street singers and sugar cookies
street singers and sugar cookies; jongwoon/ryeowook | g | ~3800w
au, romance | jongwoon is a street singer and ryeowook owns a bakery.
Jongwoon is a street singer. Every day, he leaves his tiny, cluttered apartment located somewhere in the heart of Seoul with his battered acoustic guitar case slung over his shoulder and takes the subway to his favourite street corner alongside his busking partner Kyuhyun. There, he sets up his foldable stool and guitar carefully, and together they sing the day away. Ballads, acoustic covers of current pop songs, their own compositions, maybe even a bit of rock smattered here and there. Their impromptu repertoire changes every day, and Jongwoon likes that - after all, it’s a small little surprise brightening up their day amongst the boring mundaneness of their city life. Even if they have to live in the fast-paced rat race of Seoul, it’s nice to be able to control some part of their day instead of being dragged under by the tidal wave of life. Still, it’s not that he hates what he does for a living; oh no, far from that - this is what he had wanted since university.
He’d gone to some prestigious music school, where they’d made him take various useless classes such as history of music and classical music appreciation classes. No, what he’d really wanted to do was compose. Build his own melodies from scratch and add his own words to them. Because deep down, what he truly was, was a musician. Everything he wanted to say, he’d say it in music. When he’d gotten together with his first girlfriend, he’d written light, airy melodies that drifted around both their heads like cotton candy caught in the air. When he’d gone through rough patches at school (when the workload got too heavy, when the teachers got too bitchy) he’d channelled all the angst into dreary lyrics and choppy notes, the notes short and snappy. When he’d fallen out of love, he hadn’t cried one bit - he’d simply poured all his tears into angsty ballads and dark baritones that would break your heart. Because in the end, all he had was music, nothing else but his notes and his lyrics.
He’d met Kyuhyun in university and hadn’t liked him at first (because who would like a snarky, rude brat, right?). However one day after school he’d heard Kyuhyun practicing in one of the lesser-used music rooms, and the rich warmth of his voice had drawn Jongwoon in. It was fascinating, really, and something unexpected about Kyuhyun, smooth sweetness under a caustic exterior. Somehow, they’d made friends with each other, unlikely acquaintances amongst the diverse student population, the mysteriously dark, angsty composer with leather jackets and skinny jeans and the sarcastic loner with an acidic tongue and beautiful voice. They'd had an amicable partnership in school, often doing duets together and winning whatever singing competitions the school organised, widely admired by students and teachers alike. After graduating from university, they'd decided to rent an apartment together (because Jongwoon was continually broke and Kyuhyun was actually a cheapskate deep down inside) and there they've been, for two years and counting.
Another thing he does daily is go into the coffee shop located on the street corner itself. The cashier is a young girl, pretty and slim, with dark waves for hair and delicate features. Every morning, she prepares his usual cappuccino and warm croissant, he pays, she beams at him, he smiles back. She's not strikingly pretty, yet when Jongwoon stares at her for a longer period than usual, something falls into place and he realises she's beautiful. Maybe something in the way her hair falls over her face and the way her smile curves across her whole face and the way she positively glows through life, her happiness an obvious beacon shining through the rough waters. She'd be the perfect complement to him, yet he's tasted heartbreak before and it's sour, bitter, a good indicator of what acrid smoke would taste like if it were tangible. I don't want to take the risk, he thinks. Maybe that's what's the problem with him - he's never dared to seize any chance.
When Jongwoon gets back to their street corner, Kyuhyun's eyes flick to the food in his hand and he rolls his eyes. "It's ironic how you hate routines, yet you order the same damn thing every morning," he quips, and Jongwoon thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's right.
*
The day that Jongwoon's familiar cafe routine is disrupted starts off just like any other day. He sets off with Kyuhyun, gets off the subway, walks to his favourite street corner. However, once he reaches the place, he realises that the coffee shop is dark and the door's shut tight. He's surprised, actually, and he wanders closer to take a look at the tiny notice written and displayed behind the glass door.
sorry! we've moved! you can find our new premises at...
