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ivyetteOKAY GUYS I WROTE A STORY. If you're not an ontd_ai-er, I'd recommend... not reading it.
lol this is the first time I'm ever doing a ~heading~ like this. I AM SO NERVOUS YOU GUYS~
Author: duh.
Rating: PG...13. For the chocolate sauce? lol idek.
Pairing: Molly/Izumi. Oh, and Scatt too (NOT THAT KIND JESUS YOU PERVERTS).
Summary: Valentine's Day fic featuring a sadly mishapen cake and a lot of emo and a hispter scarf and some fierce lesbians. When I put it that way, it seems so much more interesting. Also there's a blind guy.
Warnings: A hipster.
I tend to write at like, 6 AM. Which is not a time conducive for brain functions, I will admit. This is also why a lot of pieces go unfinished for quite some time, as every time I sit down to write I realize I’m too tired to do so. Sometimes I do keep soldiering on, and I end up with crazy. Sometimes I don’t write but I do scribble notes in the margins of my looseleaf- this one ended up with “Abraham song joke” and “Trainer fruit joke”, along with a lopsided drawing of Hello Kitty’s head, lopsided hearts (there’s a pattern to my drawing fail), and the word “love” written roughly sixty-five thousand times. I started this on February 16th- it was meant to be for Valentine’s Day, except a bit late. I ended up finishing it on St. Patrick’s Day. Late, indeed.
For the uninitiated, Molly, Izumi, and Abraham are some of my sims. Izumi is Japanese and has a lot of tattoos and wears her hair in pigtails. Molly has pink hair. Abraham has a hipster scarf and a small bald patch near the back of his head that he tries really, really hard to hide, and he’s a Beatles fan. He has an unseen but super hot (he swears) girlfriend named Anastasia. (She’s also a sim.) They’re included for reasons I don’t think I could even begin to describe without sounding insane.
Molly and Izumi were in Matt’s apartment because they had heard Matt was actually baking something, and wanted to see for themselves how things turned out. They waited around for the timer to go off, watching Matt become increasingly nervous as the minutes ticked by. When five minutes were left, they all crowded into the kitchen. Izumi sat on the cabinet next to the oven, heavily tattooed legs dangling over the edge. Molly leaned against the counter opposite.
Finally the timer went off, and Matt took a deep breath, then opened the oven door. “Oh.” Izumi caught sight of the layers first. “Oh,” she repeated, putting her hand over her mouth. Matt set the pans down on a hotplate, and Molly burst out laughing.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Matt said frantically. “Not enough baking soda?” Molly suggested as she caught her breath. “Or the oven temperature is off,” Izumi said. “I’ve never seen a cake do that before.” The entire middle of both cakes had caved in like a fallen soufflé.
“Now what am I going to do? I don’t have enough cocoa for another try.”
“We’ll fix it,” Izumi said. “Remember the cake decorating class we took-“ “Oh, yeah! The one with the-“ “Right, so we’ll be back in about a half hour. Don’t touch them- just let them cool off.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“You’ll see!” Molly and Izumi raced out the door, leaving Matt alone with his weird little dented cakes. He tried to get his mind off of his spectacular failure, but it didn’t work- first he flipped past PBS, where there was a rerun of Julia Child and that French guy having a Valentine’s Day special. “This chocolate cake recipe is perfect for beginners. I’ve never had anyone who had a problem with it, have you?” “No, everyone I know who tried it had great success.”
On the Food Network Rachael Ray’s inhuman smile was making a semi-homemade something with Sandra Lee that seemed to involve putting cupcakes on top of a pie, or something. He wondered gloomily if that was Molly and Izumi’s plan- to turn his disaster into some kind of crazy thing to distract everyone from the badness.
Then his cell phone rang- Abraham, the hipster down the hall, who had taken Scott out for the day so Matt could surprise him. “We’re going to be late coming home. Huuuuuge accident- I even wrote a poem about it. Scott says he’ll write a melody for it later.”
