Eat Me~ CanadaxReader

Matthew sighed softly, leaning over the counter and watching the drizzle that continued to pour outside. As far as he was concerned, he could stay in the bakery for eternity; he loved nothing more than the reassuring scent of cake and pastry, the succulent strawberries and the pastel-coloured icing on which he staked his claim as one of Paris's best cake makers. With a shift of his honey-blonde head, he glanced back at the cupcakes that were rising slowly in the oven. All was well, and to tell the truth he preferred quiet days like this where he could have the bakery all to himself. He found comfort in his occupation, adoring every second of his dream-like existance. His brother Alfred occasionally graced his prescence, in a blur of enthusiasm and unsophisticated banter nearer to Christmas and Easter, and those times were always admittedly more hectic than normal, but his callow, frivolous ways were also a form of assurance in a way; Matthew rarely saw him since he lived in New York for most of the year. Another expulsion of breath left the blonde's lips, and he pivoted on his heel and peered into the oven with a requited smile. The cakes in the oven were smooth and golden, already appetizing enough in their efflorescent pink cases.
Only another minute.
The Canadian discarded his oven-gloves on a work-top, before glancing at the piping bags and various other pieces of equipment placed carefully on a table. He did have an incredibly large, somewhat intimidating order to complete- But all of the aprehension diminished when she appeared as she always did every other afternoon. They'd been friends for a while, but timid Matthew had suddenly began to acknowledge that maybe he harboured romantic feelings for his favourite and most frequent customer: _____ _____.

The girl on his mind eventually arrived an hour later, as he was making delicate roses from pale pink icing. Matthew looked up, a smile crossing his face "____!" His voice was quiet and gentle, but the adoration was evident in the shyly-spoken adolescent's voice.
"What are you up to, Mattie?" She kept her voice soft too, as to not disturb him as he worked.
"...A very very important order..." He mumbled.
"Do you want me to go?"
His head shot up, and his eyes widened "N-No, you don't have too...I mean, I like having you here...company y'know."
She smiled, the guesture so radient that a blush crossed Matthew's countenance "Thanks, Mattie."
She settled on one of the duck-egg blue leather stools by the counter, folding one leg promptly over the other. She watched the young man opposite her intently, every so often focusing on him instead of his culinary creations. Sometimes she even remarked to herself that his honeyed locks looked angelic in the artificial lights, that his eyes sparkled in happiness as he worked quickly and efficiently. He seemed like a ray of sunshine compared to the rainy world outside of his white, shabby, quaint little establishment.
Matthew didn't notice her watching him, and simply smiled to himself and enjoyed the company.