A/N: So this is the full 9.3k words that I posted on Inkitt and separated into three chapters over the past week! ^^ Here's the compilation and it'll prroobably be two weeks later till I update here again but the special Kingdom AU for Prince Leroy and Prince Julian is coming up in a few days so :> Look out for that too. 

Enjoy.

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And as though the night had a mind of it's own and, humanly jealous of the eventful morning, decided against disappointing anyone with some peace and quiet. This, I experienced in the form of odd holes littering the ends of my blanket inviting every bit of the forest chill onto the surface of my skin and the tips of my toes.

Furthered by the unzippable gap in the middle of the tent where my feet were placed right in front of, sleep was not an option. Wisps of the night slithered in at a passing breeze.

"Good god," I whispered into my jacket, wrapped around my neck like a scarf. Needless to say, I was a shivering mess—which certainly wasn't the most pleasant kind of person to be sleeping with since, well, this was a shared tent and waking up to humanly vibrations, however gentle, would be fairly unpleasant.

After all, the continuously pleasant disposition of everything else earlier this evening had to, at some point in time, take a turn for the worse. Knowing this meant that I could have very well braced myself for the inevitable nosedive, which I was sure we would soon experience at daybreak (all this, I'd attributed to the overly-critical part of my brain cultivated by the perfect combination of being around Uncle Al and Chip's husband).

Because the freezing waterfall bath had turned out fairly bearable and the walk back to the campsite fearfully dark but oddly safe, I was lulled into a false sense of security that somehow managed to even silence my inner critic, sated by a mere cup of hot 'refreshing spring water', the only beverage available to us miserable homo sapiens.

I'd spent the rest of the evening listening to everyone else's input as we gathered around the fire for the day's discussion, led by Leroy, whilst trying to figure out the strange presence of Debussy in the distance as though there was a piano in the trees and Clair De Lune was the only thing it could play. Ridiculous, was all I'd found myself thinking, unable to understand the several beats it'd missed and how terribly absurd I must've been to be playing the worst version of Clair De Lune in my head since, logically speaking, there was simply no way a piano could exist in a rainforest—let alone among the trees.

And by the end of the night, as the flames began to laze and burn down low, we'd managed to pan out morning duties and split ourselves accordingly into respective groups responsible for each task to be completed. Naturally, I was assigned something apart from knives and flames considering my absence of proper vision, which was also the last thing I remembered having sufficient energy to register.

That, and Raul climbing into his sleeping bag at the far end of the boy's tent whilst going on about this being the coolest sleepover experience he's ever had and suggesting we stay up all night chatting and playing non-existent card games. Bank had disagreed before the sleeping bag beside Raul's, snoring in a matter of seconds; leaving Leroy and myself to the pile of covers that the facilitator had left us due to the lack of sleeping bags.

"So like I counted the number of mosquito bites I have," mumbled Raul as he stifled a yawn and reached up to rub his eyes that were barely half open. "And like, thirty-two was the rough estimate but... what do you think? I could totally count mosquito bites all night man... I'm wide awa—" He'd fallen asleep sitting upright.

Clearly, Leroy and I hadn't enough awkward moments or stifling scenes featuring just the two of us trying to figure the other out, so here we were—under layers of cloth that had the most unthinkable design of huge holes lining its ends. Or, well, more specifically... I was.

Admittedly, I happened to possess a combination of my godfather's determination and Uncle Al's stubborn personality, which left me with an undying willingness not to check if Leroy was still awake or if he, too, had holes at the ends of his blanket.

This, I'd said too soon. All of a sudden, I was overcome with the urge to sneeze with the violence and spirit of a kraken asleep, tickling the back of my nose and readying the power of an explosive canon that I could barely hold in, transforming into some kind of unholy spasm under the sheets.

Needless to say, this got his attention.

I pretended to be asleep and dreaming, squeezing my eyes shut before remembering that no, that was not what human beings would be doing in REM and common sense probably informed Leroy of this as well because the next thing I knew, I was hearing a smirk in his voice.

"Can't sleep?"

Perfect. More opportunities to entertain Leroy Cox and by doing so, embarrass myself. Brilliant! The mental sigh at the back of my mind was loud and long. Slowly dropping my act over the next couple of seconds, I sat up and looked at him once before realizing how bad of an idea that was.

He'd turned under his covers and was staring my way, side of his head propped up by his arm.

"Well, the simple answer is yes. But you don't have to be looking at me like that," I pointed out quietly, slightly startled by the absence of sleep in his eyes. Also by the fact that I could see his eyes; proving my point about proximity and how this was certainly not the easiest way to be falling asleep. A-and why wasn't it, again?

He laughed shortly. "Miss your pyjamas?"

"No," I'd snapped back in a whisper, laying down after noting that I was clearly putting too much effort into the conversation since Leroy himself seemed to have no such intention. "The ends of my covers are littered with holes and my feet are freezing. That's all."

"Yeah?" He took one look at what I was referring to before lifting the side of his own. "Wanna share?"

I did a double take. "E-excuse—" And nearly forgot to whisper. Partly because my companion himself hadn't been doing so anyway, but I suppose that was the luxury of having a lower vocal register since, well, it was generally harder to hear. "That wasn't what I... you can't be serious and, well, there really isn't much space for the two of us under that."

"Just get in here," he had the gall to insist, inching over before throwing the rest of his covers over my head. I scrambled to regain my vision (although strictly speaking, wasn't any better without my glasses) and remove the blanket from my face.

"There's barely enough for yourself," was all I managed in a hushed voice, hesitant to return the covers despite my apparent rejection of his offer. The remnants of heat on the underside of the blanket made it all harder to resist. "I can't let you suffer like this."

