I carefully pried cold arms off of me, maneuvering myself out of the bed. I'd woken up before Weiss today. Sadly, I have to go to class. I have to keep doing that until we can get the older Schnees killed.
I yawned, turning side to side. My back cracked and my tired muscles ache in the background. I walked over to our fridge. Beacon offers food as part of its services, but there is something nice about cooking your own meals.
Opening the fridge, I pulled out the egg carton. Pulling out four eggs and grabbing a pan from a shelf, I sprayed the pan down and turned on the stove.
Spraying the pan was pretty important. Eggs, when heated, tend to form chemical bonds with the metal in the pan. That, quite frankly, sucks to clean up and makes it hard to cook.
Cooking spray, butter, and oil all solve this problem. Eggs are full of water. Shockingly, water is hydrophilic, meaning it is polar. Oil, cooking spray, and butter are non-polar, meaning they repel water away. This keeps the eggs off the pan.
Butter and cooking spray, though, are much better for cooking. Both have hydrophobic and hydrophilic parts, which means they hold the water in the eggs away from the pan instead of just pushing the water away.
I grasped both eggs and tapped them against the rim of the pan.
Egg one and two cracked, their fluids spilling into the pan. I hummed, lightly prodding at the edges of the cooking eggs with a spatula. A very light sizzling noise was made.
This means the egg is being denatured, the amino acids and proteins in it being changed. At the same time, coagulation is occurring, making new bonds form.
It's funny how I like to call Weiss a nerd, but I'm so much worse than her. In my defense, I'm a different kind of nerd. She's the class pet kind. I'm the cool, actually intelligent kind.
Okay, that was mean.
Deciding enough time had passed, I flipped the first egg over and then the second. I'd spilled no yoke, which was a plus. Moments later, I dispensed the two over-medium eggs onto a plate.
I shook the can of cooking spray and glossed over the pan. Time to make Weiss's eggs.
Crack. Crack.
Both eggs broke nicely onto the plate. I moved over to the pantry to grab a baguette, breaking off two pieces. They were summarily tossed into the toaster oven.
Checking back up on the pan, I flipped over the eggs. Soon after, I dumped them onto a different plate. Toasted bread accompanied it.
I carried both plates over to the couch, placing them on the table in front of it. I'd have made bacon or sausage, but Weiss claims both are nasty and greasy. Shame, really.
Speaking of shames, it's a shame that we are still in Beacon. But, well, it's one thing to agree on an assasination…it's a whole different process to go about it.
I walked over to where Weiss laid in our bed. We'd be out of this place soon. I just need to figure out how to get rid of Jacques and Willow. Mighty ambitions, zero plans. That seemed to be a common trend in my life.
Time to wake Weiss up. I'd mess with her, though. She gets cute when annoyed.
My finger lightly prodded Weiss's cheek, pulling her out of her sleep. "You're late for class." I lied to her. Ms. Class Pet would have an aneurysm if she ever really were late.
She shot up, eyes wide as she stared at me. Her hair, loose and strung about, draped over her face in a disheveled manner. "Wh—what! Why didn't you wake m—" Weiss saw my grin and huffed. She punched my shoulder, no force behind the blow. Her cheeks puffed out as she blew air. "You're a jerk."
"Yup." I agreed, yanking her out of bed. She looked pretty in her pale blue nightgown. A bit of a redundant statement when you consider the fact I find anything she wears attractive. I began moving over to the couch. "I'm the meanest. That's why I made you breakfast, because I'm dreadful."
Weiss trailed behind me, letting out a scoff. I was slowly corrupting her well-kept manners. Go a few months back and she'd genuinely spasm if someone told her she'd one day regularly eat breakfast with a boy in her nightgown while her hair was undone. "You can be mean and nice. They aren't mutually exclusive, you know." She saw her plate. "But…thank you."
I sat down, picking up my own plate. "Well, leaving cooking up to you would be a nightmare. I doubt you could even figure out how to turn on the stove, let alone make something as basic as eggs."
"Hey!" She protested, sitting down next to me and picking up her plate. "I'm not that bad at cooking. I can—I can make some things…"
"Toast." I supplied for her. "You can make toast in a toaster. And I had to show you how to do that."
