Sunlight streamed through the greenhouse roof of Green Sprout Haven, casting golden beams on the rows of potted herbs and hanging succulents. Kyle stood at the potting table, humming as he nudged a rosemary plant into place, dirt on his cheeks, sleeves rolled up, and hair an adorable mess.

Ray watched from where he lounged on a burlap sack of soil, tossing a trowel in the air. “So,” he said, smirking, “still no reply from Loverboy?”

Kyle’s smile dimmed slightly. “He’s just busy.”

“That’s what you said last week.”

“Ray...”

“Okay, okay.” Ray held up both hands in mock surrender, but his tone was anything but innocent. “No Ryan slander today. Not when you’re elbow-deep in dirt and still managing to look like a Pinterest post titled ‘Wholesome Farm Boy Dreams.’”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Ray grinned. “And you’re in denial. Anyway, I thought boyfriends were supposed to bring pastries when their plant shop prince is sad and sleep-deprived.”

Kyle groaned. “Don’t say that. Now I’m craving cinnamon rolls.”

“Tragic,” Ray said. “Guess you’ll have to suffer with me and this dry-ass potting mix.”

The bell above the front door jingled.

Kyle glanced up—and brightened immediately. “Mark!”

Ray turned—and froze for half a second before smiling like a cat who just found a bird with a limp wing.

Mark Lee, all pressed elegance and silent intensity, stepped inside holding a familiar white paper box. The kind only one specific upscale bakery used. The kind Kyle had just been dreaming about.

Mark offered a quiet smile and handed the box to Kyle. “You said last week you’ve been craving cinnamon rolls. I was nearby.”

Kyle opened the box with reverence and gasped. “Oh my god. These are from Luna Bakehouse!”

Mark nodded once. “Still warm.”

Ray slowly turned his head to stare at Mark.

“You stopped by Luna Bakehouse? For cinnamon rolls?” he asked, voice laced with amusement. “Do you even eat carbs?”

“They weren’t for me.”

Kyle was already halfway into his first bite, eyes fluttering shut in delight. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”

Ray looked between the two of them, then slowly grinned.

“Oh, Ryan’s shaking in his emotionally distant boots.”

Kyle blinked, cheeks puffed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ray said too quickly, waving a hand. “Just talking about how completely normal it is for a man to remember your cravings better than your boyfriend.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he stayed silent. Ray, of course, was just getting started.

“You know,” Ray continued with a straight face, “Ryan forgets your birthday last week. Mark brings baked goods from a boutique bakery like he’s in a drama called ‘Love in Yeast: Billionaire Edition.’”

Kyle turned pink. “Stop! Mark’s just... thoughtful.”

Ray nodded sagely. “Of course. Like he didn't need to line for that place unless you bribe the head baker or offer your first born.”

“I have connections,” Mark said smoothly.

“Of course you do,” Ray replied, voice sugar-sweet. “Because when Kyle's actual boyfriend forgets he exists, someone's got to be the dependable one.”

Mark cleared his throat, voice dry. “Would you like one, Ray?”

Ray blinked. “Huh?”

Mark gestured to the box. “A roll. I brought extra.”

Ray smirked. “You know what? I would. Thanks, Ryan 2.0—but present and emotionally available.”

Kyle choked on laughter, nearly dropping his fork. “Oh my god.”

Mark, somehow, remained perfectly composed. “Glad to be of service.”

Ray took a bite and sighed dramatically. “Mmm. You taste that, Kyle? That’s the flavor of attention.”

Kyle threw a paper towel at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Ray corrected with his mouth full. “You just have bad taste in men.”

Mark’s lips twitched, and he turned to Kyle. “Do you need help with the shelving? I noticed the new batch of hanging vines came in.”

Kyle lit up. “Actually, yeah! Can you hold the ladder while I fix the hooks?”

Ray’s eyes sparkled. “You’re letting Mr. Rolls-for-Breakfast hold your ladder now?”

Kyle, utterly unaware, simply smiled. “He’s tall. And strong.”

Mark said nothing, but internally? That sound was the breaking point of his soul quietly combusting.

As Kyle climbed the step ladder and Mark held it firmly, Ray leaned against a fern and stage-whispered just loud enough:

“Ryan would’ve shown up late and eaten the last roll without asking.”

Mark didn’t reply.

But Kyle glanced down and flashed him a grateful, cinnamon-smudged smile—those dimples crinkling like sunshine.

And in that moment, Mark thought:

I can endure anything. Even Ray. Even Ryan. As long as I get to see that smile.