A/N: I'm so so sorry for the late update. I hope the new year is going well for you, and please enjoy the long chapter up ahead ^^ Again, I apologize for the late update ;_;

____________________________

"It's a good time to get married, son."

I wonder if there's some sort of rule;

"Peak of your career; financially stable; looks that you've inherited from me—"

That for some reason, humans are only allowed to fall in love when they are twenty.

"Don't waste your time anymore son,"

Below that—it's not Love;

Because they say we are too young to understand it.

And once we leave it behind, number twenty nine;

I laughed.

They fucking say we're getting old.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet. You'll love her. You know, love at first sight?"

The world seems to think that there is a specific age to fall in love.

They ask you about your lover at twenty; it's strange if you don't have one.

And as if some spell had been cast or some spirit within them awakening—

The people around you started having somebody to love.

"It's time to settle down."

Is it not a miracle?

That for some reason, the majority of the humans I know got together in their twenties to—yes...

Settle down.

Did they coincidentally meet The one at this age?

Did they, as soon as they were deemed Adults, somehow feel a spur of freedom to love?

Is it ever too early to Love?

And;

Is it ever too late to?

Then;

When—

is it time to Love?

____________________________

The chill of winter was not to be belittled despite the delicate snow that cloaked the bakery. It whispered against frosted windows that were closed—seeking entrance to the warmth of starting ovens in Baked Love.

Morning light had washed the darkness off Night's cape, leaving its hem clear with a pale azure that seemed to reflect itself in a lone baker's eyes.

Chip Honeycutt Jaxon stood—oh. My mistake—not yet; it seems.

Not yet.

Chip Honeycutt's solitary figure stood quite alone in his beloved bakery, dusting some flour off his apron as he began a new day.

He greeted his sister Coco; who entered the store in a disposition that reminded him of a jumpy squirrel—shivering and rubbing her hands together to dispel the cold. A gust of winter air snuck in with a fierce sweep, but soon merged with the warmth of the bakery and its sweet scent.

"Oh God, where's spring when you need it?" Coco groaned, walking towards the kitchen with heavy feet whilst unravelling the woolen scarf around her neck to loop it over the coat hanger. "Jim says he's going to propose when the 'flowers blossom'. Wonder if he's lying or just implying that winter's not going to end."

Chip laughed, taking her coat for her. "I'm sure he means it."

"Mom's gonna freak if we drop the bomb on her—you haven't told her about yours, right? Heavens, she might have forgotten your sexual preference. She probably accepted Rose's marriage only 'cuz Joe was a doctor," His sister shrugged, wearing her apron swiftly.

The young man smiled sheepishly—gaze fixed on his shoes. "Maybe. And, um...yeah. I haven't told her yet. Didn't she change her number a couple of weeks ago?"

"What? You know she never picks up," Coco called from the storage, picking out the ingredients for pumpkin loaves. "It's postcards that she sends all the time; saying that she got a new boyfriend and that's probably all she cares about..."

The young lady paused all of a sudden as she emerged from the store room, a bag of sugar and flour, tins of spices, nuts and raisins in her arms.

Her brother's back was facing her as he prepared the dough for buns on the countertop.

"Is that...?" Coco laid the gathered ingredients on the island before peering closer at the nape of Chip's neck.

"Oh g-gosh, woah. Chip, you have, um. A love bite on your neck."

The panicked figure whirled around to face his sister, cheeks and ears dusting pink as he reached behind quickly. "W-What? Really? That's—um. It's just...a..."

There was no explanation.

What?

He was bitten by Berry the husky?

Coco laughed.

"Oho, someone's growing up," She nudged him in the ribs, getting back to her ingredients to start on the loaf.

Chip hung his head in embarrassment, looking solely at the dough in his hands.

"I...I didn't see it this morning when I was brushing my teeth though..."

"Oh come on, it was on the nape of your neck! I'd be creeped out if you could see it," Coco rolled her eyes.

"Is it obvious? Um. How does it look like? Not too big...? I-I hope," Chip asked nervously, watching as his sister peered at the back of his neck once again.

Her eyes widened.

"Hold on, I think there's two. And for the love of all rolling pins in the world, they are as obvious as chocolate chips on a cookie," She held a hand to her chest in genuine shock as she began to ramble. "Well, that's not a great comparison you see, but they appear all the more obvious since it's your skin we're talking about and—gosh. Xander's a lot to handle."

