“Do what?” 

It could really be anything, Riku doesn’t act his confusion by the sudden question.

“Last week,” Sakuya presses, his voice taking on an accusing edge, “when you forgot to put the note in Yushi's order. Was that on purpose?”

“Why would it be?” Riku replies, his tone casual. But he doesn’t outright deny it.

The truth is, Yushi did get his note, the hopelessly romantic one comparing him to a river carving its path, creating the most beautiful yet still unexplored landscape. But only because Sakuya had found it on the floor and, without a second thought, chased after Yushi to deliver it himself.

Just as Riku scrambles to find the right words to defend himself, despite knowing he’s guilty, a sudden phone ringing cuts through the tension. He practically bolts toward it, relief flooding through him. It's probably the owner, calling to check if they’ve counted the cash register correctly, especially after there was a shortage earlier in the week.

"Hello?"

"Riku? Are you Riku?"

The voice is unfamiliar, one he’s never heard before.

"Yes?"

Riku doesn’t recognize the caller, nor the accent, but his heart is already pounding in his chest.

"Hi, nice to meet you, it’s me, Daeyoung."

"Oh…" Riku gasps, unsure how to respond. Customers very rarely call. After all, it's a bakery, not a pizzeria with deliveries.

"Wait, sorry, you probably don’t know me," Daeyoung laughs, as if trying to ease the awkwardness. "You get so many orders a day, I’m just a number to you."

Riku’s pulse quickens. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Everyone else might be just a number, but Daeyoung isn’t. Not to him.

“Hi, Daeyoung… you have a nice voice.”

“Daeyoung?” Sakuya’s voice breaks the silence as he appears behind Riku, his eyes wide, almost popping from their sockets. Riku gestures for him to leave, signaling that he prefers to handle things on his own. Only two minutes remain before closing time.

“Thank you. You sound just as nice as I imagined,” Daeyoung says, his voice quiet as he clears his throat, preparing to get to the point. “Listen, Riku, I know this is last-minute, and that’s exactly why I’m calling, but it’s really important. You guys don’t do deliveries, do you?”

“No, sorry…”

Honest sadness lingered in Riku’s voice, his heart sinking at the disappointed sigh left out by Daeyoung on the other side of the line.

“Alright, well, it is what it is. Something just got out of hand today, but thank you, Riku, thank you for always being so kind and making my wishes come true.”

“Can you just give me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Before waiting for a response, Riku covers the phone's microphone with his hand and firmly instructs Sakuya to go home and put up the "Closed" sign on the door. Sakuya hesitates, his curiosity about the phone call practically burning a hole through him, but the unexpected intensity in Riku's glare makes him reluctantly comply.

As soon as Sakuya disappears into the staff room, Riku uncovers the phone's mic and resumes the call, silently hoping Daeyoung hadn’t hung up.

He hadn’t.

“Maybe I can help you?” Riku offers.

“No, no, it’s too much. I can’t ask that of you,” Daeyoung replies, his voice tinged with hesitation.

“Hey, just tell me what it is. How bad can it be?”

The truth is, Riku didn’t care about the task. He just wanted to keep listening to Daeyoung’s voice.

“Well…” Daeyoung starts hesitantly, “I wanted to ask if it’s possible to deliver a croissant and a note to an address. It’s just around the corner, near the train station, but I guess it’s not.”

Riku hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Well, I’m headed that way. On Saturdays, we close at three, so I’ll be at the station soon anyway. Maybe I can deliver it?”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, and he bites his lip, hating how easily he folds. Why is he enabling something that feels like a thorn in his eye? But before he can dwell on the frustration knotting his chest, Daeyoung’s suddenly cheerful voice breaks through like sunlight.

“I’ll make it up to you! I can wire you some money—”

“No,” Riku interrupts firmly. “I’ll do it because it’s convenient, that’s all. Just tell me what to write.”

“Riku, you’re literally a gift, you know that, right?”

Riku gulps, the words hitting him harder than they should. He finally knows what would Daeyoung compare him to. It should make him feel happy, but instead, his chest tightens, and his eyes threaten to tear up.

Clearing his throat, he shifts the conversation back. “Actually, please place the order through the website as usual. I’ll process it right away. There’s one croissant left, too.”

This time, he doesn’t give Daeyoung a chance to reply before hanging up.

“So, is it a he ?” Sakuya leans over Riku’s shoulder, squinting at the note he’s writing. His tone carries a mix of teasing and judgment, though there's an underlying relief in his voice, relief that his favorite relationship isn’t over.

“Yes, it’s a guy,” Riku replies without looking up.

A wonderful, kind-hearted guy.

Sixteen hours later, Yushi appears at the counter again, his expression weary and clouded with a vague but unmistakable uneasiness. Riku watches him carefully, struggling to reconcile the sight with the heartfelt note Yushi must have received just the day before. Daeyoung’s words, in Riku’s mind, could ease almost anything. Yet here Yushi was, looking as if the weight of the world still pressed on his shoulders.

Riku doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he silently packs a croissant, slipping into the familiar rhythm of his work, and hands it over without even thinking of asking for money.

“How much is it, again?” Yushi’s voice is husky, teetering between the grogginess of someone who has just woken up and the exhaustion of someone who hasn’t slept at all.