Leroy had on display his indecent finger, 'stop talking' written all over his face before patting the space beside him once more. "Hurry up."

"Fine, I'll... layer my blanket underneath just in case," I had to offer in turn, not wanting to owe the captain too big of a favour since, well, I was never the kind of person who liked owing big favours either way. After all, the bigger the favour, the greater the responsibility; and I wasn't about to go around placing that much on my shoulders when there was no need for me to be doing so.

"Fuck, your hands—" He had his on my wrist, holding it up before fixing me a look. "Frozen fish sticks?"

"That is very rude, comparing my fingers to fish sticks," I said pointedly, sinking into the double-layered covers nevertheless and doing my best not to notice the proximity of our faces. All this whilst trying to ignore the foreign feeling of being held by the wrist. "Good night, Leroy."

He said nothing; merely hummed in acknowledgement and kindly turned the other way to give us both the space we needed to comfortably fall asleep. I on the other hand, couldn't do so without getting the words off my chest.

And as ridiculous and humanly absurd this would sound, I was embarrassed, shy, flabbergasted and far too prideful to whisper a word of thanks. This translated into the lamest substitute my oh-so-intelligent mind could come up with: "I appreciate your kindness." The aftereffects of this was unimaginably bitter with regret. Partly because my voice decided to run halfway through the sentence and partly because I appreciate your kindness??? What sort of human being would ever be in the right mind to say that??

And of course, he had to snort in response. "Could've just said thanks."

"Thank. You."

I heard him laugh shortly before we were back to silence—his warmth radiating from the other side of the covers and spreading throughout, leaving the underside of the blankets oddly cosy. So much so that I soon found myself wishing for such ideal thermo-regulative properties whilst drifting off to sleep.

It's like sleeping in front of a fireplace, with your back against it and some distance away. Although, well, he's certainly closer than I would ever be near a flame, so. Oh and speaking of flame, I was surprised by the wood grill Bank had come up with. Si Yin wasn't too bad with the smoking either, but the grills somehow made the fish overcook too fast. Some parts of it were dry and other weren't, which meant that the flame was uneven and poorly regulated, so we need to find a way to ensure that everything cooks evenly whilst retaining an element of Amazonian cuisine or perhaps we could incorporate some other flavour besides the Alder and at the same time have whatever it is cook in its own juices so that it doesn't dry up as soon as the flavour is incorporated so that leaves us with steaming the—

I nearly bolted upright, brimming with the streak of inspiration that struck me like a star before remembering that I wasn't alone under the covers. Carefully, inching bit by bit, I turned to face my companion.

"Leroy?" I tapped his back with a finger, hoping he wouldn't find me too annoying and persistent. "Are you still awake?"

Admittedly, this was yet another one of my greatest flaws: a hopelessly active mind that seemed to double in effectiveness just as I crawled under my covers every night. For this very reason, I often kept a palm-sized notebook and pen write beside my bed for ideas I was afraid I'd forget the very next morning. They ranged from flavour combinations to 'challenge yourself' calculus problems at the end of every textbook to new article ideas for my food blog.

"Yeah?" He turned and his eyes; confirming that I was, as of recent, a terrible decision-maker who needed to acknowledge the increasing pile of regretful choices I'd made in the past couple of weeks. Clearly, I hadn't thought this through. Tapping him on the back. Calling him or just, in general, not having ended our conversation at 'good night.'

"I... um." His face, a mere finger apart, held eyes that locked onto mine and froze them in place. "W-well."

If possible, Leroy stared harder. And by this point, curiously enough, he looked quite as though he was... expecting... something I knew not what. So as quickly and quietly as possible, I got what I had to say past my lips in a flurry.

"What do you think of using banana leaves for plating? I was thinking we could steam the mushrooms after wrapping them up in the leaves: it's a technique called maito in the Amazonas and—"

He reached over to flick my forehead at once. "Shut up and sleep before I make you."

==================

Just two people sharing a blanket. That's all that happened. Completely normal, no big deal, part of every friendship, was how my mind sounded as it tried to convince the abnormal beat in my chest; loud and fast.

This was thanks to my waking up to the most unbelievably unhealthy sight of Leroy's face—eyes closed, breathing steady—inches away from mine the moment I had the consciousness to register how crystal clear his features were despite my obviously myopic vision. Startled, I'd slipped out of the tent to breathe before remembering my morning duties and deciding that, well, since the sun was nearly up and past the horizon, I might as well get a head start and check on the nut oil and cream separation.

The most rational step to take before heading anywhere was to inform someone or, well, leave a note. This, I'd intended to do with the facilitator for our group when I noticed that she had (probably) left in the middle of the night and had yet to return to her post, so a note would have to do.

Initially, I'd considered sticking it on my blanket-partner's face but figuring that this would wake him up, I placed it right on my inflatable pillow so that he, being a human being of common sense, would have will to read it.

Then, grabbing a compass and the SOS light from the front pocket of my jacket and a trusty stick from the pile gathered and inspected by Bank, I made my way to the stream once again.

Naturally, I wasn't silly enough to be wandering around with a morning fog settled over the forest floor, so it was only after I'd confirmed with a swing of the stick and 'harnessing of the wind' that the fog was thin enough (which meant that it was rather late in the morning already and no one was awake still) that I started towards my destination. It wasn't all too bad. A morning stroll was exactly what I needed to clear my mind of unnecessary thoughts and scandalous memories of Leroy Cox.

Mind you, making space for more important matters like identifying a nearby water source in a rainforest and the taste and appearance of nearly every species of apple in the world held far greater worth for a human being's limited brain capacity. Leroy was... well, he's not knowledge or reasoning that would help me attain the former, so—

"Stupid shits."