“That’s- fine,” Matt answered. Anything that postponed the time when he had to disappoint everyone was fine by him. It would buy him some time to make up for the terrible cake.
An hour after they left, Molly and Izumi came bursting through the door. No one in this complex seemed to have any boundaries- they all acted like his apartment as an extension of theirs. He didn’t mind, though; before Scott moved in, he had been pretty lonely.
“Huuuge accident,” said Molly. “Everyone was taking a detour and it’s the same as the road from the grocery store.” Izumi dropped her canvas bag on the counter. “Okay, let’s fix this. Matt, get over here. They didn’t have any cakes left and it’s too late to bake another one if you want it to cool on time, so rinse and cut these.” She handed him a carton of strawberries. He followed her directions, watching as she cut pieces off of the worse layer and dropped them in a bowl. Molly washed blueberries and raspberries. “Okay,” Izumi said. “Turn the burner on low, we have chocolate to melt.” After she had made chocolate sauce, she asked for the strawberries, and mixed them with the other berries. “They’ll probably get all mushy,” she said. “But we have no choice.” She stirred them into the chocolate, then poured it all into the dent of the intact layer. Matt could barely watch. Molly put some pieces on top, then put a plate over it. Then they turned the whole thing over.
“Chocolate fruit cake upside down cake,” Molly said. Izumi arranged the rest of the pieces next to it. “It’s… a heart,” Matt said, looking down at it. It looked like a heart if he squinted, anyway. “Exactly,” said Izumi. She and Molly took ten minutes to ice it, after which it looked marginally better.
“It still looks like a mess,” Matt sighed dramatically. “But… thanks.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” said Molly gently. “But he’s not really going to be able to tell. It’ll still taste okay.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, I can’t even bake a decent cake for my- for him, even though it’s his favorite and it’s not even that hard!”
“He’ll appreciate the effort,” Izumi said, patting a very tense shoulder. Matt wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“Don’t move it until the chocolate cools some more,” she said. “Otherwise it’ll fall apart.” Like that would be such a tragedy, Matt thought. Then he realized he didn’t even know what to do about dinner- if the roads were blocked, that meant takeout was probably not an option.
“Izzy,” Matt began desperately. “Hush,” she said. “Go play piano or something.” Somehow she already knew what he was about to whine about.
Molly and Izumi raided the refrigerators of their apartment, Matt’s, and even Abraham’s, checking Izumi’s Blackberry for recipes that could be made with what was on hand. They ended up with some kind of vegetable and pasta dish, improvised from several recipes and utilizing ingredients that were probably not meant to go together. Izumi put a half a cup of vodka in to disguise it, assuring Matt that Abraham was bringing home more. Matt hoped so; he was now convinced that alcohol was the only thing that would stop the evening from being a complete disaster.
Matt was extremely grateful when Abraham, his scarf, and Scott came through the door carrying a bag from their favorite liquor store.
“Pink champagne for my favorite pink-haired lady,” Abraham said, handing it to Molly. “Or the only one you know,” Molly answered. Abraham ignored her, pushing his scarf over his shoulder.
“Whatever the hell this is-“ Abraham began, pulling out an oddly shaped bottle of something electric blue. Izumi snatched it from his hand before he could finish. “Appletini kit for me, and chocotini kit for Scott,” he said, placing boxes down on the dining room table. The last bottle was Matt’s plain vodka. He had a feeling Izumi had texted him about it. It didn’t cheer him up.
Izumi put candles on the table while Molly served the pasta and Matt found suitable glasses for the goods.
“So what is this?” Abraham asked, after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes. “Pasta… um… Tuscano,” Molly answered, looking at Matt. “It’s good,” Scott said. Matt gave him another helping- anything to postpone the dessert failure.
Inevitably, though, they finished the pasta and Scott asked, barely containing his excitement, whether Matt had succeeded in baking him a cake. “Absolutely,” Molly said immediately. “It’s really… something,” Izumi added. Matt kicked her under the table. She kicked back, harder.
