"Here," I take Chris's hand and place his index finger on the thin rim of the glass bowl. "Ok?"

   "Yeah," he nods energetically, grinning from ear to ear. "Step aside. Don't worry. I have good orientation. I'll score a direct hit."

   "Of course, you will," I pat his shoulder. "I don't doubt it."

   He swings the egg towards the target. The next moment it is splashed on the table in a mash of white, yolk and shell pieces. I snort. His expression is priceless, a mixture of surprise, disbelief and a little embarrassment. Cute.

   "What?" he mutters. "Where's the bowl? Did you move it?"

   "Aww, are you really going to blame it on me, butterfingers?" I sneer. "Maybe, it grew legs and ran away on its own."

   "Very funny," he pouts. "Give me another egg."

   "Sure." I put it in his hand. He grips the bowl with the other and bites his lip in concentration. Hesitation is written all over his face, so I decide to encourage him. "You will succeed this  time. I promise I won't tease you again. Go ahead!"

   "It's not that," he shakes his head. "We shouldn't waist food. There isn't much of it. An egg is not insignificant."

   "I know," I lightly squeeze his forearm. My heart sinks. Not that I would ever forget it, but his words remind me in full force of the gravity of the situation. This planet is almost annihilated. Its remaining inhabitants live on the edge of survival. Fauna and Flora are mutating. They are all doomed, unless I find a way to stop the disaster and save what is left. I sigh, "It's true. One egg is more precious than a diamond. I know it. Nothing will be waisted, I assure you. You can try one more time."

   "Sorry," he mumbles. "I am such a killjoy. An egg wouldn't make any difference, would it? It's just that... I think, I've been through more than I can handle. I'm tired, Dee. So fucking tired."

   "I found you right in time then. You are not alone anymore." I wrap my arm around his waist and firmly grip his wrist. "Do you mind a little help?"

   "No." Chris finally relaxes, leaning his back against my chest. "It's actually very welcome. I seem to be lost without you lately."

   With some guidance from me, he knocks the egg precisely on the edge and carefully slides the yolk and white into the bowl. I clean the shells from the other one and scoop it off the table with a spoon. Not an easy task, but I manage to add it to the mixture.

   "All done. We have two eggs in the bowl. What else?" I glance at my sad, brave boy. He is so handsome when the subtle smile curves up the corners of his soft lips. Every time I look at him, I want to protect him, to make him like me as much as I admire him, to wipe the sadness away from his face and make him laugh. 

   "Only a pinch of salt and a good beat," he answers, gripping eagerly the balloon whisk I put in his hand. "Oh, my God! This is great. Now, watch my flawless technique and take notes. It almost feels like the old days. The truth is, mom preferred to make breakfast on her own, because my wild enthusiasm always faded away just before we got around to cleaning the terrible mess I made in the kitchen. It didn't stop her from encouraging me, though. She praised everything I cooked, even when I burned the toast or the milk boiled over, splattering the stove."

   "Must have been a lot of fun, and a pain to clean up," I chuckle. He is skillful. It is a pleasure to watch his deft movements. "What did you put in the omelet in the old days?"

  "Oh, whatever I found in the fridge," he shrugs. "Sometimes bacon, other times cream and mushrooms, mixed vegetables, the leftover grilled chicken breast from dinner, but it is pretty good plain as well."

   "How about some brine cheese and cherry tomatoes," I suggest, full of satisfaction at the sight of his stunned face. "Don't be so surprised. I told you this was a fully functioning farm. I have a greenhouse, hens, also a small herd of cows and several sheep."

   "Like in the old days," Chris repeats with nostalgia in his voice. "You must be very busy since early morning. Even more so now that you have to look after me as well. Dad's jaw would drop if he could hear me, but I can't wait to start helping you with the animals. He was constantly trying to involve me in the farm work. To put it mildly, I had no desire whatsoever to get my hands dirty. I came up with all sorts of excuses to avoid it - a school project due the next day; a headache; the football practice. I even faked a sprained ankle once. If I had known what was coming, I would have volunteered every time. We could've spent so much more time together... Why do we always realize our mistakes when it's too damn late?"

   I want to say something comforting. Nothing comes to mind. No words seem soothing enough or appropriate. It is disrespectful to lessen such a loss. What could possibly ease the grief of a man whose entire world is gone? A gentle kiss on his temple is all I can do for him now. My life so far has been devoted to a single purpose, to find The Lux. I was too rushed and impatient when it finally happened. I lost the most important person in the universe, altered an entire timeline with dire consequences, and threatened the existence of my own kind as well as many others. I hope he can somehow sense that I know how despair feels. Mine is mixed with a terrible guilt. He thinks I rescued him, but the opposite is also true. Chris is like a ray of sunshine in a cloudy day. He appeared just when I needed him most.

   We stay quiet for a while, fighting our emotions. Each of us tries to be strong for the other and to hide deeper any weakness that might disturb our fragile moment of happiness, even though we both know the harsh truth. Chris leans closer and returns the kiss, barely brushing his lips over my chin.

   "Umm," his voice is unsteady, but he smiles. "Here's my secret to fluffy texture. Poor some cold water in the well beaten eggs, no more than half a cup. Add a pinch of paprika and pepper, whisk some more, and you can pour it in the pan. I'll start the second omelet. No spices for you, right? Give me the tomatoes and a knife. I'll cut them."

   "Yeah, right. No seasoning for me," I confirm. However, I am more than reluctant to let him cut anything. "There's no way that I am giving you a knife, smarty, no matter how much I admire your cooking skills. You've got enough bandages already."

   "A blind man with a knife," he smirks. "Scary, huh? It's like a horror movie plot. A selfless farmer finds a blind guy in the woods and decides to save him. The man looks nice and helpless, until one day the good farmer lets him cook the lunch... What did you get yourself into, Dee? I could be really dangerous."

   "Oh, fine!" I roll my eyes. "Enough drama. You sure know how to make me do whatever you want."

   "I would never," he protests, wiggling his eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent. I bring the knife and put a tomato in his hand. He squeaks happily and starts sniffing it and rubbing it on his lips. "Whoa! I thought they didn't exist anymore. I love tomatoes. They smell so good. Dee, you're a genius. How did you even manage to grow them?"

    "Don't ask," I groan. "It was really hard. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked in the end, but I planted and dug so much that I could make a second Channel Tunnel to connect England and France." 

   Chris starts to giggle. I pour the egg mixture in the pan and stand behind him. I told myself a thousand times that I should be careful and keep my distance. I repeated again and again that I had no right to kiss him. But no matter how I try, it seems impossible to stay away. He is sweet, courageous, lovely, tempting, simply irresistible, and has the most seductive lips I have ever tasted. Who would resist? I look forward to every opportunity to have him in my arms. He likes it.

   "We'll cut together," I mumble, holding his hands to direct his movements. "Ready?"

   "Yes, yes, yes," he says impatiently, pressing closer to me. "Totally ready."

Photo 139632104 / Cooking © Tofumax | Dreamstime.com

Photo by Steve House from pexels.com

A/N

Hello at the end of chapter 12!

Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤

Do you think Chris and Deon are a good match?

Are the feelings true, if you like someone without having ever seen him?

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Love: Anny