[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒]

𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐖𝐕 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎, 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 kitchen as he barked, holding him up the way Rafiki held Simba, only for him to bark louder.

"Okay, shall we begin?" London asked, he had changed into a cream hoodie.

I put Cosmo down gingerly, he wasted no time to scurry out.

"Oooh, I like this," I said to London, referring to the hoodie, and touching his shoulder. I had a thing for colors that didn't get enough recognition or attention. "Let me wear it."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

He rolled his eyes, irritated, but also giving in. London pulled the hoodie over his head, leaving him in a plain tee that showed off his bare arms. He held it out to me.

"Thank you, kindly." I beamed, took the garment, and put the hoodie on. I then went over to the sink to wash my hands from touching Cosmo.

His hoodie was big on me, the end went a little below butt and the sleeves were long too.

I sat on the peninsula as London washed his hands quietly.

"Are you mad at me?" I suddenly asked.

"No, Paris, I'm not mad at you," he muttered.

"You want your hoodie back?"

"No, it's fine, you can keep it."

I really did love his considerate nature. It made me feel even worse for how I treated him when he first got here. I tried to disregard that.

His hoodie smelled like vanilla when I put my nose to it and inhaled.

"What was that?" London looked back at me with concern.

"What was what?" I asked.

"That noise."

"Oh! I just smelled your sweater. You smell like vanilla."

He nodded. "Okay." He then went back to pulling out bowls and pots. "We're going to make pasta."

"Boring," I said with my hands cupped around my mouth.

"Well, what do you have in mind? I'd love to hear it."

I really didn't have any idea of what to cook, I just didn't want to make arid-ass pasta.

"Pizza," I insisted.

"Do you know how to make dough?"

"No."

"Well, then, no."

I sighed. "Why can't I just do your makeup again instead of this?"

He turned around with a smile on his lips.

"Another time. Come boil the noodles."

I pushed myself off the counter and put water in the pot, then turned on the stove on low. I didn't break the noodles instead I just put them in there, I heard somewhere that that's what the Italians do.

Then I put a cover on the pot and smiled to London.

"Okay, good job," he enthused. "Now I want you to cut onions, you know how to hold a knife, right?"

"Yeah." I began cutting on the cutting board as my cooking teacher watched closely, really closely. Literally, he was standing over me.

"Oh my god, what?" I demanded, turning my head to him. "Why do you have to stand over me?"

"I just want to make sure you don't hurt yourself, that's all."

My heart fluttered. "Aww, London." I jutted out my lower lip and hugged him with my my arms wrapped around his neck. "You care about me."

I was purposely being dramatic, he clearly knew that and still hugged me back.

"Always." I wasn't expecting that.

I only pulled my head back to look at him.

"Wait, really?"

He nodded once.

"I care about you too, bestie." The bestie part was to lighten the mood again, but, I really did care about London.

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively and then muttered something I didn't get.

"Hm." I knew my father's grunt.

I kept my arms around London, he did the same with me, and looked at my dad.

"Hi, Daddy," I greeted.

"Hey, Ezra."

"What's going on down here?" Dad asked.

"London's teaching me how to cook, and guess what? He cares about me. I just learned that information today, so now I'm hugging him," I explained to him keenly.

"Huh, good to know," he acknowledged. "You need me to take Cosmo for a walk."

"London already did," I replied. I don't think I remembered the last time I've walked Cosmo at night, my parents had always done so.

"Okay, then, I'll see you two later.

"Where're you going?" I asked.

"Just across the street to the Jones.' Mom's over there."

"'Kay, bye have fun."

Dad left and London and I were still hugging. I finally pulled back when I remembered about the food.

London stood over me as I finished up cutting the onions. For his sake and mine, I was careful with the knife.

We didn't exchange too many words during the process. I thought that was good, since I would've been distracted easily. Plus, I wanted the food to turn out well, and for London to be proud of me.

"Is it good?" I asked him when he ate some, standing really close to read his expression.

"Delicioso."

"Oh my god, are you proud of me?" I hoped with a smile.

"I'm always proud of you, even when you do the bare minimum."

I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a small peck on the cheek. I didn't care about the food really. Well, I did. London was proud of me, so in my head, nothing else mattered.