Pessimist

12 - Food 𖤓

I didn't say anything, knowing that I'd burst into tears if I talked. Instead, I stood up, walking closer to Dean needing to feel his comfort again. He opened his arms to take me in, hugging my torso as I wrapped my arms around his head. He rested his cheek against my chest, his hand rubbing up and down my back in soothing motions. Usually, I'd be a bit uncomfortable hugging this way in a skirt this short, but I felt safer with Dean than I ever did in my whole life.

I didn't really understand the concept of love. The idea that when you're near someone, your heart should race and butterflies should erupt in your stomach. The resemblance of that to fear was too similar, and the way I saw it, that wasn't love. To me, loving someone was to feel safe and secure. To know that every bursting, overwhelming emotion could be shared with them without the fear of judgment. To love someone is to feel at home, or in a warm bath, surrounded by the reassurance that no matter where you are or what you do, they will always be right there encouraging you every step of the way. They are home, in a way.

We stayed hugging for a few moments longer, my need to constantly cling onto Dean not turning him off in the slightest. Rather, it seemed like he liked that I was constantly having to touch him. I finally stepped back, wiping the back of my hand over my eyes knowing I had homework to finish and not a lot of time.

"What'd you get from the store?" I wondered, sitting back down in my respective seat. My law notes were spilled everywhere, my laptop open in front of it scrolled to the current topic I was studying. I was doing the practice questions given, Dean no doubt already having them finished days before.

Standing up, he walked over to where he dropped off the brown bag and started to pull things out, cluttering the counter adjacent to me. I was already too distracted to continue on where I left off so I just put my head in my hand, watching Dean's forearms flex every time he picked something up and put it down.

He was a relatively healthy shopper, I noticed. He practically had to be. with the amount of times he went to the gym, our university having an entire level free to the kids who go there. When he had the time? I had no clue. Dean was what you called an early bird, somehow having enough energy to get up at six in the morning and go to the gym before coming home, showering, and then studying.

Though, he did only go when he had no classes that day so that made sense. Maybe this is why he was such a grump, having to wake up that early would make anyone mad.

"I got your favourite," He said, waving a packet of food in front of my face.

My smile widened, the momentary troubles of the medical examination lost as I grasped the packet, scanning it in shock. It was a south asian snack I thought was discontinued after not seeing it in the grocery stores anymore, but I guess it wasn't since I was holding it in my hands at this moment.

"How did you find this? I've looked everywhere for it!" I exclaimed, rather excited for just some food.

He only tilted his head at me, a ghost of smile before returning back to his task at hand. Everything he bought was splayed out, Dean then putting each item in its respective place.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, tearing open the bag and digging in.

"You're welcome." He was amused as he shoved vegetables in the fridge before shutting the door. He placed fruit in the fruit basket on the island, making me realize just how clean he ate. His food was almost always home cooked, even though he claimed he wasn't that good of a cook, and he barely had junk food around unless it was a few packets of chips and ice cream. For a white guy he was very diverse in the food he ate. Today, he had planned to make something from south asian cuisine, insisting I helped him because I was south asian.