Pancakes, Hoodies, and Uninvited Guests
The morning light peeked through the curtains, soft and golden, lazily spilling over the room.
I stirred beneath the covers, stretching like a cat and blinking against the gentle warmth.
Something smelled… burnt? And faintly sweet?
I sat up, slightly confused, until I noticed two things at once:
I was wearing Daniel's oversized hoodie, the sleeves almost swallowing my hands, and
There was distant cursing coming from the kitchen.
I smiled to myself.
Oh no… he's trying to cook again.
Tugging the hoodie tighter around me, I padded barefoot toward the door and peeked around the frame.
There he was, Daniel, standing in the kitchen like a soldier in battle, staring at a pan as if it had just betrayed him.
A sad-looking pancake sat half-flipped and half-burnt in the middle.
He didn't see me yet, so I leaned against the doorway and watched him mutter under his breath.
"You're flour and eggs.
What's so hard about this?" he mumbled to the pancake.
"You know it can't hear you, right?" I called, stifling a giggle.
He turned around quickly, caught red-handed, flour dusted on his cheek, spatula raised mid-air.
His face lit up. "Hey... You're awake.
And wearing my hoodie. That's cheating, I wasn't ready for that level of cuteness this early."
I laughed, crossing over and stealing a piece of toast from the counter.
"What's happening here? This place smells like a bakery got into a street fight."
Daniel raised his arms proudly. "I was trying to make you pancakes.
Y'know, heartfelt breakfast, romantic gesture, all that. But the batter's attacking back."
I looked at the pan and bit back a laugh. "I think you're the one under attack."
He grinned sheepishly.
"Still counts if the intention is romantic, right?"
"It counts," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist.
"Especially if it ends in takeout."
We stood there for a moment, wrapped in quiet, soft giggles. Just us. Just warmth. Until
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Before either of us could move, the door swung open like it owned the place.
"Good morning, lovers!" Saraph called out, marching in with two giant cups of coffee.
Behind her, Jordan followed, holding a bag of what I hoped was backup breakfast.
"Oh my God," I gasped. "Why are you two here?"
"Because we love you," Saraph said sweetly.
"And because I knew Daniel would either burn your kitchen or make something romantic but deadly."
"I wasn't that bad," Daniel muttered.
"Dude, you're holding a pancake with a fork like it's evidence at a crime scene," Jordan said, setting the bag on the table.
I blinked. "You just barged into his apartment."
"Correction," Saraph said, raising a finger, "I have a copy of your spare key, remember?"
Daniel looked at me with narrowed eyes. "You gave her a key?"
I shrugged. "She said it was in case of emergencies."
"This counts," Saraph said with a grin. "Burnt pancakes are an emergency."
We all burst into laughter.
Daniel, trying to salvage his dignity, made a dramatic bow. "Fine.
Since my culinary attempts failed, I humbly surrender the kitchen.
But next time, I'll surprise you with a five-star omelette. Mark my words."
"You're lucky you're cute," I said, pecking his cheek.
"More than lucky," he whispered.
As we sat down to the "rescue breakfast" of bagels, coffee, and laughter, the room buzzed with chaos, teasing, and love.
Jordan was already making fun of how I looked "too girlfriendy" in Daniel's hoodie, while Saraph kept sneakily stealing bites from my plate.
But in that moment, with mismatched mugs, a ruined pancake sitting cold in the pan, and Daniel's hand resting over mine beneath the table, I wouldn't have changed a single thing.
This was our kind of morning: messy, loud, full of love… and just perfect.
After the Laughter Fades
The sun had shifted to its lazy afternoon position, casting a warm golden hue across the apartment.
The chaos of the morning had settled.
Saraph and Jordan had left, but not before raiding the fridge and promising to return "uninvited again soon."
Now, the world felt quieter. Softer.
Daniel and I were curled up on the couch, my legs stretched across his lap, a fleece blanket thrown over both of us.
His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on my shin while we watched a random rom-com playing softly on the TV, one we'd both seen a million times.
But we weren't watching.
I was halfway through a cup of tea, the kind he always makes a little too strong but insists "tastes like comfort," while he sipped from a mug that said "World's Okayest Chef."
A gift from Saraph.
He glanced at me over the rim of his mug, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You looked beautiful this morning."
I looked down, hiding my smile under the blanket. "I was wearing your hoodie and had morning breath."
"Exactly." He smirked. "That's when you're most dangerous.
