SOTUS: The University Days (and Other Universes)

Egg Connoisseur

YouTube, to Kongpob, is a godsend. Gone are the days that he had to rush downstairs to buy breakfast before going to class. Through the platform, he learned how to cook.

Well, he can only cook eggs, but coming from ready-to-buy breakfast boxes, that's an improvement. The bar is that low.

Still, he's proud of it. He makes different kinds of eggs and omelets, and they are killer eggs.

At least, that's what he thinks.

On the other hand, Arthit takes one look before his jaw drops in horror.

"Kongpob, what is this?" Arthit asks, holding the door of Kongpob's fridge one morning.

"My fridge?" Kongpob tries, offering up a hesitant smile.

"Your fridge... that is full of eggs," Arthit says, full-on judging, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow up.

"Hey, eggs are healthy, okay?"

Arthit doesn't answer and instead roams his eyes around the fridge, inspecting its contents. The upper part of the door holds water bottles, but the rest is filled with fresh eggs. Two of the main shelves are filled with more trays of eggs, and the last one houses microwavable containers filled with minced anything—ham, bacon, and chives. The vegetable bin contains one tomato.

Arthit picks it up and turns to Kongpob. "One tomato?"

"Monday is for tomato omelet," Kongpob says, now sitting up from his bed, legs crossed.

He's right. In his defense, he has variety. Sometimes, he puts tomatoes, sometimes, ham, bacon, or white onions. When he's feeling fancy, he adds cheese.

"Oh god," Arthit says. "Are you... Is this..." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I can't believe this is my future."

To make himself feel a little better, Kongpob tells himself that Arthit just has high standards because he knows his way in the kitchen. After all, Arthit chose to be with him, which has to count for something. He shuffles a little and pushes past his boyfriend to get his frying pan (the only kitchenware he owns), the appropriate toppings, and four eggs.

"So you're not even going to use the tomato?" Arthit says incredulously, standing back and scrutinizing the spread of ingredients critically.

"No," Kongpob replies. "As I said, tomato omelet is for Mondays. I know what I'm doing. Don't worry, Phi." He tosses a sly look over his shoulder; Arthit continues to look dubiously at the frying pan.

Kongpob is pretty much an egg expert, a connoisseur, perhaps. The secret, Kongpob thinks as he switches on the induction stove, is all down to timing and ratios. You have to put in the toppings not while beating the eggs but while the egg is starting to solidify. Arthit will see. He can so cook.

Beside him, Arthit fills them each with a glass of water before setting himself to observe. Kongpob can't help but notice how perfect he looks just there, his oversized shirt falling off one shoulder, hair still messy from sleep, a contented smile on his face, observing him while he's doing something he's proud of, the morning sunlight kissing his boyfriend's cheeks as if it's saying Arthit belongs there.

By the time he finishes cooking, the room is filled with the aroma of... eggs. Everything is right as it should be. He transfers the eggs to a serving plate while Arthit scoops some reheated rice from last night.

"Tada!" Kongpob says, presenting the "dish" dramatically after taking his seat. "I hope you like it, Phi."

"Well," Arthit starts and pokes the egg in front of him as if looking for fish in it. "At least it still looks like eggs."

"P'Arthiiiit!" Kongpob fake-whines.

"I'm kidding."

"You don't know until you try it."

Arthit glances back at his plate and then at the mess that is the kitchenette before cutting a part of the egg and lifting it into his mouth. At that moment, Kongpob is proud to say that Arthit's expression cleared from one of doubt to one of mild pleasant surprise.

"Pretty good, right?" Kongpob grins, softly kicking him under the table. Arthit kicks back.

"It's not bad, I guess," he allows.

It would have been convincing if Arthit hasn't finished his plate quicker than Kongpob, the egg connoisseur himself.

"You think it's delicious, don't you?" Kongpob says, more than a little smug. "Admit it."

Arthit just stares at him, and Kongpob pouts cutely. God, it's like Arthit's heart breaks at that. The good kind of break.

"Fine, it's good, okay?" he grumbles.

"You love it... I know it."

Arthit sighs, looking up at the ceiling as though questioning everything, before his eyes fall back to meet Kongpob's.

"Yeah," he says, and smirks a little when Kongpob feels himself blush. "I do."