Jongwoon sees the first three words and immediately blanks out. "she didn't tell me they were moving," he unwittingly blurts out to an amused Kyuhyun, who merely laughs.
"Ever thought of why she didn't tell you?" he chortles lightly, enjoying the petulant look on Jongwoon's face.
"No," Jongwoon sulks, and Kyuhyun laughs even harder.
"It's because you never talked to her, idiot. Even I knew you liked her, it was so obvious, but because you never once opened your golden mouth to say 'hello' or 'goodbye', or maybe even 'can I have your number?', she probably thought you weren't interested in her or anything she had to say."
*
Jongwoon sulks for a while more after that, but by the next week, he's managed to put it behind him (for the time being). He doesn't think he'll ever forget that girl, but then again, as he reasoned with himself, it's okay. What's meant to be, will be. Plus it wasn't even as if he had actually felt a true connection with that girl; he'd liked her, sure, but he hadn't loved her, hadn't been in love with her. She'd tugged on his heartstrings and made him consider the possibility of falling in love again, but she hadn't captured his heart. Not yet.
Sighing, Jongwoon boards the subway once again, Kyuhyun behind him. However, when they reach their street corner, another unfamiliar sight greets them - a new signboard now hangs above the previously empty space, advertising yet another bakery. Kyuhyun nudges him playfully and says, "Hey, maybe you'll fall in love with the person who owns this bakery. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Jongwoon scowls and turns away, but unbeknownst to anyone else there’s a small shoot of hope burgeoning in his chest.
maybe, just maybe.
Jongwoon has never said this out loud, but deep down he knows that all he wants is to fall in love, to love and be loved in return. He wants to have somebody to write sappy love songs about, somebody to wake up to in the mornings, somebody to hold in bed at night. It’s not about peer pressure or having to conform to societal expectations; rather, it’s more of his desire to have somebody to love. There was this one English song Kyuhyun had liked to sing, something about two being better than one, and Jongwoon can’t help but agree most of the time. After all, he knows that two will always be infinitely better than one, since one is lonely and cold and sad whereas two is companionable, warm and happy.
He dislikes being lonely.
*
Jongwoon and Kyuhyun watch the new bakery slowly build itself up from scratch. They see the bricks, the mortar, the way the four walls of the place are painted over and the way any trace of the previous owner was removed. They watch the coffee machines and ovens come in, yet never once see a trace of the new owner. Yet suddenly, one Monday morning, they arrive, and the bakery is up and running. The lights are on and the doors are open, the fragrance of freshly baked goods and freshly brewed coffee assaulting Jongwoon’s senses.
“Go on,” Kyuhyun grins, sensing his yearning to go in. “Get yourself your usual croissant and coffee and fall in love along the way. C’mon, I’ll even go with you this time.” Jongwoon laughs softly, shrugging (after all, it can’t hurt) and pushes open the door, the bell above tinkling gently.
What the both of them don’t expect, though, is a cozy, warm interior. Peach-coloured walls and brown plush chairs and wooden tables greet them, almost as if welcoming them to sit and stay for a while. Bright, childish pictures sprinkle the walls, the innocence in them making Jongwoon's breath catch in his throat. He vaguely remembers being that young, being that naive and innocent. Somehow the music, pictures and atmosphere culminates in a sentimental effect, more longing and wistful than bright, and Jongwoon wishes he could stay here forever. Walking forward to the counter, he notes the soft music playing in the background, the melody dipping and swirling about him, the notes embedding themselves in his brain. Upon reaching the cash register, he taps on the bell placed on the counter, and a few seconds later somebody emerges from the back room.
“Hello~ How may I help you?” the man (boy, actually) says, smiling, just a flash of white teeth and high voice, and Jongwoon does a double take. This boy (‘Kim Ryeowook’, his nametag says) seems to be the only person in the place at the moment, and Jongwoon is surprised to find out that he seems to be managing well despite the many customers and lack of manpower.
“Ah… I’ll have one of the croissants and one of your warm cappuccinos, thanks,” he finally says after a period of hesitation, and Ryeowook replies immediately with a bright “okay! Coming right up,” before flitting back to the kitchen to prepare his coffee.