No effort. Just… real."
The room fell quiet again, but it was the kind of silence that felt safe, where words weren't necessary.
My eyes drifted to the window, where soft sunlight danced through the trees outside.
The world outside moved at its own pace, but inside these walls, time felt like it had stretched just for us.
Daniel reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers gently.
"You know," he said, "there was a time I thought I'd ruined everything with you."
I looked up, startled by the seriousness in his tone. "Daniel…"
"I'm not bringing it up to make things heavy. I just… I look at us now, and I'm grateful."
He looked down at our hands. "You didn't walk away.
Even when I probably deserved it."
I squeezed his hand. "We both made mistakes. But we found our way back."
He nodded, his jaw tightening just slightly like he was holding something back.
"Last night… when I saw Jace…" He paused. "I wasn't just jealous. I was scared."
"Scared?"
He looked at me then, his eyes open, vulnerable.
"Scared that maybe I still didn't deserve you.
That you'd remember what it felt like when someone else cared about you, even if it was in the past."
I shifted closer, resting my forehead against his.
"Daniel, you're not just someone who cares.
You're the one who stayed.
The one who made pancakes for me, even when they turned into burnt tortillas."
He chuckled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders.
"You've seen me at my lowest," I continued.
"You didn't give up on me, either. So no, no one could ever take your place."
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "You always know what to say, huh?"
"Only when I'm talking to you," I teased, smirking.
"Dangerous," he whispered again, tracing his thumb along my cheek.
We stayed like that for a while, bodies close, heartbeats syncing, letting the comfort of each other's presence speak louder than any words.
No need to prove anything. No need to be anything more than what we were in that moment:
Two people who had been through chaos, heartbreak, misunderstandings, and still chose each other.
The movie credits rolled on the TV, unnoticed. Outside, the world kept spinning.
But in here, we had our little universe filled with mismatched mugs,
late morning pancakes, hoodie hugs, and a love that felt more real by the hour.
Would you like to carry this energy into an evening walk,
a quiet talk under the stars, or maybe a soft, sleepy cuddle moment as the night rolls in?
In the Stillness of Us
The sun had dipped lower, casting a hazy golden blush across the sky.
After spending the afternoon tangled in each other's presence, laughing, talking, and occasionally just enjoying the silence, Daniel stood, stretching with a groan.
"Let's take a walk," he said, offering me his hand.
I looked up at him, still wrapped in his hoodie, still sipping the last of my now-cold tea.
"Outside? Like… real pants and shoes?"
He grinned. "I'll even tie your laces for you."
"Romantic and useful," I teased, but I let him tug me up.
A few minutes later, we were out, strolling through campus.
The weekend energy had mellowed, most students either napping off their hangovers or tucked away studying.
The world felt gentler.
The breeze was soft, the kind that played with my hair and made Daniel reach out to tuck it behind my ear.
We walked slowly, side by side,
his pinky brushing against mine until he finally just took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I forgot how nice this is," I murmured, watching the wind dance through the trees.
He looked at me. "Being outside or being with me?"
I smirked. "Both. But especially you."
He laughed. "Smooth."
"Learned from the best."
We made it to our usual spot, an old bench near the garden area, tucked under fairy-lit trees the student council had set up weeks ago.
We sat in comfortable silence, the sky above painted in watercolors, the sound of distant laughter echoing faintly across campus.
Daniel turned to me. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving me another chance. For not letting yesterday break us."
I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder.
"There's no one else I'd rather be burnt-pancake partners with."
He chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "I'm serious, though, Nuella. You mean everything to me."
"I know," I whispered. "And I feel it. Always."
Later that night, after the stars had fully claimed the sky, we returned to his place.
The lights were low, and the world was quiet again.
I changed into one of his oversized t-shirts, still warm from the dryer, and climbed into bed beside him.
He wrapped his arm around me instinctively, like his body had memorized the shape of mine.
We didn't need words anymore. Just the sound of our breaths syncing.
The slow rise and fall of our chests. The soft hum of the night outside the window.
"I love you," he said quietly, voice thick with sleep.
I didn't say anything at first. I just turned to face him, brushed my fingers against his cheek, and smiled.
"I know," I whispered. "And I love you back."
He pulled me closer until we were skin to skin, soul to soul, and the world faded away.
Outside, the campus was still. The stars twinkled like they were in on our secret.
And in that little apartment, under warm sheets and whispered promises, two hearts beat in perfect time.