“Oh, right, ¥400,” Riku replies after a brief pause, surprised by the question.

It’s the first time in a long while that Yushi has paid for his own order, rather than it being pre-arranged and covered by Daeyoung. Something about that small shift makes Riku’s chest feel heavy, but he doesn’t press further.

Another week goes by, and there are him and Sakuya again, spending a weekend mingled with the smell of fresh pastries and cheesy love notes.

At 9:23 AM, the monitor with orders pings, and Daeyoung’s name appears on it again.

“It’s not a croissant,” Sakuya gasps, clutching his chest with theatrical flair. “It’s a mango cake ?”

“Yeah, well, if I were Yushi, I’d probably be sick of croissants by now,” Riku says with a shrug. “Daeyoung must’ve figured that out.”

But it’s a lie. A flimsy one.

Riku knows he could never tired of anything, anything, as long as it came from Daeyoung.

Just like how his hands never grow weary of handwriting those impossibly long messages, sometimes stretching across a whole A4 page.

It’s in the way his heart blossoms with every word, the way he giggles at Daeyoung’s clever metaphors, or catches his breath at the unexpected, poetic turns of phrase.

For a moment, he allows himself to savor the feeling... until reality sets in - the moment he has to carefully tuck the note into the bag. That’s when it all comes crashing back.

But Yushi doesn’t show up.

The hours pass, customers come and go, the display steadily refilled with fresh pastries. Outside, the weather plays its fickle game - rain drumming softly on the windows one moment, sunlight spilling across the street the next.

Yet, through it all, Yushi remains absent.

“He’ll show up. There’s no way he’d skip Daeyoung’s love note. Not this one,” Sakuya declares, his eyes glued to the entrance door, as if sheer willpower might summon Yushi.

“We’re closing in fifteen minutes,” Riku says flatly, glancing at the clock. “He’s not coming.”

“No, he’s definitely coming,” Sakuya insists, crossing his arms stubbornly. “This is Daeyoung’s most beautiful note yet. It can’t go to waste.”

“Since when do you believe in love like this?” Riku asks, raising a brow. 

His tone is half-amused but tinged with genuine curiosity. He knows Daeyoung’s gestures are undeniably romantic, but he’s never allowed himself to think beyond that. Or maybe, deep down, he simply doesn’t want to.

Sakuya shrugs, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. “The thing is, I don’t. I’m not the kind of person who thinks about romance. I don’t even watch romantic movies or anime. I’m more of a fantasy guy. But these two… they’re different. I think they made me believe in love.”

“Gosh, so cynical at the ripe age of 16,” Riku teases, smirking, “you should have your own crush, Sakuya, and not spend your weekends living someone else’s romance.”
“And what about you? Where’s your romance?” Sakuya asks, his eyes narrowing mischievously.

“You’re too young to hear about the epic highs and lows of Riku’s love life, kiddo,” Riku retorts, smirking as he begins wiping down the counter. “Let’s close up.”

“But Yush—”

“Yushi’s not coming,” Riku cuts him off, his voice firm, though there’s a faint edge of resignation. “Accept it.”

“Well, well, well…” Sakuya says, spinning on his heel at the first chime of the phone ringing. “Daeyoung doesn’t give up. I knew it.”

“Leave it to me.”

Riku snatches the phone from Sakuya’s outstretched hand, erasing the smug grin plastered across the boy’s face. He doesn’t want Sakuya meddling, not with this.

“Hi, Riku?”

Daeyoung’s voice comes through the line, laced with a desperation, but not quite like the nervous tone he had when asking for favors before. This time, it’s heavier – more anxious, more vulnerable.

"Hi, Daeyoung, how are you?" Riku begins, his voice calm, almost too casual for the tension lingering in the air.

"I’m fine," Daeyoung replies, chuckling softly at the unexpected small talk. The casual tone from Riku seems to have swept away the anxiety from his voice. "And you? Did anyone ruin your day? Do I need to yell at someone?"

Riku smiles, caught slightly off guard. "You don’t seem like the type to yell at anyone," he says, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of the counter while his ankle twists and turns beneath him.

"You got me," Daeyoung laughs warmly. "But I’d definitely yell if someone made you sad or angry."

Riku’s smile lingers a little longer than it should, his cheeks faintly warm at the thought.

"So, I can expect you wouldn't ruin my day?" Riku teases lightly, trying to keep the mood playful.

"No worries, it won’t be like the last time. Never again, I promise," Daeyoung responds quickly, his voice filled with sincerity, maybe even a touch of concern.

Riku immediately regrets the joke. “It wasn’t such a big deal, it wasn’t what I meant,” he backpedals, his words stumbling over themselves.

His chest tightens as the thought hits him - he may have accidentally made Daeyoung uneasy. The last thing he wanted was to make him feel bad. Riku’s heart sinks, but it’s saved just before it hits the floor by Daeyoung’s tone.

“Actually, plans changed and Yushi will not make it today. But I appreciate your effort. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

“No, it’s literally my job. I’ll issue the refund immediately,” Riku insists, starting to reach for the register.