She produced a small pout, her lower lip puffing out. On an uglier person, it'd look unseemly. Weiss managed to make the expression enticing. "That's still…something." She weakly argued back.
Poking my fork into the yolk of my eggs, I let the yellow liquid pour out onto the whites like a color-swapped volcano. Dipping my toast into the protein-dense liquid, I took a bite. "Yeshh, impreshive." My words were garbled by the food in my mouth. "Awll hailsh Weissh, mashter of the culinary artsh."
A hand smacked my shoulder. I barely managed to prevent my toast from leaving my hand. "Hey!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full." She grumply said, proceeding to dig into her own food. She was so willing to critique me, yet Weiss has no issue accepting my gifts.
She was so pretty, though. I couldn't get annoyed at her. The scar, the hair, the eyes—I love it all. She is stunning.
Shame she doesn't feel the same. My bread was dipped back into the yolk, the food brought towards my mouth.
I took another bite, looking away from Weiss in faux-anger. I swallowed, the food passing through my throat; I let out an exaggeratedly loud swallowing noise. "Ahhhh…and did no one tell you to not bite the hand that feeds you?"
Her lips moved upwards as she smirked, a playful light to her eyes. "I'll bite your hand all I want. It's paid for by my money, after all. Just like this food."
I pointed my fork at her, jabbing it in the air. "So, I'm just your prostitute? Poor me, then."
"Yes, that's totally what I meant by that, you dolt." She flicked my fork away from her. "Just eat your food, dummy."
"Yes ma'am." I replied cheekily, taking a bite of egg whites. We ate in a comfortable silence after that, digging into my hard labors.
Because, of course, making eggs is very hard.
I had a wide smile on my face as I ate.
If, one day, I'm content in life…I think it'd be a lot like this. All my dreams are done away with, all my aspirations are complete…this is what I want. No enemies, no fighting, no worries—just Weiss and I having fun with each other. That'd make me happy, I think.
To be with her. That's happiness.
I'm in love. I know it. I'm madly in love. I watch her as we eat, and I can't find flaws. Or, rather, I love her flaws. If she were 'perfect', it wouldn't be Weiss. She's perfect to me as she is.
Rude, snarky, witty, cold, standoffish—I don't know how she does it, but she manages to pull off these traits. Maybe it's because of her hair that looks like a bed of snow or her eyes that I could get lost in forever…maybe it's her scar, which enhances her beauty. Her scar shows she isn't just some weak person, she's brave and strong and gorgeous and…
…and I'm rambling. I love her so much, she makes me happy. Weiss is so, so amazing. She's gorgeous when disheveled. She's regal when dressed up. When casual, she makes it hard to act casual at all.
She could be bald and blind and sickly and wounded, yet I don't think I'd be able to see any flaws. She's just so…so.
I don't have words for it. Love isn't like other emotions, not really. It's…you can't put it in words. There's no articulating it, there's just babbling insanity and hoping people understand what you meant.
It's really a shame that there is no way she loves me.
I wish she di—
"—Nigel? Hello? Are you going to respond?"
I dully blinked, staring at her face. "...what were you saying?"
Weiss groaned, standing up from where she was seated. "I said that we should get ready, dummy. Class starts in an hour."
"Oh. Nice." I slowly nod. "I'll get changed, then, Sunshine. You can have dibs on the bathroom."
She shot a fond smile at me, shaking her head in mild exasperation. "You're infuriating, you know that?"
"Wouldn't have it anyway."
Weiss rolled her eyes and moved over to her dresser, pulling out her clothes. She went to the bathroom to change and wash up. I soon followed after her, getting my own clothes from my dresser and changing in the main area of our apartment.
The sink faucet turned on in the bathroom.
Neither of us did morning showers anymore. We both stuck to bath these days…the sound of crackling water hitting the ground wasn't pleasant to Weiss or myself. I used to do morning showers.
Definitely not anymore.
Bad memories liked to follow it. More for Weiss than myself, but that was to be expected. I had more issues with Scrolls…
…as in, I needed Weiss to send me a selfie every hour we are apart. Not because I need to see her beautiful face—I'm not complaining—but because I need to know she is safe. I'd let my parents die by not keeping in regular contact with them.
