His mom used to make the best omelets ever.
The sweet fluffy egg that would melt in his mouth, the tart heart-drawn ketchup, the slight heat that would come from the pepper…
The amazing taste of it all that used to dance across his mouth,
All of it, he could still remember.
XXX
"Don't go." He had whispered, tears pouring from his eyes.
He remembered crying. Crying as he watched her coffin get lowered into the earth, crying as he watched her coffin become buried under mounds of dirt, crying as he watched people place flowers on her grave,
Crying as he watched his mother really, truly, vanished.
"Don't go."
XXX
Sometimes, he would even dream of it.
He would dream of his mother, smiling happily, as she carefully flipped the omelet from skillet to plate,
He would dream of his brother, pulling his arm and telling him to hurry up so they could eat,
He would dream of his father, sitting down with his hat tipped back and a smile on his face,
He would dream of the four of them, together as a family, smiling and chatting.
He would dream of the first bite of the fluffy omelet, about to enter his mouth,
Then he would wake up.
He would wake up and remember.
There was no more Claus,
There was no more Mom,
There were no more omelets.
XXX
After a few years, the memory of what her omelets tasted like began to fade.
He had tried, in vain, to reproduce them. But each time he had attempted to, the flavor was never the same, the taste was never the same, the omelet was never the same.
It scared him sometimes. How the memory of his favorite food disappeared. How he could no longer remember what it tasted like. How he could no longer remember how the eggs would melt in his mouth and how the ketchup would stain his lips.
But, he could never go back to that time.
That time that his dreams always used to take him to.
XXX
They had been walking for hours and had hardly spoken a word.
Not that he had minded. He had never been that much of a talker (a fact that hadn't changed ever since he was young) but he could see the anxiety begin to burn on Kumatora's face so he had hastily asked,
"What's your favorite food?"
She looked taken aback, surprised that he was the first one to break the silence. However, she hastily answered.
"Anything spicy. I love it when something's so hot it could burn your tongue off!" She grinned.
"When I was a kid, Ionia used to pickle spicy peppers for me. Of course she wouldn't eat any herself, but I would always eat until it felt like my body was on fire." The smile seemed to fade a little on her face as she added, "I wish I had some right now."
He nodded, understanding her desire for a memory. He turned his head, about to continue on when she asked,
"What's your favorite food Lucas?"
He glanced back at her. The older girl looked nonchalant, tucking her hands behind her head and averting her eyes from his, a position (he had learned) she took only when the question slightly embarrassed her.
He hesitated, unsure of how he should answer. Could he still say that his "favorite food" was his favorite food? After so many years of trying to recreate the dish, he had come to have a slight grudge against it. What was the point of labeling something as "favorite" when the flavor was no longer good?
"Lucas?"
Her voice brought him back to reality. Her eyes were no longer avoiding his and a genuine look of curiosity and slight concern was etched in her delicate features.
"Are you okay?"
Blinking, he gave a quick nod. "Sorry," he muttered, turning around. He took two steps forward before saying,
"My mom's omelets…. That's my favorite food."
XXX
He couldn't sleep.
Those hallucinations from Tanetane Island plagued his dreams.
He awoke again, sweat drenched, blood pumping through his ears, in the middle of the night again. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed.
"Can't sleep?" A voice asked him. He looked up. Seeing it was only Kumatora, he nodded.
"Nightmare?" she asked. Again, he nodded.
"Wanna…. talk about?" she asked, hesitating a bit as she spoke.
This time, he didn't nod. Instead, he pulled his legs into his chest and sat there, trying to calm his beating heart. Even without any words, that action alone seemed to explain it all to Kumatora.
He stayed there, trying to ignore the images that were flashing through his head. Trying to ignore the lies that he had seen in his hallucinations and dreams.
Trying to forget those twisted memories of people sneering at him, of his family's faces being transformed into one's of monsters,
Of his mother…. not saying anything but just watching as he and friends were attacked.
A gentle tap on his shoulder almost caused him to scream. He looked up, his hand unintentionally beginning to spark up with PSI.
"Woah careful there." Kumatora said. "It's too early to get fried."
He blinked.
"Early?" he asked, shaking out his hands. Small sparks flew from them, landing on the grass and twinkling like dew for a split second before vanishing like the morning mist. Kumatora nodded.
"Only ten minutes to sun rise I reckon." She said. He couldn't help but notice she was still standing and her hands were behind her back, as if hiding something. Curiosity began to replace his previous state emotional state, luckily taking away his past memories but replacing them with a new concern.
"What's behind your back?" he asked, his voice mirroring how he felt. Kumatora grinned at him. Moving whatever was behind her to the front of her, she presented Lucas with…
An omelet.
"Ta-dah!" she said happily. "I know it doesn't look the best but I can guarantee the taste! Plus," she added, sitting down next to him and handing him the plate of omelet and fork. "It's good to eat something tasty when you've been through something tough. And I think that out of everyone on this freaken island, you're the one who deserves a reward the most."
However sincere her words were though, he was only half listening to what Kumatora was saying. All he could do was…stare at the omelet. He noticed how the eggs were more fried than what he usually ate, the ketchup looked more like it was splashed onto the food rather than sketched on, and pepper looked like it had been haphazardly sprinkled on top of the whole. But, as different as it looked,
The smell was…incredible.
Tentatively, he cut off a piece from the omelet and took a bite. His eyes widened.
"It's delicious." He said, shocked. He quickly began shoving bits and pieces of the omelet into his mouth.
"It is?" Kumatora asked, sounding happy. He nodded, ketchup covering his mouth.
"Yes!" he said, his eyes glowing. The omelet was different from what his mom used to make but,
"It taste like…love." Lucas said, smiling.
The taste that he had loved was finally back. Although he could never have his mother's omelet's again,
Kumatora's omelet tasted just as good.
Maybe even…. better.
XXX
This is what happens when I spend two days playing as Lucas on Brawl. You're welcome.