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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Time is too slow. In both cases.
I was sprawled out on the couch, my head dangling over the edge as I watched the hands on the clock slowly tick by. I don't remember when I got into this position nor do I remember why, but I do know what I'm waiting for.
Kronii.
I was desparately waiting for Kronii to come home. I was already so bored and my heart raced at the thought of her returning home. Then I had an idea. I don't know why she's gone, since I can't remember, but I know how she'll come home. Probably excited to see me. After all, why wouldn't she be? Maybe I should surprise her.
I should do that.
With a huff, I tried to get up from the couch. Instead of flipping and falling on my feet like I wanted to, I planted flat on my face. With a groan and rub to my head, I got up and darted to the kitchen. Kronii recently taught me how to cook a single thing, I was intent on impressing her. The one thing I could certainly do for her. And it was... It was...
Oh no.
I can't remember. What did Kronii teach me? What was it she showed me? Umm... It was... It was, umm... That's it! Roasted eggs and chicken(?)!
(It was eggs, bacon, and toast.)
Knowing now what to make, I know exactly what to do! Grab a pan, set it on the stove. Heat on, oiled up. Get out a bowl and a fork, ready to whisk. A cutting board out, a knife at the ready. This is it. This was the moment!
Umm... how did it go again?
Eggs. Need eggs first. With eggs, little bit of milk, salt, pepper- I forgot to crack the eggs. Crack the eggs, put them in, NO SHELL, mix. Whisk whisk, like whiskers. Cats are nice. Eggs have been whisked. Dump into the pan, cleanly. Bowl goes to the sink, don't need it anymore, remember to wash it later.
Chicken.
Steal, no, take chicken from fridge, slap it on the counter. How do I make chicken again? Wait, chicken is precooked. Who cooked it? I don't remember cooking it. Kronii cooked it? No, wait, it's precooked from the store. That's useful.
Heat it up.
Put the chicken in the microwave, turn it on, wait for it to get warm. Should I cut it up first? Maybe the whole thing is fine. Can Kronii eat a whole chicken? I should probably cut it up first. Stop the microwave, grab my knife, start cutting. Shave off little pieces to put into food.
POP.
Uh oh. The egg popped. I mean, that's fine, right? Can't be that overdone. Okay, it's pretty overdone. I can fix that, it's easy. I can do it. No way I couldn't. It's just a single egg. Why couldn't I?
How do I fix it?
Oh, I know! I'll just take some of the chicken and put it in the egg! Okay, chicken shavings in the egg. It looks weird. Am I sure I didn't do owl regurgitation into the pan? I'm sure. I think. No, wait, there's no bones or black fluff, it's fine. It's just chicken in eggs.
I'm done.
Just like that, the eggs were finished. I cut them in half and put them on two plates. One for me, one for her. I'd never forget her. That's impossible. That's why her plate was made first, because I almost forgot myself. That's okay, though.
Ding.
My phone went off. What is it? Oh nyo. She's only a few minutes away. I have to hurry. What coffee did she like again? French vanilla or vanilla swirl? Mocha frappe. With extra caramel or none at all? Two doses of cinnamon sugar with a light chocolate drizzle. Whipped cream? Cute. Iced or hot? Hot, because it's Kronii. Good. By the time she's home, it'll be done.
I like my coffee black. It tastes like sin.
With breakfast finished, I set the table. It's a much bigger table than we need for just the two of us, but that's okay. Would Kronii like sitting across from me more or next to me? I don't care, she can sit next to me so I can bother her. Now, how can I make it look romantic.
Candles. And feathers.
Quickly, candles! Nice smells. It should smell like me. So probably nature scented. But those are Fauna's candles. She won't mind. I'll just pretend I forgot. I just need to not use them completely. That's safe. And for decoration, I should put some feathers down. Nicely, neatly, prettily. I'm sure Kronii would like it.
Ding. Dong.
She's here.
This is it. This was the moment. This was my moment. My perfect chance to impress her and make her happy. It's the perfect chance to see her perfect smile. I love her smile.
She's perfect.