“No!” Daeyoung shrieks, panic creeping into his voice as he tries to stop him before it's too late. “I read in the reviews that the mango cake is the best thing in the house. Why don’t you take it with you? My treat, for your efforts, and all.”

Riku pauses, surprised by the offer. The sudden shift in Daeyoung’s tone catches him off guard, and he feels a strange warmth spreading through him, not from the offer itself but from the care in Daeyoung’s voice. It’s genuine. Too genuine.

"Are you sure?" Riku asks, hesitant, but there's a part of him that can't help but soften.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Daeyoung cheers, his voice suddenly lighter, almost relieved. “It would actually make me feel a bit better for driving you like that last weekend. I kept thinking about it, actually. I owe you a lot.”

Riku’s heart skips at the sincerity, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he shifts the conversation. “Did Yushi even get the note? I left it where you said…”

“Yes, you did amazing. I knew I could trust you.” Daeyoung’s words are like a balm, soothing whatever tension Riku hadn’t realized he was holding.

A silence settles between them then, both of them unsure how to follow up. The small exchange feels oddly intimate, and neither of them knows quite how to break the quiet that follows.

"So..." they both speak at the same time, causing an unexpected burst of laughter to spill between them.

"You go first," Riku says, a grin spreading across his face despite the awkwardness still lingering.

“No, you," Daeyoung insists, his voice light and teasing now, the tension between them finally easing again.

"Okay, well, thank you, Daeyoung," Riku says, voice tentative but polite. "Customers kept telling me about the cake, but I never tried it. It’s a bit..." He leans over to check the price tag. "Pricey. Are you sure it’s okay?"

“Yes, please. And then when you try it, give me a review, okay?” Daeyoung replies, his tone light and reassuring.

“Sure, yeah... umm... have a nice day, Daeyoung.” Riku stutters, feeling a strange mix of emotions but tries to keep it casual.

“Riku…” Daeyoung’s voice softens, clearing his throat slightly before continuing. “I really thank you for everything. I know it sounds stupid, but I was also nervous about this whole thing. I mean, ordering notes for someone in a bakery... I’ve never done something like this before, and it felt awkward. But with your help and guidance, it became something so comforting.”

Riku gulps, “did it... did it do what it had to do?”

“More than that, actually.” Daeyoung’s voice is warm, and Riku can almost hear the smile in it. But Riku didn’t like the implications of the smile. He did not like the images it played in his head.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Riku says, the words a little too quick, a little too easy to hide the unease in his chest.

“Thank you, have a great weekend, Riku. I promise I won’t bother you tomorrow.” Daeyoung’s words are kind, genuine.

But Riku wants to be bothered.

But as the conversation ends, Riku's thoughts drift. He never asked how he was supposed to give Daeyoung a review of the mango cake.

Daeyoung doesn’t show up. Instead, Yushi stops by early for his usual, adding a lemon tart this time. Their exchange is brief and professional, both pretending their past never happened.

Sakuya watches quietly, knowing any comment would set Riku off.

The following weekend is the same.

“Yushi looks a bit... off. Do you think they broke up?” Sakuya asks, glancing over at the counter.

“No, actually,” Riku replies, recalling his conversation with Daeyoung. “I think it’s just that they’re over the honeymoon phase. He’s not gonna shower him in stupid bakery notes forever.”

“Why not?”

“Sakuya, adults just move on eventually. Life goes on.”

Yet, he couldn’t move on. Every ping from the screen with orders, every phone ringtone made him hope he’d hear from Daeyoung again. But he didn’t. It was never him.

He feels stupid for growing fond of a customer he’s never even seen. He feels embarrassed by the fact that he... he fell in love with someone he’s never truly known.

He feels so idiotic for thinking about how easily Daeyoung could have forgotten about him, how all the grateful words and compliments were probably never that deep to begin with. But, he reminds himself, he was just doing his job, after all.

A few weeks later, Sakuya urgently knocks on the office door as Riku is transcribing another note, a mix of horror and excitement on his face.

“Riku, someone is asking for you.”

Without even asking who, Riku stands up, almost as if an invisible force is pulling him forward. The moment his eyes land on the lobby, and the tall, handsome figure of an unfamiliar yet familiar boy standing there, his heart skips.

He forgets how to breathe for a couple of moments, his feet glued to the freshly swiped floor. He just stands there, his hand glued to the door frame, unable to get closer to the counter.

“Riku?”

And that’s all it took. His guess was right. It was Daeyoung himself, standing right there, as if stepping out of every note and every word Riku had ever read. His voice is smooth, rich, and warm, it sounded even more like honey in person than it had over the phone, wrapping around Riku like a soft embrace. His smile? Even more inviting, more genuine, than it ever came across in the messages, lighting up his face in a way that made Riku’s heart race.

And his appearance?

Riku had imagined someone handsome writing all those romantic notes, of course, but the reality? Daeyoung was something more. The mere beauty before him surpassed any image his mind could have drawn. Every detail, every curve of his face, every confident, yet gentle, movement, seemed to carve a new definition of what "beautiful" was in Riku's mind. Daeyoung wasn’t just the sum of his carefully chosen words – he was everything Riku never even realized he’d been hoping for.