Matt brought it out to the table, wishing he were anywhere but here. Abraham gasped. “Wow, that’s- wow,” he said, shrinking back from Matt’s glare. Neither Molly nor Izumi seemed able to speak, and Scott was, of course, oblivious to all the awkward glances around the table. Matt cut the thing in silence, then waited while Scott tasted it.
“I was expecting a layer cake,” Scott said. “but this is really… different. What made you decide to add the fruit?”
“Artistic genius,” Izumi answered for him. “Something like that,” Matt mumbled. Everyone else ate a piece- Scott took two (“It’s fruit,” he said. My trainer can’t complain-“ and of course the mention of that guy made Matt even sulkier) but he couldn’t bear to taste any himself. He knew he should probably be paying more attention to Scott, but he just couldn’t drag himself out of this hole of failure. It wasn’t just the cake- although that was pretty bad. He just felt like a failure in general, and had been for a couple of days, if not longer.
After the carnage was finally over, everyone crowded the living room to watch old tv shows- TV Land had a marathon of all the most romantic episodes of I Love Lucy for Valentine’s Day. Around midnight, Molly and Izumi got up to go, giving pointed looks to Abraham- “Oh, yeah, I should call Anastasia-“ And then it was just the two of them left. They sat on the sofa in silence- in fact, Matt had barely spoken to him since he came home. It was supposed to be so much better- not just today, but every day. He felt like he’d been letting him down a lot lately, and this was just too much. He tried to at least lay his hand over Scott’s, or something romantic, but his hand wouldn’t go. It was weighed down by the weight of failure, which weighs a lot.
“I was thinking,” Scott said, after awhile. He took a deep breath. “Maybe I should, you know… move back home.”
Matt’s heart dropped to his ankles. He knew it- he was such a failure. “Why?”
“I dunno. I Just… I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“What the hell makes you think you’re in the way here?” Okay, whoa, you’re going to regret that tone later, said a voice in his head. He ignored it. If he was going to ruin his life, he might as well ruin it good.
“I don’t really feel like I fit into your life too well- I mean, you can’t leave your shoes laying around, you have to go with me everywhere- or send one of your friends with me- I just feel like… I don’t know.”
Matt stared at him. He had thought they were beginning to become Scott’s friends, too. Maybe not.
“I asked you to move here because I wanted to do all of that for you. It’s not some super hard sacrifice or something, I wanted to do it! I wanted you here!”
“Well,” Scott said, after a minute. “It doesn’t always feel that way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt snapped. He regretted it instantly.
“I don’t know,” Scott said, for the millionth time. “I’m going to go to bed.”
Matt watched him go, waiting to see if he made it okay. Then he sat back in the chair and sighed. “Way to be a loser,” he told himself. “He’s definitely going to go now.”
If he did go, that would be okay, Matt thought. He deserves someone better. Someone much better. Someone who can bake and do all the millions of other things he can’t.
He waited about a half hour after the light went out, thinking over all the ways he’d been a terrible person to live with since Scott moved in, then went to bed himself. He tried not to make a sound, but somehow Scott knew he was there anyway.
After an excruciating silence, Matt burst out, “I’m sorry I’m such a shitty-“ he tripped over the next word. “Roommate, okay?” he finished.
“Roommate.”
“I…”
“Yeah. I thought… never mind.”
“What?”
“I just thought when you asked me to move in you meant it differently.”
“I- like, how?”
“Like… as more than a roommate?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So… why do you keep calling me that?”
“Because,” he said, and then stopped. “Because I keep thinking, what if you decide a relationship with me isn’t what you want? What if you decide to go home or find someone else, or-“
“When have I ever said I’d do any of that before? I like being with you. I just wish I knew it was mutual.”
“Well of course it is!” God, how shitty was he if Scott didn’t even know? There should be some kind of medal, or something. Maybe a trophy that looked like a crumbling dented cake full of mushy berries.
