Maze

32

As soon as Edward opened the lunch box, his eye slightly widened at the sight of the small pastry. With what was left of his power, he grunted while he positioned himself so that he could lean comfortably against the headboard. And as if in response, low rumbles reverberated off his abdomen.

"It looks so good," he mumbled—I didn't know why I could feel his hot breaths brushing against my stiffening face—before he passed me a quirked brow. "Are you sure you're giving it to me?"

"Y-Yup! Made it myself..." I almost immediately replied; I have the need to point that out. "There's c-cheese, but I made sure to not put too much so that it won't upset your stomach." I mentally patted my shoulders for not stuttering so excessively that I could prattle on nonsensical things.

He blinked twice, before for some reason I could not comprehend, he chose to stare straight at me.

Did I say something... not appropriate? I bit the insides of my cheeks and stared down at my lap. No, it can't be.

Edward's eye might no longer sparkle the way it used to, the fact that it subsided from its usual icy, distant stare... was sufficient enough to weaken my knees. The way his furrowed brow loosened and how his uneven bangs perfectly fell upon his contented face had my insides somersaulting so madly, I could literally feel them.

God, he's really killing me here.

"I'm grateful... but you don't have to do this, you know," he murmured, rubbing his cheek. "I don't wanna burden you."

"N-Not at all! I just... want to." That response slipped out of my mouth so easily. "Besides, I've always helped my parents cook and bake for their restaurant, anyway. I came to like it, i-it's becoming my hobby."

He remained silent—but I wished he did say something... at least mitigate the tension—only nodding in response. He then set the box away and tumbled back to the bed, rolling to the side to face me. "How do you like the strawberry plush?"

"Oh yeah, o-of course! It's really soft and fluffy," I blurted, remembering how much I cuddled it last night. "T-Thanks..."

"They're limited edition." he breathed, his voice lower than usual. "I ventured to the arcade before work on Monday, and they recently filled the cranes up with new ones. I can't resist not getting them, especially..." he paused. "...when those strawberries reminded me of you."

I really did not know what to comment; like, my mind could not even form proper words, much less construct sentences. I rapidly pressed down my lips in a straight line and instantly looked down at my fingers as they laced themselves together. My face felt like they were drowsed with fire.

"...I-I guess, that's good..." I murmured, instinctively nodding and laughing sheepishly. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Should I express my gratitude at least? I mean, I did cherish my strawberries, but what the hell was with my response? If I could see myself right now, I would not hesitate to smack her repeatedly, berating her for all the secondhand embarrassment I have to endure because of her.

He rested his arm above his head before he began, "You see, my company's currently developing a machine for a hotel construction site, so I stayed up late to test it and report some flaws. Most said it's good to go, but I doubt it. I wanted to test it again, but as you can see right now..."

"H-Have you discussed it with your manager?" I asked, my fingers fidgeted even more. "Um, perhaps you can let the others do it for you..."

"I pointed out everything, but my colleagues didn't even bother listening to me," he growled as he clenched his fists. "Maybe I was younger than them... so they thought I was some clueless, paranoid boy. But I do know what I am talking about; machines are not something to downplay with."