@halofiied
that night finds oda standing before the counter top of his apartment, sleeves rolled up to the nook of his arms and apron hanging by his neck. the cafe had decided to let him go early that day after sending him on an errand, and oda thought that maybe he could try cooking dinner for the two of them for once.
two of them, as in, him and his roommate.
of course, he’s perfectly aware that he’s not the best cook in the room, but he just felt that maybe it’s time for an icebreaker. their relationship has mostly comprise of silent companies and brief exchange of pleasantries in the morning. if they were going to live together for who knows how long, wouldn’t it be more convenient to know each other better? oda would rather not step where he isn’t supposed to.
well, hopefully micah would be okay with his cooking, even if it’s just a simple instant curry. it’s the thought that counts, is it not?
by the time micah had arrived home, the curry had already begun bubbling in the pot. oda moves to place the rice cooker on the dining table along with the utensils, before turning the stove off and placing the pot on the center of the table.
“i made dinner.” he announces, unceremonious, posture stiff as he stands in the middle of the kitchen. there’s an urge to rub his own nape. “i wasn’t sure about how you like your curry--” or even if you like curry at all, “so i figured i should wait for you.”