Chapter Five: The Midnight Breakfast Society
The clocks at GOA read the same time: fifteen minutes before midnight.
Silence reigned in the Candidates' quarters.
Roose Sawamura stole a quick glance at his roommate, Yamagi Kushida, before drifting off to sleep. Chibi-chan, what would you do if I kissed you good morning?
Yamagi stirred, dreaming that he had landed at a beach party, wearing lederhosen and toting an accordion. "Hey, I don't know the polka version of 'Pacific Coast Party'," he shouted, as a crowd of surf punks clamored for music. "And no, I have no freaking idea who Carlos Gardel is!"
Clay Cliff Fortran lay in his bed, dozing. While preparing a cup of tea, the idea for a portable inter-dimensional portal popped into his mind; within two hours' time, he had fashioned a prototype using a heating coil, copper tubing, and duct tape. Now if I could only find someone to give this a test drive. He saw Zero stumble past, and grinned. Sucker.
Hiead stole a glance across the room at Zero's bed. His rival tossed and turned, mumbling snatches of words. The boy's dark hair obscured his eyes; one arm hung over the side of the bed, and a leg kicked away the covers. Hiead rose from his bed, padding toward Zero. He knelt near the sleeper, watching him sway. Look at this brat. He's energy incarnate---but let him sleep, and he's a scared child. He made his way back to his own bed, and dropped into a light sleep.
The rustle of bedclothes roused him; he turned to face Zero's bed, empty and disheveled. Guess he's gone to drain the lizard.
Minutes passed; Hiead got out of bed, and walked to the bathroom. Just make sure he hasn't done something stupid. That's all. He opened the door, turning on a light---the bathroom was empty. Oh, great. He must have started sleepwalking. Okay, let's get him back here in one piece. He turned off the bathroom lights, shut the door, and headed into the corridors.
Enna, where are you? He heard a faint sound, and began following it. The kitchens? But how could he get in there, and without attracting notice?
Hiead noticed the air getting warmer, rich with the scents of bacon, sugar, and pepper. Somebody decided to whip up a snack, eh? He crept into the kitchen, following the scent of toast and scrambled eggs.
Zero stood at the galley stove, adding grated cheese to a pan. A plate of bacon, crisp from the oven, sat at his left. Another plate, of raisin bread toast, waited next to a conveyor-belt toaster.
He walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a liter of milk, and pouring it into a small saucepan. A kettle whistled on a back burner. He placed the saucepan on a burner, and adjusted the heat, before turning to the kettle.
Hiead watched, mesmerized, as the dark-haired boy stirred hot water into a bowl with cocoa, sugar, and a little salt. After adding a little milk, he poured the mixture into the saucepan, then returned his attention to the eggs, which he removed from the burner. After placing them on a plate, he set the plate in the oven, and began to sing.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here is my disease, give me your standing ovation and your sympathy. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again. See the Jean Genie and his high wire act; at the back of his mind lies a suicide pact. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again."
Zero began to sway and move; his voice rose. "See the young men itching to burn, waiting for their own star turn, needing danger---a war will do---if they can't let it out they'll pick on you! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again, on fire again! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again."
Damn, where's a camera when you need one? This is priceless! I couldn't dream of better blackmail material---oh well, another time. Where and when did he learn how to cook?
"See Houdini and his underwater tricks; you were sitting at the front hoping his locks would stick. Watch Knievel hit the seventeenth bus. You got crushed in the souvenir rush. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again. I said, poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again! See the young men itching to burn, waiting for their own star turn, needing danger-- -a war will do---if they can't let it out they'll pick on you! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again, on fire again! I said, poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again!"
Zero stirred the saucepan, testing the hot chocolate. "Ladies and gentlemen, here is my disease. Give me your standing ovation, and your--- sympathy." Did you ever have the feeling you were being watched? That the eyes of a beautiful, sociopathic boy were following your every move? Hey, if he wants chow, he needs to speak up.
"Gner, if you're hungry, better say something."
Hiead started a moment, but walked over. "Enna, why are you here?"
"I wanted breakfast. Why are you here?"
