gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[ Zephirin completes his task efficiently, looking up from whisking the eggs to catch one of Francel's timid glances. The boy seems to watch him with something akin to fascination, perhaps because they've done away with so many of the expected boundaries of their relationship since they met. Here, they redefine it again. ]

I moved out when I enrolled in college. As a student, I lived in a residence hall near campus, however.

[with his task complete — francel prefers a mere touch of cheese in his eggs, and would like to avoid over-saturating them with the stuff — the boy sets the bowl of grated cheese to the side, all the while peering at zephirin's whisking work with no small amount of interest. he is seized by a momentary bout of whimsy; he feels rather like a child playing sous chef for the first time, but, far from focused on the meal at hand, he is only hungry to hear more about zephirin's life.]

Is that how you met Janlenoux?

[ The frying pan is heated up, the eggs and cheese are readied, and Francel has freed his hands. With a nod in reply, Zephirin holds his bowl out for the boy to take over from here — the first omelet is Francel's, to cook to his taste. ]

During my final year as an undergraduate — I was fortunate. I'm certain some students were less so...

[ Regarding Francel, Zephirin smiles slightly as the boy's seeming eagerness to learn more about Janlenoux makes a return. ]

Should I prepare to lose to younger, cuter roommates a second time?

[the boy tilts his head, seemingly amused and perplexed in equal measure.]

But this time I'm your young and cute roommate!

[with tender care, francel pours enough of zephirin's whisked eggs to coat the bottom of the frying pan, making himself a thin sheet of egg — then he sprinkles a modest amount of grated cheese into the quickly heating eggs. once the egg is sufficiently cooked — fluffy and soft, the consistency of what one would imagine clouds to be like — he folds it in half, making himself a neat omelet.]

Want me to cook yours, too?

[ If Janlenoux and Adelphel were to invite Francel to move in with them, for some reason, it would of course be the boy's own decision to make, but Adelphel doesn't seem inclined to share, and Francel already looks at home in Zephirin's apartment, taking up position in front of the stove as if this isn't his first morning here. His choice of sweater enhances the somehow cozy atmosphere the scene creates.

Waiting nearby, Zephirin holds a plate ready for Francel to transfer the finished omelet onto — the boy's handiwork is that of someone who has cooked many an omelet, promising the perfect consistency. ]

Thank you. I would be a fool to decline.

Heheh...

[with a childishly gleeful giggle, francel begins at once on zephirin's omelet, pouring the remainder of the egg batter into the pan. truthfully, francel is a remarkable egg chef, but an only average cook of everything else; he is a better-than-average baker. eggs are simply his forte.

if he and zephirin were a couple, francel thinks, he could lean over and peck the taller on the mouth as the eggs cook. but they are not a couple, and there is still aucheforne to think of (or is there?), and francel does absolutely nothing of the sort as he folds zephirin's omelet and transfers it to a plate.]

There. That's two cheese omelets for the two of us. Anything else I can get you, sir?

[francel's tone turns teasing — making zephirin a customer of his own kitchen.]

[ A cute roommate indeed.

Zephirin becomes both customer and waiter, gracefully setting the two plates down on opposite ends of the table, knife and fork placed atop a serviette beside each one. A few slices of bread, lightly toasted, sit on a third plate halfway between the other two. Pulling Francel's chair out for him, Zephirin then claims the remaining seat before he pretends to think the boy's question over. ]

That will be all for now. I'm expecting a friend to join me.

[francel glows with golden happiness. it is one thing to be silly, but it is quite another to have someone play along — and aucheforne never played along the way that haurchefant used to, the way that zephirin is playing along now. unable to contain his sheer delight, the boy practically skips to the seat that zephirin indicates for him. he sits down and takes up his knife and fork with all the grace of a little lordling from some other time period.]

And here he is! [he adopts a comically surprised expression, then leans in conspiratorially.] ...You were expecting me, yes?

Edited 2018-01-21 04:12 (UTC)

[ Francel's good cheer is undimmed this morning, confirming that Civerege had no bad news for him — Aucheforne hasn't followed through on his threat. Once, when he still feigned kindness and didn't take his apparent insecurities out on his boyfriend, Aucheforne probably saw this Francel, too, happier and at ease.

Picking up his knife and fork as Francel takes a seat, Zephirin continues to play along, keeping a completely straight face throughout. ]

Ah, Francel. You made it. Shall we begin?

Yes!

[francel responds so brightly that one might suppose zephirin had just presented him with an exceptionally large engagement ring at an appropriately romantic venue. he digs into his decadently delicious omelette, chewing thoughtfully.]

...Civerege said that Aucheforne hadn't stopped by yet. He'll bring over my things in about two hours — well, more like an hour and a half — so we can buy groceries and other things after that.

[ If cuteness could be measured, Francel has reached levels off the charts, impossibly endearing as he brims with excitement of an intensity that surely wasn't brought on solely by the prospect of having breakfast. It's the freedom to feel relief, Zephirin supposes — Francel isn't surrounded by reminders of Aucheforne. ]

That should give us some time to clean up after breakfast. [ Zephirin cuts himself a bite-sized piece of omelette, and tastes his first mouthful, savouring both flavour and texture. ] Hm... Janlenoux truly has competition.

[ At least when it comes to cookies and omelettes. ]

[francel's excitement is buzzing at a slightly lower intensity now that their game of waiter and restaurateur is over, but he remains adorable on a level far beyond even adelphel's. it doesn't help that the compliment prompts him to zephirin with dreamy contentment. he has never before had the pleasure of cooking for someone and hearing it complimented; aucheforne always wolfed down his meals without comment.]

