♡ 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 ♡

Ant laughs, shaking his head. “No, no, trust me… I won’t be doing that again. I refuse.” he lifts his eyes then to rest on Clair, moving around the kitchen with lithe grace. He remembers how much he loves her, needs her to fill this space. “I’m good,” he promises, thinking he’ll have to adjust his diet to better suit Clair’s cooking style. Which means he’ll also have to adjust his fitness habits, as well.

He’s surprised by her next words, and the slight widening of his gaze gives him away. Antoni regains composure in the next second with effort, but looks down, eyes cast towards the flecked marble. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

she looks up through her lashes at him, before returning her focus to adding the vanilla and cinnamon, making sure that they are properly blended. “It wasn’t good for anyone,” she admits, taking out a bread knife and cutting the slices to start, knowing she can always cut off more depending on how much mixture is left. she then turns to the stove top, getting a flat griddle and putting it on the range, buttering it with a few quick swipes of the knife. 

“I know that I, you know...I was mad, and maybe for the wrong reasons. I was definitely wrong, in some cases.” she turns back to him, picking up the egg mixture and putting that on the counter next to the pan, transferring the bread over as well. “But we’re...we’re okay now. I just wanted to make sure that you knew I was sorry. It was the fear, not anything founded in reality.” 

He sighs, displeased at the idea of being apart from her, even for the time being. “You can always do as you please.” he reminds her, and he’s honest. He’d let her take his legacy and run with it if that’s what she really wanted. He’d let her do anything. Ant’s eyes flicker shut for a moment when her lips brush his jaw, and he wants to hold her close. He resists the urge.

He’s distracted as she rummages through his cupboards, letting his forehead rest against the cool marble of the countertops and closing his eyes again. Antoni’s forgotten how tired his soul is, but he forces it aside and looks instead up at Clair, who’s offering him sweet breakfast again. He nods. “Sure. Whatever you make is good.” he’s no one to tell her no right now.

she sighs, setting the milk and eggs onto the counter, grabbing a bowl and beginning to hunt around for the vanilla and cinnamon. “I know you say that now but I don’t really want you to throw up again,” she begins, finding them and setting them out as well. though she hasn’t been in ant’s presence nor house for a while, she still remembers her way around the kitchen. “So if you think this might be too much, just let me know, okay?” she asks, brandishing a measuring spoon as she sets that on the counter as well, before beginning to pour the milk and eggs into the bowl, whisking them together with a fork. 

Antoni frowns, unable to hide the disappointment that washes over his features and it’s then that he realizes he, in fact, is probably still drunk like she’d said. At least a little bit. “I’d choose you in any mental state though,” he argues but moves away to pick up the blanket that he’d draped over the stool behind them before. Just touching her made him feel better about everything that had passed between them.

His eyes fall shut when her hands come to rest on either side of his face, failing to resist the urge to lean into her touch. When they open again, they’re darker, some of the weight back in them. “I’ll sit right here,” he promises, taking a seat and pulling the blanket over bony knees. “I don’t even know what’s around. We might have to order in.”

clair stands off the stool, dropping to her normal height even as she presses in close to antoni, a reversal of their previous position. “Even if that is the case,” she says softly, “let me look around first. And, for the record, I’d choose you in any mental state too.” she presses a soft kiss to his jaw before backing out of his grasp and rounding the island, stepping into the kitchen proper. 

Antoni rolls his eyes ever so slightly, the gesture a nod to the man that hid inside the shameful visage he showed now. “Dolcezza,” he mumbles, sneaking a quick kiss to her lips. “You’re being difficult. Stop worrying.” his hands do ache, for the record, but he’s not about to admit that to anyone. Especially not Clair, after the stunt he’d pulled.

He was still a little woozy, a little light and waif-like as his blood worked to overrule the alcohol that surely still ran in his veins. “But if you don’t want this, we can… I don’t know. Talk? Sleep? You like to see movies, yes?” he offers, trying not to get carried away by the heady scent radiating off of her warm skin. Lips brush against the column of Clair’s throat, up the other side of her jaw, and he presses one oddly sweet kiss against the tip of her nose. “Your choice. I have a lot to make up for.”

the sweet pet name captures her attention, a small smile warming her face as ant kisses along her jaw and throat. “Neither you nor I have eaten much in the last little bit, and I think you might still be...drunk,” she says slowly, warm eyes meeting antoni’s as he kisses her nose. “We can do any of those things, but I am going to make us a little something. What would you like?” 

Antoni holds her tighter, searching her eyes for the answer to all of this and finding nothing. He hears the muted click of the lock on the door as his housekeeper takes away the evidence of the days before. His head is still spinning, but there’s this odd quality about Clair that grounds him.