Chip was getting more and more embarrassed by the second; wishing he had worn a collared shirt instead that could at least hide those marks—for the casual tee he donned was doing none of that at all.

"H-Handle? Uh, um...he's okay, I guess—just, um it it's not what you think it is um we didn't do it we just did the other thing like but not the whole thing y-you know what I mean?" Xander's angel spoke quickly; face red beyond embarrassment.

He turned back to the dough.

"Ugh, love birds," Coco nudged his knee with her foot—a playful attempt at a kick. "Stop blushing already! Everyone does...those sort of stuff. Well, not everyone, but you get what I mean. I'm having second-hand embarrassment here!"

"Who's having second-hand embarrassment?" Shea's voice sounded from behind, startling the pair of bakers as they whirled around in surprise.

"W-Wha!"

"Shea! How much did you hear? Is Hansel here?" Coco's gaze darted around nervously.

The youngest Honeycutt laughed with a wave of her hand. "Nope! He's out of town for the day, remember? Said he's going to the city," She raised a suspicious brow. "What's so embarrassing that you'd forget about that, Co?"

"Er."

They looked at their shoes.

"Um!" Chip parted his lips to say something—then closed them once again.

"Er."

"Did Xander and you do the do," Shea asked bluntly, arms crossed with a knowing smirk on her face.

"Well, not really," Coco began, only to find a hand on her mouth.

"N-No! We didn't. Not—not all the way..." Chip played with his fingers, completely forgetting about the dough on the countertop.

Their sister laughed, making an offhanded remark about Xander's abs being really well-defined.

"So envious! Gosh, I bet he's the type that teases—"

The young man's face was as red as a strawberry.

"Eep I'm so proud of you Chip," Shea gushed, patting his head as though she was the older one, "I can't believe you took all of him in!"

"W-W-Wha—What."

Xander's angel was quite sure he had specified that they didn't go all the way.

It was strange that his sisters seemed to think that he and Xander did, however, and that confused him.

And it also struck a curious question;

For Chip knew that had it been the man from five years ago—he would have probably gone with the heated flow.

So—

Why didn't they?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Rivendell High School]

"Can't believe you actually came back," Xander's ex-coach slapped him on the back with a hearty laugh. "Where've you been? Heard from Mason that you shifted to the city."

The satisfying sound of volleyballs being received; being spiked into the ground—ricocheted across the indoor sports hall, coupled with an occasional squeak of sneakers against the floor.

It was a sound that Xander hadn't heard in a long while.

"Coach," The young man nodded with a well-practiced smile, offering his hand for a firm shake. "It's been long. I did move to the city—but I'm back now. Got engaged, and rented a house nearby."

"Engaged?" The coach's eyes widened in surprise. "You? But Jaxon you're barely—what, 24? I swear my memory's getting worse by the year. When did you graduate again?"

The pair conversed at the benches; both feeling slightly nostalgic.

After all, it had been long since Xander had talked to someone older that he trusted to give the best advice. And for the coach himself who had few players who bothered to remain in contact, the sight of an old student seemed to make all the difference.

"You're not even trying, Nic."

"Sorry...'m beat. Can't spike for nothing."

"At least send it over the net..."

"I'm cold."

There was an exasperated sigh that followed.

"You're not the only one—"

Xander and his Coach paused their conversation, turning their attention to the court in front of them. There appeared to be a commotion on one side of the net—a small argument amongst the six of them.

"What's up with the large numbers by the way? Haven't seen so many players in one practice," Xander noted carefully.

Coach nodded. "West got transferred to another school just a month ago, leaving me with indoor vol. It's been tough trying to give a good amount of attention to both. Thank God Mason told me about you."

"So they've been having practices together?" Xander watched the friendly match in the middle court, picking out the ones who didn't seem used to the larger court size and working in a team of six.

He also made a mental note to thank Blake and probably drop a good word or two about him to Ace.

"I had no choice. It's freaking snowing outside, and you know we always use the indoor sports hall during winter. See the point is—I can't handle six days of coaching for beach and indoor volley by myself. Combined practice was inevitable."

The young man nodded in understanding.