My death will be before Weiss's. Either through old age or in battle, I refuse to be alive when she is dead. If I need ridiculous precautions? She understands.
Makes my heart swell even more for her by the day. I have no clue how someone could be so…so amazing. She might just be the next best thing after sliced bread. Compassionate, witty, clever, awesome…I'm so head-over-heels.
There is so much hatred in my heart, so much rage. Revenge, fury, loathing—these emotions struggle to maintain space in my chest with all the space I've saved up for Weiss. It's like she has her own home in my heart while all the negative emotions need to protest and rally for the extra smidges.
That kinda describes my life now: obsession with Weiss and anger at everything else are my go-to emotions these days.
Hard not to be on the clouds when I'm with—
—the bathroom door swung open. She looked perfect. Shocker, I know. Weiss looking perfect? How unusual, totally not ordinary.
I'm struggling to make new adjectives, alright? It's hard to describe perfection beyond perfection.
My descent into angst and saphood has been rough.
"You look amazing." I tell her, firing off a grin. Weiss really did. She left her hair down, something that she had been doing more often these days.
Maybe it's because I like it down? I can only pray.
Weiss's cheeks gained a rosy tint at my comment. She crossed her arms, diverting her head up and to the side. "You say that everyday."
Shrugging my shoulders, I waved my hand casually. "So? You just so happen to look good everyday. I'm just calling out what I see. Being around you has practically made me sybaritic."
She moved her head down, meeting my eyes. Her face still had a red tinge to it. "I have no clue what that means…" She quickly looked away again. "And you don't look terrible either."
"Glad for the vote of confidence." I put a hand to my heart in mock-pain. I was not going to elaborate on what sybaritic means, thank you very much. Some words need not be explained. "I'm happy to be not terrible, horrible, no good, very ba—"
For the upteenth time this day, my arm was whacked. "You're ridiculous." Her eyes curled up and I felt my heart leap.
"So you've said." I reply, smiling with scrunched-up eyes. "Anyways, let me brush my teeth and then we can head out."
Weiss stopped me before I could head to the bathroom. "And you'll brush your hair, right?"
I ignored her, shutting the bathroom door before she could badger me. A minute later, I came out with brushed teeth and unbrushed hair.
It was the small things that I found pleasure in. Namely, annoying her.
Her disappointed look made it all the better.
I pulled her out of the room as we made our way to class. We have Port first period, which is always droll. He managed to make learning about Grimm boring, which is a rather impressive trait.
Oh well, I'll be hightailing out of here soon.
Making some light small talk, we eventually reached Port's lecture room. The man corralled us into the empty classroom. "Ah, Mr. Dietrich. It's been good to have you back this week, your presence in class is always wanted. Why, I must say that your questions truly help our classes. Of course, my classes are always entertaining, but you give truly engaging input! It is great to have you back."
I awkwardly rubbed my neck. My so called input and questions are really just me keeping him on track…the man likes to brag. A lot. And he reminisces about the past…a lot.
"Thank you?" I offer, already moving towards the seats. Weiss was quietly holding back laughs from next to me. Perhaps corrupting her manners isn't so great…
I lightly jabbed her side, right under the rib and in the soft part. I soon nearly tripped onto my face as she kicked my leg in. Weiss sat down before I could get my revenge.
"Coward." I jibe at her, a wide grin stretching across my face.
Weiss lounged back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Me? I think you're mistaking cowardice for strategy. You should've thought before challenging me."
Walking into the row and past her, my fingers stretched out and flicked her in the forehead. Her bravado quickly morphed into a pout.
I sat next to her, squeezing her hand with a smirk on my face. She continued to pout.
The class kept filling in.
The professor started the class, beginning with a droll speech. "Now, class, we are going to be talking about Grimm adaptation today. I know, I know—it's not nearly as interesting as my usual tales!" The man laughed at that. "Ha ha. But, I have to avoid talking about my stories today."
Not one person had a downcast look on their face. Not one.
The professor didn't even notice.
"So, the Grimm. They're dangerous buggers, as we all are aware. This is enhanced by the fact that they both micro-adapt and macro-adapt! Oh my, that reminds me of this time I was fighting a Nevermore. See, this…"
I shared a glance with Weiss. Didn't Port claim that he wasn't going to brag today. That, clearly, was a lie.