“So why won’t you call me your boyfriend?”
Silence.
“I’m scared,” Matt finally said, in his tiniest, most defeated voice.
“Of what?”
“I don’t even know.” He was mostly scared that Scott would discover how crappy he was.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
“Try this,” Scott said gently. “Call me your boyfriend out loud.”
“Why?”
“Just try it.”
“You’re my boyfriend.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“The world didn’t end.”
Matt reached for his hand. “I guess not.”
“If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. But I want to be more than roommates who share a bed and do other un-roommate-y things.”
“But I can’t even bake a cake,” Matt said pathetically.
“You didn’t bake that? Then who did?”
“Well- I did bake it. But it came out so crappy that Molly and Izumi had to fix it. And then I had no food for dinner so they had to do that, too. How am I supposed to be your boyfriend if I can’t even do it by myself?”
“I can’t bake a cake either. Or cross the street.”
“But-“
“But the point is, I don’t need you to be perfect. No one can do everything. I just need you to be you. I like you.”
“Are you sure?” No one could possibly like him and his horrible cakes and his shoes lying on the floor. He’d convinced himself of this.
“Yeah. I thought you knew that when I said I’d move in in the first place. And for the record, that cake was great. Maybe we can call the owner to fix the oven or something.”
Matt squeezed his hand again.
“Yeah… okay.”
“So… it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Yep.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
Matt leaned over and kissed him, relieved.
“Got any ideas?”
“I dunno. Is there any chocolate sauce left?”
I think this is where most authors beg for feedback but I will do no such thing because all feedback will probably be "lol suck less and also who the hell are Molzumi?" so... yeah. Also I really want chocolate now.
-5:16 AM
ETA, 11:20 PM 3-19-10: It says upside down CAKE now. It works better that way.
lol this is the first time I'm ever doing a ~heading~ like this. I AM SO NERVOUS YOU GUYS~
Author: duh.
Rating: PG...13. For the chocolate sauce? lol idek.
Pairing: Molly/Izumi. Oh, and Scatt too (NOT THAT KIND JESUS YOU PERVERTS).
Summary: Valentine's Day fic featuring a sadly mishapen cake and a lot of emo and a hispter scarf and some fierce lesbians. When I put it that way, it seems so much more interesting. Also there's a blind guy.
Warnings: A hipster.
I tend to write at like, 6 AM. Which is not a time conducive for brain functions, I will admit. This is also why a lot of pieces go unfinished for quite some time, as every time I sit down to write I realize I’m too tired to do so. Sometimes I do keep soldiering on, and I end up with crazy. Sometimes I don’t write but I do scribble notes in the margins of my looseleaf- this one ended up with “Abraham song joke” and “Trainer fruit joke”, along with a lopsided drawing of Hello Kitty’s head, lopsided hearts (there’s a pattern to my drawing fail), and the word “love” written roughly sixty-five thousand times. I started this on February 16th- it was meant to be for Valentine’s Day, except a bit late. I ended up finishing it on St. Patrick’s Day. Late, indeed.
For the uninitiated, Molly, Izumi, and Abraham are some of my sims. Izumi is Japanese and has a lot of tattoos and wears her hair in pigtails. Molly has pink hair. Abraham has a hipster scarf and a small bald patch near the back of his head that he tries really, really hard to hide, and he’s a Beatles fan. He has an unseen but super hot (he swears) girlfriend named Anastasia. (She’s also a sim.) They’re included for reasons I don’t think I could even begin to describe without sounding insane.
Molly and Izumi were in Matt’s apartment because they had heard Matt was actually baking something, and wanted to see for themselves how things turned out. They waited around for the timer to go off, watching Matt become increasingly nervous as the minutes ticked by. When five minutes were left, they all crowded into the kitchen. Izumi sat on the cabinet next to the oven, heavily tattooed legs dangling over the edge. Molly leaned against the counter opposite.