I paused, squinting at a vague moving silhouette in the distance and stopping in my tracks. The voice had been faint and at most, a passing sound carried by the wind and down to where I was by the stream. The sound of rushing waters wasn't necessarily going to make things easier for me either.

Moments after I returned to searching for the characteristic rock near the waterfall we swam in last night (also where we stored the flashlight-bottles of nut mixtures), I heard it again. The voice of frustration carried by the wind from some, um, general... direction in which I wasn't too sure I was getting right.

Again, I squinted.

Is that a plant...? Or a—

"You?!" The plant appeared to exclaim, and what seemed like the huge yellow buds on the top of its stem wobbled. "What are you staring at?"

I opened my mouth to reply before closing it soon afterwards, squinting for the third time. "You sound very familiar."

"What? Are you blind?" The voice paused, as though it required some time to register the absence of glasses on my nose and my squinty-eyes. "Oh. You are. Where did your glasses go?"

Admittedly, I wasn't too sure how I should be feeling about having a conversation with a complete stranger across the stream when I was perfectly blind. "Um, I dropped them here, somewhere in the stream... what are you doing at the stream? And, um, who are you?"

The voice promptly scoffed, sounding almost exactly like someone I knew. Meanwhile, I'd caught the faint scent of bay leaves in the air and couldn't resist the temptation of beginning my search for it at once. "It's not like I remember your name anyway."

"Alright," I shrugged, not quite knowing what else to say. Leaning down to inspect a plant by the root of a nearby tree, I noted its distinct characteristics at once; including the scent sharp, herbal fragrance. "It really isn't a safe thing to do, wandering about in the rainforest and far away from the institute, unless you're also involved in the cross-year but then you'd also be wandering far out since most of us have separate locations. Our campsite's near the stream so it's fine for me but you should really be careful."

The figure did not hesitate to snort. "Nice try but you're nearly blind. Also, I'm not a baby... I'm just—it's just... god critics are such idiots. Completely useless and I just had to be drawing blues one after the other."

I was in the midst of picking bay leaves one by one and stuffing them into the pockets of my pants for everyone else on the team having a hard time with mosquitoes when I heard these awfully familiar words which my poor mind was soon able to attribute to a certain other first-year student participating in the cross-year apart from Si Yin and myself.

"Sorry, but you don't happen to be Violet Birchwood, do you?"

The voice burst into a flurry of exasperated groans, putting audible eyerolls to shame and naturally leaving me rather startled.

"You're pretty slow for someone so highly sought-after yesterday morning," Birchwood mumbled to herself, barely giving me the chance to catch her words above rushing waters. I patted my bulging pockets of bay leaves before standing up and drawing closer to the stream, where she was now seated by on a rock. "This sucks."

"Is... something wrong?" I stood idly with my stick, nearly forgetting to search for the part of the stream we made our makeshift refrigerator in. "Are you and your teammates not, um, getting along, perhaps?"

"Getting along?" She nearly scoffed, albeit hesitant in disposition. Her arms, crossed over her chest and completely stiff, nearly confirmed the answer to my question. "That's stupid. Things like getting along. Wow. People actually use that word. Or I guess you aren't really 'people' either, huh."

I cleared my throat, poking the stick around and knocking it against a couple of rocks. Something under it moved, so I backed away at once. "Well. Um... I mean. There must be a reason why you've decided to come so far away from your team. Add to that your cursing and sullen mood, I'm certain it's not too far a reach."

"Whatever," Birchwood clicked her tongue, sniffing once. The sound was odd and almost disarming—it explained the thinness of her voice and its lack of foundation; almost crumbly in a sense. "Go away."

Surprised, my mind refused to register her words for a good couple of seconds and by the time it all finally settled in, Birchwood was full-out sobbing across the stream as though the waters had issued her a challenge and she was doing everything she could to beat it. Eventually, I figured that she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. At least judging by the way she'd erupt every five to six seconds in flames and tears.

"Bir—Violet...? Um. Are you alright? Well, clearly not. I-I mean... do you need to blow your nose?"

I hadn't actually expected her to say yes. Reason being, my pockets were filled with bay leaves instead of my usual handkerchief and tissue paper did not exist in the middle of a rainforest. Moreover, set on the fact that Birchwood would most definitely throw up at the idea of me comforting her as she sobbed into oblivion, I was so sure she would never agree to anything that would further involve my pebble self.

"Yeah duh. Get me something to blow my nose, smart ass."

Taking in the very words I'd least expected, I could only nod and get on task. Being the extreme intellect I was, I pulled out a bay leaf I'd picked earlier on and carefully made my way across the stream by hopping from rock to rock, occasionally bending down to check if the next rock was, indeed, dry.

"U-um. I've once read about a character offering his best friend a leaf to dry his tears, so... if you're okay with this..." I held it out to her.

And as ridiculous as it may sound, Gucci-suitcase, billionaire-father, queen-bee Violet Birchwood snatched up the bay leaf like it was the final chip of the bag and used it to blow her nose in the most violent manner. I stepped back. Startled.

"Ugh, stupid critics. What's the use of reading dumb books like that when you don't have a best friend or proper leaves?"

"Hey," I snapped back, offended. "I may not have best friends or, or proper leaves but at least I'm currently in a situation that might require the use of the latter, so. The least you could do is thank me."

Birchwood snorted, laughing through her tears. "Yeeaah. Thank you for offering me the most pungent leaves ever, right. No. Deal with it."

"I'd like to know when your birthday is so that I could give you a book on manners, young lady," was all I managed whilst shaking my head. "I'm going to return to doing whatever I need to be doing right now, so. Good luck with your team."