No, no — you flatter me. He is a professional, after all, and I'm only a... a Francel.

[the francel looks around the dining room, as if hoping to see something, but nothing in the kitchen points to anything besides the fact that zephirin keeps a clean and minimalist sense of decor.]

...What do you do for fun, Zephirin? You know, um — like hobbies?

[ After the previous night's encounter with Aucheforne, Francel's choosing to refer to himself specifically as a Francel — never Joacin — seems deliberate. Zephirin lifts his gaze from his plate, but the Francel studying the room around them still looks pleased, now aglow with quieter joy.

One could argue that a Francel's particular approach to cooking his omelettes, impossible to replicate, gives him a unique edge even over a professional. ]

If you'd like, I'll show you later, on our way home. [ Zephirin answers after a moment, lowering his knife and fork. No doubt most people who meet him don't see him as someone with much exposure to having fun. ] And you?

Oooh, a surprise! Now I wonder what it is...

[smiling in a somewhat mischievous manner — his attitude seems like that of a kitten that knows full well it will get into trouble sometime soon — francel pauses to take another bite of egg before he answers.]

I like playing instruments, I guess. My mom used to be a professional violinist in an orchestra, so at home, we have this music room that's just full of all kinds of instruments. Oh, but don't worry! [he hastens to add] — I can just use the school keyboard rooms if I really get the itch to practice.

Other than that, I don't think I do much else... I play games on my phone, and I like to read books, but...

Edited 2018-01-28 01:05 (UTC)

[ For now, Zephirin divulges not a single hint that might steer Francel towards guessing the hobby he plans to show the boy. His own smile is as close to mischievous as it will ever get, which isn't discernibly mischievous at all, capturing satisfaction instead. ]

I'll admit that I know little about playing an instrument, and less about mobile games. [ With ease, Zephirin imagines Francel seated at a piano, but what he knows of video games doesn't translate to any image that fits Francel, who doesn't seem the type to shoot monsters on his phone or shuffle through stacks of cards. ] Books will be easier to come by than instruments, however.

Oh, I just... [francel trails off, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like "poke the screen and collect cute boys," but after a moment he nods and smiles in zephirin's direction again.]

You seem to have a respectable collection, yourself! Then again, I suppose you would, since you're a professor...

I can't promise that the selection will be to your liking, but I can promise you a ride to the library if need be.

[ A boy who grew up in a house with a music room full of instruments is most likely accustomed to a home with the space for a sizable private library, too.

Zephirin's omelette shrinks by another few bites. Then, pausing, he remarks: ]

I assume the boys you collect battle other teams to gain experience points?

[francel, who took up a bit of toast shortly after his last sentence, abruptly chokes on the bread and drops his slice into his plate. his coughing — which is light and not indicative of any life-threatening situation — lasts only moments; after a moment, he hides his face in his hands and answers, voice muffled, around his palms.]

...Yes. Yes, they do...

[wheezing, he reaches for a piece of egg to soothe his nerves.]

The game I like the most is a strategy game? So it's a little like chess...

[ In Zephirin's mind, Francel's game takes the form of a strange cross between training friendly monsters and a dating sim — how accurate his guess is remains to be seen. Whatever the case, Francel evidently finds it embarrassing to discuss. ]

In return for my showing you a hobby of mine, perhaps you could show me one of yours.

[ Once Francel has safely swallowed his mouthful of omelette, Zephirin makes his suggestion over the rim of his teacup, sipping from it now that its contents are cooling. ]

Do... Do you want to watch me play?

[strangely flabbergasted — as if no one has ever expressed interest in his video games before (and indeed no one has) — francel sips at some tea as well, staring reproachfully at zephirin over his teacup.]

I don't mind, but I fear you'll only be bored...

Whether you permit me to watch you play an instrument or your game is your choice. I'm certain that neither would be as boring as you claim.

[ The goal, after all, is to learn a little more about each other.

After breakfast, as announced, Zephirin excuses himself to see to the dishes while they await Civerege's arrival. He suits up with an apron and rubber gloves, armed with a bright green sponge. ]

[though the attire that zephirin wears is by most standards blatantly unappealing, francel seems strangely enamored by it, and spends a few moments unabashedly staring at what he perceives to be adorable, practical clothes for household work.

he knows full well that zephirin will probably refuse, on account of likely having only one pair of gloves, and the kitchen being made for a single occupant — but nevertheless, he asks politely:]

Do you want any help with the dishes?

[ No roommate is exempt from chores, and as Francel clearly enjoyed himself earlier, Zephirin pauses in his preparations, glancing up to meet Francel's intent gaze before considering the dishware they've used. Their plates and utensils sit waiting on the table, the frying pan and mixing bowls beside the sink.

Zephirin hands Francel a fresh dish towel from a drawer. ]

We'll take turns. Could you stack the plates on the counter?

[more delighted than he has any right to be, francel nods and eagerly begins drying the dishes as zephirin has asked. if he were a miqo'te, zephirin would no doubt be able to see his eagerly wiggling tail and ears; alas, as he is an elezen, his happiness manifests itself only as a certain perking of the ears...]

Mm-hmm. Ah... like this? And the spoons go... here?

[ Together, they make short work of this task, leaving a tidier kitchen in their wake. Francel's returning enthusiasm is oddly enjoyable to observe — not even Janlenoux appeared so excited in his domain. ]

Will Civerege be coming to the door or are you meeting him outside? You'll have a spare key.

[ Untying his apron, Zephirin hangs it away on a hook for Francel to don when his turn to wash the dishes comes. ]

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