It started with a storm.
Rain came out of nowhere, slapping against the bakery windows and rumbling the whole village awake. Thunder cracked like the sky was tearing in half.
Jun-seo was in the storage room organizing flour sacks when everything went dark.
"...Oh, come on."
He stumbled out to find Kwang-su already standing near the back door, holding a flashlight and grinning like the apocalypse was a joke.
"Let me guess," Jun-seo said. "You broke the lights?"
"Nature did," Kwang-su replied. "And maybe the fuse box. But mostly nature."
Jun-seo sighed, dripping wet from running outside to check the wires. "Great. No power, no hot water, and now we're stuck here 'til morning."
"Could be worse," Kwang-su said, tilting his head. "Could be stuck here alone."
Jun-seo squinted at him. "we are alone."
...silence.
A sudden gust of wind slammed the shutters, making Jun-seo jump. Kwang-su laughed.
"Oh my god," Jun-seo muttered. "Why are you like this?"
"Admit it—you'd be bored without me."
"Honestly? Peace and quiet sounds like heaven."
They gathered a few candles, found a blanket, and sat on the floor behind the counter, legs stretched out across flour-dusted tiles.
The storm raged outside, but in the dim candlelight, everything felt strangely warm.
Jun-seo glanced at Kwang-su. "So. You ever stop joking?"
Kwang-su looked over, smile fading just slightly. "Sometimes. When people aren't looking."
Jun-seo blinked. That wasn't what he expected.
"What about you?" Kwang-su asked. "Ever stop being mad at me?"
Jun-seo snorted. "Sometimes. When you're not talking."
Silence for a moment. Then—unexpectedly soft—
"You're not bad at this," Jun-seo said quietly.
"At what? Baking? Being annoying?"
Jun-seo rolled his eyes. "At... working with me. You mess everything up, but you also keep up somehow. It's weird."
Kwang-su smiled slowly. "That the closest thing I'll get to a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it."
Just then, lightning flashed, and the thunder made the power flicker again—then fade completely.
"Guess we're stuck here for the night," Kwang-su said, standing. "The grandpas left early, and it's too wet to walk home."
Jun-seo stood, brushing flour off his pants. "There's a couch in the office. I'll take it."
"Okay. I'll take the floor."
"…There's space for two on the couch."
Kwang-su froze. "Really?"
"I said space. Not invitation."
But he followed Jun-seo into the office anyway.
Minutes later, they were awkwardly squished together under one scratchy blanket, trying not to make eye contact.
Jun-seo stared at the ceiling. "If you snore, I swear—"
"I don't. I whisper sweet dreams in my sleep."
Jun-seo laughed under his breath. "You're unbelievable."
Kwang-su turned toward him, voice soft. "You're kinda cute when you're not yelling."
Jun-seo's breath caught. He didn't answer.
Outside, the storm kept howling.
Inside, two boys laid a few inches apart, in silence thick with something new—something neither of them had the words for yet.