fine dining

He had just arrived home from a difficult day with his family, and Darcy was relieved to finally reach the steps of his shared residence with Evie, his dear friend. He opened the door, sighing, before finally relaxing and feeling the soft warm glow of the house envelop him. He stood, silently, for a moment, allowing everything to wash over him before noticing that the house was quiet. His friend hadn’t greeted him at the door like he usually did.

“Evie, what-” Darcy's voice echoed through the hallway, the soft taps of his footsteps against the tiles growing louder.

“Stop! I’m not done!” Evie responded, rushing around to greet his friend at the entrance, blocking his view. Suspicious.

Darcy raised his head to look over Evie’s, his gaze zeroing in on the kitchen counter immediately. On it, laid out like a murder scene, was an array of various pots and pans, all coated in what remained of what seemed to be food, according to the empty boxes of ingredients piled haphazardly on the edge of the counter, but smelled like a horrifying mixture of smoke and… seaweed?

Evie chuckled nervously and stumbled over his feet towards the counter, pulling out a small pan from the mountain and proudly displaying it to Darcy. 

“What?” Is all Darcy could say. The contents of the pan was slightly more comprehensible than the others; a lighter shade of brown sludge rather than charred black. It also smelled more appetizing, and reminded him of brown sugar. 

“It’s pudding!” Evie responded slightly too loudly. He forced Darcy to sit down, then quickly pulled out a couple of forks and plates, slicing the pudding and serving it to Darcy before he could speak.

He took a bite. The texture was, quite frankly, horrible. It felt both overcooked and undercooked, and was weirdly chewy, much unlike the soft and light texture one would expect from, what Darcy had figured out to be, caramel pudding. He quickly softened his face from the grimace it defaulted to, sparing a glance at Evie to ensure he didn’t see. His gaze, however, was transfixed on his own plate, eyebrows furrowed and clearly lost in thought. Was he trying to figure out what went wrong? Studying, and taking notes for the future? Darcy wasn’t sure. He himself was distracted by the realization that the actual taste of the dish was… good. It did indeed evoke the smooth milky flavour of caramel pudding, and had a rich deep vanilla undertone that didn’t overpower the gentle notes of caramel. The flavours complimented each other perfectly, in perfect harmonization, and it reminded him of…

“So do you like it?” Evie interrupted. Darcy looked up to rest his gaze on the man, who was looking at him with excited anticipation. His smile was infectious, and his energy the same. Darcy smiled in return, gently setting down his fork (gold, Evie had insisted, but Darcy hadn’t seen the importance of matching cutlery at the time. Evie liked silver, and Evie was the main decorator of the house, after all. Darcy didn’t see any reason for it to feel like his home as well.)

“It’s perfect.”