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It would be arrogant to accept recognition for centuries of artistry. I hope only to distill the brilliance of our ancestors into an easy-to-digest package.
Niki was surprised by the hot tears that immediately came to his eyes. But he accepted them because they obscured the remainder of the foreword. He scribbled a practiced signature on the bottom of the page, right below his father’s, then quickly closed the cookbook and shoved it aside before it could be ruined by liquefied anger.
He buried his face in his hands and clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears from falling onto the bar table. The thought of leaving evidence of this pitiful episode filled him with an irrational fear. The resentment was surely temporary. Within a few minutes he’d feel an immense embarrassment.
He hadn’t opened one of Dad’s cookbooks in over three years. He never needed to – most of the recipes were committed to memory from their time on the show. Despite the early positive ratings, he’d never felt particularly confident, so Niki had even studied reruns to solidify rote motions. He wasn’t quite the savant that others anticipated; anyone would be this proficient given the same set of utensils.
In typical cookbook fashion, most recipes displayed the featured dish on the following page. But in order to better market the book to families, Dad had sprinkled in short anecdotes about the experiences he shared with Niki in the kitchen. And he could easily imagine a few entertaining tales. There was that time he’d opened a flour bag too zealously and had covered the kitchen in white dust. A bitter smile came to his face. He’d never read any of those stories. Just seeing his beaming figure in Dad’s arms on the cover was mockery enough.
The book contained some recipes that had never aired, of course. There were a couple dozen or so initial prints of Shiina and You that had been stored away in his parents’ otherwise empty wardrobe. These signed copies were meant to be distributed weeks earlier than the official release date at an exclusive event at the local bookstore. But Mom and Dad had left before that time came…
When had he started feeling bitter about his parents’ travels? He was so certain that they’d made the best decision for themselves back then. But recently, was he coming to realize that that wasn’t necessarily the best decision for Niki?
The thought was selfish, and it scared him. Vivid imagery of methodical kneading – a clip from their cooking show – pierced through those thoughts, protecting him from a devastating thought spiral. He almost rose from his chair instinctively, drawn to the mixer and stove, but he fought against the compulsion. Instead, he reached beyond the emergency energy bars on the table to grab a handful of individually wrapped chocolates. These were devoured in a few short minutes. Niki felt some of his lightheadedness recede, but the guilt of his choice quickly took its place.
Food controlled his life. He needed to eat it to survive – physically and emotionally. But food always brought with it memories of Dad. And so he was constantly reminded of Dad’s blunder…but also that he’d always fall short of his legacy. But why care, when cooking was little beyond memorization and execution? So even if he performed well, it would be arrogant to accept recognition for centuries of artistry.
He knew the thoughts were irrational, but they demanded his attention. Niki could do little more than let them play out in his head. He relented.
Maybe it was for a few moments, or maybe longer, but just when he felt like his heart could take no more, someone finally heard his silent cries. The only person who could.
“Niki~” Rinne’s tired voice wafted from Niki’s room. “It’s so cold without you. What are you doiinnnggggg~?”
“Couldn’t sleep so I’m prepping some food for tomorrow,” he lied. His voice was hoarse, so he knew that there was no hiding his feelings. But he didn’t want to hide his feelings. He wanted to be rescued.
“Whatcha making?”
“I dunno,” Niki croaked. “I just started…chopping onions.”
Rinne didn’t respond. There was some shuffling in the bedroom before he emerged in boxers, sleepy-eyed. His eyes drifted from Niki's parents’ room, slightly ajar, to the book that lay in front of him. He probably couldn’t tell what it was from that distance, but would be able to figure it out contextually. Niki hardly entered his parents’ room. He’d only left the light on in there and the door slightly open to bathe the kitchen in a dim light that wouldn't disturb Rinne.
“This for your superfan?”
“Yeah…Hinata talked me into it.”
Niki felt a little ridiculous that a favor for Tetora had affected him so deeply. Rinne seemed to think the same, and he chuckled unusually tamely.
“C’mon, time for bed. You know I can’t sleep without ya~”
Niki obeyed wordlessly. He walked up to Rinne and buried his face into his partner’s chest. Rinne patted his head gently while holding him tightly with the other arm.
“What if we slept in a bigger bed tonight? It’s been feeling more cramped these days,” Rinne suggested.
Niki did like sharing his twin bed with Rinne. It was warm and small and safe…but every now and then they’d wake with mysterious back and neck aches from sleeping poorly. It really wasn’t meant to serve two full-grown men.
When Niki didn’t respond, Rinne continued. “They’re not coming back. This place is yours.”
“I know, but…”
There was no ‘but’. Still, Niki found himself desperately searching for some excuse. He wanted to blame himself for something, but no such thoughts came. He panicked.
“Ahhh, Rinne, what would I do without you!?”
Rinne drew away from Niki, forcing him to look into his eyes. In them, Niki found kindness and patience and it scared him.
“I wouldn't have a home without you,” Rinne said simply.
Because you left yours! Niki kept the retort to himself, but the fact that it had come to him so easily was calming. The normalcy of their banter was always a source of comfort.
Had Niki started resenting his parents…because Rinne had become his family? Rinne had always been there for him. It was so simple and obvious, exactly why Niki hadn’t paid that fact any mind. Rinne was always there. He was always…there.
It would be easy to bicker with Rinne now, to pretend that none of this had happened. After all, he’d left no tears on the bar table. Rinne wouldn’t press him if Niki closed his parents’ room and left it untouched for another few months. But that wasn’t productive, and, well, maybe it would be nice to have a bigger bed…
“You know what, Rinne? I wouldn’t have a home without you either.”