never mind the fact that fugo missed the window of opportunity on white day by a day and a half, and no one really should ask about the current state of his kitchen as blue pea power stains at white tile and the soft grey porous painted walls beside his sink. (thereâs still just that gut feeling that itâs not right to mix a powder with melted chocolateâŠ.that gut feeling was was *almost* confirmed this weekend.)
he followed a video recipe online, one for blue chocolate coated cookies and it beats the excess that comes from reading on a web page about family and tradition and why baking french macarons seems like the right thing to do in the middle of the week. though for fugoâs sake he had to struggle with following along. recognizing that with the slight gaps in the video, fugo had to make up through typical baking common sense.
on monday just before lunch he had picked his six most attractive pieces to present; dark blue with a shiny flat top and arranged them in a neat box. it doesnât include the less unattractive ones, the cooked scraps, and the balled up bits of dough that he just baked as to not be wasteful. though they were covered in blue chocolate and stored in an airtight container in his fridge. something he and fran could snack on for later.
âiâm a little bit late, but this is for youâŠas a thanks.â fugo hopes that his taste buds werenât shot over the weekend.
     White Day has, in Franâs eyes at the very least, always stood in somewhat neglected contrast to Valentinesâ much more noticeable presence. Thereâd been a long stretch where she hadnât been in the practice of giving chocolates on Valentineâs (kids used to make jokes about her obligation sweets in elementary school, something about finding a finger in thereâwhich she always found such a stupid way to poke fun at her, but nevertheless), so it makes sense that itâs not a blip on her radarâwhy the day passes without her realizing its supposed significance.
    âŠNot that sheâd forgotten that sheâd actually made chocolate for someone this yearâa gesture that sheâd felt hopelessly out of her depth doing, but which had been accepted with such relative ease that sheâd felt all at once embarrassed at the pressure sheâd put on herself leading up to it and strangely relieved.
    âŠStill, sheâs been out of the loop for so long, so itâs only when Fugo presents her the box (and several beats afterward during which she processes the situation) that she realizes what this gift is in reference to.
     ââŠOh,â she says, blinking down slightly owlishly at it before pressing her fingers to the sides of the box to tentatively lift it from Fugoâs hands. She pries the lid carefully off of it to spy the neatly-placed treats within and feels her breath catch momentarily in the back of her throat. Theyâve made food together many times, sheâs not sure why thinking about Fugo making these on his own has her feeling⊠some sort of way (strange, slightly buoyant), but it does.
     âYou didnât have to go to so much trouble,â she murmurs, tipping her head down to study the faint sheen of the blue chocolate coating. ââŠBut⊠thank you. What a nice colourâŠâ She taps an index finger against one of the sweets and pauses, eyes flickering up to Fugoâs. ââŠIs it alright if I try one now?â
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