Hiead gave him a long look, snorting at the question.
"Okay, Mystery Man," Zero said, "I won't press for an answer. Would you like something to eat?"
"Sure. Not that I'm really starving or anything."
"Well, grab a plate, anyway, and dig in. I will require your help with the dishes."
Hiead took a plate, and waited. Zero retrieved the eggs from the oven, spooning half the contents of the skillet into Hiead's plate. He added bacon and toast, and then served himself. He then set his plate down, and poured hot chocolate into two mugs. "Look, I'm not here to poison you. Leave that job to the cooks."
"And do you want me to use my hands?"
"Sorry," Zero replied. "Just a minute." He found two forks and sat down.
Hiead watched as the boy bowed his head, pausing, before he dug in. He picked up the fork, and took a bite. Wow. Delicious! Eggs that aren't rubbery, cheese that doesn't taste like vinyl---not too soggy, not dried out. He bit into a bacon strip. Not a bit greasy, and just the right crispness.
"So, what d'you think?"
"It's all right." Are you kidding? I haven't had a meal like this in ages! Not since the summers I was lucky enough to go to L'Aubade. He blushed, thankful for the dim lights in the kitchen. I miss you, Tattie Mellie.
A memory surfaced: sitting in a whitewashed kitchen, at a table laden with homemade bread, butter, apricot preserves, eggs, ham, and fresh figs. The six-year-old waited for his great-aunt to sit down, after preparing two cups of café au lait, and one cup with hot milk and the barest whisper of coffee.
Hiead's legs dangled from a wooden chair; he snuck a look at Nonc' Emile, who grinned, mussing the boy's hair. "Now angel, you know you're not ready for what we drink. You want to go to first grade with a big ol' hairy chest?" He laughed, the creases in his face rippling with mirth.
"What are you thinking about, Hiead?" Zero asked, removing the plates and bringing up the toast. "Give this a taste."
Hiead bit into the toast. Cinnamon, sugar, butter---and what else is here?
"Cardamom, ginger, and a little black pepper for kick," Zero replied. "The secret to raisin and spice toast. If I could have found it, I'd have ground some star anise into the sugar blend. But I think it came out okay."
"It's not repulsive." No, it's brilliant! You might have missed your calling, Enna.
"Well, I guess I'll take that as a compliment." What aren't you telling me, Gner?
The two ate toast, and sipped at the hot chocolate, in silence. "Zero," Hiead wanted to know, "where did you learn how to cook?"
Should I consider that an on-the-level question?
"I'm not trying to bait you here. I'd like to know."
"If you must know," Zero replied, "my mother taught me how to cook as a boy. I kept a vegetable garden, and used to catch fish. We had a few chickens, too---kept them mostly for the eggs. We'd have things like beef, or chocolate, on special occasions. I didn't have my first taste of ice cream till I was in school. Money wasn't exactly easy to come by in our household."
"So why this? Why tonight?"
"I wanted something that wasn't swill." And can you tell me, Hiead, that you honestly enjoy swill?
"I see."
"Said the blind man," Zero chuckled.
"What was that?"
"Some old Earth saying or other." He shrugged, then got up. "Now it's your turn to help out. You want to wash, or dry?"
"I'll dry. Throw me a dishtowel." He caught a towel, and made his way to the sink. It's got to be the end of the world here. We haven't thrown a punch or a kick. I must be losing my edge here.
"Hey, don't sell yourself that short. You know we'll end up trying to massacre each other come daybreak."
"Did I say anything to you, Enna?"
"Whoa there, tiger. Take a chill pill. We're here in the kitchen, doing dishes, and so far, we're not engaged in open hostility. Whether you interpret that as a sign of maturity, or one of the signposts for Armageddon---it's something, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah, whatever," Hiead said, eyes half-open, a blasé look on his face. I refuse to let you under my skin.
Zero gave him a sidelong glance, a half-smile on his lips. Oh, Hiead, ye of little perception! Who are you trying to convince here---me, or you?
Hiead noticed the glance, and, for a moment, froze. What the hell?
"Look," Zero said, "I want to make a proposal here."
