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Language:
English
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Published:
2020-12-19
Completed:
2020-12-19
Words:
953
Chapters:
3/3
Comments:
12
Kudos:
111
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7
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874

friendship (cooked three ways)

Summary:

Something bitter, something sweet, and something...spicy? A collection of drabbles for twoset violin.

Chapter 1: Friendship (and only friendship) - A recipe by Brett Yang

Chapter Text

Ingredients

 

One violin - Well seasoned and consistent. The only reason you’re still together, otherwise, would he still want you around?

 

Hoodie, oversized - Large enough to bury your hands in when you get the urge to hold his. Warm enough to silence the need for the heat of his skin (even if you’re desperate for it, even when it’s right there in front of you).

 

One deadpan face - Hardened. He must never know the way your mind is drowning in the thought of him.

 

One Youtube channel - A well known brand. If he doesn’t want you together, at least others do. At least he’ll stay for the money. At least he’ll stay for the work.

 

Liquor, hard - Any will do. He doesn’t know that you keep a stash in your pantry, that you take a shot when your mind is tired of keeping thoughts of him at bay, and you let the alcohol do the numbing.

 

A dash of hope - Not too much. Just enough to keep you wrapped around his finger. Just enough to keep you wanting more, more, more . Not enough to really taste it, to really believe there’s anything there.

 

Stir together slowly and evenly. Keep in control, be careful not to overmix. Cook over lukewarm heat, be careful that it’s not hot enough to hurt. Prepare separate containers. Ignore the ache in your chest as you cover the mixture and leave it to set. Don’t give him a taste from your plate even if he asks for it, he doesn’t want it the same way you do. He never will. Do not modify this recipe, it may not be worth the risk.

Chapter 2: Friendship (and something more) - A recipe by Eddy Chen

Chapter Text

Ingredients

 

One violin - Warm and rich. He holds the other one, sweet and bright. Works best when used together.

 

Flannel, large - Leave it out for him to find. When he puts it on, tease him about it but don’t let him change, your clothes look better on him anyway.

 

One youtube channel - Filled with his laughter. Let the camera catch you staring, smiling—if nothing else, it will let everyone know that you belong to him completely.

 

Bubble tea, his favorite kind - Watch carefully as his face lights up when you hand it over. Refrain from buying one every day just to see it (fail, because how could you say no when he asks? Lower the sugar content instead. He’ll complain but the smile will be just as sweet.)

 

Two house keys, exact copies - Presented on a quiet evening after the world had gone silent. Tell him you want to live together. Tell him it will be easier for work, but slide your hands closer to his in the hopes that he understands how much more it could be. Tell him you’ll take care of him, the best way you know how.

 

A dash of hope - Watch him from the corner of your eye. He smiles at you too when he thinks you’re not looking. Listen to his music, the way he plays for you. Let yourself melt into the softness of your name on his lips. You’re not going crazy, he loves you too.

 

Heat over a medium fire until it bubbles like his laughter. Let cool before mixing until whipped, it should be light and airy. Let him add an extra touch—a bit of spice, a little more sugar—and let him lick the spoon. Taste it off of his lips. Pair with a warm drink, and when that drink loses its heat, warm him in your arms. Spend the night memorizing the way he tastes, and realize it’s so much sweeter. Forget to clean the bowl, he’ll do it for you in the morning.

Chapter 3: “Friendship” (and how to deal with the noise) - A recipe by the Long-suffering Next Door Neighbor

Chapter Text

Ingredients

 

One smile, polite - Put it on when they tell you they’re just friends. Ignore the way they touch hands when they think you aren’t looking. Look pleased when they say they’re violinists, and brush off their apologies for the noise.

 

Food, home cooked - Offer it to the taller of the two, who looks as though he’d been running on caffeine and adrenaline. Offer enough to share. Don’t comment on how they only ever seem to have food delivered, and how their grocery has, for some reason, consisted of cabbage? Mention that the other might like it, that always seems to put him in a good mood.

 

Earbuds, pair - Don’t wear them during the day. Listen to the music they make together, it’s sweeter than any recording you’ve ever heard (it’s free too, how could anyone complain?) Put them on at night when the intakes of breath begin to sound less and less like violin cues. Use them when they begin to play their rhythms on your shared apartment wall.

 

One knowing look - Tastefully employed as you watch a new bed frame being brought into their home. Watch their faces grow red as they nod towards you and stutter excuses. Feel some semblance of satisfaction. You’re happy for them.

 

Nicotine patches, enough - You can’t really smoke out of your balcony anymore, not since they moved in. Not when they have a tendency to press skin against skin against railing. When they realized this, it’s not just their faces that grew red.

 

One holiday, anywhere but here - You probably deserve it. They’ll slip you a ticket with an embarrassed look on their faces one day. They’ve been your neighbor for one year, and this was the closest to any sort of confirmation you are going to get. You accept it gratefully and give them your congratulations. They turn away, but the shorter of the two whispers thanks.

 

Place all ingredients in a pot, on high heat, and leave to simmer. Don’t check on it, it’ll figure itself out on its own.