Riku had always dreamed of someone who’d sweep him off his feet, like a character from the Korean dramas he watched every night before sleep. And standing before him now was exactly that. It was Daeyoung.

“Daeyoung?”

Daeyoung smiles and nods, his glasses resting perfectly on his sculpted nose, shifting slightly with each movement. Neither of them knows how to begin the conversation, the silence stretching between them like a delicate thread.

“I’m, umm...” Daeyoung stutters, as if he feels the need to explain himself. “I’m visiting, actually. It’s a surprise for Yushi. I just wanted to stop by, get some pastries, but also… to meet you.”

Riku’s smile fades instantly as his eyes catch the sight of a rose poking out of the tote bag slung over Daeyoung’s shoulder. The reality hits him all over again, sharp and undeniable.

“Oh, I hope you’ll like it here. What could I get you, croissants?”

Daeyoung notices the shift in Riku’s tone, his voice suddenly adopting the detached professionalism of a customer service rep, as if nothing had ever passed between them. A wave of confusion washes over him, mingled with a faint disappointment, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he plays along, not wanting to make Riku uncomfortable or force anything that isn’t ready to unfold.

“Yeah, two, please, and also the lemon tart, two.”

Riku gulps, carefully packing the pastries, moving slightly slower than usual. Every second feels like an eternity, each one forcing him to decide whether to break character or not. He can feel Daeyoung’s eyes on him, but he can’t find the strength to meet them. The brief brush of their hands as Daeyoung hands over the payment only intensifies the tension, making it all the more difficult to breathe.

“Did you like the mango cake?” Daeyoung asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. It’s clear he’s second-guessing himself, and it shows.

“It lived up to the reviews, thank you.”

Riku’s response is sincere but terse, and carefully measured. He doesn’t let anything more slip, knowing that once he does, everything will fall apart. He knows Daeyoung isn’t here for him - not like that. Pretending this visit means anything more than it does would only make things worse.

Only when Daeyoung leaves, dragging his luggage behind him, does Riku realize that Sakuya has been standing behind him the entire time, almost as if he were hiding from a celebrity he’s secretly in love with.

“Oh my god, Yushi and Daeyoung, finally together?” Sakuya squeals, his voice full of excitement.

“Congratulations, kiddo. Your show ended just as you wanted it to. Now you’ve got to start a new one,” Riku says, his tone sharp, almost angry at the thought.

“No, I know there’s more to this one.”

And deep down, Riku knows it’s true.

He doesn’t see Daeyoung again that day, or on Sunday. He can’t know how long Daeyoung was planning to stay, and he doesn’t want to. It’s enough that his mind is now filled with thoughts of Yushi and Daeyoung strolling through the city, sharing bites of food, cuddling on the couch in front of the TV. The images frustrate him, especially when he imagines how effortlessly sweet Daeyoung must sound in person, knowing how beautifully he writes those romantic letters. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

“I saw them,” Sakuya says smugly, taking a bite of his plain baguette, his breakfast. “I saw them walking by yesterday when I was done with the shift. Yushi was blushing and giggling at something, and Daeyoung was clearly enjoying the power he had over him. They’re adorable.”

“So, he’s still here?” Riku mutters quietly, more to himself than to Sakuya.

“I hope he moved in. I hope they invite me to the wedding.”

“I don’t know which Japan you’re living in, but same-sex marriage isn’t legal here.”

“Let a boy dream, okay?” Sakuya grins, not bothered in the slightest.

That afternoon, Riku sends Sakuya off early to finish the homework he’d been complaining about. Sakuya probably just used it as an excuse, hoping to roam around the area and catch a glimpse of his favorite couple, but Riku lets him have it. Let a boy dream, this time.

And Riku wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if it was reality when Daeyoung appeared before him again, the fresh scent of him filling the air, his chest rising and falling with shallow, quick breaths, much like Riku’s own.

“Hi,” Riku gasps, almost letting the broom slip from his sweaty palms.

“Hi, you’re closing?” Daeyoung asks, his voice smooth but with a hint of nervousness.

“Yes, well, in about twenty minutes. I just used the free time to clean the floor. How can I help you?” Riku is still too anxious to step closer to the counter, closer to Daeyoung.

“Actually, I want to try the mango cake, please.”

“Okay,” Riku breathes out, almost as if preparing himself to get closer to Daeyoung. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yeah…” Daeyoung scratches his hair, his eyes looking hesitant. “Would you like to join me, for a drink and the cake?”

“Eh?” Riku lifts his head in the middle of packing the cake, unsure he heard it correctly.

“I’m sorry, it’s… I’m out of line. Maybe it’s weird. Forget it. I just…” Daeyoung’s breathing slows as he catches the reassuring look in Riku’s eyes. “Yushi is away for a few days, and I don’t know anyone here, so… I thought maybe we could just have a coffee or something. But I understand you have better ways to spend your free Saturday afternoon. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Riku says quickly, his voice softening. “It’s actually very kind of you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m…” Daeyoung starts, but Riku cuts him off.

“No, I’d love to. You’ll just have to wait for me twenty more minutes at least…” Riku says quickly, hoping it wouldn’t make Daeyoung change his mind.