"Sorry Coach."

"Don't know why you're apologizing Jaxon," The Coach laughed, "But I'm glad you're here. Just wanted you to drop by first to get to know the boys. Understand their strengths and their playstyle—the usual. We'll get to the coaching later."

Xander was a little skeptical about teaching. In all honestly, he knew very well that patience was not a virtue that he possessed.

Not that he had any virtues at all, but still.

"Dude, you've got to call. You can't just stay silent like that—someone else might go for the ball and you'd both get injured."

"Sorry..."

"Watch where your teammates are, and position accordingly. You're not in sync..."

The disorganized team from before seemed put-off by one of its members.

Coach got up, prepared to intervene when Xander decided that he would try instead; placing a hand on the Coach's shoulder, he told the older man to place his attention on the players in the next court.

He smiled, nodding thankfully.

"Yeah...sorry..."

"...I know this is harsh but I'm saying it for good—don't play if you're just going to bring us down. Everyone's going to get injured by the end of the game if you keep this up," One of them laid out firmly.

Eyes widened at the sight of an approaching Xander.

"Hey, keep it down—someone's coming."

The team was silent by the time Xander had arrived by their side, a casual smile on his lips. "What's going on? Heard something about getting injured."

They exchanged glances.

"Is everyone alright?" Their senior continued, prompting one of them to speak.

"Everything's fine—"

"Sir," The one who appeared to be warning his teammate from before spoke first. "We didn't mean to cause trouble. It's just—having injuries that could be avoided during practice isn't gonna help us in official games. This...we're not going to make a good team if we don't call for the ball or watch where our teammates are. He—I mean we keep colliding during spikes and receives."

The high school player didn't seem to be pointing fingers at anyone in particular.

No name was mentioned, and no one else made a move to do so. In fact, to Xander, they seemed to be covering up for them.

"I understand. You're right to say that," Some members of the team sighed in relief. "Calling for the ball will avoid injuries on your side of the net and you guys need to be in your best condition for the spring tournament. Is anyone injured?"

"Nathaniel and Nic collided during a receive just now..."

Xander followed their gaze to the two.

It was—by then—obvious who the odd one out was. There was a scrawny boy with dark hair standing by the side, looking at the ground. Just a little apart from the group but not too far that he wasn't in earshot. Everyone was staring at him.

The team on the other side of the net was getting impatient. They had gathered at the front in effort to hear what Xander was discussing with them.

"What's your name?" The man approached him. "You hurt anywhere?"

The boy continued to look at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt in an awkward manner.

"...Sorry."

Xander almost thought that the boy's name was Sorry, until he realized that the student was afraid of being scolded again—just after his teammates had done so.

"I'm not gonna punish you," He reassured. "Just asking if you're hurt anywhere."

"...Nicale."

"I'm okay," He added listlessly, almost like an engine that had run out of steam.

When Xander said that he wanted to talk to him, the boy positively paled—shoulders drooping with heavy reluctance as he followed the senior begrudgingly.

"The rest of you guys—will you be able to handle with just five? You could ask your libero to take his place for just ten minutes," Xander instructed, but the team seemed grateful to have Nicale removed.

"Also, half-hearted tosses aren't going to help with preventing injuries either. The spikers wouldn't know who you're tossing to," He added with a subtle smile, looking at the boy who had informed him of colliding spikers.

.

"What's going on Nicale?"

"Nothing...?" The boy answered typically, reminding Xander of the interns back at his father's company.

They stopped behind a pillar, out of earshot from the rest of the court.

"You're from beach vol, aren't you?"

It was the first time Nicale looked up from the floor, and actually made an effort to make eye contact with his senior.

"How did you know?"

"Lack of teamwork," Xander shrugged with a light-hearted laugh. "Just kidding. And you don't call. In beach we don't need to because there's just two on one side of the net."

"..."

Nicale wasn't a talkative one at all, and Xander was no patient person.

But he also knew that good coaches had to be patient with their players, and that forcing rules onto someone who didn't want to listen wasn't going to do either of them any good.

"Where's your partner?"

"Somewhere."

"Ill?"

"No."

Xander frowned.

"Skipping prac?"

Nicale's lips drew into a thin line.

"...forget what I said."

"Oh, so he is skipping."

