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Darius is carefully measuring a half tablespoon of vanilla extract when he hears the crunch of a vehicle pulling up in his gravel driveway.
He hadn’t been expecting visitors, especially not this late. It’s a hot summer night, the skies muggy and a strange shade of reddish-grey. Glancing out the window, he spots a very familiar motorcycle. His hand jerks, spilling vanilla all over his midriff. "Oh, crap!" He squeaks, quickly reaching for a towel.
Drying his hands off, he tosses the towel aside and frantically checks out his reflection in the microwave. A very frazzled Darius stares back, his stained t-shirt sticking to his torso. He's no where near presentable for his incoming guest.
Gaze darting all over the small kitchenette for a cover-up, he settles for the apron that's stuffed beside the fridge, a gag gift from Kenji from last Christmas. A green dinosaur cartoon hugs the centre, surrounded by text that reads, Fartasaurus: The most deadly of them all!
Just as he's tied the apron securely around his back, the doorbell rings. He silently counts to three, then opens the door. “B!” He exclaims, shooting finger guns at her.
“Darius!” Brooklynn laughs. She’s dressed in a plain tank top, her purple-blue hair tied back in the world’s shortest ponytail. It's been a while since he's seen her. “Hey.”
“Hey!” Darius awkwardly props open the door further, gesturing her in. “What—what, uh, brings you here?”
“Was in the area,” Brooklynn says, stepping inside. She smirks at his choice of outerwear. “Nice apron. Anyways, what’s up with you?”
“I was making brownies.” Darius scratches the back of his neck nervously, nodding towards the mess coating his countertop. Various baking utensils were scattered between two mixing bowls, coated in sticky puffs of flour and sugar. “Well, trying to make brownies.”
“Well, you’re in luck, fartasaurus.” She teases. “I just happen to be a self-proclaimed expert in baking. I had a long running YouTube series called—“
”Brooklynn Bakes!” Darius finishes, reaching past her to spin around his laptop that was sitting on the only clean portion of the counter. It was open to episode twenty, titled: Best Brownies Ever?! “I was actually watching it for advice before you came, believe it or not.”
“That’s kinda, like, adorable.” She gives him a playful nudge, before turning her attention to the two bowls atop the counter, dramatically declaring, “Fear not, brownies! Brooklynn is here to save you!”
Darius huffs. “I’m not that terrible at baking.”
“Whatever you say,” she says, going to wash her hands in the sink.
Darius settles back into his spot behind the countertop, drumming his fingers against the painted wood. Beneath the sound of running water breathes the quiet nightlife of his cabin: the humming fridge, the rattle of the ceiling fan, and the faint chatter still coming from the Brooklynn Bakes video. He holds up the now empty bottle of vanilla extract to the light, studying it as if it would magically replenish itself if he stared long enough, and sighs.
“Ran out?” Brooklynn asks, joining him at the counter.
"Nah." He moves the apron to the side to show her the damage. "Spilled it on myself."
"Dude." She stares at him with wide eyes, then starts to laugh. He hasn’t heard it in a while. It's a rich sound, filling the small room with a sort of warmth, like a fireplace on a snowy night. Something blossoms in his chest, tickling the back of his throat.
“I—uh, might’ve put too much cocoa powder in the dry ingredients,” he blurts, quickly diverting his attention back to the brownie situation.
“You can never have too much! Unless you poured like, I dunno, three boxes worth.”
"I don't think it was that much…"
Brooklynn goes to check both of the mixing bowls, asking Darius various questions about how much of what he’s put in there. Satisfied with his answers, she gives him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “Not bad. What is bad, however, is your tidiness."
“Cut me some slack.” Darius grins. “I’m good at cleaning up, I swear.”
“Sure.” She replies, unconvinced.
Picking up a rubber spatula, she begins to combine the dry and wet ingredients as he watches. Her fingers move with effortless precision, like she's done it a million times before. The Brooklynn Bakes video continues on in the background: And don't forget to bake with love! I get it. Sounds totally cheesy! But, it really does make everything taste better.
"Hey," Darius says, interrupting the silence. "if these brownies don’t turn out a total disaster, maybe we can bake some for Kenji's birthday coming up."
Brooklynn's brows furrow at the mention of Kenji. She tightens her grip on the spatula, mixing a little bit harder. Darius wonders if he's hit a sore spot.
"I… I don't think I'll be showing my face at Kenji's anytime soon." She glances over at him, a funny smile on her face. "We broke up."
"Oh." Darius feels something in his chest stir in a traitorous way. It's his brother and his best friend, for crying out loud. Yet he continues to feel it, humming deep in his veins, making his fingers tremble. "Oh! I am so sorry."
"Don’t be." She hums, reaching for the chocolate chunks. She folds several handfuls worth into the batter. "It's been a long time coming."
