"Sir! You're married?" I turned to see one of my students stare openly at the pocket that I had slipped my ring into, just as I was getting ready to call for them to gather.

"Yes Evans, I am. Tell your class to gather at the goalpost in thirty seconds and I'll spare their ears from going deaf from this dumb whistle," I sighed, missing Chip already even though it was only second period.

It's been just a day since we've come back from America, just as I was starting to get used to a world with just the two of us. Unfortunately for me, I was requested by the P.E department to take over a couple of gym classes due to the absence of their coach. As you've guessed, I wasn't too happy about it. Since the only things that made me happy were, of course, you-know-what.

"But sir! You didn't tell us," Evans went on incredulously, still staring at my pocket as though he could somehow acquire a rough image on how the ring looked like. "And what are we playing today? Finn was talking about how you coach the volleyball team. He didn't say nice stuff."

Evans was talkative as hell, and his questions were starting to piss me off since I was naturally short-tempered. Yes, the world pisses me off on a daily basis.

"And I have to report to you about my relationship status because?" I raised a brow. "Tell your class to gather now and then perhaps you'll find out what we're playing." I also made a mental note to give Finn five extra sets of box jumps. He's not going to block any spikes the way he's jumping anyway.

"Yes sir," Evans pouted, jogging across the field as he waved at his class that was spread out in groups, chatting, and not doing the warm-ups that I had told them to do. Honestly, high school kids aren't any different from middle school in terms of listening to instructions. Hell, I was one of them.

When the class finally gathered in front of the goal post and I'd taken attendance by calling out weird-ass names, I announced that we were playing football. Rugby. Yeah, same thing.

Alright, maybe not exactly the same—I learnt that they weren't, and that my high school self was just being an asshole half of the time I was in school.

I guess someone made me different.

And damn right am I glad that we're married now.

"Noo I suck at football," Evans groaned as the class shuffled into groups. His complains were even louder than the girls—who were equally put off by the fact that their gym shoes were going to get muddy.

"Can we have an equal number of people across all groups?" I sighed inwardly, recalling that I was one of them back in high school. "We're not in elementary school here, some logic would be appreciated."

Specifically, there was one group that comprised of athletes and, was, obviously, going to overpower the other which was filled with half the math club. Naturally, I was a bastard of a coach that also had stereotypes ingrained in his head.

"How about us sir?" A girl waved to catch my attention, and I glanced over at the female groupings. Finally! People who listen to instructions.

"All good, er," I checked the register. "Miss..." Nyugen. Holy shit I don't know how to pronounce that—

"Miss, uh, pretty." I finished with an internal fuck. The last thing I wanted to do is pronounce her name wrongly and get shade thrown at me.

She gawked at me with the widest eyes and blood literally drained from her face.

I pretended that the very sight was not witnessed and went on to address the class. Fuck, how hard can coaching a class of high school kids get?

"Right. If this group over here could make their way over to the field on my right...aand," I sized up the other group. All of them looked as though a windy day was the worst thing they could experience. "Can some of you switch up the teams? I know you guys want to be on the same team, but it's not going to be very fun if we all..." Know who's winning, "...play with the same people every gym session."

Ignoring the glares that Finn was obviously throwing my way, I randomly picked three members from each team and swapped them over. "You're not kids. Suck it up."

"But sir," Evans was protesting again because apparently, I had picked him for the other team. "I wanna be on the same team as Finn—"

"Me too, sir. I don't wanna play with those guys..."

Holy shit kids these days! This, I don't recall doing. At the very least, I was mature enough to understand that gym class wasn't a matter of winning; and, well, even if it was, one didn't necessarily need to have a good team in order to do so.

"No. You've probably been on the same team as Finn every single gym session—just this once won't kill you Evans." He pouted, trudging over to the other team, muttering something under his breath. I blew my whistle to call for their attention, cringing at the sound.

"Girls take the field on my left. The sashes are in front of the goal posts, just decide on the color and be quick about it," I emphasized the latter part of the sentence, knowing especially well that the girls loved to take their time with the colors and that was the only part of the lesson they ever had any genuine interest in. "You guys—right side. Defending against this team. And you guys in the middle on offense with that team."

"Mr. Jaxon!"

"What?"

Evans. How much can you talk, seriously?

"Can Shin sit out?" I checked the class register and spotted the name. There was, however, no special conditions stated beside it. I pointed this out to Evans and the bespectacled-Japanese boy beside him.

"But sir, he always sits out."