The boy clicked his tongue, looking away. "Not exactly...please just forget I said anything."

"I can't. I'm going to be your coach from today onwards," Xander lied without hesitation. He was only supposed to be assisting Coach, but the fact that Nicale was being very uncooperative wasn't sitting well with him.

Also, Nicale was like a silent grumpy cat who didn't seem to like instructions at all.

True, Chip was a silent one too (Xander had debated in his mind), but the fact that he stumbled over his words was definitely too adorable to resist.

Xander cursed himself for thinking about his fiancé at a time like this.

Perhaps he was beginning to miss him.

Calm the fuck down Xander, it's been barely four hours since you last saw him.

"What?" The boy frowned, staring at Xander. "You...? What about Coach Aden?"

"Don't you think he has a lot to handle these days? What with indoor vol on his hands now, he doesn't have time to split his attention between both."

"...and you are...?" Nicale raised a brow skeptically.

"Jaxon. It's 'sir' from now on, though. I was from beach volley too, under Coach Aden."

They boy stared hard at Xander, narrowed eyes almost like a wary cat inspecting a human. Or an unknown species.

"And...I'm supposed to be impressed?"

"No. You're supposed to connect with me because I'm a beach volley player too," Xander brought a hand to his face in impatience. "Ah fuck it, never mind. You've got to at least be cooperative and listen to what those guys in your team are saying. I know you're not used to it, but it's really not beneficial to you or the rest of the team if you're the cause of injuries."

"..."

Nicale glared.

"I only listen to Dion."

Xander sighed. "And Dion is...?"

Nicale looked away, as if regretting his words.

"Your partner?"

He nodded.

"And?"

Nicale folded his arms. "And what?"

"And? Why is he skipping practice?"

Xander had lost count how many times this boy had retreated into his cave of silence.

"Does Coach Aden know he's skipping?"

Nicale gulped, shaking his head once.

"I told him he's down with a cold."

"Did...Dion tell you to lie?" The young man had paused to remember his name.

"Kind...of. He said to cover for him."

Nicale seemed very uncomfortable with this topic, and he seemed like someone who was terrible at keeping things a secret as well. Xander prompted him to continue.

"Ugh, his girlfriend wanted to go to some movie with him, alright?" The boy groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I just don't understand why he'd go when there's practice. He...he never misses practice..."

Oh...so that's how it is.

God, teenagers—so fucking dense.

"Did he say he wanted to go?" Xander pushed away his thoughts and asked with the most patience he could muster.

"He asked me if he should go."

"And you said yes, I assumed."

Xander wondered if he was this stupid back in high school. Well he must have been, since the only thing he knew how to do was to make Chip cry.

Nicale bit his lip.

"I was angry, okay?" He protested. "He shouldn't even be choosing between volley and a girl, the choice is obvious. It was a dumb question so I snapped back at him and...and said he should just go if he wants to," The boy ended quietly, eyes downcast.

"Stupid," Xander said under his breath, but moved on as soon as Nicale glared up at him. "So is this your excuse for your bad form today? Your spikes are terrible. What are you going to do with that sort of jump? It's like an eight-year-old's."

"Tsk, shut up. You don't understand how I'm feeling," Typical teenager talk was getting Xander very pissed off. Yet, he could hear a certain voice encouraging him to understand the boy's plight.

It sounded very much like an angel Chip.

"Yes, yes angsty teen, I don't understand anything," Xander snapped. "Let's see your spikes for now since you're in no condition to join any team. I'll see what I can do when Dion's back for practice next week. Meanwhile you guys should make up 'cuz I think he might just be a little pissed at you."

Nicale frowned.

"Hey, I didn't do anything, okay? I...I was mad too."

His new coach sighed, ruffling the boy's hair briefly. "Yeah, yeah...I know. You treasure your partner a lot."

Nicale nodded slightly, appeased.

But then Xander added—

"He'd be disappointed if he returned to see you play like shit, don't you think?"

Ah...it's just not me to sugar-coat every stupid thing I say.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Hansel]

Did I really have to disguise myself in order to visit some stupid bakery in town? No.

But who cares because—what's the fun in it if you don't?

Anyway, it'd be awkward if they somehow remember my all-too-enthralling face and then see me in a bakery opposite their new one back in the town. I don't like awkward stuff.

