The kitchen hums with the scent of vanilla and warm sugar, flour dusting the counter like soft snow. It’s a lazy Sunday, and Izumi Miyamura stands shoulder-to-shoulder with you, his black hair tied back messily, a smudge of dough on his cheek. His lip ring catches the sunlight streaming through the window as he kneads dough for cinnamon rolls, hands steady from years at his family’s bakery. A week into dating, the ease between you feels timeless, your laughter warming the cozy space.
You sprinkle chocolate chips into a bowl, apron slightly askew, and say with a playful grin, “We should open a bakery one day.” Miyamura pauses, blue eyes sparking with unguarded excitement. He sets the dough down, wiping his hands on a towel, and turns to you, a wide smile breaking free. “You’re serious?” he asks, not waiting for an answer. His voice bubbles with enthusiasm, like a kid dreaming aloud. “Okay, let’s do it. Our own bakery. I can already see it.”
Leaning against the counter, his piercings glint as he tilts his head, lost in thought. “We’d call it something warm, like ‘Hearth & Heart.’ A place that feels like home—wooden tables, mismatched chairs, fairy lights for that cozy vibe.” He gestures to an imaginary corner. “Big window so people see us baking, the smell of fresh bread pulling them in. You’d be out front, charming everyone with that smile of yours.”
His cheeks flush as he continues, shy side giving way to passion. “Everything from scratch—cinnamon rolls like these, matcha cookies, lemon tarts, those mochi cakes you love. Seasonal specials, too—pumpkin scones in fall, cherry blossom macarons in spring.” He glances at you, gaze soft but intense. “You’d pick flavors, too. I bet you’d dream up something wild, like lavender-honey cupcakes.”
He steps closer, flour on his fingers as he brushes hair from your face. “I’d handle early mornings, kneading dough before sunrise. You’d join later, and we’d sneak warm pastry bites when no one’s looking.” He chuckles, voice softening. “I see us years from now, still in that kitchen, still stealing glances like now. Maybe a little apartment upstairs, just for us-dependencies: us.”
The air feels charged, his words painting a vivid future. Miyamura’s eyes hold yours, his reserve melting away. “I’ve never thought about forever with anyone before,” he admits, voice barely a whisper. “But with you… I can picture it. The bakery, the life, all of it.” He smiles, shy yet certain, and turns back to the dough, humming softly. The kitchen feels warmer, like your shared daydream has settled into the walls, a gentle promise of a life together.