"Seriously?" Darius tries to think of the last time he's seen the two together, his memory foggy. "Well… I mean, do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not much to talk about. We just realized we might've been chasing the wrong person all this time." Brooklynn exhales, then gestures down at the gooey mixture. "In any case, I'd rather focus on these bad boys right now. Please tell me you've got powdered sugar.”
"Uh… I think I have some."
Dragging a chair over from the dining table, Darius precariously stands on it, rummaging through the overhead cupboards. There's a lot more random boxes and things of snacks than he remembers buying up there. He eventually emerges victorious with a crumpled-up bag, showing it to Brooklynn with jazz hands: “Ta-daaa!"
She shakes her head. “You’re such a nerd. Even in baking. Maybe I should start calling you baking nerd instead."
“Let's go! New nickname unlocked!” Darius pumps his fist in the air—and loses his balance.
He crashes into the ground.
Confectionary sugar rains down on him as he catches his breath against the tiled floor. Brooklynn towers over him, fighting back laughter through trembling lips. The hanging kitchen light paints her silhouette gold.
"Geez! Are you okay?"
He gingerly sits up, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, uh, totally."
"You sure?" She settles cross-legged across from him, studying him with a sort of tenderness. As she leans forwards slightly, her knee bumps against his. Darius can suddenly see the finer details of her face; the splash of freckles across her nose, and the way her eyes are so green, like baby leaves in the spring. "That was a pretty gnarly fall."
"Uh-huh."
As the last of the sugar snows down, Darius thinks he sees her gaze dip to his lips, just for a second. Something briefly burns in her eyes, akin to longing, like years left unsaid.
Then it's gone.
She gets up and tosses a towel down at him, grinning. "Consider yourself lucky. A little bit fell into the bowl."
Darius picks himself off the floor, dusting off his clothes the best he could. It'll be a pain to clean up later. "Cool." He lets out a loose chuckle. "Hope it was worth the mess."
“It will be. Anyways, saved you the best part," Brooklynn's back to business, holding out the bowl to him. "You can do the sticky honours of transferring all of this into the pan.”
Somehow, he manages to wrestle most of the batter into the pan. Pretty neatly too. He fights Brooklynn to see who gets to lick the batter off the spoon, and comes out the loser. Finally, when the brownies are tucked away in the heated oven and the dishes are tossed in the sink, Darius takes the time to survey the state of his kitchenette. It looks like Christmas came early, every crook and nanny covered in a fine white powder. He doesn’t really know where to start.
Grabbing a rag, he crouches down to start cleaning the mess. Brooklynn follows suit, crab-legged next to him as she rubs at the dirty tiles.
“You don’t have to help clean.” Darius says. “Like I said, I’m good at this part.”
“What else am I going to do?” Brooklynn shrugs. “Sit there and watch you slowly wipe away down there by yourself?”
“I mean, yeah?”
She rolls her eyes. “Get to scrubbing, baking nerd, and maybe we’ll be done by the time those brownies are finished baking.”
"Roger that, super-star."
- - -
Twenty-seven minutes later, the oven timer beeps to let Darius know the brownies were ready. The two of them had worked mostly in silence, nestled side-to-side in the small space. It was a comforting sort of quiet, the kind he wouldn’t mind spending more nights in so long as she's there to keep him company. He wonders if she would like it too, a future of baking all sorts of wonders that they could dream up, huddling together over the wooden counters.
The kitchenette is only a quarter-ways clean, but it can wait for later. He tosses the rag over his shoulder and stands to find his baking mitt.
Pulling the tray from the oven, he marvels at the crinkled, glossy crust of the treats. It smells heavenly, the sweet scent of chocolate permeating the air. He could taste them already. Setting the tray down on the dining table, he gestures for Brooklynn to take a seat.
“You’re not going to wait for them to cool down first?” She asks, watching him rummage around for a knife, two forks and two plates.
“I mean, you can wait if you want. I’m chowing down!” He eagerly carves out two lopsided squares, handing her the first one. Then, taking the spot opposite to her, he immediately digs his fork into the dessert.
“Wow,” Darius mutters through his first mouthful of brownie. It's chewy in the best way, with the edges crisp and chocolate chunks gooey. His tongue sings silent praises. “These are good.”
“Told ya.” Brooklynn winks at him, then takes a big chomp of her own piece. “Baked with the good ol’ secret ingredient.”
“Ooh—what was it?” He asks curiously. “Wait. Let me guess. A dash of cinnamon?”
“Nope.”
“Uhh—Oh! Cardamom? Espresso powder?”
“No and nope.”
“Chilli powder?!” He tries.
Brooklynn shakes her head. “Dude, stop interrupting me. I'm trying to demolish this brownie. You'll learn my secrets someday."
He catches her gaze, and it’s promising something warm and familiar. Like coming home. Darius smiles, and takes another bite.