Finally the timer went off, and Matt took a deep breath, then opened the oven door. “Oh.” Izumi caught sight of the layers first. “Oh,” she repeated, putting her hand over her mouth. Matt set the pans down on a hotplate, and Molly burst out laughing.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Matt said frantically. “Not enough baking soda?” Molly suggested as she caught her breath. “Or the oven temperature is off,” Izumi said. “I’ve never seen a cake do that before.” The entire middle of both cakes had caved in like a fallen soufflé.
“Now what am I going to do? I don’t have enough cocoa for another try.”
“We’ll fix it,” Izumi said. “Remember the cake decorating class we took-“ “Oh, yeah! The one with the-“ “Right, so we’ll be back in about a half hour. Don’t touch them- just let them cool off.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“You’ll see!” Molly and Izumi raced out the door, leaving Matt alone with his weird little dented cakes. He tried to get his mind off of his spectacular failure, but it didn’t work- first he flipped past PBS, where there was a rerun of Julia Child and that French guy having a Valentine’s Day special. “This chocolate cake recipe is perfect for beginners. I’ve never had anyone who had a problem with it, have you?” “No, everyone I know who tried it had great success.”
On the Food Network Rachael Ray’s inhuman smile was making a semi-homemade something with Sandra Lee that seemed to involve putting cupcakes on top of a pie, or something. He wondered gloomily if that was Molly and Izumi’s plan- to turn his disaster into some kind of crazy thing to distract everyone from the badness.
Then his cell phone rang- Abraham, the hipster down the hall, who had taken Scott out for the day so Matt could surprise him. “We’re going to be late coming home. Huuuuuge accident- I even wrote a poem about it. Scott says he’ll write a melody for it later.”
“That’s- fine,” Matt answered. Anything that postponed the time when he had to disappoint everyone was fine by him. It would buy him some time to make up for the terrible cake.
An hour after they left, Molly and Izumi came bursting through the door. No one in this complex seemed to have any boundaries- they all acted like his apartment as an extension of theirs. He didn’t mind, though; before Scott moved in, he had been pretty lonely.
“Huuuge accident,” said Molly. “Everyone was taking a detour and it’s the same as the road from the grocery store.” Izumi dropped her canvas bag on the counter. “Okay, let’s fix this. Matt, get over here. They didn’t have any cakes left and it’s too late to bake another one if you want it to cool on time, so rinse and cut these.” She handed him a carton of strawberries. He followed her directions, watching as she cut pieces off of the worse layer and dropped them in a bowl. Molly washed blueberries and raspberries. “Okay,” Izumi said. “Turn the burner on low, we have chocolate to melt.” After she had made chocolate sauce, she asked for the strawberries, and mixed them with the other berries. “They’ll probably get all mushy,” she said. “But we have no choice.” She stirred them into the chocolate, then poured it all into the dent of the intact layer. Matt could barely watch. Molly put some pieces on top, then put a plate over it. Then they turned the whole thing over.
“Chocolate fruit cake upside down cake,” Molly said. Izumi arranged the rest of the pieces next to it. “It’s… a heart,” Matt said, looking down at it. It looked like a heart if he squinted, anyway. “Exactly,” said Izumi. She and Molly took ten minutes to ice it, after which it looked marginally better.
“It still looks like a mess,” Matt sighed dramatically. “But… thanks.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” said Molly gently. “But he’s not really going to be able to tell. It’ll still taste okay.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, I can’t even bake a decent cake for my- for him, even though it’s his favorite and it’s not even that hard!”
“He’ll appreciate the effort,” Izumi said, patting a very tense shoulder. Matt wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“Don’t move it until the chocolate cools some more,” she said. “Otherwise it’ll fall apart.” Like that would be such a tragedy, Matt thought. Then he realized he didn’t even know what to do about dinner- if the roads were blocked, that meant takeout was probably not an option.
“Izzy,” Matt began desperately. “Hush,” she said. “Go play piano or something.” Somehow she already knew what he was about to whine about.
