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[attr="class","bisc"]Cannoli needed the day off. A few more days in this place, and she’d have metamorphosed into an Alcremie or something. He couldn’t remember the last time she went on a date. Still, it took fifteen reviews of the morning to-do list before she left Biscotti to his own devices. Now, all he needed to do was stop the place from burning.

By some strange twist of fate, his shifts and Shigure’s visits rarely coincided. Maybe the shifts didn’t line up right. But today’s opening shift brought them nose to nose. Or, uh, nose-to-glass-to-nose. And it wasn’t like either of them were licking the case—that’d be super weird. Where have I seen him before?

That messy fringe of hair. The golden eyes. Somehow it all felt so familiar. He knew how that hair would feel between his fingers and the way the other boy laughed. He even knew how he messed up lullaby lyrics to get a laugh. But stuff wasn’t quite right. The smile was wrong and the voice too. This guy had the face of his husband. Or, well, boyfriend. The souls though seemed different. It wasn’t like he could ask either. It’d make him look like a crackpot. Still, he’d come across as a total creeper if he said that.

So, instead, he kept sneaking glances. Memories of a nonexistent lifetime came flooding back, nearly drowning the labrador boy in the tide. The last brush In this deluge, he struggled to find the right—no, any--words to say. Fortunately, Shigure galloped to the rescue with a question. Suddenly, Biscotti remembered this wasn’t a medieval rotunda. It was the 21st century.

“Seasonal what?” The brunette stammerred. It felt like he was mulling those words for the first time. He blinked. Dropped his gaze to the pastry cabinet. “Oh.” Panicked. “These—uh—these are new.” He gestured to a pair of twin cupcakes on the counter—one with bright blue icing and the other with red. The sprinkles were arranged in a strange pattern.

Had they been there earlier?

A voice whispered: 'Red or blue?'

SHIGURE URUHA

☉