“Are you still on the fence?” Phichit’s camera shutter clicked repeatedly. They were revealing Yuuri’s flavor of the month that morning. It had not yet been formally announced, only hinted at on the shop’s Instagram account the previous day, but there had already been a line gathering outside the shop when Phichit had arrived. Yuuri had the white paper shutters pulled down over the windows, in case any curious customers tried to sneak an early peek. Secrecy built excitement, which was good for marketing.
Phichit’s laptop was set on the table in the corner, ready to edit and post the photos as soon as he finished taking them. Yuuri always insisted on photos of the real products taken on the day of, wanting his customers to know exactly what it was they were coming in for. Phichit did claim it was better that way and that part of his billing to Yuuri included being able to enjoy the sweet smell of icing sugar on cooling sponge.
For Yuuri, April meant cherry blossoms. His signature creation for the month consisted of vanilla cake infused with a cherry blossom syrup he had made himself, the cream the softest pink he could mix without it being mistaken for white. Atop rested a trio of blossoms, two of them his hand-crafted sugar flowers and the third a genuine pickled blossom. The taste invoked the memory of the sakura mochi he used to eat with his sister back in Japan. Maybe it would not be the same for his customers, but he hoped they might create their own memories associated with the taste.
They had the cupcakes set on a wooden board that was scattered with more real blossoms—really, that was to say, Phichit had very deliberately positioned them around the cupcakes to create the best aesthetic for his photos. He did always make Yuuri’s work look incredible. Looking at photos, Yuuri sometimes did not recognize his own workmanship. Phichit was a genius. “I think I’m going to say no.”
“What, why? I thought you were gonna go for it. Don’t you think it would be pretty amazing?”
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea right now. I don’t want to get overwhelmed.” Isabella had, reportedly, sent photos from her party to a contact of hers who worked in the magazine industry. As a result, Yuuri had multiple emails sitting in his inbox asking if he would agree to be featured in an upcoming issue. As the main article, which would entail print and online distribution to a readership number Yuuri was not comfortable repeating. That kind of pressure was an aspect Yuuri was not sure he could handle. Isabella’s upcoming wedding was already making him anxious with its accelerated timeline. He already had the stress of making the perfect cake for a friend on what was supposed to be her perfect day. Add a journalist following his every move and Yuuri might turn into a bigger mess than a smashed cake. All he wanted was to do his job well and make sure nothing went wrong. There would be other chances for press, for marketing himself. Yuuri would agree to that kind of thing, eventually. “The schedule is too tight.”
“How about Paris? You were thinking about it this year, right?”
( Read the rest of Chapter Four on AO3 )
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Fic @ Lucy’s | Art @ Morrindah’s
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