"He has ball phobia."

This, I had no choice but to believe. After all, I had my personal experienced (first-hand, I might add) with such a phobia. "...yes, but he still has to participate. I'm not allowed to excuse you since it's not a legitimate—"

"Please sir!" Why the hell was Evans speaking for him? Shin nodded furiously, appearing rather anxious upon the mention of participation. I sighed, and gave him the okay.

With that out of the way, I tossed a football in their general direction before walking over to the girls and asking if they were done with the sashes. Some nodded vaguely while others stared at something over my shoulder. I glanced behind.

There was nothing unusual.

"What are you guys looking at?"

"Finn," A girl shrugged. "He seems to be in a really bad mood today."

"Yeah! And gym's like his favourite class. Literally, he's always smiling," Nyugen piped up as I passed the ball to her. "Maybe he's just jealous."

I raised a brow, catching that. "Of what?"

"Uh, nothing," She looked away immediately, as though she had let something unintentional slip past her lips. "Uh sir how do we start?"

"Easy. You line up, and when the whistle blows, you...hug each other," One of the girls said with a confused frown. "I see them do it on TV all the time. It's highly rated."

Someone else groaned. "That's not it, Layla."

"C'mon, just because you're a cheerleader doesn't mean you know how to play the sport either, Liz," The girl who I assumed was Layla pointed out. I stopped them immediately and lined them up in position.

"Listen, I don't want any injuries and the field's slippery from rain last night," The girls nodded. "Play safe, and when you gotta tackle, you can...well yeah you can hug." I paused awkwardly, and Layla muttered an excited 'I knew it' under her breath. "You don't get any gear so be careful of your heads. The cones mark your temporary goal posts and the lines—"

Someone squealed and fell forward. How, I did not know.

"OhmyGod there was a frog on my shoe!"

"Don't hurt it!"

"Where, where?"

"Get away! Don't step on it!" Everyone dispersed out of formation and stared at the tiny green thing in the middle of the field. I gave up and moved on to the next team.

*

Unfortunately, it was in an equally bad state.

"I know I said that you guys can start by yourselves but at least abide by the rules of the game," I sighed at the state of three guys arguing over whether or not the cone moved and whether or not the touchdown was counted. "No cheating."

"But sir, we didn't cheat!" Evans protested. "I saw him make the touchdown..."

"You did?" Finn raised a brow before scoffing. "Maybe it was just your imagination."

Evans looked permanently hurt. "Wha—Finn...what's up with you today?"

I intervened. Listen, if you're planning to be a teacher, or a coach, or anything that requires teaching at all—don't. Unless you have a patience that rivals Chip's, don't.

"Alright that's enough; are you guys going to fight this out like kids or apologize like a mature-thinking adult? Just get this over and done with," I stole the ball from Evan. "Line up and apologize. All of you."

"Sir, we're seventeen," One of them looked at me as though I was mad.

"Seventeen and acting like you're seven," I corrected him dangerously and he shut up. "Say more and I'll get you guys to shake hands after apologizing."

Upon the blow of my whistle, they apologized grudgingly. It was barely audible.

Can't believe I was one of those shits just a six years ago.

"Play fair. Don't injure yourselves. I gotta check on the girls as well so that they don't..." stare at frogs for the whole lesson, "...injure themselves either." They nodded but I could tell that almost none of them were listening. The math kids just wanted to go home. "Remember, you've got no gear on so don't go crashing into other skulls like they're pillows or something. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

I went to check on the third field, just to ensure that everyone was alright and nobody has a concussion (yet).

They were playing grenade.

Honestly, what's wrong with high school kids? Now that I think of it, I must have been fucking dumb. Angel's silly too.

Can't believe he fell for someone like me.

*

"Shin?" The boy looked up, startled by the sudden calling of his name. I took a seat beside him on one of the benches among the stands.

"Sir," He greeted with a quiet nod, seeming a little surprised as to why I would speak to him.

"Do you always sit out during gym classes? Coach Bryan allows that?"

"Ah...my mother wrote in to the school," Shin explained shortly, going back to gazing at the field full of teens playing football with little to no semblance of such a sport. Thank God I managed to establish some form of safety rules with them. And thank God they actually understood.

I nodded. "But what about you? You don't want to play?"

"Not really," He shook his head in a resigned manner. "I was hit by a basketball once. It broke my glasses and a shard cut my forehead. I went to the hospital to get a stitch." Shin adjusted the frames on the bridge of his nose, looking at his shoes.

