A Year (A 5SOS fanfic)

Chapter 9: Spaghetti

Without warning, tears begin to fall from my eyes. Then my tears turn into sobbing.

I can't seem to stop crying. I have been trying so hard to stay strong and not cry for the past couple of months, and I have successful done that until now. The tears won't stop, I guess they're freeing themselves from being caged in for months. I don't blame them, I've kept them in for too long.

So instead of resisting the sobs, I welcome them. I allow them to let themselves go and just be free.

Finally, after what feels like a half hour of crying, the tears stop. I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, and not just the average pink, but a really deep red. I grab the small bottle of eye drops, and put some droplets in both of my eyes. In seconds, my eyes begin to clear back to white.

I head back to my bedroom and open my laptop. I go onto iTunes and click shuffle.

The lyrics begin as I grab one of my books, "It's hard letting go..."

Books and music are my only serenity.

I open the book I am reading--The Kill Order--to the page that I last stopped on. I begin to read, and in an instant I am sucked into another world of disastrous and tragedy.

I am interrupted by my mom calling my name. I look to the clock and see that I have been reading for three hours now.

I put my book down and go downstairs to see what my mom needs.

"Cass, what do you want for lunch?" My mom asks me.

"Anything is fine," I answer her.

"Anything?"

"Yeah."

"Is spaghetti okay?"

"Yeah," I repeat.

"Want to help me?" she asks.

My mom wants me to help her cook? This is different; we haven't cooked together since last year... since my dad left.

"I... Um... Okay," I stutter on my words from how shocked I am because my mom offered me to help her cook.

"You remember what to do right?" my mom questions me.

"Of course, mom. It's only been a year since I last made spaghetti," I joke.

"Okay, I'll start to make the sauce. You start with the noodles."

I open the kitchen cupboard and grab the box of uncooked noodles and a pot. I pour water into the pot and place it onto the stove that I put to medium heat. I leave the water alone for it to boil.

"What made you want to cook spaghetti?" I ask my mom.

She sprinkles pepper onto the spaghetti sauce before replying, "I don't know, I miss cooking spaghetti."

"Okay" is all I say to her. I know there is more to it-- I could tell, I know my mother too well-- but I don't want to overwhelm her with questions, especially since she drank last night. She can be kind of testy after a night of drinking.

I go back to the stove and find that there is now bubbles forming in the water. I grab the box of noodles and dump it into the boiling water. I get a fork from one of the kitchen drawers and start to stir it.

Stirring noodles isn't the most entertaining thing to do, but it bets doing the homework that I have been procrastinating on.

I watch as the uncooked noodles soften and become flexible. I continue to stir and stir until it seems like the noodles are all soft. Once they're done, I turn off the stove and pour the noodles and excess water into a strainer.