Molly and Izumi raided the refrigerators of their apartment, Matt’s, and even Abraham’s, checking Izumi’s Blackberry for recipes that could be made with what was on hand. They ended up with some kind of vegetable and pasta dish, improvised from several recipes and utilizing ingredients that were probably not meant to go together. Izumi put a half a cup of vodka in to disguise it, assuring Matt that Abraham was bringing home more. Matt hoped so; he was now convinced that alcohol was the only thing that would stop the evening from being a complete disaster.
Matt was extremely grateful when Abraham, his scarf, and Scott came through the door carrying a bag from their favorite liquor store.
“Pink champagne for my favorite pink-haired lady,” Abraham said, handing it to Molly. “Or the only one you know,” Molly answered. Abraham ignored her, pushing his scarf over his shoulder.
“Whatever the hell this is-“ Abraham began, pulling out an oddly shaped bottle of something electric blue. Izumi snatched it from his hand before he could finish. “Appletini kit for me, and chocotini kit for Scott,” he said, placing boxes down on the dining room table. The last bottle was Matt’s plain vodka. He had a feeling Izumi had texted him about it. It didn’t cheer him up.
Izumi put candles on the table while Molly served the pasta and Matt found suitable glasses for the goods.
“So what is this?” Abraham asked, after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes. “Pasta… um… Tuscano,” Molly answered, looking at Matt. “It’s good,” Scott said. Matt gave him another helping- anything to postpone the dessert failure.
Inevitably, though, they finished the pasta and Scott asked, barely containing his excitement, whether Matt had succeeded in baking him a cake. “Absolutely,” Molly said immediately. “It’s really… something,” Izumi added. Matt kicked her under the table. She kicked back, harder.
Matt brought it out to the table, wishing he were anywhere but here. Abraham gasped. “Wow, that’s- wow,” he said, shrinking back from Matt’s glare. Neither Molly nor Izumi seemed able to speak, and Scott was, of course, oblivious to all the awkward glances around the table. Matt cut the thing in silence, then waited while Scott tasted it.
“I was expecting a layer cake,” Scott said. “but this is really… different. What made you decide to add the fruit?”
“Artistic genius,” Izumi answered for him. “Something like that,” Matt mumbled. Everyone else ate a piece- Scott took two (“It’s fruit,” he said. My trainer can’t complain-“ and of course the mention of that guy made Matt even sulkier) but he couldn’t bear to taste any himself. He knew he should probably be paying more attention to Scott, but he just couldn’t drag himself out of this hole of failure. It wasn’t just the cake- although that was pretty bad. He just felt like a failure in general, and had been for a couple of days, if not longer.
After the carnage was finally over, everyone crowded the living room to watch old tv shows- TV Land had a marathon of all the most romantic episodes of I Love Lucy for Valentine’s Day. Around midnight, Molly and Izumi got up to go, giving pointed looks to Abraham- “Oh, yeah, I should call Anastasia-“ And then it was just the two of them left. They sat on the sofa in silence- in fact, Matt had barely spoken to him since he came home. It was supposed to be so much better- not just today, but every day. He felt like he’d been letting him down a lot lately, and this was just too much. He tried to at least lay his hand over Scott’s, or something romantic, but his hand wouldn’t go. It was weighed down by the weight of failure, which weighs a lot.
“I was thinking,” Scott said, after awhile. He took a deep breath. “Maybe I should, you know… move back home.”
Matt’s heart dropped to his ankles. He knew it- he was such a failure. “Why?”
“I dunno. I Just… I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“What the hell makes you think you’re in the way here?” Okay, whoa, you’re going to regret that tone later, said a voice in his head. He ignored it. If he was going to ruin his life, he might as well ruin it good.
“I don’t really feel like I fit into your life too well- I mean, you can’t leave your shoes laying around, you have to go with me everywhere- or send one of your friends with me- I just feel like… I don’t know.”
