“What…?”
“Kitchen, right?” he asks, gesturing towards it.
I nod, confused.
He leaves me alone in the living room and heads for the kitchen, which is actually little more than a kitchenette. I don’t even have a table. There’s a small island with two stools where I have breakfast, or eat something quick.
I walk in just as he’s pulling open the fridge.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to eat something.”
“I don’t want you to have to cook for me.”
“I want to, trust me.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “But your fridge is sad.”
I laugh at his definition.
“Seriously, you have to do something about this.” He grabs some ham and cheese. “At least you have butter.” He grabs that, too, placing everything on the counter beside him. He moves over to the cupboard, opening the door and reaching for the bread. “I was almost afraid you wouldn’t even have this.” He wiggles it at me.
“I don’t know what…”
He pushes back the sleeves of his jumper as I stare at him, my breath and my heart caught in my throat.
“Do you want to put the kettle on while I make us some toasties?”
“S-Sure,” I stammer, moving slowly over to the kettle. I fill it with water, then switch it on, grabbing two mugs from the drying rack.
“How… How do you like it?”
He looks at me. His eyes are wide – probably from tiredness – but more beautiful than ever.
“Sugar and milk.”
I open the fridge and grab the milk, then watch as he spreads butter on the bread, layering each slice with ham and cheese. He heats a pan, also covered in butter, on the hob, before pressing the toasties onto it.
“What about you?” he asks, without looking at me. “How do you like it?”
“My… My tea?” I ask, stupidly.
He laughs. “Your toast. Burnt, golden, barely toasted…?”
“T-The way you like it, I guess?”
He turns to me. “Was that a question?”
“Not really.”
Eric furrows his brow.
Come on, professor. Words are your whole life – you can do better than this.
“I just meant I’m happy to have it the way you like it.”
“I like it singed. With lots of cheese.”
He flips the sandwich in the pan with a spatula. I’m forced to shift my gaze from him to pour our tea. I place the cups on the side and Eric joins me with our toasties. He sits across from me and slides the plate towards me. I thank him, grab the toasty, and take a bite; I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until I felt the cheese melting in my mouth.