Her gaze snapped towards mine, meeting it briefly before her head decided to turn elsewhere. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. Bye."

It was then that I recalled Bank and Raul digging holes on the left side of the waterfall last night before packing our flashlight-bottles of nut mixtures into the earth; which meant that I had been looking on the wrong side of the stream all along and was, as of now, on the right one. Hm.

I guess every grey cloud does have a silver lining.

*

I had the misfortune of meeting Leroy halfway back to the campsite, first registering the dark dot of crimson in the distance, standing out from a bloom of green before recognizing the rest as an actual human being.

"What took you so long?" He said the moment I was within earshot, drawing towards me with his arms out and then nearly picking me up by the shoulders. Or at least that was what he looked like he was doing. I apologized, full hands unable to brush him aside.

"I ran into Birchwood by the stream. Oh, and the mixtures separated well so don't shake me or the residue's just going to mess it up again. By the way, I found some bay leaves on the way too and they're good for repelling mosquitoes when burnt, so. Just some additional welfare for our team and—what are you doing?"

I watched as he looked me up and down, checking the back of my head with his fingers.

"... checking for injuries that might have made you hallucinate," was all he had to say and we were close enough for me to spot the smirk on the edge of his lips. I moved away and he caught up, taking a couple of flashlight cases to lighten my load.

"I talked to her, alright? She seemed rather emotional, that's all."

Leroy raised a brow. "Yeah?"

"You're questioning me?" I asked, oddly up for a challenge. "Go ahead and ask her in the evening. Though I doubt she'd say the truth since, well, she probably wouldn't want to look bad in front of you."

And, peering up at him as I said this, I caught the vague look of confusion in his eyes before it could fade into a general indifference. "Why not?"

This took me several blinks to register. "Why not? Well... I'm sure you've realized, but Violet's rather fond of you. As, um, as a male... person. A potential mate. Thing."

He turned to me with amusement in his eyes. "What the fuck's a... you mean boyfriend?"

"Boy..." I had to pause. "Oh. Is that the term I should be using?"

Leroy was laughing and this did not please the all-knowing mental library in me. Naturally, I was stunned into silence, having to admit defeat in a game of terms when words and general knowledge were all the weapons I had. I cleared my throat amidst his laughter, attempting to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"Is everyone else up and awake? Have they started on their assigned duties?"

His gaze rested on me briefly, as though contemplating whether or not to grant my humble topic-change request. "Kinda," was what he went with in the end before giving me a rundown of things. "Si Yin. We'll have her on fish. Bank's on wood and grill structures. Raul's on plating. The rest are the same as yesterday."

"And myself?" I prompted after waiting for him to continue, having already completed the morning task I'd been assigned the night before. "Should I join the both of you at the stream again?"

Leroy did not seem all-too-keen on that idea. "We're good. Si Yin got the hang of it fast enough and you without your glasses means I'd rather have you locked up than anywhere near a flame or rocks."

"What! You'd be reducing my worth to the equivalent of some... some harmless weed!" I said to him indignantly, in complete disagreement with his response. "I can't possibly sit and not do anything."

"You could sit at camp and police everyone while I'm away, identify and check raw ingredients or list out a couple that we need while tasting everything," he explained with a shrug. "Just don't push yourself."

This, I couldn't seem to comprehend. "Yes, but we're gunning for the win, aren't we? I mean—I didn't join this team to lose, Leroy."

"Who said we were going to lose?" Our captain raised a brow, a spark in his eyes and mischief on his lips.

"Ah. So you're saying that you wouldn't need me to win the cross-year—I see what you mean now," I'd managed sarcastically at first, intending for myself to have the upper hand in the conversation only for Leroy to change that in a matter of seconds. "Perhaps I would have been of more use on Chen's team after all."

This got him clearly disturbed. Momentarily, he had something in his eyes that I could barely read and then, returning to its usual state, the calm of a candle flame.

"Winning's okay," he reasoned. "But if we want to fuck them up good, we're going to need—"

"Language, Leroy."

*

For all members of a team to possess the spirit of initiative was a phenomenon so miraculous that I found myself quietly admiring the accuracy of our captain's uncanny human-reading abilities in which I'd once thought he'd never have. Simply put: he'd exceeded my expectations by putting together a group of people that would have otherwise been a gathering of misfits.

The sight of everyone hard at work, clearly focused on the task they'd been assigned when Leroy and I arrived back at the campsite was the epitome of a hard worker's dream team. Almost at once, Nabila and Rosi who'd come up with a list of ingredients to look out for surrounded me with questions and requests, of which included the flavour profiles I'd envisioned in my designing of the course meal.

"We're most concerned with dessert as of now, judging by the lack of progress on that. Our top priority would be foraging for fleshy fruits that would give us a starting to point to work on. Sweet or sour—doesn't matter. Balancing of flavours can be done afterwards. Vegetables and more mushrooms would be our next priority since, well, we're clearly lacking on greens which would be uncharacteristic of Brazilian or Amazon Cuisine. Herbs and spices would be next to elevate the protein as we've discussed yesterday."

Unfortunately, our attention was divided between the task at hand and the facilitator who'd just arrived and had called for an audience with Leroy. The look on her face wasn't entirely unexpected; partly because I'd assumed Leroy had told her about our choice of offered ingredient. Not that I could tell with utmost accuracy since Si Yin was the one describing things to me and with the knowledge of her tendency to make things seem a little different from how they really were, I wouldn't be so trusting of myself either.

"It's literally the surprised Pikachu meme. You think Leroy told her about the ingredient? 'Too simple.' I'm an expert at lip-reading by the way."

