You Flaming Idiot, I Love You!

10

Natsu

When I wake, something is missing. I pad around the sheets, then stop. 
I look down at my hands. Then follow the light on them to the window. Something is missing.

I step down from the bed, make my way out. A fragrant smell is coming from outside.
I take a breath before I move to peek past the wall. I take in the apron over his chest, see the way he's unable to smile. 
When he turns my way, he jumps, only to yelp as some oil from the pan splashes out.
I move to him before I can think. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." We wince when we see the burn marks.
"I should've said something."
"All good. Was just..." he stops. The pan continues to sizzle. "Making this for you."
I swallow. "You didn't have to. We could've just gone home."
"I know." 
I look to the floor, at his feet.
"Just for me?"

He smiles, framed in the morning light. The emotions I'm feeling as I stare are canceling each other out, leaving nothing but a blank slate.
"It's ready now."

He used the leftover chicken and rice from last night and replaced the greens with an egg on top.
I call his name. As he looks past his shoulder, I gesture him over.
"Where'd you get the eggs?" I say. "I don't remember picking any."
"Just made an extra trip this morning."
"Why?" My lip hardens under my teeth.
"'Cause... It's a good pairing with what we had. And you complained about the vegetables, so I figured—"
I slide the plate his way. I can't take it any longer. Everything's numb, yet fresh as an open wound.
He pauses for a moment before smiling slightly, moving back to the kitchen to get another fork.

"Want anything to drink?"
"I'm fine. Stop this."
"...If you want me to."
I hold my forehead. "Going back is gonna be harder if you keep this up."
He rocks the chair, clutching the handles. 
"Yeah." Before I know it, he's out of the room.
"Where are you going?" I say, getting up from my seat.
"Checking around the house one more time before we leave."
I force myself to look away, down at the plate. "What about this?"
"Think of it as my apology."
"I told you, it's—" 
Something in his expression makes me stop. I fall back into the chair, sighing.
My grip around the fork tightens. I take a reluctant bite, but when I do, I get a glimpse of heaven.

"You don't have to watch me, y'know."
"I wasn't—"
He's quiet when I raise an eyebrow. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning on the chair as he gazes out the window. 
"You ought to take your own suggestion to heart."
"Weren't you going to check around the house?" I say, mouth full.
"Right, yeah." The grin won't leave my face as he pretends to busy himself.
Moments like these make me wonder if it's worth the pain. Despite it all.

We've locked up the house and are on our way back to the station. There's a light drizzle out, so we quicken the pace.

"Thanks for the meal. It was really good."
"You don't have to thank me. Your face said it all."
I give him an elbow. He chuckles, treading on. 

We take the long way. The way through the city. Pass by the park, walk under the cinema. Cut through the store lot. It's his way of asking for forgiveness, I think. But all it's done is deepen the gash.

While we stand in front of the train, he's bracing for my reaction. 
"Want the window seat again?"
I nod.

I manage to make it to a seat before leaning over and cupping my mouth. I know he's worried without having to look. But I choose not to lean on him anyway.

Chug, chug, chug. The train's gears churn beneath, rumbling our seats. I close my eyes, trying to imagine being anywhere but here.
He reaches past me to open the window. The sound of wheels against rails heightens, and the breeze blows in. 

When I know he isn't looking, I take a peek. Tears have stained his face.
I hunch out the window, empty my system. I fall back in once I've let out enough, throat stinging, tongue rancid. 
I close my eyes when I see the horrified look from him. The black static welcomes me back.
I wish I was someone else. 

Gray