Speaking of awkward stuff, I wonder if anyone thinks a city looks kinda awkward.

Like, a city. In general.

The buildings that jutted out of the ground, rising up into the skies seemed almost unnatural and forced. As if it wasn't meant to be there but they just put it there anyway.

It is unnatural, I guess. I mean—it's man-made, of course it's unnatural.

Perhaps I'm just an awkward bean roaming a foreign place, feeling a beating unrest in my chest. The unease that never seemed to stop.

I double-checked the address on this slip of paper I got from Gretel who worked in a school in this city, glancing between written words and the large cursive letters presented across the signboard of a fancy store.

Honestly, 'Angel Rachel's Cakes for Devils' is the cheesiest name I've ever heard! Oh God, Chip's either gonna have a great friend or the worst enemy 'cuz 'Baked Love' is freaking cheesy too. Why can't anyone's naming sense be like mine?

I checked my reflection in the glass, re-considering the cliché baseball cap and hoodie.

...oh what am I fretting over? Just go in there and get a couple of their cupcakes, Hansel. No big deal.

I sighed, about to push open the glass door when I noticed that they had automatic sliding doors! What in the world—dude, how fancy can you get?

Well, apparently they could get even more fancy.

The interior was a punch of pink and white in the face, ranging from cute white bread shelves with fancy floral designs to vintage tea tables that were pink; the entire bakery hit me with a too much to look at.

Unlike our bakery, it was huge to begin with—allowing for space to set up tables and chairs for customers to eat their cakes or bread on the spot while chatting or simply reading a book.

It kinda felt like a café.

Well, but there weren't any drinks. So.

The tables were filled, and there was a small line of three to four people queueing before the display case filled with an array of desserts.

Wow, they're packed.

I guess it was normal not to acknowledge customers who come in at a busy time like this. The people behind the counter look busy enough with the line.

Joining the queue, I took some time to observe the shelves of bread and the choice of cake that the customers in the bakery chose to have on the spot.

"Send me the pic you took just now. I want to post it on Instagram—Jenna's going to be so jealous."

"Okay, hold on. Let me go through the filters."

"Oh come on you don't need filters. The cake's pretty enough! God look at the edible gold dust on top of the chocolate ganache..."

Shea was being honest when she said that the cakes were as fancy as mom's young boyfriends, I had to admit. Not to mention, even the shelves of bread look amazing.

They had cheese buns in the shape of a heart!

Okay, that's cute.

I noticed that most of the customers bought their signature 'devil's sinful chocolate cake' and 'angelic shortcake'. They had three versions—the whole cake, the slice, and even a cupcake version.

To be honest, I was impressed.

"Hi, welcome to ARCD how may I help you?" The customer in front of me walked away with a pretty pink box that had white lace designs all over it, and the girl behind the counter greeted myself in a monotonous voice.

And I thought Loki was poor at service!

"Er...hi," I began awkwardly, reaching up to adjust my baseball cap, "I'd like to have a slice of devil's...er, what was that again—sinful succulence? I meant, the chocolate one, yeah. And...uh, and a slice of the shortcake. It's strawberry, right? Ah, sorry I'm just not entirely sure what the name meant."

"Yeah, it's strawberry shortcake," The girl in a bright pink apron nodded as she tapped on the screen of what looked like a high-tech cash register. "A slice each, am I right? Anything else?"

"Yes. A slice each—um, I want to get some cupcakes, but I don't know which...any recommendations...?"

The girl nodded once more, eyes still fixed on the screen. "Sure. Everyone likes the classic red velvet and chocolate banana, will that be alright for you?"

"Sounds good, I guess," I smiled, not really knowing why I did because she wasn't looking at me anyway.

I didn't know where to look; where to put my eyes. So I just watched as someone else in a pink apron put my cakes into a fancy box.

"That'll be a total of 14 dollars and 50 cents," The cashier finally turned to me to announce the price of my purchase and I did a double take.

What?

Two slices of cake and two cupcakes for a holy 14 dollars and 50 cents????

What in the ovens is this place?

"Um, I'm sorry—what?"

The cashier looked annoyed. I gulped, knowing that there was a line behind me so I quickly took out two ten-dollar bills from my already-almost-empty wallet before she could repeat the price; grabbed the fancy pink box of cakes; grabbed whatever that was left of my change; and exited the bakery without knowing that I was holding my breath.

