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“espresso? no chance, you’d burn it!”
axel and micke have been in the kitchen debating on what to have for lunch for what feels like the past six hours (though — it’s only been ten minutes.) the absolute solution is to just have whatever they each want and go about their days without all of the trouble, but they insist on having the same exact thing, at the same time, to save time that’s usually spent doing the dishes — time that could be spent doing something far more important.
like catching up on work watching tv.
“it’s not just espresso, you cut it with a cup of milk and it’s fine.” micke crosses his arms, his left hip leaning against the counter of the tiny apartment’s kitchen. “if it’s burnt, guess what? you can’t taste it.” he argues with a shrug, remaining almost stone-faced.
“besides, when did you become a professional?”
“dude, everyone can taste when coffee is burnt! that’s like saying if you put butter on burnt limpa, you won’t be able to tell!” axel refutes. “tea is better, there’s no messing it up.” he says, turning his head to look at a box of black tea kept on a small shelf right beside the exit of the kitchen. micke is a total tea snob — there’s absolutely no way. “you already know how i feel about bagged teas, axel!” micke complains. again, the best solution is right in front of their face, they refuse to awknowledge it. “you cut the tea with milk and you can’t even tell its bagged.” axel replies, just as stone-faced as his friend as he looks up at him. “you can’t use my own arguments against me.” micke says with a sigh, tilting his head to the side and looking away. he knows how ridiculous it is to argue over lunch, over drinks, and especially so, given the actual food part has been figured out.
“axel…” micke grumbles, rubbing his eyes with his pointer and his index. “this is dumb, let’s just drink the coffee.”
“no way.”
these two never agree on anything, despite being the best of friends, and despite living together. it seems the only thing they’ve agreed upon in months is to always eat the same thing. but it doesn’t even matter — benjamin, the third man sharing this place, never, ever eats the same thing as either of them. he always says it’s because he has a sensitive stomach… something that clearly isn’t true.
“why don’t we just break the whole saving time rule for today?” micke suggests, he’s hungry, he doesn’t have the energy to argue over this. “fuck no! you never do the dishes!” axel says, and he’s right. micke hasn’t really pulled his weight around here in a while — he’s gotten too comfortable. “not true, i did the dishes yesterday!” he lies with a huff. “you’ve got no proof that i didn’t!” and axel can’t even argue back, the dishes were done, and it certainly wasn’t him who did them.
and in perfect timing, ben is finally awake — he’s got the power to sleep until one pm every single day, despite always being in bed by seven pm, and fully knocked out by seven-thirty. he looks disheveled as he walks in, that same pitiful expression that he always has plastered on his face, it looks like he’s got the flu. “‘morning…” he croaks out, but it comes out more like a “mor…” through his accent. he stumbles over, reaching upward into the cabinet above axel’s head, pulling out a glass and filling it with water from the sink. he takes a huge gulp, and the life begins to return to his face. there’s no filter on it. the blond man and the man with curly hair just turn and stare at him.
“wha’?” ben shrugs, wiping his face with his forearm. “what’s got you two so… twisted?” he asks, taking in their irate expressions.
“tell axel that you can’t taste if espresso is burnt if there’s milk in it.” micke says, nearly demanding.
“nope, you should tell micke that bagged tea isn’t different from loose tea! they’re both tea!” axel cuts in, and ben just stares at them both.
“the hell is wrong with you guys?” ben replies with a grumble, his eyes are low and droopy, it looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. “of course you can taste burnt espresso—“ he continues, but he sighs first. it’s too early for any of this! “what… are you arguing over, again?” he shakes his head, finally realizing that he has absolutely no context for whatever is causing so much tension.
“we don’t know what to drink with lunch, micke isn’t compromising with me, here!”
“so… what are your options?”
“a latté or black tea.” micke replies, and he still looks too sure of himself.
ben is aware of their (very stupid) agreement — the agreement that ben doesn’t even adhere to himself.
“water.” ben replies, dropping his cup into the sink behind him with a dull clank.
“water is the common ingredient in what both of you want.”
and everything falls very silent, and now ben is the one who is stone-faced. what a stupid answer. axel thinks he probably thought he sounded very profound when he said that.
“you shouldn’t drink caffeine after waking up, bad for your heart, you need water.” he continues. “see? first thing i drink? water. makes your skin look nice… makes you feel better.” he does have nice skin, that’s something neither of them could deny… but he never looks like he feels good. he always looks like he’s caught the flu.
“we’ve been awake since seven…”
ben looks up at the clock on the microwave. it’s blurry. “what time is it?” he asks, squinting. “it’s one pm…” axel replies. “you sure you don’t need glasses?”
ben groans, he’s always being bothered about his eye health, he doesn’t see why it matters. sure, one eye is almost always off in another direction, and sure, he can’t see that far… but who cares? “yeah, yeah, i’m sure.” he pauses.
“but… why didn’t you wake me up? what happened to looking out for one another?” ben continues, nearly complaining.
“how about you get a damn alarm?” micke responds, leaning forward with hands in his pockets, his back stretching. “we’re 21, we should take responsibility for ourselves.” it’s this moment where ben realizes he’s the only one still in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. now he feels singled out.
“…anyways.” ben huffs, scratching the back of his head. “stop arguing, get some water, call it a day.” and he grabs another cup, fills it with more water, grabs a small apple out of the fridge, and leaves with a dull “hejdå.”