Work Text:
Bread When I’m Hungry
Those were words that, in the dead heat of summer, have Orpheus waking from a dead sleep. Somehow, despite the blazing temperatures, he wakes in a cold sweat. Fear likely responsible for the chill he felt in his heart at the memory. It was a nightmare, quite literally, that he would never recover from. Eurydice, clinging to his hand, begging him to just listen please, we need food. A nightmare, a memory, that every night now, he experienced again in his head. Eurydice, his wife, his love, starving in front of his eyes.
Even when he woke, breathing hard and heart trying to beat itself out of his chest, he cannot shake the feeling. He always looks to his right, where his wife is there in the flesh, alive. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with her breathing comforts him, bringing him out of his fear. Yes. She was alive, she was here, and she was safe.
And yet, despite the very physical evidence of her beside him that they were safe… it all ate at Orpheus. The memories, the nightmares. The look on her face when he had come for her, the hope in her eyes when she told him she needed so little-- bread, fire-- so long as they were together. He owed her- he owed her the most basic of comforts.
He had promised to see her needs, to meet them. He would be damned before he failed to provide for her again.
It is that next morning, right after the peak of summer, when he kisses his wife’s sleeping face, whispers a promise of “I’ll be back soon,” and slips out towards the door. The fact doesn’t escape him (he’s gotten better at remembering important things) that his wife had mentioned she was going to be helping Persephone and her mother with gardening all day and likely would not be home until that evening. Perfect.
He is the first person at the market that morning, with a cotton tote over his shoulder. He makes a beeline way directly to the corner stand that is filled with freshly baked goods, leavening agents, and a plethora of flour products. It’s earlier than he’d wake normally, but he can remember hearing about baking early in the day, and bakers waking before anyone else. Yes, this is what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He practically runs up to the stand, absolutely beaming at the town baker, despite the early hour.
“Good morning!” Orpheus greets, pulling a notebook from his pocket, as well as a pencil. “I have some questions for you.”
The baker, an older man, who had been baking in the town before Orpheus had even been born, looks up over his shelves of goods, a curious expression on his face. “Why, good morning Orpheus! What are you doing here so early, and where’s that girl of yours? Unlike you to be alone!”
A warm blush comes to Orpheus’ face, as he fiddles his pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s actually what i’m here about. I want to learn to bake. Bread, actually. I promised her she’d have a home with warm bread. I need to make sure I keep that promise.” He gestures to the flours and sugars around him. “And, to be quite honest, I don’t even know how to start.”
The baker is a kind man, and he chuckles under his breath. It was just very..Orpheus..to take on a project and a promise with no idea of how to go about completing it. He wipes his hands on his apron and holds out both hands, gesturing for Orpheus to hand him the note pad and paper. “You’re the only man I know like you.” He remarks, scribbling down instructions on the notepad. “You’re going to start simple, alright? No starter, no add ins. Just a basic, white bread.”
Orpheus nods excitedly, clasping his hands infront of him. “Yes, yes, thank you! I appreciate it, and Eurydice will too.” It was fact, in the town. That Eurydice was nearly as beloved as Orpheus, maybe even more so, for the way she brought him the joy that she did. He is glancing around at the ingredients around him, trying not to show the level of overwhelmed he felt. “I can- what do I need to do that?”
“I’ll set you up right, don’t worry about it. And when you’re done here you’re gonna stop down there for your butter. It’ll be nice and fresh. Melts real well on the warm bread. And stop and grab some fresh eggs too. You can make a real nice toast for your girl in the mornin;.” The Man hands Orpheus the list back, and then begins to hand him the proper products he needs from the document. “If you really want to impress her, You make a few loaves, then it pushes you through the week. Shows forethought.”
Orpheus gives the man a genuine thanks and exchanges payment, before he carries on stopping at the rest of his target vendors. He grabs the additional ingredients, careful to follow the instructions exactly. He has to make sure Eurydice enjoys it, he has to make her see that he listened to her needs.
Orpheus enjoys the walk home, noting to himself how melodic the birds sound. He finds himself humming in response, a beautiful distraction to exactly how exhausted he is. The combination of the lack of sleep from the nightmares and the early start to the day are surely to catch up to him. But for now, in this moment, he is simply too excited to surprise his wife.
Orpheus arrives home, tossing his shoes to the side as he soon as he passes the threshold of their apartment. They’ve lived above the bar since their return, Orpheus himself having lived their longer. They’ve talked about looking for more of a home, with a yard for their own garden, space out of the town where they could be alone. There was no rush, though. They were together, they were each other’s home. The four walls around them wasn’t what mattered most, anymore.
