Chapter Text
hey kiddo u seen this. He ignored the frustration of his baby sister calling him kiddo, he was older by five minutes that should count for something, his fingers hovering over the link. It was an Architectural Digest video but that wasn’t what caused him pause. No, he was stopped by the name of his first love clearly displayed in the title. Lup knew Kravitz was something of a sore spot for him, why would she send him something with his face right in the thumbnail.
lulu, what the fuck
taako trust me
And that was the thing he did, she was the only person he could wholeheartedly say that for. (Could say that for now, the tattoo on his forearm reminded him.) The video took a second to load the little buffering symbol giving his heart time to prepare to see Kravitz for the first time since, well, in a while.
....
Kravitz was uncomfortable with having cameras in his home so he plastered on his best smile, tried to lose some of the tension he knew was pulling at his shoulders. All he wanted to do was fix a drink and sleep for ten hours, after a long night in the studio. He’d forgotten that at seven sharp a man in sensible blue jeans was going to appear on his doorstep.
He led him through the rooms of his brownstone with his best smile and the customer service voice he’d learned from waiting tables in college. His living room was his favourite all white walls and flourishing plants. The camera man seemed almost surprised by how light the space was and Kravitz paused to explain that if it had been dark then he and his paintings would blend right in, there was fun to be had in that contrast. His favourite painting lay up on his mantle, a tiny piece he’d done before college of Taako and Lup. All that was contained on the scrap of board was their backs, the edges of the frame filled with the blonde hair that for so long was the image he had of them in his mind.
The next stop was his bedroom, which felt oddly intimate. He didn’t like having someone in his space. Having them in his painting studio was worse, as he rushed to place sheets over half finished canvas’ muttering something about spoilers under his breath, hoping it would be taken as some fun Doctor Who reference rather than a sign of his aggressive perfectionism. The studio lacked the airiness of the rest of the house, it was cramped and messy. He was a little embarrassed that anyone was going to see it.
The last stop was his kitchen, back to the polished image he was trying to put out into the world his pans hung in neat rows on the wall and he was glad to see he’d remembered to do his dishes the night before. Unfortunately he’d forgotten to put away his damn cookbook and Taako’s face smiled up from his countertop. He wondered if he could throw it out the window before the cameraman noticed. And then it was too late and the inevitable Taako based question was asked.
He couldn’t stop the words that fell from his mouth even if he’d tried. “Yeah, I love his work. His album is one of the best of all time and even I can follow his recipes.” He managed to catch his tongue after that, hoping the camera wouldn’t catch his furious blush. Fuck. The rest of the interview was mercifully quick and he slumped against the door as it shut behind him.
He wondered which of their friends would show Taako first, and then they could all laugh at poor hopeless Kravitz still hung up on the boy who broke his heart when they were basically kids. He wondered if he could email his agent and say that he wanted that cut out but that was probably weird. Something like that would lead to more embarrassing questions that he didn’t have it in him to answer. Fuck. He fixed himself that drink and went to go sulk in his studio, promising himself that whatever he painted next wouldn’t look like Taako.
....
Taako caught a glimpse of his first book the second before the words fell from Kravitz mouth and he wasn’t sure he could have heard him right. Best album of all time. That wasn’t something someone in the public eye would say lightly, either it was some weird publicity move or worse he meant it. He squinted at his phone, sure he could see the faint dusting of blush Kravitz got when he was flustered. Even after six years he knew the man’s face like his own, could recognise that look he got when he wasn’t quite saying what he intended to.
He found himself rewinding the clip over and over, trying to make sense of it. His eyes flicked to Krav’s tightly buttoned sleeve and wondered if under it there was still a shitty stick and poke stabbed into his forearm. He figured that Kravitz would never listen to the damn album, let alone like it. Because if he had listened to it then surely he knew how Taako really felt, and then why would he have never reached back out.
Asshole.
How could he leave like that and then years later just mention the damn album like it was nothing. How could he even say Taako’s name after all the time and the distance? His confusion was swiftly replaced with anger, that fucker got to play it off and act like they were strangers when Taako couldn’t even look at him without feeling like an exposed nerve.
He shot off a new message to Lup without thinking, mostly angry faced emojis and ignored when she replied with i thought it was sweet.
His phone buzzed a few more times throughout the afternoon and he ignored them. He wasn’t being petty; he was just busy, he decided as he threw some flour in a bowl. Pastry was a delicate process, it would take a lot of his attention. And if he missed a few texts in pursuit of a perfect Danish then that was entirely unrelated. Pastry first, then sharp cherry jam, the kind he learnt to make as a kid, but with enough black pepper to deepen the flavour. The adult version of his and Lup’s childhood favourite.
By the time the pastry was in the oven his phone was buzzing more insistently and his heart dropped when he picked it up. That many messages could not be a good sign, especially when half of them were from his damn agent. He scrolled to the top of the thread to find a link with a whole bunch of punctuation. He clicked it and slowly a picture of him and his ex-partner Sazed loaded into the top of the screen. He scrolled to the headline and not for the first time that day his heart dropped.
TV Chef Sazed Makes Claim Taako (From TV) Stole his Recipes in Exclusive Interview.
He didn’t read the interview, just went back through Merle’s messages. Merle knew it was bull but really there wasn’t much he could do when Sazed had a bunch of papers that looked like the original iterations of more than a few of his more famous recipes. What stung was Sazed was claiming they were his family recipes, and they weren’t. That was Taako’s family stolen and laid bare for the whole world to see. Him, Lup, and Kravitz in his aunt's kitchen learning to make thirty clove chicken, taking turns standing on the stool to peer into the ceramic as the stock boiled. And Sazed was taking it from him, all because Taako wouldn’t let him co host at Glamour Springs.
He followed by scrolling through his texts, the highlight of which was Magnus threatening to pummel the guy. If he thought it would have made the situation any better he would have let Magnus do it as well. But really he didn’t want that on the big man's conscience. And he didn’t want to become the disgraced chef who then put a hit on the guy who disgraced him. He wondered what Kravitz thought of the whole situation, the other man brought unbidden to the front of his mind in the strangeness of the day. Surely he must be laughing at Taako from the sterile comfort of his house in Brooklyn.
A banging on his door startled him from the thoughts of Kravitz’s laugh. As he rushed to open it he caught the smell of burning pastry. Of fucking course, it was just going to be one more thing he couldn’t fix today. The door swung open to reveal Lup burdened by shopping bags and she walked straight through without invitation, the smell of plaster and smoke carried in on her hair.
The bags were dropped on the counter and he could hear the sound of her talking as she pulled the tray out of the oven, some last ditch attempt to save the pastries. But through his door he could see his street and the collection of paparazzi already gathering, cameras pointed at his door. His anxiety rose like bile, and he slammed the door. Sure in the conviction someone would have caught him, makeupless and in sweatpants the day his career ended.
Behind him Lup was still making chaos in his kitchen but he couldn’t bear to turn around and see her there. Because if he turned around she’d want to talk about it and to talk about it he’d have to admit it was all happening. He ran to his bathroom, the contents of his stomach dispelled into the toilet. And then she was there beside him, hands in his hair to keep it clean. And he was weeping and he was tired and he hated it all.
He knew if he checked his phone there would be texts from Magnus and Merle checking on him. Maybe one from Barry, depending on what Lup had said. And he knew still open would be a video of Kravitz complementing the damn album, where every song was about him. But he was lonely and soon he would be alone, everyone would think he was a fraud and all he could do was cry into his sister's shoulder.