Halfway through, Rosi lost interest and egged her foraging partner to pick up her basket so that they could get going. Si Yin, unfortunately part of team protein, was stuck waiting for our captain to be done and was watching Raul and Bank have a heated discussion about, um, wood.

"We could mix Alder with something else like... I don't know, something else. Cherry or apple or something and then the fruity notes would be good you know. But not only for smoking but grilling is good too."

Bank was holding the axe in one hand and his bottle of soy sauce in the other. "Ya but critic said Alder is for fish right? Fruity will go with fish? I thought for meat only..."

"Yeah but I meant mixing it up not going all out—"

I resolved this by picking up a block of Alder from Bank's pile of wood and handing it to Raul. "Smell this. And then think of the fish we had yesterday. And then imagine it fruity."

He paused, taking the block of wood and holding it up to his nose. "Oh..."

"Fish is light as a protein. Not as rich as the gamey meats that the other teams might be using. If we add a fruity scent to something that's already light, there would be no grounding for the dish's flavour once it's inside your mouth. But," I added. "You're not wrong in saying that we might need some other wood and that would either be for the desserts or perhaps an appetiser, which we have yet to decide on, so. Better safe than sorry."

Bank nodded briefly, glancing at Raul before all of a sudden extending his hand to the latter. "Sorry we fight."

Leroy's lodge mate blinked twice, slowly reaching for the hand and shaking it carefully. "Oh, uh... that was a fight? No, that's not a fight... I mean, we were just talking about opinions, right?"

They stared at each other, confused, and before I could request for assistance with plating issues, our captain was back from his talk with the facilitator and because he was apparently very fond of standing inches away behind or in front of me, nearly had a block of wood flying at his face.

"It'll happen one day," was all I managed after calming down, stepping back and throwing a glare in his general direction. "Where's Si Yin? You should get going to the stream soon before the sun's too high up and the reflection of the light messes with your vision of the fish. Oh, and because yesterday's catch was so good, you don't have to try and beat it or anything... but a tambaqui like yesterday's would do good. I was thinking: grilled tambaqui ribs or steamed whole? And if you could remember to check under the rocks near the stream occasionally... turn them, I mean. Just something additional."

He nodded, and before turning to leave, slapped me with a teasing "you think some fish hid your glasses under a rock?"

I had to remind myself that Leroy Cox was not worth the effort.

*

Raul was holding the yaki-panga leaf I'd handed him up to the light, squinting as though doing so would somehow make the leaf sport magical elements that would make our dishes taste legendary. "It's... just a leaf."

This, I couldn't deny. "Yes, it is. But it is what you do with the leaf that matters." He seemed genuinely convinced within a matter of seconds and together, we got to collecting as many of these leaves as possible, which were also known as bijao.

"So... this maito thing you said. It's a cooking technique?" Raul dusted bits of earth and soil off the surface of the leaves he'd collected.

"Yes. A typical procedure among the locals to wrap protein in bijao before steaming it on a wood grill. Logically, it incorporates their culture and tradition of appreciating nature as it is by allowing the ingredients to cook in their own juices. We could season it to taste by adding herbs or spices as well." Eyeballing and mentally approximating the number of leaves we had, I figured it was enough to last us through lunch and dinner. "Let's go back."

"But playdate-boy—I forgot your name again, sorry is it Winter or Whale—how do you... like, how do you know all these things?" He asked as soon as we started towards the campsite, compass out. I considered the prospect of having Whale as a last name. "When Leroy said you were smart, I just thought you were, you know. Average-smart."

I cleared my throat, feeling my face heat up a little. "Average-smart describes me perfectly."

"No it doesn't," Raul frowned, seemingly offended. "You have... how do you say it. A very good—no, like, hot brain. Yeah that's what Leroy said."

Startled, I could barely speak. "H... hot? And what would that mean?"

"Hot," he shrugged. "I don't know. Like, hot means hot right. Yeah the dude gets so triggered around stupid people sometimes. Last time we had this party over at Cayenne and one of our mates invited the girls from Cinnamon and it was crAzY," he laughed. "Forgot the girl's name but she threw up all over our carpet in the living and Leroy was like... what's the word for it. Like fire."

"Livid?" I offered.

"Yeah yeah! Livid," he agreed, probably for the sake of it but he was nice enough to. And the story was fairly amusing as well. "He couldn't understand why people who can't drink end up drinking anyway and like, you know, doing stupid stuff so he kicked her out. Okay but plus it was his turn to do the cleaning, so. And he hates parties 'cuz it's mostly potluck and he can't stand cooking for anyone. Like, even party food. Finger food, you know? Takes like five fucking minutes to fry up some chicken and he can't even bring himself to do that."

I laughed, oddly invested in the image of a fuming Leroy with a mop in one hand and a vacuum cleaner in another, trying to clean up the mess after a night of mistakes. It was also very much like him to send someone out the door once they offended him, even though he was practically a magnet for such people in general. The cooking part however, never failed to puzzle every rational bone in my body. Which was every bone, strictly speaking.

"I just don't get how you got him cooking for you twice," he turned to me with a look of mischief. "You know his secret or something?"

"Really," I returned his smile with an airy laugh. "That's not the case. I suppose he'd like to have me taste his cooking so that he could improve on it. Or at least that's what I—"

Bam, was the sound I registered in the back of my head as I walked into what resembled a metal pole sticking out in the middle of a school field. Almost at once, I felt my head spin and my nose grow numb with pain. The leaves I had gathered in my arms fell to the forest floor while I attempted to regain my balance and general stability. "Good god," was all I managed in suffering. "What are you?"

My eyes readjusted after seconds of scrunching up in pain. Bamboo.

