Work Text:
Bruce has never enjoyed cooking. It’s too tedious, and he rarely eats anything more complicated than the bare essentials. But, living on a scholarship doesn’t negate the fact he has to feed himself now.
It was a subconscious choice to avoid it. Sometimes, Mom teased him for it— that he didn’t know how to boil pasta or how to fry an egg—, but that was it. Bruce never really gave it much thought before.
He recognizes it halfway to the cutting board.
His hand shakes when he holds the chef's knife.
At first, Bruce tries to brush it off. It’s irrational. Then, trying to cut the carrots becomes a great challenge. In the next moment, a deep cut on his finger blossoms with blood. The pain is white-hot but one-dimensional; he’ll live. He inhales harshly, steadily.
(Bruce throws the knife in a drawer and never touches it again.)