"...and so I had it pinned to the ground, trapped by its wings. The beast really tried to struggle, but I had it stuck! It thrashed and thrashed, mighty wings beating against the ground. It kept wriggling as I approached it, and it surely knew that I was going to be its…"
I sighed, leaning back. Port's class might genuinely be the least substantial class I've ever attended. It is mildly impressive how he can get himself off track every other second.
Actually, I aspire to be as annoying as he was. I could probably bore the White Fang to death if I had even a semblance of his talent.
Heh. Semblance.
Maybe that was his semblance—being boring. The gods only know how he can be so boring.
"...and it glowed a bright red, massive feathers trying to hit me! Of course, all went by me. I was much too agile for some weak bird to bring me harm." The man flaunted—more like bullshited. There was absolutely zero chance that he was agile. I refuse to believe it. "As its burning feather tried to hit me, I struck it down with a mighty blow! Ha ha ha! It died, dissolving into nothingness."
The man moved his arms out like he expected an applause. None came. "Actually, that reminds me of this other Grimm I fought once. This beast was much like a horse…"
I leaned my head on Weiss's shoulder, doing my hardest to not groan. Even she doesn't take notes in this class.
Weiss, not taking notes? I know, it's scandalous. Ridiculous. Truly, the world must be ending if the queen of all nerds is not taking notes.
Yeah, Port just sucks as a teacher. He could make for an excellent politician with all the filibusting he does. He loves to filibust.
Yes, I know it's filibustering and filibuster. I've been trying to find happiness in the small things these days. My life has had too little of it as of recently.
"...and I grabbed it by the neck, flipping it over and launching it towards the—" the bell rang. People immediately began rushing out of the room. "Ah, cut short! That damned bell. Well, finish pages one-o-eight to one-o-twelve for homework!"
I scrambled out of class, Weiss in tow. "Where too?" I asked her quickly, wanting to get out of that room.
"Calculus." She answered, hurrying just as much as I was. She'd become a blasphemer to her nerdy ways.
"Nigel! Weiss!" A peppy voice called from behind us. Weiss quietly groaned.
It was funny that she does that when you consider the fact she'd become fond of Ruby. "Hey, Ruby." I say to the teen as she falls in line with us.
"Hey!" She happily calls back. Ruby was, all things considered, a nice girl. She'd given me some cookies after…that. It was hard to dislike her. "Can I sit next to you guys during Calculus?"
Weiss let out a small huff. "And why would you want to do that? Your team surely wants you to stay with them."
Ruby awkwardly scratched her neck as we walked, an embarrassed expression filter across her face. "Well…um…" She hesitantly began. "They…I need help with math!"
We got closer to Goodwitch's classroom. The woman taught both math and fighting.
"I thought Blake was good at math?" I ask curiously, tilting my head. Weiss squeezed my hand.
"Well…" Ruby started tentatively. "She's—she isn't bad at math…but you guys are really, really good! And—and I feel that you guys could help me get better at Calculus because it's really, really hard and I can't really understand it and—and…"
She was two years younger than everybody else. Then again… "Don't you literally design weapons?" I ask as we enter the room. "How can you possibly do engineering without math?"
"...the programs can do it for me?" Ruby replied weakly.
Weiss sat down and I sat next to her. Weiss gave Ruby an unimpressed look. "So you design guns…while being bad at math? Personally, I wouldn't dare use one of your guns."
"Hey!" Ruby protested, sitting next to me. "I'm not bad at math…it's just—all of this stuff is harder than I'm used to."
"Because you skipped two years." I conclude, flicking Weiss lightly. She gave me a light glare. I just flicked her again.
Ruby nodded. "Because I skipped two years. It's super hard having to do things that I never learned and I have to catch up at a really fast rate and it's just…hard."
"Okay, class." Goodwitch began, starting the lesson. "Today we will be applying relative extrema to related rates problems…"
I had already tuned her out. I knew all of this stuff.
Relative extrema are relative minimums and maximums, found by getting the derivative of an equation and setting it to zero and blah blah blah.
Related rates are rates that are related. Shocker. Math, again, is easy. It's meant to be intuitive—that's the whole point.