Matt stared at him. He had thought they were beginning to become Scott’s friends, too. Maybe not.
“I asked you to move here because I wanted to do all of that for you. It’s not some super hard sacrifice or something, I wanted to do it! I wanted you here!”
“Well,” Scott said, after a minute. “It doesn’t always feel that way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt snapped. He regretted it instantly.
“I don’t know,” Scott said, for the millionth time. “I’m going to go to bed.”
Matt watched him go, waiting to see if he made it okay. Then he sat back in the chair and sighed. “Way to be a loser,” he told himself. “He’s definitely going to go now.”
If he did go, that would be okay, Matt thought. He deserves someone better. Someone much better. Someone who can bake and do all the millions of other things he can’t.
He waited about a half hour after the light went out, thinking over all the ways he’d been a terrible person to live with since Scott moved in, then went to bed himself. He tried not to make a sound, but somehow Scott knew he was there anyway.
After an excruciating silence, Matt burst out, “I’m sorry I’m such a shitty-“ he tripped over the next word. “Roommate, okay?” he finished.
“Roommate.”
“I…”
“Yeah. I thought… never mind.”
“What?”
“I just thought when you asked me to move in you meant it differently.”
“I- like, how?”
“Like… as more than a roommate?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So… why do you keep calling me that?”
“Because,” he said, and then stopped. “Because I keep thinking, what if you decide a relationship with me isn’t what you want? What if you decide to go home or find someone else, or-“
“When have I ever said I’d do any of that before? I like being with you. I just wish I knew it was mutual.”
“Well of course it is!” God, how shitty was he if Scott didn’t even know? There should be some kind of medal, or something. Maybe a trophy that looked like a crumbling dented cake full of mushy berries.
“So why won’t you call me your boyfriend?”
Silence.
“I’m scared,” Matt finally said, in his tiniest, most defeated voice.
“Of what?”
“I don’t even know.” He was mostly scared that Scott would discover how crappy he was.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
“Try this,” Scott said gently. “Call me your boyfriend out loud.”
“Why?”
“Just try it.”
“You’re my boyfriend.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“The world didn’t end.”
Matt reached for his hand. “I guess not.”
“If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. But I want to be more than roommates who share a bed and do other un-roommate-y things.”
“But I can’t even bake a cake,” Matt said pathetically.
“You didn’t bake that? Then who did?”
“Well- I did bake it. But it came out so crappy that Molly and Izumi had to fix it. And then I had no food for dinner so they had to do that, too. How am I supposed to be your boyfriend if I can’t even do it by myself?”
“I can’t bake a cake either. Or cross the street.”
“But-“
“But the point is, I don’t need you to be perfect. No one can do everything. I just need you to be you. I like you.”
“Are you sure?” No one could possibly like him and his horrible cakes and his shoes lying on the floor. He’d convinced himself of this.
“Yeah. I thought you knew that when I said I’d move in in the first place. And for the record, that cake was great. Maybe we can call the owner to fix the oven or something.”
Matt squeezed his hand again.
“Yeah… okay.”
“So… it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Yep.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
Matt leaned over and kissed him, relieved.
“Got any ideas?”
“I dunno. Is there any chocolate sauce left?”
I think this is where most authors beg for feedback but I will do no such thing because all feedback will probably be "lol suck less and also who the hell are Molzumi?" so... yeah. Also I really want chocolate now.
-5:16 AM
ETA, 11:20 PM 3-19-10: It says upside down CAKE now. It works better that way.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-19 10:22 am (UTC)F;F;FD;'DFF;DFD;
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FG
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F
DF
FD
FD
T
TT
T
T
TT
T
TTTTTTTTTTTTTT
T
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T
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T
no subject
Date: 2010-03-19 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-19 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-19 10:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 07:00 pm (UTC)GAERJ
GARGR
AARLJJGFG
R
AGJRLJG
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH <3
no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-27 04:07 am (UTC)