Eurydice is gone, he can tell that much in their studio space. Besides the obvious of the lack of her physical presence, he notices the lack of her boots, the absence of her laugh, the missing smell of warm spices and earth. It used to be that her absence, even temporary, would set a panic in his chest. She’s gone, she’s never coming back. She left again. Doubt plays on repeat in his head, time and time again until he finally broke down to Eurydice one day. He verbalizes his fear, and doubts, and through more than a bit of tears from them both they made it through. He can rationalize now, that when she went out to work with Persephone, she’d return at the end of the night.
Now the pang he felt was just that he always did, when she was gone. Just a feeling of a man who loved his wife and missed her presence.
Orpheus sits his groceries in their kitchen, setting them out before him. He grabs his work apron, the only one he had, slipping It over his head and then tying it behind his back. He re-reads the instructions diligently (one, two, then three) times before he begins preparing his work station and beginning his first loaf.
~
Maybe it was the summer heat beaming down on her all day, or maybe it was the practically sun up to sundown shift she worked today, but Eurydice was exhausted. Not that she was ungrateful, no not that at all. She thanked Persephone, and often her mother, profusely for allowing her to come help work around the farm and assist the goddesses. Yes, Eurydice was exceptionally grateful for all the opportunities Persephone helped to provide her with.
Eurydice’s thankfulness did not negate that sometimes, at the end of a long day in the field, she was bone tired.
“Love.. I’m home..” She pushes the door open, and after settling her keys on the table right inside their door, she has no chance to drop her bag or shoes before she is met by her husband directly inside.
He stands there, directly on the other side of the door, a goofy, proud smile on his face. He is still wearing his work apron from earlier, though rather than the usual drink stains, he is covered in a light flour dusting. Most importantly, now, is that Orpheus holds his arms out fully extended to her, with a steaming golden loaf of bread in his hands. “Look! ‘Rydice I did it!’
Eurydice looks out in-front of her, eyes going incredibly wide when the situation processes through her head. Bread. That is fresh bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread created by her husband. Orpheus made this for her. Her husband did this for her. “You.. did that? Orpheus?” She’s in disbelief as she drops her bag carelessly and reaches out her hands to wrap around his. Her dark eyes flicker between his hands and meeting his face. Once she truly realizes what’s happened, the brightest smile spreads from her mouth to her eyes, and a little laugh of disbelief coming out. “you made us this?”
He nods so quickly that his head barely can move, gently transferring the loaf to her hands. “I wanted you to know I remember. I remember the promises I made you. I promised you would always have bread when you are hungry- and I am going to keep my promises, this time.“ Orpheus leans in and wraps his now free (but still warm) hands around her cheeks, holding his entire world in them. “I will always make sure you have enough to eat, Eurydice. I promise.” He leans in, now, to give her a kiss on the center of her forehead. His lips linger for a few moments, before he pulls back. He rests his forehead on hers for a few minutes, hands still cupping her cheeks.
Orpheus is struck with recollection, then, as he pulls back from his wife. “oh! And follow me! I have some fresh butter for you. I have a few more loaves to finish, but you can eat that one while the others bake. They told me, at the market today, to make a couple so we can have them all week!” He gestures for her to follow him towards the kitchen area where, on their dining table, flour is spread out after a few smaller piles of raw dough.
He goes back to kneading, as Eurydice follows him into their home. If he notices her tears forming, he does not mention it. Eurydice breaths deeply as she stares at the loaf in her hands, thumbs brushing over the golden crust. It is heavy and warm, fresh but ready to be eaten, in the palms of her hands. She would love to blame the feeling in her chest as a mix of exhaustion and love but Eurydice knows that, really, it’s the feeling of love and adoration alone that Orpheus is so capable of making her feel. No, exhaustion is not why her heart felt so heavy now.
And here he was, providing for them. Not that she had doubted his dedication, no, and she wasn’t expecting him to support her entirely either. They were a team. They worked together to meet the needs of them both. Yet this loaf of bread in her hands made by the man kneading another small portion at the table, was a far cry from the boy who didn’t hear her pleas for food and firewood not that many seasons ago.
Eurydice wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, directing her attention instead to her husband and his work.
She couldn’t help but stare at him, now. The way his hair had just a bit of sweat on the ends, a result of the hard work he had put into the heat of the kitchen all day. Then there was the way he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. The way his arms from his shoulders, the muscles of his upper arm, to the tendons in his lower arms twisted and contorted with his effort into the dough. His stature now, also, was quite a development in comparison to the thin, frail boy who came to hell and back for her. She supposed a healthy harvest and work did wonders for the body. Most of all, she was not ignoring his skilled fingers folding and flexing in the bread dough, as he incorporated extra flour. Kneading, she realized, was just another thing to add to the list of the things Orpheus’s nimble fingers were so good for.
Eurydice snaps herself out of her reverie, breaking the bread in half with her hands. The crackling of the crust has him looking up at her, and he gives her one of the most brilliant grins she had ever seen. “Is it good?”
Without even tasting it, Eurydice just nods. “Wonderful.”