Short Story: [Emberfate] Unexpected Guest

Hi everyone! 

I'm back with the monthly short story reward — we're now starting a new series for Emberfate, kicking off with Chris' story for this month! Can you guess the theme of this series by the end of the story? ;D

As usual, this is written by Nic W and edited by me. Hope you all enjoy it!

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You stifle a yawn as you push open the front door to your home, exhausted by a long day of work. You stretch your arms above your head, stepping into the hallway and kicking your shoes off to the side — and promptly freeze as you hear the sound of faint banging coming from the kitchen.

Immediately, you freeze, your heart thundering as your mind races through ideas of who it could possibly be. Your door was still locked before you entered, so it wasn’t a break-in — unless it was through the windows? Or did someone discover the hiding spot for your spare key and fish it out?

You consider quietly backing out the door again and calling the police, but something in your gut tugs at you, giving you a strong urge to investigate first. You scan your cramped entryway for some kind of tool or weapon, and your eyes land on the umbrella hanging off your coat rack. It's not exactly a top ten self-defense item, but at the very least, you could give someone a solid smack over the head with it.

Against your better judgment, you slowly creep down the hallway until you're just behind the half-open door to your kitchen. Your confusion grows at the noise emanating from inside the room.

That does not sound like someone trying to ransack your apartment — instead, it sounds like… cooking? And is your unknown robber whistling to themselves?

At last, you can stand it no longer. With one great tug, you yank open the door fully and brandish your umbrella at the person inside.

“I don’t know who you are, but get out of my —”

You barely have time to take in their features from the back, only noting the fact that they are tall and have short blonde hair, before they suddenly jump a foot into the air and whirl around to face you with a loud curse.

"Chris?" You ask incredulously. He stares at you wide-eyed, one hand going to his chest in shock before immediately switching to run his fingers through his hair and leaning back to view you with a glare. A clear attempt to try and pretend to be unaffected, even as his following words reveal otherwise.

"Shit," they mutter, "I didn't hear you come in." They glance at the umbrella you're still holding like a sword, and their lips grin in an amused smirk. "Now, what are you doing with that? If you're trying to do away with me, you'll have to try harder than that, you know."

A complicated wave of embarrassment, annoyance, shock, and a healthy dose of joy at this turn of events that you’d never admit to overtakes you. You turn and drop the umbrella on the nearby table, opting to try and pull off a nonchalant stretch as you quip back.

"Well, forgive me, I'm not accustomed to uninvited house guests breaking into my apartment on random Friday evenings. You can't judge me for wanting to have something on hand when potentially facing a robber, Chris."

Their grin stretches wider. "Am I uninvited if you showed me where your spare key was a few weeks ago and told me that I could over "whenever I feel like it?""

Well, damn, he's got you there. Grumbling to yourself, you can't think of a good response, and at last, you settle with the oh-so-mature response of sticking your tongue out at him, causing him to let out a victorious laugh.

"Anyway," you say, hoping to move them along, "even if that's true, what are you doing here? I thought we were getting together tomorrow, and… why are you cooking?"

You sniff the air, now curious about the dinner itself as opposed to the cook. Your face brightens as you catch a whiff of what smells like garlic bread and some sort of spicy sauce. Further clues stand on the stove behind Chris as you catch sight of a pot boiling what looks like spaghetti.

Chris shrugs, though you notice that his cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. "I dunno," he claims. "I didn't have anything interesting going on tonight, and I was bored, so I figured I could just come over a day early. Why? Are you going to kick me out? That would be awfully rude, considering I just got all set up here."

You can't help but laugh. "No, I'm not going to kick you out. Well, not this time anyway since you're apparently cooking me a free meal."

You're being half serious, half teasing, as you press forward just a little more. "It’s so sweet of you to cook me dinner! How nice to have a home-cooked meal with none of the work." To punctuate the comment, you reach forward and squeeze their shoulder before running your hand down their arm as a quick greeting for affection.

The slight blush is still there, and you barely suppress the urge to laugh at their attempt to be gruff as they scoff, a slight glower aimed in your direction. "I mean, I knew I'd have to eat too, and I was already getting hungry by the time I got here. It didn't make sense to wait until you were home for us to just order take out and have to wait even longer."

Grinning, you shake your head, knowing by now that he's not going to acknowledge the intended softness of the gesture. "Whatever you say, Chris. I appreciate it regardless. It's been an awful day, so some good Italian food is the perfect way to make up for it."

Chris fakes offense. "Oh, so the food gets the credit for cheering you up, not the incredible partner who made it?"

Unphased, you nod. "Yup, sucks to be you. Now less talking and more cooking. I'm dying to dig in."

Huffing, he shakes his head as he turns back around to resume stirring the pasta while muttering something under his breath. A warm glow spreads inside of you, and for one unexpected moment, you can't help but wonder what it would be like to come home to this, to him, every day.

Cheeks flushed, you duck your head and push that thought to the back of your mind to be examined later. For now, you set forward to wash your hands and take up chopping the onion that remains on the cutting board — though you can't help but sneak a quick peek at his broad back as you do so.

He seems to feel your eyes staring at him, and his lips quirk. "You can take in my beauty later, over dinner. For now, as you just told me, let's focus on finishing this up. I'm starving too, you know? So finish chopping up that onion so we can add it to the sauce and let it simmer for a few minutes, and then we can put everything together and dish it up."

You give a playful salute and dice the rest of the onion in record time before handing it over. Chris sets the timer for three minutes and puts the lid on the pot, and you look at them expectantly.

"What?" They ask, eyebrows rising as they take in your expression.

"Well…" You say slowly. "We do have a whole three minutes to wait for it to be ready, and it has just occurred to me that I haven't given you a proper greeting yet since I got in."

His grin broadens, eyes warming. "You know? I think you're right. Three minutes is a perfect amount of time to remedy that."

Laughing, you nod in agreement as he gently wraps his arm around the waist. Your eyes slip closed as you lean forward, and suddenly, even without the comfort food, your day isn't so terrible anymore.