"Woah woah woah woah shit don't go getting yourself hurt, man. I don't want Leroy breathing down my neck for not keeping you alive. Is your nose okay? We need the tongue and nose. You already lost your eyes so like," Raul was not helping, placing his hands on my shoulders and turning me towards him. "Your nose better be okay."

"Well!" I reached up to touch my nose bridge and feel for possible fractures. "Blame this... this stem of bamboo sticking out in the middle of nowhere."

Admittedly, I was exaggerating. Though drama and weighted words weren't necessarily my forte, I was partly upset with both Raul and myself for not having paid any attention to our surroundings despite the former having the privilege of twenty-twenty vision. And as frustrating as it was to admit, I had, somewhere along the way, gotten used to Leroy's wordless directions and leading—

"Wait," it struck me then and though I would never be able to explain the odd way my brain cells had decided to link bamboos to Leroy and finally back to our task at hand: plating... well, it sort of just happened. "Can I have the axe for a second?"

Raul froze up at once. "Oh, what omg please don't kill me. I'm really bad with looking out for other people but I promise I won't do it again 'cuz if you kill me that's just going to mean I'd get killed twice since Leroy would probably—"

"That's silly! I just need it for the bamboo." I took the axe from him and observed the stem, calculating the angle I should be hacking from and the approximate force I should exert for safety purposes. "Without plates and bowls, we could improvise with these hollow stems. Like maito, which uses leaves to steam the ingredients, we could section the bamboo into palm-sized cups and seal the underside with a leaf, secured by... well, some malleable stems or fibres and that becomes a bowl that could double up as a flavour enhancer... bamboo-steamed... anything. Anything would do. Let's just cut this up first."

Raul appeared far too stunned for movement in his limbs because the next thing I knew, he was murmuring something about 'doing the hot brain thing again' that simply made no sense at all before standing idly to the side with a blank expression.

By the time we made it back to the campsite with the long bamboo stem cut into half for the sake of easy manoeuvre through obstacles otherwise known as undergrowth and trees, Nabila and Rosi were back from foraging for fruits and vegetables and Bank was in the midst of starting a fire under a new contraption he'd made.

"Hey! So we can't tell what this is but I tried some on the way back 'cuz I was just starving and this is some super sweet fruit I—woah, is that bamboo?" Rosi squinted at the green stem Raul had decided to lean on a nearby tree because it was far too long to be anywhere on the ground.

I nodded, checking the stem for perfect cuts by putting my face inches away from the bamboo. "If we use the hollow parts as cups or bowls and perhaps use them as steamers to incorporate the fragrance of bamboo in something otherwise bland... though it's not decided just yet. We could also end up using it as mere décor during the plating phase. How was everything on your side?"

The look on their faces said it all: baskets full of loot, smiling from ear to ear as they sifted through and produced a variety of fruits and mushrooms that looked even better than the ones from yesterday.

"I remembered what you said about the death caps so I'm pretty sure there aren't any this time round but I need you to check just in case I messed up," said Rosi, sorting their mushrooms onto one of the banana leaves Raul and I had laid out from our collection.

"I'll do that. And the fruits? Do you need help with dessert?"

Nabila produced a bright orange fruit from her basket, tossing and catching it in her hand as though it was a football. "Look what we found."

"Cacao!" Bank seemed to identify at once, looking over from his grill contraption. "Wow. Lucky!"

"Yeah," Rosi nodded. "Super easy to identify—can't believe we missed it yesterday since it was nearer than we thought. In fact, there was some wild pineapple nearby too and down south we found... this," she shook the basket that now contained three yellowish fruits with what appeared to be red highlights. Somewhere behind, it sounded like someone was choking on their saliva, possibly startled by the quality of today's loot.

"Ah," I reached in, weighing the fruit in my hand before holding it up for a closer look. "They seem like custard apples." Bank should know this too. And if that's the case it would be a waste if we don't use the entire plant. "Actually—do you... maybe, I mean, perhaps, remember where you found these? The leaves. They have a sweet fragrance when sautéed, which could be our vegetable dish since we haven't been able to think of one just yet."

Rosi turned to Nabila and they shared a look.

"I... don't think it's too far, actually. But we haven't thought of using the leaves ."

"Let's give it a try," Raul added whilst tearing the banana leaves into thirds. Hm. Someone's still choking on their saliva. Bank, then...? "Plus, Leroy would probably complain if we miss out something on the menu when he comes back with the promised 'truckload of fish.'"

Yet again, Rosi and Nabila exchanged another look and before my mind could start jumping to conclusions about shared secrets and juicy gossip, the former leaned into the circle of trust and pointed to something over my shoulder.

"Captain-boy has been standing there in his wet clothes for the past minute, waiting for you to notice him so that he can make his entrance. Si Yin has been clearing her throat to catch your attention and she sounds increasingly like a pterodactyl coughing up their latest meal. I think you should start saying hi before things get bad and he starts making out with the crabs they got instead of you."

*

Surveying the empty banana leaves and fish bones wiped clean of white flaky flesh, we each came to a consensus that it was time to decide on the official menu for tonight's final. That, and the fact that our standards had increased drastically after yesterday's first meal.

"The oils really helped. And the sweet leaves from the custard apple tree taste amazing with Bank's soy sauce too," Nabila noted. "All we have to do now is add a kick to one or two of our dishes... which means we still got to find some peppers."

Bank offered to take the job, stating that Nabila and Rosi had done enough foraging for the day. Both girls were pleasantly surprised but Raul appeared confused, not quite understanding why Bank would be so eager to add to his load and willingly go beyond his assigned duties.

"We're lucky its shedding season for blue crabs too," Si Yin piped. "I literally saw its empty shell when captain lifted the first rock. Plus, they tasted so good fried," she went on dreamily, referring to the soft shell crab dish we were able to test (with one of the seven crabs they'd managed to bring back) out earlier on.

