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When he opens his door, your boyfriend looks like he just woke up. His light, white-blond hair stands up in a few places, confirming that he had come home immediately after work, unlike you, who had gone out with friends.
You didn’t stay out late, however, since you two have had plans to make dinner together for a week now.
Excited, you raise the shopping bags with your half of the ingredients, “Are you ready?”
He smiles faintly, “Uh-huh. Come in, partner.”
Walking into the house, you’re surprised when he tenses up at your side. Looking up at him, you manage to witness the faintest of changes to his expression before it disappears instantaneously. Then his face goes unreadable.
“Xavier?”
“Hm?” he hums, then, “Let’s go.”
He steps past you, toward the kitchen and you follow him, disappointed and confused. Did you say something wrong? You don’t know how that would be possible, as you’ve said maybe 10 words, tops. Besides, you could have sworn he’d looked happy to see you when he first opened the door…
In the kitchen, you make an effort to tease him.
Handing him the knife, you urge him toward the veggies, “You’re on chopping duty because that’s safer for all of us.”
You’re doubly disappointed when he gives you a forced smile, “Alright.”
No pouting. No teasing. He doesn’t even attempt to approach the pots and pans once they’re on the stove.
While the food cooks, he sits at the table looking down at his phone with such intensity that you are certain he’s avoiding you. And when you test your theory, he confirms your fears when he stands abruptly.
“I’m going to buy some soda.”
“Oh?” you blink, “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No… You need to keep an eye on the food.”
It’s true, but your heart sinks anyway. And he’s out the door before you even realize.
When he returns, you’ve been stewing much longer than the food has. As soon as the door closes behind him, you trap him in place.
“Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m… not,” he says, averting his eyes to a point just over your shoulder. He tries to take a step forward, but you step closer, his back flat against the door.
“I can leave, if you want... It’s just… we’ve had this dinner planned for a while and I was excited to spend time with you. But—”
“Are you breaking up with me over this meal?”
The question is sudden. His voice is quiet, but steady.
“I—What?”
He continues to focus on that point over your shoulder when he mutters, “Why else would you show up wearing another man’s hoodie?”
You continue staring up at him like he just sprouted antennas. Slowly, the tips of his ears turn pink.
“This is your hoodie, Xavier.”
Your voice comes out flat and he blinks, “But… the cologne…”
Your eyes widen and he deflates for a second, right before you cover your mouth with your hand to bite back your laughter, only to fail as you try to explain through your giggles.
“Remember when we went to the mall together last week? And that really pushy saleswoman kept trying to get you to try their newest cologne?”
As you speak, his ears turn redder and redder.
“By the time I managed to grab your hand to pull you away, she had already sprayed you. Twice.”
You continue and he lowers his head, resigned and ashamed of himself.
“And you got overwhelmed by the smell, so you left the hoodie at my place for it to air out.”
He slumps forward, his forehead against your shoulder, cheek warm against your own, “I might be… an idiot.”
Still giggling, you plant a kiss on the top of his silly head.