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You never had an interest in cooking before.
But
They asked you one day if you wanted to help out with cooking
You agreed.
You always agree to everything with them.
You wonder if they understood.
But you also feared that they understood.
You don't remember what you cooked.
All you focused on was their hands.
They guided you through the steps.
You listened but could not hear.
You just experienced.
It was great
It was messy
It was happiness.
There is one thing you remembered
The apron they gave you.
They joked that you definitely needed it
You laughed
But your breath caught in your throat when they handed it to you
Your fingers touched.
You would remember that moment forever
Even if they didn't.
You cooked together over those years as friends.
You always used the same apron.
They forced you to.
You were fine with that.
You loved that apron
You still love it
It's all you have left.
You will cry into in the future.
But not because of them.
Because of your father.
You wanted to become a chef with them.
You found it so much fun
Especially with them.
How could you even be separated?
The apprenticeship came in the fall
The breeze chilled you to the bone
But
The prospect of not getting the apprenticeship made you shiver more.
You got in.
They hugged you so tightly you swore a rib broke.
You thought you would confess your love right there and then.
But you were too afraid.
You didn't realize it.
But that was your only opportunity.
You regret it still.
Later they gave you a gift.
It was to be opened on your first day.
You were so happy.
Your happiness wouldn't last for long.
Your father disapproved.
It would not help your future.
You went aloud to go.
You had to major in some science.
You couldn't bring yourself to tell them.
You opened the gift that night, after all there was no point of waiting anymore.
It was the apron
Days since the kitchen was on fire:
The 30 had been crossed out, replaced with a zero.
You cried into that apron.
You never told them.
You just said it feel through at the last second.
You said that it was fine.
You told them that you lost the gift.
In reality, you didn't want to let go of it.
They were fine with the loss
They said it didn't matter anyway.
You were both lying.