I don't require a lot of things in my life. I don't need a lot of money or a big house or even a lot of friends. I really only have one good friend. My house is big, but that's just because it's location is convenient. There's not much in it. But that's fine.
I don't do a lot of things in my life. I hardly go outside, and if I do, it's usually by necessity. That or I can't be bothered to cook. Even inside, if I'm not working, I just laze around. Read a book. Tire out after five minutes of exercise. Get lost in a video game until long past midnight. I'm not hard to please.
I don't feel strongly about many things, as I don't think a lot really matters. That's not me being a doomer or pessimistic, I simply mean that I don't really require much to function well. Why care about politics or the weather if it doesn't change much about my life in the first place? I'll always pay my taxes.
I feel this way because that's life. If you do it enough times, it stops bothering you.
But, there is one thing that doesn't follow this code of mine. Two, actually. One of those things are friends. Well, a friend, really. Or, maybe I can count Bae and Amelia, too. Fauna's been my best friend since we were kids and nothing can change that. Even if we have been arguing more often recently. It's my fault, I don't blame her. Maybe a little, I don't like being the only one at fault.
The other thing, though, is a bit more specific. Not a group of people, but a single person. One person who, for all of my existence, I have yearned for, even if I didn't realize it at some points.
Her.
The love of my life. The one and only. Her mocha brown hair. Her amber brown eyes. Her slim yet defined figure. Her voice. Her laugh. Her owlish tendencies. The way she looks at me and how her voice curls every time she says the words, "I love you."
My heart flies.
I never knew my life was made for a single person, but I was so lucky when I found out. That's why, every time I stand in front of this door, I smile. I know she'll be behind it somewhere, waiting for me to come home. She'll be waiting for me. No matter what she was doing, she always knows when I'm just a few minutes away, so she'll go right to watching and waiting for me.
She's adorable.
When I open the door, she'll be tilting her head before pouncing on me and showering me with love. She'll be hiding around a corner like a troubled puppy, scared that I'll get upset at her for something she did. She'll be engrossed in the television, watching a documentary about the hippopotamus' violent tendencies.
I love her.
With a smile on my face, I'll open the door. Of course, she's waiting there, expectantly. Not right behind the door, but around the corner. Her face lights up when she sees me and she ducks into the kitchen. I smirk.
"Kronii! Come here!"
She's adorable.
"I'm coming, let me take off my shoes."
She giggles.
"Okay!"
With my shoes off, entering the kitchen is easy as I don't have to worry about dirtying my- no, our pristine floors. I can walk freely in our own house.
Of course, it's my surprise when I see the table is set.
"I made us dinner! Just like how you taught me!" The way her smile lit up the room like the morning sun always softened my heart after a day of hardening. The happiness and pride she radiated as she presented the meal to me made the entire day worth it. All the struggles and hardships meant nothing if I could come home to this.
Truly, life is beautiful.
"Dinner, huh? Then let's try it." I don't mind whatever she makes. Everything she cooks always tastes the best. Not because she's a good chef, but because she cooks it with love. A love so passionate it never lets go of me.
So, of course, I sit down.
She's sitting next to me. She planned this arrangement. I could tell. It was cute. I let her bother me. I may have acted like it bothered me, but I never minded it. I couldn't ever get mad at her.
Eggs with chicken in it, huh?
The choice of food was odd, but I knew it was her memory. I had taught her how to make eggs, bacon, and toast, but she could never remember it exactly. Even so, that didn't stop me from taking a bite so natural, it was as if I ate it every day.
Little overcooked on the eggs. The chicken is from the fridge.
Of course, I didn't mind it. It was delicious, as far as I knew. The best and most finest dinner my tastebuds had ever been blessed with. And she cooked for me last night.
The coffee is good. A little too much sugar, but otherwise perfect.
She somehow had my coffee down to near perfection, which always amazed me. For her, making my coffee was imbued into her muscle memory, and every time she made it, the closer to perfection it got. Even I couldn't make it this well.
"So... how is it?" She looked up at me, eyes full of pleading and expectation. Swallowing, I looked down at her.
"It's perfect. I love it." She giggled like an adorable gremlin. It was cute.
"I love you."
I'm an idiot in love. I love you, Kronii.