No Place Like Home (Complete)

Break Some Eggs

At sunrise, Erik rose ready to stunt on the obnoxious trio he now referred to as the three stooges. Climbing from the top bunk he quietly hit twenty pushups, up and down quckly.. careful not to wake the sleeping beauty before grabbing his grooming kit and the mismatched red washcloth and blue towels he’d borrowed before Y/N fell asleep. She’d knocked out looking at listings and checking her emails. He didn’t expect anything different, she was a functional workaholic afterall. That was her whole bit. Heading to the empty bathroom while the house slept, he got started on the hygiene portion of his morning routine. He had to get in there before people started acting crazy over bathroom time. This seemed the type of group to fight about stupid shit. Under the hot stream of the shower, he thought through the day ahead. Today would be the bridal shower and bachelorette party. He’d go to the bridal shower to buffer whatever he could but she’d be on her own at the bachelorette party. What could he tell her to get her through? What scenarios would pop up to go wrong? Between work, her family, and these events what the fuck has she done to alleviate stress? She need to take a walk. Not in this crackhead neighborhood, but in Central Park or some shit.. a garden.. with flowers. Wrapped in the dingy blue towel, he popped his golds back in and moisturized his beard before a knock on the bathroom door interrupted him. He cracked it prepared to turn on his charm, but it was just the old man. He’d been missing from the welcome crew yesterday, but if anything it answered Erik’s question about his relationship with Y/N. It was nonexistent. What kind of childhood did she have? He had to wonder. Also, what happened to her actual dad?

“You must be Y/N’s stepfather. I’m Erik,” he opened the door wider, holding his hand out for the old man to shake, but unsurprisingly no handshake came. Erik’s hand withdrew, his eyes still warm.. assessing.

Breezing into the bathroom and closing Erik out without his shit, the man began to gripe in bitter-man fashion, “Whole street know that by now…” It was muffled through the door, but that part was clear enough for Erik to hear. Old ass passive aggressive nigga. The spladow of a morning dump let Erik know to gone head and walk away. Stepdad had a bug up his ass just like the rest of the house, but it couldn’t be personal. It was a personality flaw and as long as stepdad stayed in his funky ass lane there would be no issue. Making his way back to the room he shared with Y/N, she was still peacefully sleeping. He silently pulled on his black joggers, his white Lost Tribe hoodie and his white Nike air max 90’s before heading downstairs to activate his plan.

An uber took him to a nearby market where he bought a few items to make a grand breakfast. He was in and out, already aware of what he’d make and how long it would take. With the proper time management, it would be simple. Back at the house, he shook his head at the entrance. It was truly an ugly mothafuckin house. He wondered what Y/N’s house in Cali looked like. Hopefully she didn’t live this way. With her career and style, it wasn’t likely that she did. Anyway, none of that mattered at the moment. All he cared about was the kitchen. Stripping off his hoodie, He made sure the space was spotless before he cooked. Pancakes, fried eggs, potato hash, fresh strawberries and grapes, bacon, sweet blueberry muffins, and a few omelettes with homemade salsa. He poured champagne into four glasses, mixing it with orange juice and decorating with a bright orange wedge on each glass before starting on cleaning the unoccupied soiled dishes. He hoped the fam would be brought downstairs by the smell of the heavy food hitting their noses and he wasn’t disappointed. A thud of footsteps came down the stairs, and he listened as they approached the kitchen. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see that it was stooge number three, Jamira, and by the glint in her eyes.. she was checking out more than just the breakfast spread. He hid his annoyance, facing forward to wash a plastic bowl he’d used to mix batter in.