𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

²²onions have layers & we are just friends

clementine

Luke sets down two plates of cat food on the counter and smiles as soon as he sees Sunny and Darth making their way to him - tails standing straight and noses sniffing in the air.

"Look at them! They're eating!" Luke whisper-shouts, held absolutely astounded by the simple act of my two cats having their breakfast.

I huff out a breath as I finish up our coffees and move on to making our breakfast. "Have you never seen cats eating?" I ask amusedly, taking a plate from the drawer and placing it in the counter.

"No, I have. It's just that I haven't fed one in so long," He looks over at what I'm doing and faces me. "Need some help?"

I shrug. "Uh, just rinse the lettuce, tomato, and onions," I ask, opening the fridge and taking out the vegetables I mentioned. "I'm making us my favourite sandwich."

From the freezer, I take out preprepared flat falafels and place them on the plate before heated the stove and taking out a suitable pan.

"What kind of sandwich?" Luke asks, running the lettuce under some water.

"Flat falafel sandwich - flatafel, if you will," I say plopping the two falafels on the pan before taking some Arabic bread from inside the fridge.

Luke snorts, finishing up with the lettuce and now washing the tomato. "Flatafel?" He chortles over the name I gave it.

I nudge his arm playfully. "Hey, don't make fun. My flatafels are superbly delish," I hold my nose up high and give a childish smirk.

He moved on to the onion and nudges me back. "I'm sure they are, chef Ivers." Quickly, he finishes up washing and idly stands beside me, not knowing what to do next. "Alright, what else?" He asks.

I quickly and carefully flip the falafel with my two pinched fingers. "Open the cupboard, take out the cutting board. Let's cut them," I take a knife from the drawer and take the onion, cutting it in half before cutting the half into quarters.

Luke seems to stand still beside me, watching. When I look up, he's gaping at me, eyes brimming with tears. "What the fuck?" He asks, sniffing and wiping away tears.

I give out a laugh once I realise why he's crying. "Are you so moved by my cooking, Hemmings?" I tease, watching him take out the cutting board in tears.

He shakes his head. "What doesn't make sense is that you're not crying!"

I give him a knife and he starts cutting the tomato in half, still in tears from the onion.

We continue cutting until I hear the falafel sizzling in the pan. I stop and turn the heat off, flipping it with my knife and letting it cool.

"Alright," I quietly say, moving my small mound of cut up onions to the side. I lay out the bread on the plate and put a leaf of lettuce on it, then the warmed up falafel, then tomatoes and onions. "There we go,"

Luke follows my actions, finishing up what we cut before folding our sandwiches to a close.

"Voila!" He exclaims, looking over the messily folded wrap proudly. "Very nice, very good, very baby," He pats the sandwich before taking it in his hands and giving it a bite. "Hm... ish good," He smiles and gives me a thumbs-up, chewing happily and leaning on the counter.

Smiling at the scene, I take my phone and quickly take a photo of an unaware Luke and my two busy cats, munching away on their breakfast.

I take my own sandwich and start eating while scrolling through Instagram stories, passing upon Michael's and clicking through the number of videos he posted there.