"Give the fact that the rate of change in radius is one-eighth meters per second at time equals six and radius equals four, what is the rate of change in the area at the same time?" She looked at the class, eyeing us up. "Anyone have an answer?"
Weiss raised her hand.
"Yes, Ms. Schnee? What is your answer?"
Weiss smiled. "The answer is pi meters squared per second. "
"Correct. Now, on to question…" She kept droning on.
"Hey." Ruby whispered to me. "How'd she get that?"
I look over at her notebook. "You derived wrong. You put two radius squared instead of two radius."
Ruby ahhed in agreement, quickly fixing her work.
I looked back over towards Weiss. "Good job." I offered quietly.
She practically preened.
Soon after, the bell rang and we packed our stuff up. "Lunch?" I asked Weiss.
"Lunch." She agreed with a nod, pulling me out of the class. I gave Ruby a quick wave as we left. "Where do you want to eat, then?" Cafeteria or..?"
"You're cooking." She ordered, dragging me through the halls. "I want pasta."
I hummed. "Pasta, you say?" Sounded good, in all honesty. "I'm fine with pasta. What kind? We have mushrooms, I could make Marsala?"
"Do we have chicken?"
"Probably?" I shrugged, letting her drag me. "If not, we'll steal from team RBY. They always have an excess of meat."
All three of them were massive carnivores. Yang loves beef, Ruby loves chicken and pork, and Blake loves fish. It was genuinely disturbing watching them eat.
We arrived back in our dorm and I quickly approached the fridge. I searched up and down… "Yeah, we have no chicken." Stepping back, I slammed the fridge close. "Lets go rob team RBY, I guess."
Weiss snorted. "Think they'll complain?"
I started walking to the door, moving towards the hall. "Nah. They'll just steal leftovers, probably. I doubt they'd care."
"Hmm…true. Yang's excessive proportions must require a lot of food." She said, glaring forward as she crossed her arm.
Swatting Weiss's arm, I approached team RBY's door. "Jealousy isn't pretty on most people, you know. Especially when you don't need to be jealous."
I ignored Weiss's blush as I opened the door. They didn't lock it during the day—Ruby and Yang suck with keys. I'm pretty sure they'd broken open the door before just to get in.
"Hey!" A voice shouted from inside the room. "Who's there?"
"Just Weiss and I, Yang." I call back, already going towards their fridge. "Why aren't you with your team?"
My hand reached the handle when Yang moved into view. "I needed to grab something. The better question is why you guys are in our room. Do I need to beat you two up?" She punched her fists together, a smirk on her face.
"Oh, beat us up?" Weiss snidely began. "What is your record against us again?"
"Bad luck." Yang brushed off.
"Anyways!" I cut in, stopping their little spat. "We're just stealing your chicken. You guys can steal our leftovers later."
Yang narrowed her eyes, looking at me intently. "If there are any leftovers. You said last time there would be leftovers and you'd eaten it all!"
I scratched my neck. "Sorry?" I offer guiltily. "Weiss was hu—"
"—don't put this on me, you dolt." Weiss harrumphed, shooting me a glare. "You ate it all."
I give her an innocent smile. "I have no clue what you mean, Sunshine~"
"You—!"
I flicked her forehead. She melted like a snowman…snowwoman? I don't know, all I do know is that she lit up like a bunch of red strobe lights.
Per usual, 'twas cute.
"Awww!" Yang puerilely said, oohing at us. "Aren't you two so cute? I better get the wedding invite, I call dibs on being best man."
"...don't you mean bridesmaid?" I offhandedly wonder. "And we aren't even—"
"—we aren't getting married!" Weiss said flusteredly, glaring at Yang. "And even if we were, you would not be invited."
Yang gave a teasing pout. "C'mon, Weiss Cream, you know you want me there! I'd be an awesome best man."
"Bridesmaid." I correct. "And there isn't a wedding!"
"Exactly!" Weiss shouts, face red. Mine might've been.
Maybe. Just maybe.
Yang gave a nod of understanding. "Ohh…I see how it is!" She smirked at us, a mischievous grin crossing her face. "I'll be there to record the proposal, then."
…what!?
"You—I—!" I blabbered out, struggling to give a response. Weiss was suffering as much as I was.
"You're so—so—!" Weiss groaned, covering her face. "Ugh! You're such a child! Even Ruby is more mature, and she is two years younger!"