"I see," Nothing else came to mind. It was hard to empathize, and I wondered how Chip was able to do it so well. "Must have been tough."

Shin kept quiet.

"I know someone with ball phobia too," I couldn't help but laugh. "He still has it, after five—almost six years now." My student looked at me curiously, interested all of a sudden.

"Back then, he'd dodge any ball that was thrown at him; he was too afraid to catch any of them. He'd even make funny sounds when a ball comes flying at him."

"Also, he sucks at running. I remember he couldn't even last a mile without collapsing." Oh and knocking into metal poles of course.

I turned to Shin.

"But despite all that—being afraid and stuff—he didn't sit out during gym lessons. And now that I think about it, maybe he should have."

"I guess that's the good part about him, you know? He faces things even though he's afraid of them. At least he doesn't run away like I do."

"So don't become like me, alright. Don't run away."

Shin stared. I thought he was going to curse in Japanese or something because the silence was so long but then out of nowhere, he asked:

"Sir, do you like this person?"

What the—

"What?"

"Oh, no. I mean," Shin's ears were a little red. "Not like, as in like like. It was more like...you know, importance? Is this person important to you?"

I laughed.

"How could you tell?"

"You were smiling a lot." He replied after much thought. "Thank you sir. I thought I was the only one who had this weird thing. Maybe...maybe I'll join. In the next lesson." My student looked rather uncertain as he said so, but I could tell—from his eyes—a conviction that told of the words he did not speak.

"Hm. He'll be happy to hear that."

He blinked. "The person you were talking about?"

"Yeah," I checked the time and straightened up, somehow unable to keep a smile from surfacing. "He's always happy for others."

"Even if it means that things won't go well for him."

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

[Chip]

The high school girl who often came to buy cupcakes didn't come today.

"You're always reserving stuff for your regulars," Coco pointed out with a sigh, watching as a young lady who asked for cupcakes left with a bag of donuts instead. "We have two red velvets in the cooler."

"Yes, but that girl always comes on Friday evenings after cheer practice. She's always comes," I reasoned anxiously, hoping that she hadn't fallen ill or something like that. "I-it's just, you know. She always comes."

"I don't know, maybe—"

Someone came bursting through the door of the bakery. "Hi! Ohmygod I know I'm late but have all the cupcakes gone out?" It's her!

"Oh no, don't worry about it," I took the cupcakes from the cooler, already packed in a box. "There's two left! The red velvets that you usually get."

"Really?" She held a hand to her chest. "I can't. I love you guys, like literally." She drifted to the box of cupcakes and produced a wallet from her bag. "It was hard shaking off my friends to come here. They wanted to go to this new...café or something. I don't know, they were talking about, like, cakes or something."

Coco smiled and passed her the change. "Cakes or something?"

"Mhm," The cheerleader nodded, taking the pink carrier. "Brownies. Stuff like that. Legit, no girl bothers to watch their weight when it comes to cake or ice cream. Honestly sometimes I wonder where they get their ideas of cheerleaders from."

"You should go with them sometime," I piped up. "High school's for you to spend quality time with your friends. Where is the café?"

The girl laughed. "Dunno. They said it wasn't far from school, so. Down the avenue maybe?" She said with a shrug, "but honestly, no cupcakes can get better than these."

A pleasant warmth welled up from within. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

"Bye! Thanks again for the cupcakes."

"Come again," Coco called after her as she waved—while I tried hard not to cry tears of happiness. "God, you're always so sentimental." My sister pinched my nose and I sneezed.

*

[Xander]

"My! Isn't it Xander?" I turned, slightly annoyed that a second person had interrupted my packing up in the staffroom. The first had been another coach from the same department, thanking me for taking the classes for gym period today and going on to ask if I could do so for the next couple of weeks just because I was merely 'a part-time coach for the volleyball team'. Did no one understand that all I wanted to do was get everything done, go home and have the most amazing dinner made by the most amazing person in the world?

No?

Okay.

"Xander! My, you've changed a lot haven't you?" I frowned at the seemingly middle-aged woman speaking to me.

I wasn't nice enough to pretend I knew her. "Sorry, uh. Have we met before?" If she has access to the staffroom then surely, she had to be one of the teachers.

"I know you don't pay attention in class Xander, but at least remember how your teachers looked like!" The lady chided. "Does home economics sound familiar?"

Oh.

"Mrs. Harry?"

