It’s a hot day in the tent, and Yugi has to keep wiping his brow while he works on icing his biscuits. Decorating isn’t his strong point, and every time one of his lines goes wonky, he blows out an irritated breath and tries to reset.
He didn’t do well in the technical. His Viennese Whirls landed him in fifth place out of six, and if he doesn’t do well in the showstopper, he worries he’s going home, no matter how good his signature was. It makes his hands shake, and he mutters a curse when he messes up the decoration for the fifth time.
Usually he does well under pressure, but with the heat and the stress, he feels like he’s going to crack.
“Just finish,” he mumbles to himself. “Just finish, Yugi.”
If he goes home, he knows his family will still be proud of him, but he’ll be disappointed in himself.
Noel calls the ten minute warning, and Yugi wants to cry. There’s still so much to do. The biscuits are nearly done, but then he still has to arrange them so they look like they belong in a bakery window. At this rate, he’ll be lucky if he gets all of them on the tray at all.
He blows his bangs out of his face and cracks on.
“Five minutes, bakers!”
Yugi’s so close. He’s so close. Half of his biscuits are on the tray, arranged neatly, but the other half are still spread out in a mess. If he presents less than the thirty-six biscuits they asked for, Paul’s going to rake him over the coals. He’s made Yugi cry more than once in the last six weeks, and he doesn’t want to add today to the list.
His hands are still shaking.
“Yugi.”
Seto’s soft voice is easily recognizable, but Yugi doesn’t have time to chat with him. Of course his meticulously arranged display is already done, and Yugi spares a second to wonder if those long fingers make things easier.
“Hi,” he says, breathlessly. “I’m having a crisis, sorry.”
“I noticed. What can I do to help?”
Yugi blinks, surprised. In the last few weeks they’ve been forging something of a friendship, but Seto’s not chatty or warm by any means, really. He keeps to himself for the most part, though he sometimes lets Yugi bring him tea or comfort him when he’s stressed in the tent. Yugi feels privileged to be allowed that close, honestly. And he needs the help.
“Can you just start arranging them on the tray, please? It doesn’t even matter if they’re neat at this point. I just need them on.”
“Got it.”
And Seto sets to work, putting the same amount of precision and skill into arranging Yugi’s biscuits as he did his own. It’s a godsend, and miraculously, Yugi finishes on time.
When he presents his tray, his feedback is good. His flavors are excellent, and even though the biscuits themselves are a bit messy, the display is lovely. He’s safe, and through to the next week, and he feels like his knees are going to give out.
Seto gets star baker, thanks to coming first in the technical and his stunning biscuit display, and Yugi’s proud of him. He leans in and whispers a “Well done,” and is pleased to see a little smile on the usually stoic face.
As usual, they cluster around to congratulate each other and wish the person going home well, but Seto keeps himself a bit apart, also as usual.
Yugi moves over to him, smiling softly. “Thank so much for your help, Seto. I’d be going home now if it wasn’t for your help.”
“I doubt it. Your flavors would’ve carried you through.”
“Maybe. But still. You saved me, and I really appreciate it.”
“It was no problem.”
It’s classic Seto as Yugi is coming to know him, and it makes him smile. “I’ll see you next weekend.” He turns to go, ready to call Atem and Mahaad and tell them he’s made it through another week.
Seto’s voice calling his name makes him turn back. “You’re welcome,” he says, sounding like he’s surprised to be saying it. “I was happy to help. Have a good week.”
Yugi’s smile widens. “You too, Seto. Don’t practice too hard and forget to eat. That sounds like something you’d do.”
To his surprise, Seto smiles back at him. “Maybe. I’ll do my best.”