When he next emerges, Jongwoon takes the food and hands over the money, their hands brushing slightly when the change is passed back to him. “See you soon~” Ryeowook trills as they leave, and Jongwoon doesn’t doubt it.
*
The next time Jongwoon goes back to the cafe is the next day. "Hello~" Ryeowook greets him pleasantly when he enters, this time without Kyuhyun. "Did you like your croissant and coffee from yesterday?" he smiles at Jongwoon, eager and oh-so-ready to please. Unable to say a word (because he doesn't exactly know what to say to Ryeowook), Jongwoon just nods, his husky voice caught in his throat.
He should hate Ryeowook. Okay, he amends, maybe not hate so much as dislike. After all, Ryeowook had moved in and the beautiful girl had moved out, depriving him of a chance to ever talk to her again. That was Ryeowook's fault, right? How he'd like to find fault with Ryeowook and his bakery and the baked goods and coffee, but the plain truth remained that now the food was way better and the coffee more fragrant; the bakery more memorable and the owner more intriguing than ever.
Jongwoon swears mentally, cursing himself. I think I've just gotten myself into deep shit.
*
As the days pass, Jongwoon goes back every single day, and now Ryeowook doesn't even need to ask to know what he wants. "You should really try something new," Ryeowook remarks, smiling, as he walks over to the oven and fishes out the freshly baked, flaky croissant and proceeds to busy himself with the cappuccino. Jongwoon shrugs flippantly, thinking nothing of it.
"No. I don't want to."
Ryeowook looks down, but not before Jongwoon sees the flash of something (hurt? rejection?) in his expressive eyes. "O-okay. Suit yourself then."
Jongwoon tries to pretend that he doesn't notice Ryeowook's normally steady hands shaking as he grips the styrofoam cup a bit too tightly.
*
"I'm sorry," Jongwoon says, shaking his head as he enters the next day. As if from an outsider's point of view, his mind notes coolly that nowadays Kyuhyun refuses to go into the bakery with him, pretty much leaving him to deal with this emotional shit alone. "I was rude yesterday."
"It's alright," Ryeowook says, but today his voice is soft and muted, flat tones instead of the usual bright cheeriness. "I shouldn't have said it in the first place; I obviously overstepped the boundaries between customer and waiter."
"Don't be silly," Jongwoon speaks sharply before he can even realise he'd opened his mouth. "We- we can be more than that. If you like, we can be friends..." he trails off, not exactly sure how to continue.
Ryeowook positively beams. "I'd like that. Well, you know my name already, I'm Ryeowook, twenty-two this year. Pleased to meet you," he extends his hand for a handshake, and Jongwoon can't help but marvel at how positively delicate Ryeowook's hand looks. All skin and bone, looking almost as fragile as a bird's wing, yet he knows just exactly how adept these hands are. Small and slim digits with fingernails that were well taken care of, almost like a pianist's hands.
"I'm Jongwoon, twenty-five this year. I do a lot of street busking for a living, just on the corner outside your bakery -"
"I know," Ryeowook interjects excitedly. "I've heard you sing before."
Jongwoon is pleasantly surprised, but he hopes to god his face doesn't show it. "Oh, have you?" he smiles, hoping to project the exact image of an earnest, hardworking music student.
"Yes! You have a beautiful voice," Ryeowook says almost shyly, laughing in an obvious attempt to cover up his embarrassment. "Oh, and your partner too," he adds almost as an afterthought.
"Do you really think so?" Jongwoon doesn't bother hiding his pleasure anymore, just letting it show in the form of a smile, teeth and all.
l
Ryeowook nods fervently, and in that instant something occurs to Jongwoon. "Hey, do you play the piano or any other musical instrument? Your fingers are really pretty," it's only after the words have left his mouth that he realises that it sounds slightly creepy (maybe more than slightly, his mind notes wryly) but Ryeowook's laughing, hands flying over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles spilling from his lips.