"Yes, yes. Speaking of the past, you don't usually come to visit the school, do you?" For the five years since I've graduated, and forced into hell, no. She looked at me expectantly, as though predicting an oncoming apology which I wasn't going to give. It didn't take a lot to know that I wasn't all that agreeable.

"No, I don't. There wasn't really anyone to visit." Memory was the enemy. That was all, really—I didn't want to remember; only that I began to realize it was hard to forget. "I'm working here now because of my ex-volleyball coach. Just here to teach volleyball."

And fill in for other coaches, apparently.

"Ah! How pleasant. Good, good. Teaching is a pleasure...unless, well, you're short on teachers to cover all those classes of bratty students." Yes, I am aware. I was one of them. "Oh no one takes the subject seriously nowadays." Hasn't it always been like that?

"I know what you mean," I replied for the sake of it, turning away to continue packing my stuff.

"How can I handle five classes at my age?" I soon realized that she wasn't going to stop. Apparently, age made Mrs. Harry no less active than before—only her shrill nagging seemed to go on forever. "The department heads don't really think about the welfare of the teachers, do they?"

"Maybe," Slinging the duffel bag over my shoulder, I made sure to look as though I was in a hurry. "I don't know for sure; only been here for less than a month."

Before I knew it, Mrs. Harry was staring at my hand with eyes wider than anything I've ever seen.

"So...I'll be go—"

"Is that a ring?" She stepped closer and scrutinized my hand. I stepped back.

"Yes."

"You're married?"

"Yes."

Her mouth dropped. "But you're so young!"

"Uh, okay...?"

I checked the time on my phone, realizing that fifteen minutes of travelling back home was wasted on small talk. I could have been outside the bakery right not, waiting for Chip and Giselle to close up.

"Who is it? Do I know them?"

"Yes. Chip. Chip Honeycutt."

"Chip...?" She blinked.

"If you'd excuse me, Mrs. Harry. I have to go," I snapped quite suddenly, trying for a smile as my husband reminded me to (Xan! You...y-you scare people when you don't smile!). "Good evening."

I slipped past her and caught just a bit of her muttering.

"...wasn't he a boy?"

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

I arrived outside the bakery in exactly fifteen minutes, having cut through the park and navigated across deserted alleyways. They were just getting ready to close, and Chip was saying goodbye to Shea and Hansel, who lived upstairs.

"I'll see everyone at six? There's something new that I'd like to try—oh! Xan," He jumped, startled. His ears turned several shades darker.

"Still busy?"

"O-oh no. We're almost done," I saw Hansel roll his eyes behind my angel's back and do weird gestures with his hands until Shea stepped on his foot. "Giselle's still packing up her paint materials upstairs. Are you, um, are you hungry?"

I shook my head. Then, lowering my voice, said, "for you, yes. But I can wait."

Chip blushed hard and tried to glare at me.

"Just when I thought!"

"Thought what?" I laughed.

"N-Never mind," He turned to untie his apron and fetch Giselle—and I caught his ears that were so red.

"How's business today?" I said to Shea who was disinfecting the cash register after placing all the cash into the float bag.

She shrugged. "Normal I suppose. Everything's fine...well," She swallowed strangely mid-sentence, and I found something off. "Yeah. Just fine."

Not wanting to put her (or just anyone as long as they're part of Chip's family) on the spot, I acknowledged her reply with a nod. "Get some good rest."

"You too. Aren't high school kids the hardest to teach?" Shea scoffed with a laugh. "I swear, none of the teachers liked me back then. I was, like, the problem kid." Same.

"They are." I helped place the clean trays back on the shelf where Chip had not been able to reach for the past five years. "Oh, and do you guys happen to—"

"In the oven," Coco answered without looking up from her accounting records. "Chip wanted to keep them warm."

I blinked, slightly taken aback that she knew exactly what I was asking for. Bending over to check the contents of the oven, I saw that there were, indeed, two hot cross buns inside.

"Watch your step Giselle!"

"Okie Chocolate Chip."

There was a shuffling of footsteps down the stairs and it wasn't long before Giselle appeared hand-in-hand with Chip. "Oh! Xan, I forgot to...oh, you found them." He noted where I was standing and looked very embarrassed all of a sudden. "I was, um, going to pack them for you."

"Do I have one?" Giselle asked, looking at the floor. "Is it cupcakes?"

"They are hot cross buns, Giselle. But I can make more for you tomorrow if you like," Coco went up to pat her head as my angel placed the buns into a paper bag. "You have dinner to eat now, don't you?"