And it doesn’t. Daeyoung is exactly where he promised to be. He is sitting at a small table in the cozy café across the street. The mango cake is still untouched, waiting patiently, just as he had said. 

“Hi, thanks for waiting,” Riku says, sitting down at the table, his palms slightly sweaty. He feels more nervous than if he were on a blind date.

“Thank you for joining me,” Daeyoung replies with a warm smile, his voice a little shy but genuine. “I didn’t want to waste your time, but I… I thought you were really nice and I wanted to get to know you. Or at least buy you a drink as a proper thank you for everything.”

Riku chuckles awkwardly. “Hey, you keep thanking me for doing such a stupid job as working in a bakery.”

“Stop belittling yourself,” Daeyoung says, shaking his head with a small smile. “Maybe to you it sounds like nothing because you're naturally a kind person, but it’s rare to come across someone so warm and helpful. Someone who doesn’t just do stuff to get it done, even if it’s just a job at a bakery. Your words, not mine.”

Riku blushes, feeling a bit flustered. He’s not used to being praised like this, especially not from someone like Daeyoung. Daeyoung hands him a fork, the mango cake gleaming with sweetness. “Go ahead, try it. I hope you like it just as much in my company.”

Riku looks at the cake, his heart pounding as he takes the fork. He’s not sure what feels more overwhelming – the cake or the company. But as he takes a bite, he realizes it’s both.

The atmosphere soon eases, the tension from earlier dissipating as they settle into a more comfortable rhythm. Their conversation starts flowing naturally, and even too naturally, really,like they’ve known each other longer than just a few minutes.

Riku finds himself talking about his background, explaining how the bakery job is just something he does on the side while attending classes during the week. “I always thought I’d work in something more… serious, you know? But I kind of fell into this job, and it’s been surprisingly nice,” he admits, a bit surprised by how much he’s sharing.

Daeyoung listens intently, his eyes warm and interested. He nods and laughs softly. “I get it. I kind of fell into music the same way, you know? I mean, I always loved it, but it wasn’t until later that I thought, ‘Hey, I could really make this my thing.’”

That makes Riku pause, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait, you’re a musician?”

Daeyoung grins, clearly amused by Riku’s reaction. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. Writing songs, coming up with new ways to play with words, it’s kind of my thing. The notes I send are my… way of expressing myself.”

It clicks in Riku’s mind, that’s where the creativity comes from. The poetic metaphors, the way Daeyoung strings his words together so effortlessly. “That makes so much sense,” Riku says, a little in awe. “You’ve got a way with words.”

Daeyoung smiles, looking a bit shy now. 

Riku tries to ignore the elephant in the room, forcing himself to enjoy the afternoon, but Yushi’s presence still lingers between them, a quiet weight in the air.

"My words wouldn’t mean anything if they weren’t so perfectly captured by you. Yushi showed me the photos of your notes, the little details you added on the side, the stars, the hearts... It’s all so beautiful."

"Really? That’s surprising, because I’m not exactly known for being an artist."

"To me, you are," Daeyoung’s words slip out without him even processing them first, "And honestly, I can’t believe you look exactly like I imagined you would. Sure, I asked Yushi to describe you, but his description was pretty sloppy. But somehow, I still pictured you just like this."

"Just like what?" Riku swallows, uncertain whether it’s a compliment or something else.

"Graceful. Tender. Sweet... Pretty."

Riku feels a blush rise on his cheeks, quickly trying to hide it by lifting his cup of tea to his face, but the effort doesn’t work.

"I hope I don’t sound like a creep…" Daeyoung chuckles nervously, but his smile is genuine.

"Oh no, that’s fine.” It’d be a lie to say that Riku wasn’t feeling the exact same. “So, how do you know Yushi?" he finally asks, his voice tight as he struggles to swallow the cake stuck in his throat.

Daeyoung’s smile catches him off guard, his appetite instantly fading.

“We met in Seoul, actually. He was the first person I met when I got there. Ironic, right?” Daeyoung chuckles lightly.

“Yeah…” Riku replies, trying to sound interested, but his voice feels empty, betraying his true feelings.

“We connected through music. Though it might not seem like it, we have a lot in common. Yushi, he’s like a book, one that’s not fully open. Every page pulls you in, surprises you, makes you laugh, makes you think. Even when the story slows, there’s always something that keeps you hooked. It’s like a language not everyone understands, but once you get it, you realize it’s profound. I’m lucky to keep turning the pages.”

And there it is. Daeyoung doesn’t just write the notes – he lives them. His voice, his gestures, even the glimmer in his eyes paint the picture clearer than Riku ever imagined.

But it only makes Riku feel more invisible, more certain than ever that he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Do you talk about everyone that way?” Riku gulps, his nervous hands wrapping around a warm cup of tea for comfort.

“Like what?” Daeyoung asks, clearly puzzled.

“Like… that,” Riku motions vaguely, trying to find the words, “With so much meaning. So much… love.”

Daeyoung’s brow furrows for a moment, as if he’s never been asked anything like it. He pauses, considering the question.

“I… I’m not sure. Do I?” He laughs softly, his tone awkward, as if the question itself caught him off guard.

