Work Text:
When Bartosz was fourteen, he started having a crush on Martha.
He always heard his parents saying "I love you" to eachother, so he just assumed he loved Martha, too. When he said it to her, though, she giggled and then she said "You don't even know what love means."
Bartosz was a little upset, after that.
His dad probably noticed, because he had been quiet all day.
"What's wrong, kid?" He asked, while they were having lunch. His mom was at the hotel, and Bartosz was glad: he knew she would have made a great deal about "her son being in love"; Dad was more like him, and Bartosz felt understood when he confided him something.
"Dad, how do I know I'm in love?"
He frowned, taking the question very seriously. "I really don't know how to answer that, Bartosz." He said, and Bartosz was disappointed.
"Well, how did you know you were in love with mom?"
Suddenly, his dad's expression changed. He softened, smiling. "That's strange. It happened while she was doing her homework."
Bartosz qas surprised. "Her homework?"
His dad nodded. "I worked with your grandma at the time. I knew I liked your mom, but that afternoon she stopped by my house because she was mad at your grandma and asked me if she could do homework at my place. I said yes, of course. I made her coffee and tried to cook pancakes, but I failed." He laughed. "Anyway, she was so focused on her homework and when I looked at her trying to do a math problem - Bartosz, I don't know how, but I just knew I loved her."
Bartosz looked at his dad, wanting desperately to feel the same as he described.
"I don't think I am in love with Martha, Dad" Bartosz said, looking sad at his soup. His dad chuckled. "Of course you are not, Bartosz. You don't know what love means. But you will, I promise. And when that'll happen, I'll be here." Bartosz smiled.
"How are my boys?" His mom entered the house, taking off her coat and putting it on the couch with her purse. She walked across the table, stroking Dad's back and leaning on him, kissing him on the lips while he gentle caressed her cheek. Then she kissed Bartosz on the forehead. "You okay?"
"Mom, when did you know you were in love with Dad?"
His mom smirked, and then glanced at his dad. "Let's see. He was cooking pancakes. And he certainly didn't know how to do it. It was a disaster, believe me. We weren't even together at the time. I stopped by to his house because..."
" You had a fight with grandma?" Bartosz was shocked. And his dad seemed shocked too. His mom nodded. "I knew I loved him in that moment. While he was burning pancakes. Romantic, right?" She chuckled.
They kissed again. Bartosz wished that, for him, love could be easy just like that.
"Bartosz?" Silja called him. He looked up at her. She smiled. "Dinner is ready. But I think I might have added too much salt."
Bartosz studied her for a moment - her messy hair, her sweaty face, her shining eyes, her gentle smile - and he knew what love meant.
And it was easy, even if his dad was not there with him.