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In quick chops- loud, and efficient, they echo against the kitchen walls (small but enough space to move around), over and over again. You don’t see it. Not quite. But it has reached a point where you have grown to feel it instead.
His gaze. A strong hint of warmth that made the insides in your body cozy up- a bit eager to receive whatever affection he would give this time. But past that? You still saw it (even if you’ll confess it out loud)- a hole. Deep. Dark. Empty- and nasty.
A hole that you can tell he is confident you can fill in.
But the question was never whether ‘can you’; it has always been along the lines of- will you?
-
“Mornin’. Thought it was my turn to make breakfast today?”
Silas gently chuckled as he approached- those green hues having been on you for a while now clearly. The moment you notice of course? He always made his first move, never wanting to give you the thought that he was actually WATCHING you.
While you gave a chuckle in response, he was already behind you, lazily wrapping his freckled arms around your frame until he was satisfied with the ‘chest-to-back’ closeness, and rested his chin on his shoulder- idly taking a moment to inhale your scent.
“I mean- technically it WAS your turn. But you know what? You get to take it easy today. Besides- it’s a surprise! Meaning, mister, you- should be feeding the animals while I wrap this up.”
You state, and despite the fact that he could clearly take a peek at what exactly you were making- he doesn’t bother.
Seeing you very domestic- willingly cooking up something for him in that apron he specifically bought for you a while ago? Yeah- he was certain of it. No one else but you- could fill in that gap.
That hole. Deep. Dark. Empty. And nasty. But with you? All there was; but light.
“Fine, fine. Don’t get cranky on me so early on.” He says dismissively, but was already turning like a complete sucker to do as told. If it ever came from your mouth, your hands, or your eyes- anything- he’d accept it. Always.
-
-
“I’ve only been out for two hours and yet- the house smells divine, honey. What exactly are you making for me~?” His voice echoed through the halls the moment he reentered the home, closing the door behind him. He wipes away at the sweat in his forehead, and moves quickly to the bathroom to tidy himself up- washing his hands, then splashing water onto his face, before wiping away at any remaining grime. Because farm chores were certainly no joke at all! But it was why he loved doing them; that way, he could be out there bearing the struggles.
And you? Lovingly preparing a dish- pouring every inch of your heart into it. The mere thought alone was enough to get him motivated; enough to push him into doing anything- no matter what. You, you, you. That was it- his one and only priority.
“Just in time! I won’t lie- it took a bit longer because I had to make it look absolutely cute. But.. ta-da! Here it is, darling! All for you, and made by yours truly!”
You sing-song, gently placing the dish in the middle of the table the moment he comes back out from the bathroom, and moves to sit down at the dining table.
It only took a mere glance at the dish however for him to pale.
For his heart to thump.
And for his head to read a single question over, and over,- “Why?”
-
“A-A pie, huh? No wonder it smelled so sweet, honey. Although.. Is that cherry I see? Raspberry perhaps?” His hands lightly shaked despite the smile he held towards you as he picked himself a plate and fork, while you idly cut the first slice for him.
You shake your head in response. Scooping it up with the knife- you show the inner red beauty of strawberries within; sweet, delicious, and- absolutely deadly for Silas, your beloved. But you should have known that already, considering you loved him, no?
At least that's what he kept expecting. Hoping. That just like he knew everything about you; that you would too. Because that was love. He was certain of it. You were his light the whole time.
But was he yours?
He.. dwells on that.
-
“You okay, Silas? Thought you’d be happier getting some sweet breakfast for once, and of course- made by yours truly!” You muse with content, setting the slice down in his plate. And then? You take a seat right across him- your gaze on him.
Too focused on the devil slice before him- he fails to see your eyes on him.
But he can equally feel it. And he grabs the fork, trembling. Wondering. Thinking.
And then- finally speaking. In a small mumbled, that didn’t even sound like it came from him.
“..I can’t eat this.”
“Why?”
“..I am allergic. I will die.”
“So?”
Silas gets the courage to look up, and to meet your gaze. But you were broken into shards now- pieces of puzzles of the person he wanted to see. Of who he wanted to see. Of what he wanted to see. But those pieces? They didn’t fit.
“...Ah.. so that’s how it is, isn’t it? You stray away again- even when everything is perfect."
You almost laughed. Distorted. Out of reach- like talking behind a broken radio.
“..Perfect for who, Silas? You- or me? Hint- the answer cannot be both.”
-
He couldn’t control it. With a tilt of his head, he allows his brown waves to obscure his sight as he faces the strawberry pie- the first tear rolling down.
You would never be this cruel. At least he knew that. But yet why?
Why were you pushing the plate towards him? Why- did you make sure he dug his fork in, securing a piece of that strawberry, still warm from the oven?
“You said you loved me, didn’t you? And I made this pie with my heart. Yet you refuse to eat it correctly. You refuse to acknowledge it properly. You refuse to even TOUCH it gently! You refuse to even love it back in a way you don’t ruin it!”
Your voice echoes around like you were suddenly in a chamber.
And his lips lightly part- hands continuing to tremble as he slowly turns the fork in his direction.
“....I don’t know how to love you right. I try. And I’ll keep trying- but please- don’t-”
“Silas. Please. Just-.. Eat it. And let go.”
-
It was always like this. Nightmare after nightmare. He acknowledged it by then. But even so..? Even if the tears kept spilling- he smiles faintly. Despite the sniffling- he looked at you gently with those soft green orbs, afraid and yet- an expression that read it; how he’d do anything for you.
“....I will keep on trying, darling. So please- just- help me.”
With a nod, you push the fork into his lips; and he takes the first bite.
You make sure he finished it all with an audible gulp.
Every bite.
-
It was always like this. Nightmare after nightmare.
He stared out the window, into the blue sky in a room filled with white. They hadn’t needed to restrain him in a few weeks. And he was proud and eager to tell you that.
One step at a time.
And maybe someday? You’d actually pick up the calls.
Someday- he’d get to tell you everything.
How instead of lashing out, having fits, and violent tendencies- he takes that anger? That love for you? And turns it into sadness. And it turns into nightmares. Again and again. Cruel. Painful.
But if it meant that just maybe-
You’d make him a pie someday (maybe lemon or even peach this time); he’d bear it.
No matter how long it’d take.
He’d do anything to feel your gaze on him again.
At least just once more.
Enough to treat you correctly, deal with his behaviors properly, avoid his violence and instead touch you gently- and overall.. Love you in a way- neither will be left in ruins.
-
And that nasty hole within him? You do not fix it.
He closes it. Little by little.