"You're not the first person to have told me that," he says, pulling his hands away from his mouth and inspecting them gingerly. "Anyway, to answer your question, yeah, I'm a classical music major at the nearby university. I play the piano and sometimes the harp, but the second one's more of a hobby than anything else. You play the guitar, don't you?" he ends off amiably, looking straight at Jongwoon, and Jongwoon feels a smile rising to his face.
"Yeah. Wanna come out and watch me sing for a while?"
That day, with Ryeowook watching, Jongwoon feels like he's sung better than ever before, hitting all the right notes, the perfect pitch, the right quality and emotions. He wonders offhandedly what this petite little boy is doing to him, but decides he doesn't really care since heck, this is the first thing that's gone right in a long time and he's not going to question this peculiar friendship.
*
"Who was that boy watching us today?" Kyuhyun asks slyly that night when they're both back in their cramped apartment, towelling their hair dry after a quick shower. Jongwoon pretends to be very absorbed in squeezing out the moisture from his raven black hair, but ultimately he can't ignore Kyuhyun's question and has to answer him, even though that sneaky bastard knows very well who Ryeowook is.
"Ryeowook, from the bakery. You should know, you've seen him before."
"Huh." Kyuhyun's smirking, and Jongwoon doesn't like it at all. "He seems nice."
"He is." Kyuhyun grins teasingly, but Jongwoon realises he doesn't mind. Not really.
*
It takes two more weeks before Ryeowook consents to let Jongwoon listen to him play. Jongwoon's been begging for a while now, wanting to see just how good Ryeowook is, to see how he looks like when he's playing. Music has always been a large part of his life, and ever since he's heard that Ryeowook was a classical music major, the idea of listening to him play never left his mind.
"C'mon," Jongwoon says excitedly, taking him by the hand and leading him to the grand piano placed in a far corner of the bakery. "Why even bother placing a piano there if nobody plays it?"
"I do," Ryeowook protests in a small voice. "Sometimes I play a little after work."
"Then play for me now. There's nobody in here anyway," Jongwoon argues, and he's right; there's a lull in the normally bustling activity of the bakery, which is a huge surprise since it's normally packed with people. Oh well, the stuff Ryeowook makes is delicious, anyway.
Ryeowook heaves a long suffering sigh, but he acquiesces to Jongwoon's request and sits down gently on the piano chair. Jongwoon is struck once again by how fragile, how delicate, Ryeowook appears to be, yet how strong he actually is deep down. How he looks like fragile porcelain, all alarmingly sharp bones and feather-light touches, yet there's a core of optimism and steel at the centre of that tiny person. Then, Ryeowook positions his fingers on the keys and starts pressing, and Jongwoon's mouth drops open.
Ryeowook's chosen to play a piece with many running notes, the music jumping crazily from octave to octave. It should be messy, it should be disorganized, but the way Ryeowook coaxes out the melody from the black and white keys is anything but that. He turns a cacophony of sound into something beautiful, something with nuances and undertones, music that has many tangible layers instead of the atypical one-dimensional classical piece. The running harmony is tugging at his mind, inviting him to join in the dance that is the music. The plink plink plink of the keys make him think of raindrops, make him think of jumps and twirls and spins, of happiness in the near future.
He stares at the white keys, at the sharps and flats, at the rapidly moving fingers, at the slim figure perched just so on the edge of the chair, and wonders if this is what love feels like. If falling in love feels just like running notes, falling from high C to middle C to the bass notes all the way at the low end of the keyboard. Because if this is falling, then it’s not as bad as he’d expected it to be, not as tangled and prickly and thorny as what it had been previously.
He thinks he can learn to love, to fall in love with, Ryeowook.
*
Jongwoon thinks it’s hard to pinpoint the exact day he fell in love with Ryeowook, but if you had asked him he would have said that it was the day the two of them sang a duet together. There’s just something about Ryeowook’s voice, dulcet tones and a high, clear quality so unique and so different from anything he’s heard before, and it’s so beautiful Jongwoon has to clench his fists when Ryeowook sings. Music is everything to Jongwoon, and it’s evident that it means a lot to Ryeowook too. Maybe not as much as it does to Jongwoon, but he knows that music is still an integral part in Ryeowook’s life, melodies and rhythms leaving imprints of themselves on his soul.