One hand snakes up the side of her neck and he threads his fingers into her hair, pleased by the way the silky texture of each strand glides in and out of his grasp. He hushes her, fingers resting finally on her jaw and his thumb on her bottom lip. “I will be fine,” he promises, the faintest smile on his face. “Would rather take care of you,” as he speaks, his other hand glides down her thigh, hooking into the soft back of her knee and hitching it over his hip. His green eyes burn with a different intensity now. “Okay?”

she has been around antoni long enough to be able to read at least some of his expressions. the current look he’s giving her isn’t one she’s unfamiliar with, but it is one that gives her pause. “You can,” she says slowly, leaning into his touch on her jaw, allowing him to move her leg up, “if you can. Your hands are still healing and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

i don’t want you to hurt yourself more. 

Antoni buries his face into her hair, nuzzling his face into her scent and breathing her in. Strong arms wrap around her waist and he moves to stand between her legs. He opens his mouth as though he’s about to say something, but closes it again.

His fingers run up and down her spine, slotting into the spaces between her ribs and tries to find the words. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he says quietly, wishing they could be physically closer. “I don’t want to… break you with all the broken parts of me, but I don’t want you to go.”

she hugs him close, feeling just how shaken this has made the both of them. it’s harsh, this painful reality; honeyed eyes drift upwards, looking at antoni with a small flicker of hope. “I don’t want to go,” she whispers, relieved and grateful that they both can agree on that, at least. “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave you to fight this on your own.” 

    ⋯ LOOKING AT CLAIR as she spoke towards the camera, the young male raised an eyebrow at how natural she looked in front of it. ❛ you know, you look quite comfortable and natural in front of the camera, ❜ he said and chuckled softly, letting the back of his head rest against the seat pillow. i didn’t always want to work in culinary arts, i never formally studied them or anything. ❛ then what did you want to do? originally, i mean? ❜

she doesn’t talk about her educational exploits on camera, not necessarily in the way she’s sure some fans would want. they know she graduated from brown, if they’d been watching the earlier videos, but she doesn’t think she’s ever exactly said what her program of study was. it’s a conflict of personal life and public persona, but she can’t blame todd for not knowing the line that she walks. 

laughing, she nods in agreement to his first statement. “I should hope so, I’ve been doing this for years. Originally, I wanted to do something much more, I dunno. Physically tangible, as far as a career goes.” she shrugs, looking over to todd with a smile. “I actually graduated with a double major in journalism and creative writing, I wanted to work in publishing, but food found me happiness faster.” she'll cut that last sentence from the final video. 

At this point, Antoni is pretty sure he’d crawl over the counter to be close to her, wants her heart against his and wants to forget all about this. The glass shards that are sure to be embedded in the carpets will ensure he doesn’t do that any time soon.

He’s shuffling around the island before she’s finished speaking, offering two open arms to Clair. Ant wants nothing more than for someone else to hold him for once. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that.” he murmurs, trying to muster up the man hiding within.

she stays seated on her perch, liking how much taller it puts her than when she’s standing in her own right. slim arms wrap around his torso and it’s surprisingly easy to pull him towards her, despite how frail her grasp is on him. words escape her; nothing fits in this moment, nothing could make this right again, so she simply presses her face into his chest and squeezes as hard as she can. she wants this to work; it will work, if antoni wants it to. 

⋯ ❛ WELL, IF YOU MAKE HIM A NICE CARROT DISPLAY i think you will win his heart over before you know it, ❜ he spoke and chuckled softly, and for some weird reason, he kind of forgot about the cameras already. maybe it was because of clair’s presence. she made it comfortable? that had to be it. smiling softly at what clair said about who she wanted to talk to, he nodded his head and tilted it a little to the side as he watched her drive the car while talking so nonchalantly. todd wondered how long she had been doing this. because i’m just kind of following in their footsteps, you know? ❛ i get it. how long have you been doing all of this? and, you know, how long have you known that you want to work in the culinary world? ❜ he asked curiously, the side of his head pressed against the top seat pillow.

she clicks her tongue, shimmering soft brown lipgloss catching the sunlight as she thinks. “Hmmm. I mean, some of you might remember from my earliest videos,” she begins, gesturing with one hand to the camera as she addresses her audience, “but I got started in full with this after I graduated college. Twenty-fourteen.” she shrugs, multihued eyes flitting over to todd in a brief moment of connection. “I didn’t always want to work in culinary arts, I never formally studied them or anything. Originally I started off doing food reviews, but from there the cooking started. A little backwards, I know.” 

