tw: panic attack in end of chapter (i will put a tw before and after it's mentioned).
for the first time in almost five years, i slept on a comfortable-ass mattress. alex may be a little bitch sometimes, but he was definitely nice. i don't really like nice people. they get taken advantage of, and that's upsetting.
i knocked on his bedroom door. i really didn't feel like walking in on him naked.
"yeah!" i hear him shout.
"what do you want for breakfast?" i ask, clearing my throat. i stand awkwardly by the door.
"uh, we can go to ihop or something." alex suggests.
"listen dude, there's two things i can do and its paint and cook. think of it as paying you back." i genuinely felt bad that he was giving me so much.
i snap out of my thoughts when he opens the door, revealing him in a tee shirt and sweatpants. alex had given me a spare shirt, hoodie and pants. the pants were too big, so i wore my old shorts and his shirt.
"ar-are you wearing pants?" his face pales. i look down, my shorts were slightly hidden under the shirt.
"don't be an idiot, alex." i lift up the shirt slightly. he mumbles out an apology before leading me to the kitchen.
before my tia(aunt) died, she had taught me how to be alright on my own. i think she knew about my plan to run away before i had even considered it, so she taught me basic necessities. i enjoyed cooking as a kid, until my parents made me their own chef. i still remembered how to make shit, so i'd be fine.
i rummaged through the cabinets until i found enough ingredients to make what i wanted to. when i finished making the huevos rancheros right as alex came back into the kitchen, this time in different clothes and a beanie.
"woah," his eyes grow wide. "i haven't had these in years."
"me neither." i say.
"holy shit!" he half screams, food still in his mouth. "this is fantastic!"
"thanks, i haven't cooked in a while so i wasn't really sure how well they'd turn out." i admit, taking a forkful of egg and tortilla.
alex finished eating before i had even ate half of my food. he started washing the dishes, even though i told him i'd do it after i ate. i thanked him, feeling even more like a burden. i was living in this guys house like a rat.
"thanks for everything." he smiles.
"dude, i'm literally living in your house." why the hell was he thanking me?
"i know, but i like having you around."
