I DON'T KNOW YOU

02.) out of the frying pan

❝ WE'RE ALL THE THINGS WE DO FOR FUN.
AND I'LL BREATHE AND IT GOES PLAY ALONG. ❞

⋆ ₊ ꒰ 🍪 ꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ RAINBOW ˎˊ˗
( first pov )

There wasn't much I could remember about my mom when I was little, but even so, I never forgot her secret recipe.

"A secret recipe meant only for special occasions," she would tell me—birthdays, holidays, graduations, all the checkpoints of my growing up, celebrated through her signature batches of cookies.

I think she knew near the end that she was running on borrowed time. I guess that was why she had told me the secret when I was so young—Dad was never a baker (though Mom always did say I inherited my sweet tooth from him rather than her), so it was left to me to keep the recipe alive, even after she no longer was.

I didn't remember much of her anymore—but I still had her recipe, at least.

I hummed to myself as I carefully placed the pan onto one of the burners, slipping off my oven mitts. They were old and slightly faded, but they always got the work done; I had even named them—Mister and Misses (well, actually, I had originally named them Mitt-ser and Mitt-ses, but the others protested, so I settled for calling them that in private).

I wiped my forearm along my forehead, the heat of the oven traveling throughout the kitchen. Just as I considered splashing my face with water, my phone rang.

"Hellooo?" I hummed out, balancing it in between my shoulder and my ear as I turned to the sink and washed my hands clean.

"It's me," Lunar's voice had answered back, "I need your help for a moment. Can you come over?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Either you're asking me to curse you or tell you abracadabra," she answered with a laugh.

"I was going for 'please' but abracadabra has much better flair to it," I mused, "I'll be there in a moment."

"Alright."

I dried off my hands on a towel hanging off the oven's handle nearby and made my way out of my house. How convenient, I always thought, that we all lived right in the same neighborhood. Not that I could ever complain about that; I loved being so close to my friends.

It was so strange how Lunar's house gave off its own atmosphere compared to the rest of the street. But I figured it was probably just because Lunar had her own specific aesthetic to her home—Funneh called it scary once, but I think she got used to it.