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A resounding knock startles Elliot awake, followed by another and another. And as much as Elliot would like to pull the blanks over his head and go back to his restless slumber, the knocking is persistent.
The sound shakes through the thin walls of his janky apartment, and even though Elliot prides himself in the things he can tune out, this is just not one of them.
Fitfully, he pushes himself up and makes the short walk to the door. Not bothering with the peephole, instead he pulls the door open a crack, peeking through to unsurprisingly be greeted with an awkward smile by none other than Darlene.
“Hey.” She says with her first still floating in the air from when she was pounding on his door just moments ago. There's a plastic shopping bag in her other hand he notices.
“What're you doing here?” Elliot almost grumbles, he actually has to put in great effort to keep the annoyance from his voice. He's not too sure he's successful.
Darlene simply pushes past him into the apartment, dropping her bag on the counter and making quick work to rummage through it. “Great to see you too.” She scoffs.
He tries, he really does, but his next words just sound a little too agitated and his face looks just a little too much like a scowl, “It's two in the morning, why are you here?”
If Darlene notices his negativity —impossible not too, who is he kidding— she doesn't mention it, doesn't seem offended. She's beyond used to a sour, sleep-deprived Elliot. Twenty-four years she's had to deal with it.
“I brought pancake mix, chocolate flavor.” She turns around and smiles at him, shaking the box in her hand for emphasis.
Elliot sighs, plopping himself down on the couch, “It's too late for breakfast..”
“Actually, wise guy,” Darlene drops the box back on the counter and moves to sit next to Elliot, shoving him with her shoulder. “It's ‘too early’ for breakfast.” She makes quotes with her fingers.
And damn is she right. It's too fucking early for this. Elliot doesn't sleep often, that's something that's been clear to anybody since he was a kid. Now the reason for why is something he would rather not think about.
The point is, he's tired, and even his bedframe-less mattress sounds more pleasant than this.
“You're right, it's too early-”
“Maybe it's too early, but we both know you haven't eaten since we had lunch at one.” Darlene protests, she has that pleading look in her eyes that makes Elliot feel both guilty and fed up in the worst ways possible. “So please? Can we just make fucking pancakes.”
Elliot is silent far longer than he knows is comfortable. But really, how is he meant to respond to that?
If he refuses and kicks her out, he'll just feel like the biggest jackass. And whether or not he already is doesn't matter, because he just knows she'll sigh in that way that tugs at his chest.
He doesn't like upsetting her, really he doesn't. But he also doesn't really want to eat shitty pancakes, doesn't really wanna eat at all.
The fear of disappointment ultimately wins in the end, he doesn't know if he can survive that worried look on her face a second longer. “Okay.”
And maybe the way her face lights up is enough to curb the unease in his stomach.
“Fucking finally,” Darlene stands up with a little jump, pulling Elliot by the arm with her. For a second he lets himself bask in her happiness, for a second he lets himself feel it a little too.
“Do you even know how hard it was to find a store open this late?” Darlene rambles as she grabs things from around his small kitchen.
A bowl, a fork, a small pan. Elliot's surprised he even has all that considering his lack of cooking, and frankly, his lack of eating. So finding out he even owns as much as a pan is honestly quite baffling.
Truth be told, Elliot has eaten more take out his whole life than home cooked meals, and even then, it's not much.
He doesn't purposely starve himself, he's not that self destructive, it's really just a lack of appetite, and his tendency to forget basic human needs.
Oh, and he's just absolutely terrible at cooking.
As Darlene pulls out spray on butter from the bag and pops open the box of pancake mix, she continues to fill in the silence with words his brain can't seem to render.
Elliot is a chronic thinker, that much is easy to guess. It's not always intentional, his mind just loves to run off in random directions, his head lost in his thoughts.
Tuning back into the conversation isn't hard, he's just tired, and socializing was never really his strong suit.
Darlene knows this, she knows him more than anyone, so really, her words are just to fill the silence for herself more than for Elliot.
He blinks, and when he opens his eyes Darlene is standing in front of him waving her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Elliot.”
“H-huh?” He mutters.
Darlene scoffs, filling a bowl with a cup of pancake mix and half of water. “I said warm up the stove, dumbass.” She says as she stirs the batter.
Elliot turns the burner on, set to medium because he doesn’t know which temperature she wants and he doesn’t really feel like asking.
“You don’t mind if I play music, do you?” Darlene says as she pulls out her phone, straight to spotify Elliot’s reckons.
He doesn’t really care, but he also doesn't really want to listen to music either. “Whatever.” He shrugs, watching her type away on her phone.
The song “only love can hurt like this” starts playing through the small speaker, not loud, not quiet, somewhere trapped in the middle.
They seemingly work in perfect sync as they cook their 2am breakfast, except Darlene does most of the work, albeit pissed as Elliot just watches.
She sings along to the rhythm of the music, and Elliot finds himself singing too, smiling, and for the first time in a really long time he actually enjoys the moment.
When the pancakes are done the room is wafted with the scent of shitty food and burning oil. It’s unpleasant, gross and very strong.
And yet, Elliot isn’t really that upset, he thinks as he cuts at his pancake drowned in syrup. “These look like shit.” He pokes at it, a frown on his face.
“Well duh, smart ass.” Darlene laughs, shoveling a mouthful of pancake down her throat. “They’re from a convenience store.”
She talks as she chews, Elliot grimaces. “Don’t talk with your mouthful, that’s so gross.” He says before he finally takes a bite.
The taste isn’t terrible, but it’s not exactly good either. The chocolate flavor leaves a weird aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t care as he takes another bite.
“You’re so gross.” Darlene shoves him across the table, rolling her eyes.
Elliot smiles again, for what feels like the millionth time. It’s nice— to just live in the moment.
He’d never say this directly to her face, but he really hopes she drops by for late night breakfast again sometime.