I wake up to the sound of sizzling, and the smell of breakfast. (And the feeling of hammers hitting my head over and over.)

What masterpiece is Ben making today? Waffles? Sausages and eggs? Bacon and pancakes? (Gasp!) Or all of the above? Oh my God, that would be fucking heaven!

Here’s the thing, I don’t know how I can even smell this amazingness in one whiff. Usually, I can’t smell anything Ben is whipping up until I walk out of my bedroom. But today, it’s all blasting right at me! (The sound of sizzling and the smell of breakfast.)

Now I know why. This dumbass here -- me -- forgot to open his eyes before sniffing like fucking crazy. I’m reminding myself of Shu Tsukiyama from Tokyo Ghoul when he starts to rapidly -- and insanely -- sniff Ken Kaneki’s blood from a tissue. You know, enjoying the sensation. It’s kind of creeping me out.

God, I’m creepier for even thinking that.

My eyes flutter open. Okay, now, where are you, Alex? There’s a TV to my left, same with a coffee table that’s covered with a coffee mugs and an open bottle of aspirin. A ceiling titty (a light) is above me. There’s a nice fuzzy, worn-out, black blanket covering me -- Minky! -- and I’m on the living room couch. Thanks, Ben. I think to myself with a smile on my face.

I slowly peel off Minky (don’t judge me for naming my blanket, I’ve had it since elementary school. It was the only thing I wanted from my childhood when I moved in with Ben) and I move my body into a sitting position. I look at the coffee table and notice that the aspirin bottle is brand-new with no wear or tear on the label. A small folded note is on the inside of the cap. One of the coffee mugs is steaming with hot tea inside. I lean forward to smell the aroma of the tea. Oh, my God, tea hasn’t smelled this good in ages!

I quickly grab the note and fall back into the couch, pulling the blanket over me while unfolding the note. The daylight coming from the window is enough for me to read the note:

Hope you’re doing okay! Wish I could be there to comfort you when you woke up, but the toast started to burn. Hope you enjoy breakfast!

-Ben

My cheeks start to burn up while I try not to smile from ear to ear. I bring the note up to my chest, trying so hard -- haha, hard . . . -- not to crumple it. I squeal in my head, only making the painful headache far worse. Literally, squeal. Like, when I saw Victor Nikiforov’s ass for the first time from Yuri!!! on ICE. Or when I figured out about BL, slash and hentai -- best thing ever in the world of anime/comics. (I don't know how Ben dealt with me at that time.)

God, Ben would make a good husband. With those amazing freckles all over his face and body . . . . And his perfect, green eyes. With his wavy-brown hair and his sincere smile. With his generosity, selflessness -- most of the time -- and how he’ll protect his loved ones no matter what . . .

The voice inside my head grows solemn. His future wife would love him.

I find my phone and slip the note into its case. The phone turns on automatically right before I place it onto the wooden table. It’s already eleven o’clock. No wonder I feel tired. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Oh, God. My head hurts like I fell into the pit of hell now that I’ve looked at the screen. The feeling of hammers against my head feels more like fingers in between in the hinges of a door. But instead of fingers, it’s my head.

I toss the phone onto the coffee table and pull Minky over my head before I topple back down into the couch. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night, I think to myself. What did I even do after I went to the arcade? Dance on the air-hockey tables? Ben would’ve stopped me before I did anything as crazy as that. Unless, I ran off, playing unnecessary hide-and-seek. Jesus, I must be annoying when I drink.

I pull Minky down to my chest and hold it there for what seems like a hundred years, blaming myself and regretting getting drunk, until I hear the microwave start to beep. “Oh, will you fuck off?! I’m trying to not have an even bigger headache than before!” I shout when the beeping doesn’t stop. Then it immediately stops.

I sit up right before Ben leaps from behind the couch and lands on the cushion next to me, grabbing the back of the couch for balance, and being as careful as he can be not to hit my face with his goddamn long legs. He smiles his fucking sincere smiles at me. “Thought I could wake you up with that.” He glances at me with his adorable eyes before staring back at the table. “Guess I was right. Want some tea? Maybe with a side of aspirin and breakfast?” He grabs the coffee mug and vitamin bottle from the table and holds it out to my chest. His smile is even bigger when I pop a pill into my mouth -- swallowing it immediately -- and take the handle of the mug to sip out of it.

I only noticed until now that the sizzling has stopped. Though, the smell of sweet breakfast still lingers. I sip some more tea and try to avoid Ben’s freckles so that the hot tea doesn’t splash out of my nostrils. (That would be catastrophic.) “What’d you make for breakfast?”

Ben smirks. “Only what you love best.” His eyes catch mine. How does he know what my favorite breakfast food is? He knows I love them all (except for oatmeal without the artificial flavoring. It’s disgusting). I guess he could tell I was confused with him, because he replies with: “ Well, I guess, I made all of your favorites. From eggs and bacon, to waffles and sausages and pancakes and yogurt. All with a side of toast. So . . .” -- his smile grows shy -- “we’ll be having more leftovers than we need.”

My eyes widen with excitement and joy and I immediately hug the fuck out of that guy (with tea in my hand. And, yes, I did spill most of it on the couch, but who cares! We got it from the Goodwill anyway) screaming, “ThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!”

I can feel his smile creep into a grin beside my cheek while his hands make it up to the small of my back and pulls me into him. My face goes hot. He whispers into my ear, “You’re welcome.”