Sweet Charlotte

「 fifteen: profound glances 」

Seth turned back to the stove, stirring the pot to the left, then right. "Are you still hungry?"

Willow's feet wavered. She could tell he didn't want to talk about it, and truthfully she didn't want to either. He'd done — and answered — enough for her. She didn't want to pry anymore. "Yeah," she hushed. After her shower, she was starving even more, but she also knew that, as per what normal, she'd take a few bites of her dinner and be stuffed to the brim. She didn't want Seth questioning her eating habits. She could hear his remarks already: 'I thought you were hungry? I'm not that bad of a cook, am I?' Paired with that corny laugh he gave whenever he was teasing her. She heard it a lot more these days.

As he glanced over his shoulder to watch her tug at her dusty shirt sleeves, she spotted what he was making. In one pot, stuffed pasta bubbled at the water's surface. In the other sat bubbling, humming red sauce.

It made her even hungrier.

After dumping out the pasta's water in the sink, Seth divided the batch into two, scooped some sauce on to both, and stuffed a fork in each dish. His bowls and even his cutlery were fancy and detailed. The bowls were black and shiny, and had swirling designs carved into them. Their bowls seemed handcrafted, but Willow didn't want to assume they were that rich.

Seth passed her, passed the dining room table, and made his way down into the living room. He plopped himself into one of the chairs, setting his bowl on one of the flat, plastic surfaces between the big seats.

Willow trotted after him, not on his heels but a pace behind. As she sat down, cradling her bowl in her lap, she glanced blankly at her meal and said nothing.

Her pills.

God, her pills.

Why, all of a sudden, did she feel so nervous? Why did she feel shy enough that asking Seth to give her a glass of water for her pills felt wrong? Maybe it was because now it felt like he was starting to care. She was worried because now that he cared, he might ask.

He would want to help her and know what the pills were for. She hadn't had someone like that in her life for a long time and wouldn't know how to react. She wouldn't want to react. Because reacting meant caring, and what if one day, like everyone else, he just stopped?

"Is it not good?" Seth asked, brows furrowed, a loaded fork looming in front of his lips.

Willow glanced up, snapping out of her trance. The wide look in her eyes must have confirmed his question, as his genuine stare cracked. His eyes twitched, his eyelids lowered, and he placed his untouched fork back into his bowl. "You don't need to eat it if you don't want to," he said. "I can find you something else."

"No, no, no!" Willow said, jumping into action. "It's not the food, trust me."

He didn't say anything, just blinked and stared, waiting for an explanation.

"I just need some water," she said, shrugging.

Seth blinked, then raised a brow. "That's it?"

"I didn't know how to ask."

He sighed, setting down his bowl and standing. "You can just ask for stuff like that, Willow."

She shrugged, pushing herself to her feet and trotting after him. "I'm sorry!"

Seth smirked at her pleads, finding her frazzled apology charming. Picking a yellow-tinted glass from one of the kitchen's cupboards, he filled it a little more than halfway and turned around.

As he did, so he spotted Willow, hugging her bowl, standing by the dining table. He smirked wider. "You didn't need to follow me. I could've brought it to you."