Mello stormed into the bakery, his usual swagger nowhere to be seen, replaced with frustration as he yanked the door open. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered anymore; this had become a daily occurrence. He was barely awake, desperate for his morning chocolate pastry—the one thing that kept him going before a long day of tattoo appointments—but every single morning, you beat him to it. Every. Single. Morning.

And today was no different.

As he reached the counter, his eyes zeroed in on you, standing there with a smug grin as you accepted the very last chocolate pastry. You glanced over your shoulder, catching Mello’s eye, and your smile widened.

“Oh, hey, Mello. Didn’t see you there,” you said, feigning innocence, though the glint in your eyes said otherwise. “Looks like I got the last one again.”

Mello clenched his jaw, biting back the sarcastic remark he wanted to throw at you. Instead, he just glared. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You do this on purpose, don’t you?”

You blinked innocently, holding the pastry bag up as if you were admiring it. “What? Me? No, I’m just a fan of these, too. It’s not my fault you’re always a little late.”

Mello let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “I’ve been coming here for months before you even set foot in this place. Now, you’re here every day just to swipe it out from under me.”

You shrugged, not bothering to hide your amusement. “Maybe you should get here earlier then.”

He scowled, leaning a little closer, his voice low. “I’ve got a shop to open, and I don’t have time to race you here every morning. But I swear to God, if I don’t get my chocolate pastry one of these days, I’m coming across the street to your bookstore, and I’m gonna—”

“Gonna what? Scare off my customers with your tough guy act?” you teased, crossing your arms. “Face it, Mel. You’re just not fast enough.”

The bakery cashier handed you your pastry, and you tossed Mello one last cheeky grin before turning to leave. But not before you took an exaggerated, slow bite