"What are you proposing?"
"Look, you've been itching to know what's been deviling me. And I remember that little offer you made a while back. Does it still stand?"
"What offer?"
"You already forgot? I tell you about me, and you tell me about you. If you've changed your mind, that's all right. I'm not here to play Spanish Inquisition, and I won't stand for any arm-twisting. I was thinking that we could find some sort of neutral ground. Some place where we can defuse."
"You mean, like here."
"Yes."
"I guess this place would do." Hiead paused. "Around this time?"
Zero poured dish soap into a basin, and began scrubbing. "I think so." He rinsed plates, placing them in a rack. "I was thinking, maybe once a month, to start?"
"I suppose." Hiead began drying. "Anything else?"
"I was thinking that we might play a game. Something to sort of break the ice."
"What were you thinking?"
"Truth or Dare." Is this going to fly, or not?
You're sticking your neck out here, Enna. Hiead smirked. "Very well. I agree."
"How do we seal this?"
Hiead picked up paring knife, pricking the index finger on his right hand. "I propose a blood vow." He handed the knife to Zero. "Your turn."
Zero took a deep breath, and pricked his finger. Hiead placed his finger on Zero's lips, and waited for his rival to do likewise. He then slipped the boy's finger into his mouth, taking in the droplets.
Zero took Hiead's finger and licked away the blood at the tip. If this is how you come to trust me---so be it.
Hiead stepped back, eyes widening. He didn't flinch. Silence crackled. "Let's finish up here," Zero said, washing the knife and drying it. "I suggest that one of us go now."
"You go first," Hiead answered. "I'll take a roundabout path and get back to the room after you."
"This ends the first meeting of the Midnight Breakfast Society, I guess." Zero made his way to the door, and turned around. "Before I forget---muito obrigado, garotinho, para o prazer de participar de pequno almoço comigo."
Hiead nodded, as Zero left the kitchen. Wait, was that Portuguese? Guess he wasn't joking about picking up a new language.
He waited for roughly five minutes, and then made his way back to their room.
Clay was still snoring, a catlike grin on his face. Some new mischief, I'll wager. Zero lay in his bed, eyes slipping shut.
Hiead walked over to the bed, tapping the dark-haired boy on the shoulder. "One last thing, my mystery boy," he whispered, as Zero opened his eyes. "And then we can say we've finally sealed our pact."
Before Zero could respond, Hiead pressed lips with his, in a chaste, brief gesture. "Remember: what you tell me will never pass my lips. And I trust that yours will not repeat what I tell you. Goodnight, Zero Enna."
Zero caught his hand, squeezing it. "Sleep with the angels, Hiead."
I doubt I ever will. But I appreciate the thought.
Hiead returned to his bed, and lay there, drifting to sleep as he watched Zero.
Author's notes
Greetings and salutations, y'all. How is everyone? Thank you so much for reading and for reviewing. Means a great deal to me.
Tri: hello, and welcome! Here's a bit more---hope it whets the appetite.
Anime Cat: So many stars? I'm honored. Do let me know what you make of this chapter.
UE: tovarishch, there are many sides to Zero, and also to Hiead. I hope to bring them to light. As always, you give me definite food for thought.
D-chan: where are you, bella? Hope everything's okay.
Language notes: Aubade is French, and has to do with dawn. (I promise, I'll look it up for a more exact definition. What Zero says to Hiead before he leaves the kitchens is Portuguese, and it means "Thank you very much, little boy, for the pleasure of sharing breakfast with me."
Music notes: The song that Zero sings in the kitchen is "Johnny Yen," performed by the British group James, off their album Stutter. Tim Booth, I believe, takes the credits for that.
Coming soon: Hiead and Zero write more in their respective journals. We get a peek into Kizna's journal: what has she been thinking lately, and why does Ikhny cross her mind? Erts replies to Zero. And what is there behind this "midnight breakfast" arrangement? Stay tuned.
As always, I welcome comments, critique, feedback, praise, and flames.
Thank you for reading, and I look forward to bringing y'all more.