“Yushi is very lucky to have you. I don’t know him much more than the fact that he’s a polite neighborhood boy, but I believe you two deserve each other.” Riku says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He feels a strange mix of sincerity and restraint in his voice.

Daeyoung smiles, but there's something in his eyes, something unreadable that makes Riku's stomach tighten. It’s as if the space between them has suddenly grown larger.

Riku tries to push away the knot in his chest and redirects his focus. “Would he mind that we’re hanging out?”

Daeyoung laughs, a bit more casually than expected. “No, why would he?”

Riku forces a smile, but it feels off, hollow. “Right, no reason at all…”

The question shouldn’t matter. Just because someone is taken doesn’t mean they can’t have friends, right? It’s not like Daeyoung or Yushi could ever know what’s been simmering beneath the surface.

“Actually, maybe you’re busy with classes or have other plans, but if you want to hang out again... I’m here for another week, and Yushi is away until Tuesday,” Daeyoung says, the offer hanging in the air like a subtle invitation.

Riku feels a pang in his chest, a mix of curiosity and restraint. The thought of Daeyoung alone for the next few days, without Yushi, makes his mind race with ideas he doesn’t dare voice. 

When Daeyoung described Yushi as mysterious, he was right. Riku can’t help but wonder what could keep Yushi away for so long while Daeyoung is visiting. But he knows better than to entertain these thoughts. It isn’t his business. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

“There’s a semester-end party at the campus. Wanna come?” Riku asks, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart is pounding in his chest.

“Today?” Daeyoung’s eyes light up, clearly intrigued.

“Yeah, it starts at eight, but no one really shows up until nine or ten. You can come whenever,” Riku says, his voice steady, even as his nerves twist inside him.

“Am I allowed to enter? I’m not a student or anything,” Daeyoung asks, raising an eyebrow, teasing a bit.

“You look like one,” Riku chuckles. “No one will ask for ID. I’ll send you the location… can I… have your number or something?”

His voice falters, but he manages to look up at Daeyoung, who, for the first time today, smiles warmly. “Sure,” Daeyoung says, pulling out his phone, his expression unreadable but soft.

Riku feels like he's crossing a line, but his hand reaches for his own phone anyway, and the moment hangs between them like a fragile promise.

But the fragile promise turns into a firm vow a couple of hours later, them squeezed on a sofa, their bodies forced closer together thanks to a couple making out behind Daeyoung’s back, and two girls enthusiastically flipping through their collection of K-pop photocards to Riku’s left.

“Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?” Riku yells, trying to make himself heard over the blaring music. His first attempt fails, but the second comes out closer to Daeyoung’s earlobe, the warmth and fragrance of his skin making Riku’s mind race.

“Yeah, does it exist?” Daeyoung shouts back, his voice almost drowned out by the chaos around them.

“My dorm room?” Riku says, playful but unsure, relieved when Daeyoung’s giggle confirms he didn’t catch the underlying suggestion.

Riku drags Daeyoung by his hand, weaving through the sea of dancing couples. After what feels like an eternity, they finally reach a quiet corner of the campus, away from the pounding music and chaos.

"Are you bored?" Riku asks, trying to play it off as a joke, but there's a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

"No, I like spending time with you," Daeyoung responds, his words catching Riku off guard.

The confession lingers in the air, and Riku isn’t sure how to read it. Is it just friendly? Or is there something more behind it? His heart skips a beat, but he quickly pushes the thought away, unsure if he's just overthinking.

Although Riku feels Daeyoung’s touch lingering longer than necessary since the moment he showed up, and although he can feel his eyes on him constantly, he knows that Yushi is still in the picture. He knows that all those notes Daeyoung wrote for Yushi meant something deep, something real. But despite all of this, Riku also knows he has nothing to lose. There’s no contract, no expectations between them. Just a fleeting connection. And maybe, for once, that’s enough for him to keep going – at least for tonight.

“Yushi will be back in two days, you won’t be bored anymore,” Riku says, trying to distance himself with a hint of humor.

“Why do you keep bringing Yushi up?” Daeyoung laughs, his voice light and curious, “Do you like him that much?”

“No, but you do…” Riku replies, his words sharp, almost a defense.

Daeyoung’s smile falters for a moment, and then he reaches out, grabbing Riku’s hand instinctively, as if to stop him from running, though Riku hadn’t moved at all. “Oh… Riku,” he says softly, his voice suddenly more serious. “I think you misunderstood.”

“No, it’s okay, sorry, it’s not my place,” Riku stammers, his words tangling as he tries to pull his wrist free from Daeyoung’s grip. “I won’t bring him up anymore.”

Daeyoung’s grip doesn’t loosen, his eyes searching Riku’s face. “What do you think it is?” he asks, his voice gentle but probing.

Riku’s breath hitches, and he quickly looks away. “It’s none of my business. Let’s go back in, I need a drink,” he mutters, not meeting Daeyoung’s eyes. He’s trying to escape the conversation, hoping a change of subject will patch up the sudden crack in the air between them.

But Daeyoung doesn’t let him pull away. With a gentle yet firm grip, he pulls Riku back, his wrist held captive, and Riku finds himself suddenly pressed against Daeyoung’s chest, their bodies flush together. Their eyes meet, locked in an unspoken conversation, the distance between them dangerously small.

