The Vegetable Soup Incident
“You really don’t have to do this.”
Axel opened the pantry door, revealing the vast emptiness that almost seemed to vindicate the alarming haste with which he’d arrived at Roxas’s dorm, groceries and health-consciousness lecture in tow.
“Y’know what I see here? A travesty. One that I’ve come to remedy, so you’re welcome. I’m not just gonna leave you to survive on cereal when you’re sick.
“There’s also mac n’ cheese—”
“Right, because having three times the recommended daily sodium intake is gonna fix your cold. Not a chance. You’re having vegetables.”
“It’s not like I said ‘no.’ But I guess … as long as this is actually happening … do you need any help?”
Some form of embarrassment, vague and fleeting, crossed Axel’s features as he waved his hand dismissively. He turned to focus resolutely on unpacking the grocery bags in the narrow kitchen, his eyes not quite meeting Roxas’s discreet gaze.
“Nope. Got it under control. Go lay down.”
Roxas shrugged, and obligingly turned to grab a box of tissues. He curled up on the couch, still feeling all kinds of miserable, but he had to admit that he was in better spirits now than an hour ago.
As he listened closely to the deliberate movements stemming from the kitchen, Roxas felt an oddly profound sense of contentment. Quietly, he was thankful for the feverish cloud weighing heavily at the front of his skull. It obscured the landscape of unspoken sentiment painting the space between them, abstract sweeping gestures that were hard to decipher even in moments of clarity.
A glowing realization managed to pierce through the veil and he had to wonder why it felt so hard to ignore: he and Axel, in the blur of the past few months, had grown used to having each other around, in every single way that counted.