Antoinette (poetisa)
The clocks at GOA read the same time: fifteen minutes before midnight.
Silence reigned in the Candidates' quarters.
Roose Sawamura stole a quick glance at his roommate, Yamagi Kushida, before drifting off to sleep. Chibi-chan, what would you do if I kissed you good morning?
Yamagi stirred, dreaming that he had landed at a beach party, wearing lederhosen and toting an accordion. "Hey, I don't know the polka version of 'Pacific Coast Party'," he shouted, as a crowd of surf punks clamored for music. "And no, I have no freaking idea who Carlos Gardel is!"
Clay Cliff Fortran lay in his bed, dozing. While preparing a cup of tea, the idea for a portable inter-dimensional portal popped into his mind; within two hours' time, he had fashioned a prototype using a heating coil, copper tubing, and duct tape. Now if I could only find someone to give this a test drive. He saw Zero stumble past, and grinned. Sucker.
Hiead stole a glance across the room at Zero's bed. His rival tossed and turned, mumbling snatches of words. The boy's dark hair obscured his eyes; one arm hung over the side of the bed, and a leg kicked away the covers. Hiead rose from his bed, padding toward Zero. He knelt near the sleeper, watching him sway. Look at this brat. He's energy incarnate---but let him sleep, and he's a scared child. He made his way back to his own bed, and dropped into a light sleep.
The rustle of bedclothes roused him; he turned to face Zero's bed, empty and disheveled. Guess he's gone to drain the lizard.
Minutes passed; Hiead got out of bed, and walked to the bathroom. Just make sure he hasn't done something stupid. That's all. He opened the door, turning on a light---the bathroom was empty. Oh, great. He must have started sleepwalking. Okay, let's get him back here in one piece. He turned off the bathroom lights, shut the door, and headed into the corridors.
Enna, where are you? He heard a faint sound, and began following it. The kitchens? But how could he get in there, and without attracting notice?
Hiead noticed the air getting warmer, rich with the scents of bacon, sugar, and pepper. Somebody decided to whip up a snack, eh? He crept into the kitchen, following the scent of toast and scrambled eggs.
Zero stood at the galley stove, adding grated cheese to a pan. A plate of bacon, crisp from the oven, sat at his left. Another plate, of raisin bread toast, waited next to a conveyor-belt toaster.
He walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a liter of milk, and pouring it into a small saucepan. A kettle whistled on a back burner. He placed the saucepan on a burner, and adjusted the heat, before turning to the kettle.
Hiead watched, mesmerized, as the dark-haired boy stirred hot water into a bowl with cocoa, sugar, and a little salt. After adding a little milk, he poured the mixture into the saucepan, then returned his attention to the eggs, which he removed from the burner. After placing them on a plate, he set the plate in the oven, and began to sing.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here is my disease, give me your standing ovation and your sympathy. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again. See the Jean Genie and his high wire act; at the back of his mind lies a suicide pact. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again."
Zero began to sway and move; his voice rose. "See the young men itching to burn, waiting for their own star turn, needing danger---a war will do---if they can't let it out they'll pick on you! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again, on fire again! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again."
Damn, where's a camera when you need one? This is priceless! I couldn't dream of better blackmail material---oh well, another time. Where and when did he learn how to cook?
"See Houdini and his underwater tricks; you were sitting at the front hoping his locks would stick. Watch Knievel hit the seventeenth bus. You got crushed in the souvenir rush. Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again. I said, poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again! See the young men itching to burn, waiting for their own star turn, needing danger-- -a war will do---if they can't let it out they'll pick on you! Poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again, on fire again! I said, poor old Johnny Yen set himself on fire again!"
Zero stirred the saucepan, testing the hot chocolate. "Ladies and gentlemen, here is my disease. Give me your standing ovation, and your--- sympathy." Did you ever have the feeling you were being watched? That the eyes of a beautiful, sociopathic boy were following your every move? Hey, if he wants chow, he needs to speak up.
"Gner, if you're hungry, better say something."
Hiead started a moment, but walked over. "Enna, why are you here?"
"I wanted breakfast. Why are you here?"