Yang just kept grinning. "Yup! I'm completely childish and I'm proud of it. Now get your chicken and leave, love birds~" She waved her hand in a shoo-shoo motion.
I gripped the fridge just a tad harder. "You're not getting any leftovers."
Yang gaped, an offended look on her face. "What?! That's not fair! You're using my chicken to cook. I get leftovers."
Pulling open the fridge, I snagged their chicken breast. "Nope. Payment for your teasing."
"You—!"
Weiss and I quickly escaped from the room, fleeing into the hall.
"That girl is so…so ridiculous!" Weiss whined as we swiftly walked back to our dorm. "I can't believe she'd…well…" Her words tapered off as she flushed up.
I kept silent, face equally cherry-toned. If we went to a farmers market, someone would probably mistake us as a pair of tomatoes for sale.
"Ridiculous…" I absentmindedly agree, walking to our dorm.
It'd be ridiculous for Weiss and I to be together. Yeah, it'd be quite ridiculous. I mean, she definitely doesn't even like me. Nope.
I snagged a glance at her. She was pink, looking away from me.
If she doesn't like me, why would she be looking away? Maybe she does like me? I don't know…I really don't. Relationships are complicated. I hate emotions, they're frustrating.
Why couldn't they just be simple?
I pulled open the door to our dorm, entering with an equally absentminded Weiss.
Marrying her…
Hmm…
I look over her, eyeing her up. I think I wouldn't hate being together with her in that capacity. I already intend to have her in my life for the rest of my days, so…
Ugh…
"Could you get out the onions, garlic, and mushrooms out?" I ask her, washing my hands.
Weiss blinked, almost like she hadn't realized we were here. "Oh. Sure."
Grabbing a knife, I started to cut off what little fat remained on the chicken. There wasn't much, so it only took a couple of minutes.
Then, I pulled out a pan and turned the stove on to hot. I need to saute the onions, so it needs to be sizzling.
At the same time, I grabbed a pot and filled it with water. Fettuccine pasta was added. I'd tend to that as I focused on the big things.
After a minute, I poured olive oil into the pan and began to cut up some onions. They were quickly dispensed into the pan. Sauteing it, I kept stirring it until they got a nice gold look. Then, I lowered the heat, adding crushed garlic and mushrooms into the mix.
I stirred until the mushrooms got tender. Flour was added and I stirred again.
"Could you get the marsala wine and beef stock?" I call to Weiss over the sizzling of the stove. The bottle was quickly given to me.
See, we aren't technically supposed to have any kind of alcoholic drinks…but, well, it's not hard to get alcohol into Beacon and most good recipes need some kind of wine or alcohol.
I poured the wine into the mix and added the beef stock.
Grabbing a plastic baggy, I put the chicken in it and some flour and pepper. I shook the mix until the chicken was covered in the flour. I then placed it into a pan that I had begun melting butter in.
After some minutes of waiting—during which I had turned the pot of pasta off—I added more butter into the pan of chicken. After a little, it turned a golden brown. I quickly moved the chicken into the pan of marsala sauce.
Getting it nice and covered, I prepared Weiss and I some plates.
"Done." I call over to her, moving to the couch and bringing our two plates of fettuccine and chicken marsala.
"Took you long enough." She snarked, still grabbing the plate.
I snorted. "For someone so willing to take food from me, you sure are mean about it. Maybe I'll stop cooking for you, how about that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes. I am so grateful for your works." She paused for a second, loosening up a bit. "But…" She hesitated, voice growing awkward. "It means a lot to me. Thank you."
"I'll cook for you whenever you want." I say with a smile, cutting into my chicken. Lets hope I don't get ill, yeah?
"No, I really mean it." Weiss began, looking away. "It's—my family, we never had real meals together. All of them were…they were like tiny meetings. They felt like," she struggled for words. "Like it was caustic to talk or have fun or…or anything…"
My cheeks darkened and I looked away.
"This is what family feels like." Weiss concludes. "I—thank you…"
I try to give her a grin, but I feel, I think, nervous? "Well, we only have each other. Best to make the most of it."
"Yeah." She says awkwardly.
We eat in an awkward, yet comfortable, silence.