And by this point, Leroy did not so much as bother to ask how I had the knowledge I knew. The crabs were related to the sound I'd heard yesterday afternoon while we were at the stream, plus the fact that I'd read about their life cycles in elementary school. Either way, all Leroy did was flash a smile I could barely read or differentiate between bad and evil. Yes, bad and evil since, well, he was only ever one or the other.

In fact, while I was beginning to explain how the bamboo steamers would work with banana leaves and the wild onion shoots that we decided to recycle instead of throwing them aside, he was busy being awfully distracted with unrelated conversational topics.

"Kissed anyone before?" He came out of nowhere while I was attempting to demonstrate the wrapping technique I'd come up with to secure the bottom of the bamboo cups Raul had made. I turned to him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

"Leroy Jeremy Cox you ill-mannered idiot were you even listening to me for the past ten minutes?" I managed without letting my embarrassment show. "This is completely irrelevant to our task at hand!"

He shrugged, taking a wild onion shoot and skilfully securing a section of banana leaf on the underside of the bamboo cup. "What? Don't like multi-tasking?"

"W-well! I was in the middle of explaining how to do it," I reasoned, stunned that he was following my instructions without any seeming effort but unwilling to believe that he had actually been listening to me. "Alright. If you're so good at mass producing these bamboo steamers then by all means, show me."

"Loser makes dinner for the winner?" He was smirking all of a sudden, issuing a challenge he knew I wouldn't refuse out of pride. "Odd number of cups, so. Whoever ends up with more."

I could hardly think.

"You are absolutely shameless to be challenging a critic who's practically blind on a culinary basis without giving him a handicap," I laid out before reaching for the next bamboo cup nevertheless, quietly starting first. "I'm including the ones I made earlier before lunch."

Leroy snorted a laugh, reaching over to flick my forehead before starting on his second steamer. "Even though you like a challenge."

"Never said that," I refused at once, hoping that this was where our banter would come to an end so that I could concentrate on putting the bamboo steamers together with maximised efficiency.

But as soon as I felt this was finally the case and I was given the peace and quiet to channel every bit of my energy to beating this ill-mannered fool, he was back at it with the distractions.

"So? Kissed anyone before?"

I nearly had him by the neck. At this rate, he was practically tempting me into a distracted argument that would take this seemingly effortless challenge to a whole new level of multi-tasking. That, and taking advantage of my weak resistance and attraction towards the answering of any question.

So I did; just to prove him wrong.

"Yes."

At this, he seemed to pause and narrow his gaze. Clearly, the question was distracting himself and giving him a taste of his own medicine. Brilliant. "Who?"

Musing quietly, I went on without quite figuring out why my simple, honest answer appeared so interesting to him. "Miss Julie. On each side of her cheeks? And Chip's knee when that was all I could reach eleven years ago. I quite like kissing."

The crease upon his brow furthered and his hands stopped all at once, leaving the onion shoots dangling from his fingers. "Chip?"

"My godfather," I nearly forgot, elaborating whilst moving on to making the next steamer. "I was shopping for soapstone figures for him on the first day at the market. Ah, and you've seen his husband! The one who picked me up from kindergarten that one time."

Leroy blinked, fingers slowly getting back to securing the banana leaf to the bottom of another bamboo cup. "Two men?"

"Who are happily in love, yes," I finished for him, unable to put a finger on his tone of voice or the expression in his eyes. "You're not, um, conservative, are you? I mean, about gay marriage."

"No," his attention returned to the bamboo steamers, tossing the one he'd made into the pile beside him and seemingly losing interest at once. "Nothing wrong. And I meant someone who's not family."

"A kiss is a kiss Leroy," I turned to him, offended by his sudden qualifying of the original question since I'd personally found my answer rather informative and admittedly, vulnerable. Naturally, I'd hoped he would appreciate my candour. "Would it matter if the receiver wasn't family?"

He nearly laughed, looking at me as though I'd declared the most ridiculous thing in the world (that I hadn't scored a full-mark on some biology test). "So if we kiss now, it's the same as you kissing your godfather's knee?"

I did a double take, freezing up before nearly dropping the half-finished steamer in my hands. Naturally, this worked in Leroy's favour, giving him the advantage of a distracted opponent which was enough for him to overtake my progress and toss his fifth bamboo cup into the pile. If this had been his intention all along, I'd just handed it to him on a silver platter.

"Leroy, you—you clearly lack some proper sportsmanship. Such underhanded means that I! I'm speechless," he left me in a mess of words and an embarrassing heat on my face. "You're an idiot and yes, you might think that proposing such an alternative would make me think twice but while it did, I'd also like to point out that your original question had not specified in any manner about the answer I should be giving and so yes! There you have it."

Our captain shook his head, laughing as I continued to protest in my head and prepare a flurry of comebacks in response, ready to be fired.

"Let's work on your multi-tasking some other time," was all he had to say with a smirk, tossing his seventh into the pile. The odd number.

===================

Thankfully, my personal concept of losing was nothing more than a lesson and nothing less than a decent opportunity to improve. Admittedly, I would have preferred it's alternative form—winning—but I wasn't sore enough to be coming up with excuses and wasting precious time moping around. After all, every opportunity to grow my pool of knowledge was not to be missed and being a sore loser simply meant that I was not investing in growing the capacity of my mind.

So after crafting a digital reminder to make dinner for Leroy some day or another, the team gathered for a final briefing before starting on the last round of preparations; three hours till the judging.

"Why are there so many people with cameras?" Si Yin whispered in panic when we finally brought everything to the makeshift table that Bank had constructed out of smooth flat stones and chopped up branches tied together in a bunch strong enough to support the surface. Beside that, Raul had started the fire and left a crock of water to boil.

