Short Mini TwoSet Fluffs

Yummy...?

Passing by the aisle full of pasta, Eddy turns towards me, beaming a sunny smile.

"Brett, I'll cook tonight. Wanna come over?"

I can't remember when this guy cooked the last time. It's his mom or me, and he's coming over quite often. If not said... every day. He has the bigger apartment and the better kitchen, but still comes over because I'm better at cooking. Well, I'm the one cooking. So I wonder what happened, we just entered this supermarket to fetch something for dinner.  

"Uhm...sure? Okay, sure. What are we going to eat?" I'm not sure what to expect. 

Eddy starts walking faster, pushing me through the aisles. "Do not worry my friend, leave it to me. You'll like it!"

Okay I like this boy. I really do. But I'm not sure if I want to trust him alone in his kitchen. When he's at mine and helping me out, I can't take my eyes off him. Not in a romantic way, though. I'd love to. But it's like a little child. He almost cuts his fingers while peeling potatos. He almost cuts his fingers chopping onions. He almost sets the kitchen on fire, trying to fry the meat. The only thing I can entrust him with is washing something. Fruit, maybe. Nothing sharp or fragile.

So when he drops me off at my apartment, I ask for the 40th time "You sure you don't need my help?" and he simply rolls his eyes and says "100%. Be at mine at 7!" and drives off.

The next hours I sit on my couch, watching my phone. I sent him some messages, asking whether he's fine. More questions are swirling in my mind. Are his precious fingers safe? Does he know what to do? Is his kitchen not on fire? Did he hurt himself? Are his fingers safe? Can he handle his kitchen? I never saw him do more than boil water there. Does he know where to find his stuff? He has everything there, his mom equipped the kitchen and I did cook there quite often so I know where to find things. But until now he didn't contact me. I hope he's doing okay.

I grab my violin, practice a bit and then find myself on my couch again, staring at my phone.

At 6 I decide to take a shower, but again, at 6:05 I'm back on my couch. Still nothing.

So when it's time for me to leave, I'm nervous as heck. I'm praying I won't find the apartment on fire or Eddy hurt.

I breathe deeply before I ring the doorbell. I see no smoke and I can hear Eddy sing inside, so I'm relieved. But on the other hand... He is not opening the door. So I ring again and again until I hear him come to the front door and opens up "Welcoooome!!!"

 And I'm in awe.

He looks amazing. He is wearing a dark blue dress shirt with tight jeans and wow he looks so happy and pleased. I'm stunned and feeling kind of underdressed in my Musician Sweater. But he didn't say anything about dressing up, did he?

He takes my hand and pulls me into his kitchen. "Be amazed!" he sings and wow, I am amazed!

His kitchen looks like a battleground, everything is messed up, torn apart, drawers left open, somethings still fuming in the oven.

BUT, I must say, his table is arranged nicely. Really nicely. There are candles and flowers, it's clean and the exact opposite of the battlefield to my left.

Eddy pulls a chair and I take a seat. Slightly nervous I say "Bro, what's this arrangement? You didn't tell me to dress up for this dinner date?" and he chuckles, responding "Nah you don't need to. I felt like wearing this shirt, so don't stress out. You hungry?"

I nod and start to pick on one flower on the table. It's real. "When did you get these decorations? I can't remember buying some flowers at the grocery store."

He just hums in response and starts plating our dishes. It takes him a moment or two until he finally sets them on the table and takes a seat opposite of me. 

And here I crack up and start laughing so very hard, I'm afraid I have to die of laughter.

"Duuude! This is amazing! You're too cute! And YES, please!" I can't stop laughing and I see Eddy smile and my heart is full of sunshine. I couldn't ask for more and I never want to forget this moment.

Eddy made a omu-rice (basically fried rice coated with an omelet) and wrote with ketchup on top:

Will you move in with me?