“Sing with me,” Jongwoon blurts unwittingly, bringing Ryeowook’s impromptu piano recital to an abrupt halt.
“What?” Ryeowook’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, his head tilted minutely to one side. It’s such an instinctive movement, but Jongwoon’s heart clenches because of how incredibly cute Ryeowook is. It’s not just the fact that Ryeowook looks adorable when he does that - it’s the vulnerability, the curiosity in his expression that sucks Jongwoon in and holds him fast. Ryeowook looks a lot like a little boy at that moment, an image that Jongwoon wants to burn on his retinas and hold on to forever.
“You heard me. C’mon, I’ve heard you hum when you try to compose melodies, you’ve got a really nice voice and perfect pitch.”
“But… I don’t think I’m good enough. I mean, look at me, then look at you and Kyuhyun…”
There it is again, the insecurity that he is never good enough. The insecurity Jongwoon so desperately wants to kiss away.
“Well, I think you’re good enough,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t tremble or break or do anything stupid.
Ryeowook smiles shyly. “If you say so.”
*
Ryeowook’s perched on his high stool, Jongwoon standing behind him on the right, Kyuhyun on the left. A nod from Jongwoon, an unspoken countdown, and Kyuhyun starts plucking the strings on his guitar. A few bars later, Ryeowook joins in, his voice acting as the melody, and Jongwoon as accompaniment. The moment Jongwoon hears the both of their voices mingle, he thinks he’s never heard anything more beautiful in his life.
Jongwoon thinks that this is the exact moment he falls in love; everything about performing is the same. The faceless crowd walking by in coats and scarves, the constant clink of coins into the hat at their feet, his vocal chords resonating against his throat. Yet at the same time, everything is different; Ryeowook is beside him, singing, and now there’s a certain bright, childish quality to the song, so different from the mournful, husky feel that he and Kyuhyun exude.
Everything is different because of Ryeowook, but Jongwoon finds that he doesn’t mind. Not at all. Just like how he doesn’t mind that he’s just fallen irrevocably in love with Ryeowook, with this boy who tugged on his heartstrings and captured his heart.
*
“You should really try something new, you know,” Ryeowook tries again, trying to convince Jongwoon to break his monotone of a diet. There’s an unmistakable flicker of trepidation in his eyes and voice, of wondering what Jongwoon will say.
Looking right back at him, Jongwoon is impassive, his eyes refusing to reflect even a sliver of his true emotions. Suddenly, however, he smiles, and Ryeowook knows he’s won.
“Yeah, I probably should. Any recommendations?”
Ryeowook raises an eyebrow, hardly daring to believe it even after the confirmation. “How about the sugar cookies? Those are really good.”
Jongwoon just shrugs and nods, as if to say, yeah, whatever, but Ryeowook knows better and hurries off to prepare them, smiling to himself as he walks. Before he leaves the room, though, Jongwoon reaches out and grabs his jacket sleeve, spinning him round and dropping a feather-light kiss on the corner of his mouth.
I'm going to take this chance. I refuse to let him slip by.
Ryeowook stares up at him for a heartbeat, shock and surprise reflected clearly on his face, and Jongwoon falters ( oh god have I misread the signs oh god do I disgust him oh god have I ruined our friendship ) but a second later the film of confusion over Ryeowook’s eyes is gone and he’s kissing Jongwoon back full on the mouth, lips melting over the other’s and hands clutching Jongwoon tightly. He can feel Ryeowook smile into the kiss, lips curving upward, and Jongwoon smiles along because this, this happy ending, is what he’s always wanted.
“Come back soon,” he grins, releasing Ryeowook, who blushes and says “hmph!” petulantly before stomping to the kitchen to hide his embarrassment.
Kyuhyun will be happy to hear that I’ve fallen in love, Jongwoon thinks. But then again, he thinks that he’s happier now, happier for himself than Kyuhyun can ever be, and he’s totally fine with that.
end