"Press coverage," I told her, avoiding the gaze of the five other Chronicle journalists eyeing us with notes and pens in their hands and cameras around their necks. Jael, the photographer during my interview with Leroy, was one of them. "Keith did say they were going to do something detailed."

One of them was speaking to the facilitator, catching up on what I assumed was our progress over the past couple of hours, while the others split up to examine other parts of our camp which seemed a little intimidating. As though they were a bunch of investigators at a crime scene.

"Ignore them," Nabila snapped her fingers to call for attention. "We gotta finalize the menu now or we'll end up not knowing what we're doing. Three-course restaurant-quality meal—go."

"I've got dessert down," Rosi said first, pointing out the ingredients she'd put aside. "Bringing them to the stream to chill for a bit and as soon as they start on entrée I'll whip it up in ten minutes."

This, Rosi and I had discussed and confirmed over lunch, planning out the timing and execution of dessert after ensuring complimentary flavour profiles. Everyone was consulted with the idea and had agreed to it.

"Appetiser?" "We have the ingredients for drinks ready." "No, I'm talking about the appetiser." "Let's go with the maito mushrooms, onion and garlic. Caramelise the onions and then wrap them up." "But we had blue crabs... unless we're having them as main?" "No, the entrée's got to be the fish." "Yeah but is the fish steamed, grilled, smoked or fried?" "We're forgetting about the vegetables too..." "And the ingredient we asked for—"

Everyone was talking at the same time and no, that certainly did not sit well with my ever-present desire for peace. Our captain, seemingly deep in thought, had not the heart to stop them either; so while we could continue to look perfectly indecisive in front of a bunch of journalists and land ourselves in a feature brimming with piping hot tea to spill (as I, a journalist, would know) or further waste our scarcest resource by the name of time, I pulled them into a tighter circle and said the first thing on my mind.

"Three years ago, my uncle was invited for a meal at a Thai restaurant that has their annual reservation list filled in eight seconds upon release and they had fifteen dishes on the table."

Their faces were close enough for me to witness a look of absolute confusion. Only Bank seemed to be snapping his fingers, trying to squeeze out an oncoming thought. Si Yin turned to me at once, resembling a bird cocking its head. "Wha? Say that again." Several others opened their mouths to speak but Leroy shut them up with a finger before they could return to the realm of chaos.

"I meant," slowing down and lowering my voice just in case the walls (trees) decided to spout ears. "Authentic food in some parts of the world aren't just... three-course meals. Restaurants that are famous for their traditional cuisine give the most local experience and, well, if that's what we're going for, then—what did we have at Doña Brazi's village two days ago?"

"A fucking feast... oh my god," Raul's jaw dropped and as though this seemed to boost the brain activity of his surrounding mates, Bank finally put thought into words and snapped aloud.

"Ruen Jarung! Yeah super famous restaurant near Bangkok I never eat before but want to eat... wow. So we doing fifteen dishes?" He went from excitement to confusion in less than a second, as though confused by his own words. "Amazon and Brazilian combine?"

"Wait, but isn't that, like," Nabila paused, a stiff smile on her face. "I mean. It's the cross-year, not some practical at school, so... the rules said three-course. Plus, fifteen dishes? We don't have an army of chefs."

This slowed the conversation to a stop, addressing the primary aspect of my suggestion and reverting us back to a noisy silence of thoughts. Even without having to look at their faces, it was clear to me that this was what made the idea so awfully unattractive and—

"Maybe not fifteen," I reasoned quietly. "Eight can fill a table—we'll have our own brand. Something that stands out and, well, if you trust me enough to follow whatever I have in mind, then. Let's take the risk. Break the rules."

All at once, I received a collective surprise written all over the faces of my teammates. Our captain had in his eyes an amused flame; a core that burned any gaze once stared at for too long a time.

"Someone's learning," he teased. "Risk-taking."

"Calculated risk-taking, mind you. Unlike yourself," I was quick to point out the difference after clearing my throat. "We're going to stand out as the team with the most dishes despite having the least resources. That, and the fact that authentic Amazon and Brazilian cuisine has never been about course meals. We won't be giving them plates to judge—we're giving them an experience to remember." 

================

AN: Aaaand that's 9.3k words! I've mentioned previously that some of you didn't like that I was posting long chapters every week and wanted faster updates instead. And so here's the solution I came up with!!

ONE:

From now till mid-September, I will be updating Vanilla every Sunday, Wednesday and Friday by posting vanilla-flavoured seesaw cookies on Inkitt! These chapters will be 3-4k words.

This was what I did with chapter 20 for the past week and it worked out well, so I'll be continuing with this for the next couple of weeks! So feel free to spoil yourself with the tidbits on Inkitt unless you don't mind waiting for two more weeks for the next chapter. 

However, next week is kind of special...

TWO:

I'm writing a special AU (alternate universe) for Leroy and Vanilla just like I did for Chip and Xander but this will be exclusively on Inkitt ;v; its called 'Princes, Dancing in the Dark' and it's an AU whereby Leroy and Vanilla and princes of rival kingdoms and UhUuhUhuHuhUH UWU yesssssss you will love it. I'm already working on it and I'm just wondering why the hell I hadn't just decided to write them that way instead of Vanilla being Chip's godson and having to have them in the same universe bUt Oh wEll HEHE. It's a guilty pleasure. This will be up on Inkitt by 27th August, Tuesday! ^^

And yes! That's it. If you're not interested in downloading another app to read Vanilla, don't worry. I'll still be updating here on Wattpad! Just at a slower pace. Hope you enjoy this week's chapter!