Hiead gave him a long look, snorting at the question.
"Okay, Mystery Man," Zero said, "I won't press for an answer. Would you like something to eat?"
"Sure. Not that I'm really starving or anything."
"Well, grab a plate, anyway, and dig in. I will require your help with the dishes."
Hiead took a plate, and waited. Zero retrieved the eggs from the oven, spooning half the contents of the skillet into Hiead's plate. He added bacon and toast, and then served himself. He then set his plate down, and poured hot chocolate into two mugs. "Look, I'm not here to poison you. Leave that job to the cooks."
"And do you want me to use my hands?"
"Sorry," Zero replied. "Just a minute." He found two forks and sat down.
Hiead watched as the boy bowed his head, pausing, before he dug in. He picked up the fork, and took a bite. Wow. Delicious! Eggs that aren't rubbery, cheese that doesn't taste like vinyl---not too soggy, not dried out. He bit into a bacon strip. Not a bit greasy, and just the right crispness.
"So, what d'you think?"
"It's all right." Are you kidding? I haven't had a meal like this in ages! Not since the summers I was lucky enough to go to L'Aubade. He blushed, thankful for the dim lights in the kitchen. I miss you, Tattie Mellie.
A memory surfaced: sitting in a whitewashed kitchen, at a table laden with homemade bread, butter, apricot preserves, eggs, ham, and fresh figs. The six-year-old waited for his great-aunt to sit down, after preparing two cups of café au lait, and one cup with hot milk and the barest whisper of coffee.
Hiead's legs dangled from a wooden chair; he snuck a look at Nonc' Emile, who grinned, mussing the boy's hair. "Now angel, you know you're not ready for what we drink. You want to go to first grade with a big ol' hairy chest?" He laughed, the creases in his face rippling with mirth.
"What are you thinking about, Hiead?" Zero asked, removing the plates and bringing up the toast. "Give this a taste."
Hiead bit into the toast. Cinnamon, sugar, butter---and what else is here?
"Cardamom, ginger, and a little black pepper for kick," Zero replied. "The secret to raisin and spice toast. If I could have found it, I'd have ground some star anise into the sugar blend. But I think it came out okay."
"It's not repulsive." No, it's brilliant! You might have missed your calling, Enna.
"Well, I guess I'll take that as a compliment." What aren't you telling me, Gner?
The two ate toast, and sipped at the hot chocolate, in silence. "Zero," Hiead wanted to know, "where did you learn how to cook?"
Should I consider that an on-the-level question?
"I'm not trying to bait you here. I'd like to know."
"If you must know," Zero replied, "my mother taught me how to cook as a boy. I kept a vegetable garden, and used to catch fish. We had a few chickens, too---kept them mostly for the eggs. We'd have things like beef, or chocolate, on special occasions. I didn't have my first taste of ice cream till I was in school. Money wasn't exactly easy to come by in our household."
"So why this? Why tonight?"
"I wanted something that wasn't swill." And can you tell me, Hiead, that you honestly enjoy swill?
"I see."
"Said the blind man," Zero chuckled.
"What was that?"
"Some old Earth saying or other." He shrugged, then got up. "Now it's your turn to help out. You want to wash, or dry?"
"I'll dry. Throw me a dishtowel." He caught a towel, and made his way to the sink. It's got to be the end of the world here. We haven't thrown a punch or a kick. I must be losing my edge here.
"Hey, don't sell yourself that short. You know we'll end up trying to massacre each other come daybreak."
"Did I say anything to you, Enna?"
"Whoa there, tiger. Take a chill pill. We're here in the kitchen, doing dishes, and so far, we're not engaged in open hostility. Whether you interpret that as a sign of maturity, or one of the signposts for Armageddon---it's something, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah, whatever," Hiead said, eyes half-open, a blasé look on his face. I refuse to let you under my skin.
Zero gave him a sidelong glance, a half-smile on his lips. Oh, Hiead, ye of little perception! Who are you trying to convince here---me, or you?
Hiead noticed the glance, and, for a moment, froze. What the hell?
"Look," Zero said, "I want to make a proposal here."
