***This is a continuation of the story from Kiss: Casablanca High School, so read that first if you want! It's not necessary to but it would help***
It's been five years since anyone's heard anything from Gene Simmons, and at this point Paul Stanley...
Bruce was absolutely fuming by the time I made it back from dropping off Gene. "What the hell, man?! Running off in the middle of the night and taking the car and not telling anyone where you were?! Not telling me where you went?!" he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and scowling at me. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize I had to tell everyone where I was going!" I cried, holding up my hands defensively.
"Seriously, where the hell were you?!"he asked. I shrugged before giving him a grin. "7/11. Where else?"
"What do you mean, 7/11?! Why were you at 7/11 at four in the morning?!" Bruce shouted. "No we left at 3 actually. Me and Gene just wanted to have fun, capture some memories and all that! Didn't realize that I had to clear every move with you," I said simply. "Well I was worried! Sorry, didn't realize I wasn't allowed to care when you just up and vanish in the middle of the night!" he spat.
"Look, I'm sorry I made you worried! Me and Gene were just having fun, I'll make sure to tell you when I leave next time."
"Yeah, whatever," Bruce grumbled, still glaring at me. Perfect, he was furious. Just what I needed. I heaved a sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Look man, I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to make you worry, I swear! I didn't want to wake you up when I was leaving and I forgot to send a text!" I said. He shook his head, face red. "Well I was worried! I woke up in the middle of the night and all of a sudden you're not there?! I was terrified that you were lying on the street dying again!" he said, definitely a lot more hurt than I thought.
My heart sank and I gave him a hug, burying my face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry." He nodded, hugging me back. "I'm sorry I got mad at you. You're right, you're an adult and it was stupid for me to worry, I was just scared." "I know, I know, but to be fair I do have a bad track record."
"Well actually, you're pretty good at track," he mumbled. I stepped back, raising an eyebrow. "That was a terrible pun. But really, I'm sorry for scaring you. I'll text you when I go out again, I promise!" He gave me a grateful smile, eyes sad. "Thanks. You don't have to, but thanks."
Despite how mad at me he was in the morning, by the time dinner rolled around he had gone to only being slightly annoyed with me. "Hey Eric can you do me a favor?" he called from the kitchen area. "Yeah sure what?" I shouted back from the bedroom. He stuck his head through the doorway, pointing at me with a spoon. "I want to have wine with dinner but we don't have any. So I'm going to run to the store and grab a bottle and I need you to watch the chicken. It's simmering on the stove, make sure it doesn't burn."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it, don't worry," I said with a wave of my hand, not bothering to look away from the video game I was playing. "Eric. Seriously. Make sure it doesn't burn." "It won't! It'll be fine, I know how to cook things! Just go get the wine, I'll take care of it!" I cried. "Look, I'm still pissed at you from this morning, I'm gonna be heated if you ruin dinner."
"Bruce! I won't!"
He gave me a look. "You better not," he muttered, before heading out the front door.
I immediately forgot what he asked me to do and went back to my video game until the smell of something burning caught my attention. "Oh shit," I whispered, darting to the kitchen. The chicken had upgraded from burning to flaming by the time I made it to the stove, quickly turning off the burner and stirring the chicken, hoping I could salvage it. Unfortunately, it was still on fire and pretty much beyond ruined.
Figures Bruce walked in right as I dumped the pan in the sink, turning on the water and washing everything down the drain. He just let out a sigh, setting the bottle of wine on the counter and pulling out his phone. "Dammit Eric," he muttered. "Bruce I'm sorry, really! I wasn't trying to, I'm sorry, seriously!" I cried.
He just shook his head. "I knew I couldn't trust you. It's whatever, we'll just get pizza tonight. I don't feel like having to make dinner all over again." "I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you, I promise!" "It's whatever, it's fine." But it probably wasn't.
I scrolled through Instagram after dinner, stopping at Bruce's latest post which was a picture of the pizza we had gotten delivered. "Hey why'd you post unhealthy food?" I teased. He stuck his head out of the bathroom, halfway through brushing his teeth, and gave me a grin. "Read the caption."
"'I asked my roommate to watch dinner and the dumbass burned it so we had to get take--' Hey! It wasn't my fault dinner burned!" "It was absolutely your fault. I literally said just make sure that the chicken doesn't burn while I ran to the store down the street to get some wine, and what do I come back to? A pan of burned chicken," he retorted, ducking back into the bathroom.
"The least you could do is tag me in the post," I grumbled, scrolling through the comments and feeling my smile widening. "Bruce they're all asking about me. You gotta tell them who I am."
"What are they saying?" he called back. "They just keep going 'roommate? since when?' and stuff like that. Oh, a couple of them are asking if I'm your girlfriend. A lot of them are asking if I'm your girlfriend." He laughed, shaking his head as he walked to the kitchen. "Of course they are. Here, I'll put a post of us on my story and clear up any confusion. And jealousy," he said. I flashed a peace sign and a smile as he did the exact same thing and took a picture. "Mm, okay. 'Here's my dumbass roommate who burnt dinner' how does that sound?"
"I didn't even burn it, the stove did," I muttered, but Bruce just grinned, posting it anyway. "I'll tell you in the morning what everyone thinks of you," he said with a laugh. "And it was absolutely your fault dinner burned, don't you dare blame the stove."
I woke up to messages from Gene, Paul, Ace, and Peter all making fun of me for burning dinner. "All my followers think you're stupid for burning the chicken," Bruce said the instant I walked into the kitchen, sliding me a plate. "Well all your followers are stupid because I didn't burn shit," I muttered, opening the message from Carrie.
Carrie: obv I'd have to be doing all the cooking if we ever get married lol
Not even Bruce is being stupid I didn't even burn it the stove did
Carrie: Were you supposed to be watching it?
Mmmaybe
Carrie: Yeah i'm gonna be cooking
I smiled in spite of myself, leaning back in my chair and feeling my heart melt.
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