“Can I kiss you?” Daeyoung whispers, his breath warm against Riku’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Riku can feel the tremor in his own body, the way his pulse quickens in response.

Riku opens his mouth to speak, but the words get caught in his throat. “Why?” he manages to ask, his voice barely above a whisper, unsure whether he even wants to hear the answer.

Daeyoung’s smile softens, his grip on Riku’s wrist loosening just slightly as he steps a little closer. “Because I really, really like you,” he says quietly, his eyes searching Riku’s face for any sign of doubt.

Riku’s heart races, but before he can fully process it, he instinctively blurts, “But Yu—”

“Yushi is a friend,” Daeyoung interrupts gently, his tone reassuring. “Just a friend. Nothing more. Trust me.”

And in that moment, everything around them seems to fade, the noise of the party, the weight of his own conflicted thoughts – all of it slips away, leaving only the two of them, suspended in the fragile space between wanting and restraint.

Riku’s mind races with questions, a whirlwind of thoughts that threaten to spill out, but he forces them back. For once, he decides to silence the noise in his head. He wants to feel this moment, the lips that have written so many sweet things, the hands that have reached out in so many subtle ways. He wants to experience what he thought was destined for someone else.

Daeyoung waits, his grip around Riku loosening just enough to let him decide. Riku can feel the hesitation, the patience in his touch. But as he senses Daeyoung’s hold begin to slacken, as if preparing to withdraw, something in him shifts. Without thinking, Riku rises up on his toes, closing the distance between them, and presses his lips to Daeyoung’s.

The kiss is electric, immediate, a perfect blend of tenderness and need. Riku feels all the words Daeyoung has ever written, all the quiet confessions and unspoken emotions, flooding into him. It’s as if the kiss itself is a language, one Riku is finally beginning to understand. The passion is undeniable, but there’s a softness to it too, like a promise.

Daeyoung’s hand moves gently to the back of Riku’s neck, urging him to part his lips. Riku obeys instinctively, his breath catching as their mouths meld deeper, as if he’s finally allowed to taste everything Daeyoung has been holding back. The kiss deepens, and with it, the words that Daeyoung’s letters had only hinted at become clearer, more real. There’s no confusion now. Only the pull of their connection.

Daeyoung loses himself in the kiss, the heat of it overwhelming, pulling him deeper into the moment. The weight of his body presses against Riku’s, and they stumble back, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh that fills the space between them. It’s a light, easy sound, one that relieves the tension, making the air feel a little less heavy.

Riku’s eyes glisten as he looks up at Daeyoung, he’s searching for something, like an invitation to continue, to feel more. Daeyoung doesn’t have it in him to deny him. With a smile, he closes the gap again, capturing Riku’s lips in another kiss, this time more hungry, more urgent. The world around them feels like it’s fading, leaving only the two of them.

They end up collapsing onto a bench in the corner, breathless, their bodies still pressed close, as the glow of a nearby streetlamp bathes them in its soft light. Everything feels cinematic, like they’re two main characters on stage, the spotlight on them, illuminating every gesture, every glance, every movement. It’s as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

“Even if you lied, I don’t think I’d regret this,” Riku says, his voice shaky, but certain.

“Lied? About what?” Daeyoung’s brows furrow, genuinely surprised by the sudden accusation.

“About you and Yushi…” Riku stumbles over his words, his heart racing, a twinge of jealousy rising within him. “Those letters… they sound so romantic.”

Daeyoung blinks, taken aback for a moment, then carefully lifts Riku’s chin, guiding his gaze to meet his. His touch is soft, but his eyes are intense.

“Did I ever call him my boyfriend? Or my lover?” Daeyoung asks quietly, his voice firm but gentle. “Did I ever make any romantic confession, or hint at anything like that? You read all of them… did you ever find something like that?”

Riku’s breath hitches, and he shakes his head, his voice barely a whisper, “No… No, you didn’t.”

But even as he says it, Riku can’t ignore the feeling that lingers. The warmth in Daeyoung’s words, the care that was always there, felt so close to something deeper.

Daeyoung’s expression softens, and his hands remain on Riku’s face, steadying him. “Yushi’s my friend,” he says, his voice thick with sincerity. “And I care for him. But only as a friend. He’s been through a lot recently, life hasn’t been as kind to him as he is to life. That was the point of my letters, to keep him going, to remind him that he is loved, that he matters. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

Riku looks into Daeyoung’s eyes, feeling a rush of understanding wash over him, but also something else, something more tender, more complicated. And as Daeyoung’s touch lingers, the weight of his words settles in, giving Riku the clarity he needed.

“But…” Riku finally dares to speak, his voice trembling slightly as he tries to clear the air between them, despite the fear of ruining the fragile moment. “What about the one with the mango cake? The one he never came for?”

Daeyoung’s breath hitches. He sees Riku’s lower lip quiver, as if holding back tears. “That…” he starts, his voice faltering, “That was never meant for him.”

Riku’s heart skips, his gaze softening as a mix of relief and uncertainty fills his chest. “Who was it for, then?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching Daeyoung’s, now filled with something different. Something hopeful.