"What are you proposing?"
"Look, you've been itching to know what's been deviling me. And I remember that little offer you made a while back. Does it still stand?"
"What offer?"
"You already forgot? I tell you about me, and you tell me about you. If you've changed your mind, that's all right. I'm not here to play Spanish Inquisition, and I won't stand for any arm-twisting. I was thinking that we could find some sort of neutral ground. Some place where we can defuse."
"You mean, like here."
"Yes."
"I guess this place would do." Hiead paused. "Around this time?"
Zero poured dish soap into a basin, and began scrubbing. "I think so." He rinsed plates, placing them in a rack. "I was thinking, maybe once a month, to start?"
"I suppose." Hiead began drying. "Anything else?"
"I was thinking that we might play a game. Something to sort of break the ice."
"What were you thinking?"
"Truth or Dare." Is this going to fly, or not?
You're sticking your neck out here, Enna. Hiead smirked. "Very well. I agree."
"How do we seal this?"
Hiead picked up paring knife, pricking the index finger on his right hand. "I propose a blood vow." He handed the knife to Zero. "Your turn."
Zero took a deep breath, and pricked his finger. Hiead placed his finger on Zero's lips, and waited for his rival to do likewise. He then slipped the boy's finger into his mouth, taking in the droplets.
Zero took Hiead's finger and licked away the blood at the tip. If this is how you come to trust me---so be it.
Hiead stepped back, eyes widening. He didn't flinch. Silence crackled. "Let's finish up here," Zero said, washing the knife and drying it. "I suggest that one of us go now."
"You go first," Hiead answered. "I'll take a roundabout path and get back to the room after you."
"This ends the first meeting of the Midnight Breakfast Society, I guess." Zero made his way to the door, and turned around. "Before I forget---muito obrigado, garotinho, para o prazer de participar de pequno almoço comigo."
Hiead nodded, as Zero left the kitchen. Wait, was that Portuguese? Guess he wasn't joking about picking up a new language.
He waited for roughly five minutes, and then made his way back to their room.
Clay was still snoring, a catlike grin on his face. Some new mischief, I'll wager. Zero lay in his bed, eyes slipping shut.
Hiead walked over to the bed, tapping the dark-haired boy on the shoulder. "One last thing, my mystery boy," he whispered, as Zero opened his eyes. "And then we can say we've finally sealed our pact."
Before Zero could respond, Hiead pressed lips with his, in a chaste, brief gesture. "Remember: what you tell me will never pass my lips. And I trust that yours will not repeat what I tell you. Goodnight, Zero Enna."
Zero caught his hand, squeezing it. "Sleep with the angels, Hiead."
I doubt I ever will. But I appreciate the thought.
Hiead returned to his bed, and lay there, drifting to sleep as he watched Zero.
Author's notes
Greetings and salutations, y'all. How is everyone? Thank you so much for reading and for reviewing. Means a great deal to me.
Tri: hello, and welcome! Here's a bit more---hope it whets the appetite.
Anime Cat: So many stars? I'm honored. Do let me know what you make of this chapter.
UE: tovarishch, there are many sides to Zero, and also to Hiead. I hope to bring them to light. As always, you give me definite food for thought.
D-chan: where are you, bella? Hope everything's okay.
Language notes: Aubade is French, and has to do with dawn. (I promise, I'll look it up for a more exact definition. What Zero says to Hiead before he leaves the kitchens is Portuguese, and it means "Thank you very much, little boy, for the pleasure of sharing breakfast with me."
Music notes: The song that Zero sings in the kitchen is "Johnny Yen," performed by the British group James, off their album Stutter. Tim Booth, I believe, takes the credits for that.
Coming soon: Hiead and Zero write more in their respective journals. We get a peek into Kizna's journal: what has she been thinking lately, and why does Ikhny cross her mind? Erts replies to Zero. And what is there behind this "midnight breakfast" arrangement? Stay tuned.
As always, I welcome comments, critique, feedback, praise, and flames.
Thank you for reading, and I look forward to bringing y'all more.
Antoinette (poetisa)