Gosh, so much for staying calm and collected.

.

"Gret...I got the cakes..." I groaned miserably, holding up the box for my twin to see as she whirled around to face me.

"Oh! That was fast. I thought you were still on the way when you texted me. And I thought you were coming from the other direction..."

"Yeah I got lost cuz I'm emotionally traumatized..."

My sister rolled her eyes.

"You can stop with the drama anytime."

"Not till you see the receipt..."

We sat down at a bench outside the school, and I told her my story. Then I showed her the receipt, yielding the exact same reaction as when the cashier told me the price.

"This better be good," Gretel opened the box with a sigh, passing me a fork that she got from the staff pantry.

"Oh it better be, or I'll—"

Well.

Fine.

They looked amazing.

The chocolate cake was decorated with a blackberry that for some reason had two golden leaves placed strategically under it—the top of the cake a layer of shiny chocolate ganache and a dust of gold that perfected a classy look. There was also a piece of abstract chocolate lace tucked beside the berry; and yeah basically it looked like it came from heaven.

Maybe their naming sense was okay, after all.

"What are you doing?"

My sister was looking away, not at the cake, just at a general direction of a tree to our right.

"Can you feed me?"

"Dude, you got your own hands, why ask me?"

"Oh just do it," Gretel snapped, and I sighed in defeat.

Mehh, sisters.

I made sure to get the top of the ganache to the bottom of the cake and even placed bits of the chocolate lace on top of it.

"Do you want the leaf?"

"What? Leaf? Er. No thanks."

I shrugged, telling her to face me. "I can't feed you if you don't face me, idiot."

"Fine," My twin turned, eyes closed for some reason and she opened her mouth.

I fed her the forkful of chocolate cake, then waited.

"So?"

Gretel finished chewing, swallowing before reaching for her thermos of hot water.

After taking a sip or two, she finally opened her eyes and bothered to explain.

"Giselle once told me that eating with your eyes closed can be fun."

I faltered at her name.

"Really."

My sister nodded. "It's like you'll feel what it tastes like—and not see what it tastes like. Because often, we actually do the latter."

"And I dunno. I thought that the cake was...pretty normal."

I blinked, glancing down at the cake with a tiny slice cut out at the tip.

"Looks good," Gretel shrugged, following my gaze. "Aesthetically pleasing I guess."

"What do you know about aesthetics?" I rolled my eyes.

"I am an art teacher, you piece of rotten egg."

"Rotten eggs do not come in pieces," I pointed out, digging the fork into the cake once again to try it myself.

Oh.

Well, it's nice.

I mean—it's edible, of course.

But if I were to describe it; I guess it'd just be...a chocolate cake?

I mean.

It's a chocolate cake.

That's all there is to it—

Even though it looked amazing;

Even though it looked like the most impressive cake I've ever seen;

Even though I had already thought that it was going to taste good—

In the end, it just seemed...

Pretty normal.

"Well?"

"Um. Just like you said, I guess."

"The eyes deceive, don't they?" My twin laughed.

"Maybe."

"Giselle's right, isn't she?"

"...I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe."

"Seeing?"

"Maybe, yeah."

"Seeing isn't?"

"Yeah, fine—I get it."

"Seeing isn't believing."

______________________________

A/N:

I think it's rather simple to get the message here X'D that no matter how we try to make things seem as perfect as we want it to be, it is—in the very end;

What it is.

And so even if we brush the surfaces of our heart with a perfect golden dust; even if we add a cherry on top of our appearances and look as though we are a piece of art—

We are; as it is, in the end...

Humans.

I think a bit of who Rachel is can be inferred through her baking. What she believed when she was at a younger age, that she was better than others—and if she were not, then perhaps she'd do something to make up for that; and what is the easiest thing to do, as someone with a dream, as someone with a expectations, as a human?

We 'make-up'.

We put on things.

We...in all honesty, make ourselves look good.

And the truth is appearance does count. It is so important—because it is inevitable that our eyes deceive and we are forced to believe.

-Cuppiecake.

But if we were; to close our eyes—

And let our heart do away with lies;

Perhaps we would no longer need—no guise.