⋯ AS CLAIR WENT ON ABOUT what she wanted and where she wanted it, todd’s eyebrows raised and his mouth parted slightly. she sure had thought about it quite a lot, he thought to himself and a soft chuckle fell from the male’s lips as he glanced over at her as she went on and on. ❛ wow, uhh okay. you sure sound like you have thought about that one once or twice, ❜ he said and chuckled softly as he kept his eyes locked with her face. the smile on his lips widened and he shrugged his shoulders casually before he turned to look out of the window in front of them, watching the large trees disappear as quickly as they appeared. i could crush up some oats and honey bars and make a horse-friendly parfait if you wanted to bring apollo. ❛ if you have CARROTS I THINK APOLLO would love you, ❜ he said and grinned, letting the back of his head rest against the top pillow of the seat he was in. letting his head fall over to the side, todd licked his lips absentmindedly. ❛ no one else you would want to talk to though? i mean, if you had the possibility of talking to someone, whether it be someone you have met already or someone you haven’t met, you wouldn’t take that opportunity? ❜

she laughs, holding up her thumb and index finger close to each other. “Just the once, just a little bit,” she admits, putting her hand back on the wheel. “I could make a nice carrot display just for him, I think it would be very appreciated. But as for other people, I mean, anyone who wanted to? I think it could be cool to talk to, like, Julia Child or Rachael Ray, just to talk to influential figures in the culinary world, especially women, like. They’re both almost household names and I think it would be cool to talk to them, about their journey and what not. Because I’m just kind of following in their footsteps, you know?” 

seb tilted his head, nodding softly as he listened to the other speak. there was a soft, concerned look that coated his features, bit only because he worried for her. “well, we can start with what you’re thinking right now? what you’re worried, concerned, or stressed about. i’m all ears. take your time, i’m here literally all day.” the male chuckled softly. 

she nods, hair brushing the tops of her shoulders with the movement. a slightly unsteady hand raises the cup in her grasp to her lips, the warm coffee bolstering her strength. she rubs her thumb over the creme polish, coffee nail polish chipped from the tenseness and nerves of the past few days. “We had a fight,” she says quietly. “And it could have been one of those....you know, one and done things. I was hurt, he was...ashamed, I guess. So we weren’t really talking. Next thing I know, the hospital is calling me because he hasn’t shown up for work, and...” she runs a hand through her hair, taking a steady breath. “I go and find him, he’s a mess. Drunk as hell, at home. And I just had this...horrible feeling that I had done that to him, that I’d pushed him that far. I didn’t even know where we stood when I went over, I mean...” 

clair looks at him, shrugging helplessly. “He never told me I was his emergency contact, he never gave me the impression that he could get that bad, he never...I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. And I feel stupid for it.” it’s the simplest she can make it, and she smiles despite herself. 

Antoni nods, keeping his gaze low and staring at her hands, the base of her coffee cup, her laptop, anything but to make eye contact. He didn’t know how their seemingly happy and perfect every-piece-in-its-place relationship could be so short-term, didn’t know how it could, in fact, be so weak.

“Okay.” he says, and he feels as though he’s about to collapse. Antoni knows the signs, can feel the slight buckle in his knees, watches stars dance across his vision and he stoops down, both elbows and forearms braced against the counter. In truth, Antoni doesn’t know what would make him happy. Clair. But not at the expense of her life. He feels older than his years, feels like the weight of his family is pulling him down and threatening to drown him. “Then I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry.” is all he can muster, a tiny shell of the man he was supposed to be for Clair. He’ll come back, he always does– but he’s not sure any woman would want to be with a man so frail.

no. 

though she’s getting what she wants, it’s not what she wants. he can’t even look at her, and for a brief moment she has a glimmer of awareness that this must have been how antoni felt in the kitchen all those days ago. what can she say? what isn’t going to make her feel uncomfortable and confused? what is going to begin to mend the distance and torn trust between them? clair knows she wants this to work, but she feels like she’s grasping at straws, like the decision has already been made and she’s just stuck in the dust afterwards. 

That’s it.

Ant had been waiting for her to say it. He’s not shocked, not at all, actually, but it still hurts him deeply to hear the words come from her mouth, however misconstrued. “I get it.” Antoni can’t bring his eyes to hers, though he ought to. He knew what he’d done and why this was happening, so there was no use in fighting it.

“You’re done. I can’t blame you,” he murmurs, knowing that suggestions like these tend to reflect the desires of their offerers. “Because I keep trying and I keep failing. I’m not good, and isn’t that why you’re leaving me? Because I’m not good, no matter how hard I try? I always… I always end up back here.”

a cold chill goes down her spine.