Daeyoung takes a breath, his expression serious, almost hesitant. “That order… it was always meant for you. I just didn’t know how to say it, how to not make it... creepy. Even the note…”

Riku’s eyes widen slightly. “Even the note?” His voice echoes in the stillness of the night, barely above a whisper.

Daeyoung chuckles nervously, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There wasn’t a non-creepy way to ask you to keep the note, too…” His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and Riku doesn’t mirror the laughter.

Instead, Riku reaches into his pocket, slowly and carefully pulling out his phone. He dislodges it from its case, as if handling something fragile, something precious.

A small piece of carefully folded paper falls out, landing softly on Daeyoung’s knee.

Riku looks at the paper, his expression faltering for a moment, then glances back up at Daeyoung. “Then it’s time to admit that I was a creep who carried a note I thought was meant for someone else all along…”

Daeyoung laughs softly against Riku’s lips, the sound low and genuine, easing the tension in the air. 

“Well, if you want to play the creep-off game, I bought a rose for you when I went to the bakery for the first time, but then I realized… that would really be creepy.”

Without breaking the moment, he pulls Riku back into the kiss, this time deeper, with more purpose. Riku can feel the smile on Daeyoung’s lips, a quiet reassurance that makes him relax, melting into the kiss with a softness he hadn’t known he was craving.

His hands, almost on their own, slip into Daeyoung’s hair, fingers grazing the texture, exploring the strands as if trying to memorize every part of him. He pulls Daeyoung closer, feeling the heat between them intensify, wanting more, needing to feel him, every inch of him – like this, in this moment.

“Actually, there’s something I need to tell you…” Riku pulls away just enough, as though carefully setting down something precious, “I’m moving to Seoul.”

“A kiss that good convinced you to make an entire relocation plan?” Daeyoung teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Riku playfully shoves Daeyoung’s chest, “don’t flatter yourself. I’d been planning this for months before your first order even came in. It just worked out perfectly.”

“So the kiss… didn’t do it for you?” Daeyoung pouts, pretending to be hurt by the lack of praise.

“The kiss made me rethink my whole move. Maybe it’s not just for work. Maybe… maybe it’s for love.”

Riku never had to write someone else’s love confession down again. That was part of his past.

But his present? His present was waking up to handwritten love notes by his breakfast, every day for years to come.

Yet still, for all the days to come, there was always a folded piece of paper tucked in his wallet, carried with him wherever he went, a constant reminder of the love story he had always dreamed of – one that had started long before he even realized it.

Dear you,

I write to you now, sharing feelings I never thought I would, in a way I never imagined I could. But life, as unpredictable as it is, has a beauty in its surprises.

We often think we can predict where we’ll end up, who we’ll be with, and why. But, as life so often shows, those predictions are rarely accurate. In fact, I’d argue it’s far more common that life will surprise us, taking us off paths we thought we had carefully set. The people we meet, the moments that shape us… they’re often unplanned, unexpected, yet somehow, they end up defining us.

And perhaps, it’s even the people we never meet that leave the deepest impact. I'm the witness of it.

We’ve all heard the phrase “You’re my whole world,” and I’m sure someone has said it to you before. And you deserve to be someone’s whole world. You deserve to be someone’s everything, the reason they exist, the reason they move and live.

But to me, it feels too soon to say that. Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to say it, and it won’t sound so strange. But for now, I can only say this:

To me, you are more like a star. Because, without stars, there would be no world to begin with. You are the star twinkling in the sky, guiding me in ways I never expected.

Stars have always been symbols of guidance and navigation. Before anything else existed, people set sail into the unknown, guided only by the stars above. They were a beacon of direction, a reminder that even in the vast emptiness, there was something to follow.

That’s how I feel about you. Even when the path ahead seems uncertain, even when I’m not sure what lies in the distance, I follow you like a siren's song.

Stars are also linked to dreams and hopes, the kind that seem impossible and far out of reach. But I want to reach for the stars. I want to reach for you.

There may be millions of them, and from a distance, they all seem the same. But I know, if I walked among them, if I passed you by, I would recognize you in an instant. You would be the one I would yearn to reach.

But stars are also symbols of beauty. Celestial beauty that graces paintings, art, and dreams. They are the reason we find the universe beautiful, because without them, the sky would be a blank canvas. Even if you’re far away, even if I can’t see you in front of me, I know your beauty. I feel it with every breath, in every quiet moment of my day.

But above all else, I believe you are a star because the only way I can describe what I feel is a celestial connection. I always felt it, but the moment we spoke for the first time, just by the way your voice danced inside of my mind, caused a whole supernova inside me. With each word, I felt a new star being born, even warmer and brighter.

Though you’re far from me now, it is the beauty and the symbolism that keep me drawn to you. And I know that when I’m near you, I’ll feel your warmth too. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I’ve become a fool, chasing a connection that only exists in my heart. But am I the only one who feels this way?

Because, honestly, I believe it’s written in the stars.

And one day, when we meet, we’ll count them together. One by one. And only when we reach the very last star in the sky will the connection between us fade. Because, after all, stars are also symbols of romance.

Until that day, until the moment I can prove whether I’m simply dreaming or whether I’ve found the star meant just for me, take care.

Truly yours,
Daeyoung ♡