A/N:
A short, sad oneshot for one of the best JoBro's there ever was ):
Inspired by the song from the musical Waitress!
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With aching hands and heavy eyes, you beat the butter, sugar, flour and eggs together in the large mixing-bowl. After it reached a nice consistency, you added in the milk, lemon-juice, and vanilla extract.
You were making a lemon cake, one of his favorites.
You buttered the pan and poured the mixture into it, and placed it into your already pre-heated oven. It should cook for about thirty minutes. What to do in the mean time?
You tapped your foot and hummed yourself a song, hunched up against the counter. The television from the living room chattered of some newscaster while the radio in said kitchen played some tunes. It couldn't be silent, you couldn't be alone, you couldn't not do something.
Because then you'd be alone with your thoughts.
And they were scary.
Soft footsteps aligned with your ears. You leaned over the island, and glanced down the hall. Your mother stood, swaddled in her nighttime robe. "(Y/n), honey, are you okay?."
A broken smile broke out across your face. "Yeah, mom, I'm fine." She bore an expression that could only be described as, "oh shit, my daughters gone insane". "Are you sure?," She pushed. "It's four in the morning, sweetie."
"I couldn't sleep." You lied. You hadn't even tried.
"Uhuh," She sucked her teeth, she walked closer into a clear-view of the kitchen. "So, what's all this?."
You glanced over your shoulder, behind you, to the scene she was gesturing at. Various italian desserts scattered throughout the kitchen, littering the countertops, and the dining table. "I'm baking."
"I-I can see," She bit her lip, running fingers through her bed-head. "Is this about him?."
"What do you mean?." You swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Is this about...-."
"Please, d-dont say his name." Your voice cracked, but you helped yourself together. Her face morphed into that of a sad one.
"Of course," she nodded. "Do you want to talk about it? We haven't, before."
"No." Deceit rolled from your tongue. Oh, how badly you wanted to talk about him again, but it only hurt more. Whenever the realization set in stone it felt as if it had happened for the first time, all over again.
"Are you sure? I think it would help, honest." She half-smiled in reassurance. "What is there to say? I grew up with him, we started dating, we were to be engaged when he returned- Mother, what can stop that kind of grief?." Your body grew numb as you spoke, deadening off your emotions.
Tears welped in her eyes.
"He loved you, (Y/n), he wouldn't want you to drive yourself mad."
"But you have to understand, he's gone, and I don't know how to deal, without him."
Gone. Smashed, crushed under a rock and left to rot in a cave. That's what had become of your beloved Caesar Zeppeli.
"You move on."
Move on, move on, move on. Her words ran circles in your head, much like the call you had recieved from his Mentor later that day.
"Just...move on?." You clenched your jaw in agitation.
"I-I didn't mean for it to sound so ill-witted-."
The dinging of the oven cut her off. You spun on your heels and grabbed the oven-mit.
"Honey, I-."
"Goodnight, mama."
She didn't bother saying anything else, she just flashed a look of remorse, said goodnight, and went back to bed.
You pulled the pan from the oven and sat it on the last empty space on the counter. You were supposed to wait twenty minutes for it to firm but, screw it, you needed it right now.
You dove into the lemon-cake with a fork and took a bite.
Tears stained your cheeks.
Caesar would've loved this.