"I can still eat," My sister insisted. "I have two stomachs!"

"Alright then, looks like Xander will have to share his hot cross buns," Coco laughed and passed Giselle her case of painting materials, in which she held by herself.

She shook her head as soon as Coco mentioned 'share'. "Xandie doesn't like to share...selfish shit."

Coco gasped, and Shea's eyes went wide. I rolled mine. Chip needed to close his mouth soon before I lose my self-control and take him.

"That's actually...really accurate—" Shea broke the silence by beginning but it was Hansel who interrupted her.

"Giselle! What have you been learning from that wicked brother of yours? See, I knew it. Xander's secretly plotting some world domination thing."

I held up my hands.

"G-Giselle," Chip was trying to talk to her while she looked at the ground. "That's not a, you know, a very nice thing to say."

"Xandie says 'shit' all the time," She grinned proudly. Everyone turned to me with a look. I tried to mediate.

"She's just learning," I reasoned.

"Just—alright, just go for dinner will you? It's getting late," Coco sighed exasperatedly giving us one of her dismissing waves while Giselle giggled and took my hand.

"Let's go Chocolate Chip. Xandie's hungry. I can hear his stomach."

My angel laughed embarrassingly and Hansel was trying to stifle his own.

There was a quaint happiness which oddly soothed the heat of the day. Naturally, I found myself thinking that I could get used to this—a life somewhat free from worldly devices that proved as a burden to the unfortunate; a lone darkness that I had resigned to a long time ago. How was it that an angel had come to a thing like myself? So dark. So tainted.

"Let's go, Xan." I heard him say and a glance was all it took to chase the night away. Was it the smile?

"Takeout? Or noodles," Was how Giselle expressed her longing for instant ramen.

Chip shook his head as he took her bag for her and then her hand that was now free. "B-but you just ate them last week! How about next? I'll make you some noodles next week."

"Okay. So takeout?" She asked again while we exited the bakery.

My partner cast a glance in my direction. "I'm fine with anything, um, how about you Xan?"

I almost said, in a cheesy manner, what had been on my mind just then; that I didn't really care what we had for dinner, as long as we were eating together. It left me hanging for a moment, and Chip tilted his head to the side in concern.

"W-what's wrong, Xan?" For some reason, he's always worried about me. "Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to lie down?"

Giselle sort of turned in my direction as well, squeezing my hand.

"No it's nothing," I smiled effortlessly. It was the kind that came along so naturally that it didn't feel like a smile at all. And since when was I able to pull that off? "Maybe it's just the hunger. For you, of course."

My angel turned his head away promptly and I was met with the usual sight of his ears that were adorably red. "Th-that's different! That, um. That...we can deal with that later," He cleared his throat and I was squarely taken aback by his response. I could tell by his nape that he was getting more and more embarrassed by the second. "I could make some Carbonara. We have cream and parmesan in the fridge, s-so."

"Carbon?" Giselle frowned. "Okay." Then laughed. "I like anything that Chocolate Chip makes."

"Sounds good," I agreed while we crossed the main road hand in hand, informing Giselle of the curb.

Chip looked quietly pleased with himself. "Let's go home, then!"

Home sounded like a miracle all of a sudden; because I was sure that just a year ago, I hadn't had one. This indeed, needed some getting used to. And I wasn't all prepared just yet so fully comprehend the existence of an angel who chose to stay beside me for the rest of my life. He simply didn't fit in the ugly world that was mine—I wasn't so deserving.

I could get used to this, nevertheless. 

I could.

I wanted to.

This was what I hoped the rest of my life to be.

That was what I had thought before we rounded the corner; after which a brightly-lit store came into view that strangely looked like...a bakery.

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

A/N: Ah! I'm so so sorry for the horribly late update. I even missed Chip's birthday ;-; Happy belated birthday dear angel!! I know I torture you so much. You deserve so much in this world, ILY CHIP!!! YOU DON'T DESERVE A HORRIBLE AUTHOR LIKE ME ;-;

Because I just completed Flight School, I will have more time to allocate for Beyond Love and Crash (Blake and Ace's side story WHICH I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SUCH A LONG TIME IM SO SO SORRY ;-; IM JUST WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER WHICH IS SO FUNNY I CAANTNNTT)

Although I have to admit my A levels are approaching in a month and that's just @.@ uhu. Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I'm so sorry if you have waited so long just for this. Thank you once again for your patience, and I really don't deserve such loyal and amazing readers like yourself.

Thank you once again.

-Cuppiecake.