32 Unexpected friend (1/2)

The constant ringing of the doorbell sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Kaiden's ear. It's not loud, the persistent tune more annoying than anything. It wakes Kaiden up in the worst way possible, rolling over his bed with a groan, body tired and heavy.

Who is it? And what does that person want so early in the morning?

It is, in fact, /not/ so early in the morning anymore. Kaiden only discovers that when he grabs his phone—the latest model, courtesy of Lucy— to check.

While Kaiden is stretching and rubbing the sleep off of his body, the ringing doesn't stop. Irritated at the disturbance, no one can blame him if he stomps his way to the front door and opens it with more force than necessary.

What awaits him, however, is enough to jolt the grumpiness out of his system.

"Your food was amaz— HOLY FUCK! How do you look worse than you did last night? What did you do?" The visitor is, unexpectedly, the only other person residing on the floor.

He doesn't refute his neighbor's words, certain that he looks bad. "Good morning," Kaiden mumbles, rubbing the sand out of his eyes.

"Good 'two in the afternoon' to you too," Primo says, a complete 180 from his attitude last night. "Do you usually wake up this late?"

"No," Kaiden says. He typically doesn't; the last he woke up after the sun had fully risen was that first morning after he and Damon became intimate.

One hand resting on the door frame, Primo leans in to ask, "Well, are you not going to let me in?"

"Oh," Kaiden steps to the side, "come in, please." He is yet to truly come around, to be alert and aware of his surroundings, because if he is, there is no way he can casually invite a celebrity to his place like this.

Primo doesn't ask for a further invitation, already taking off his shoes by the time he's saying, "Sure, sure. Go and wash your face or something, I have something to tell you."

At the reminder, Kaiden's face heats up. Oh my gosh, he thinks, he just showed his morning face to a celebrity. It's so embarrassing. Can his day get any worse?

--

His day, somehow, seems to have gotten worse—or weird.

Yeah, it's definitely weird. If it isn't, then what is he seeing right now?

Primo Alca, a top celebrity in the country, beloved even internationally, is rifling through his kitchen. In the short span of 15 minutes it took him to get ready, Mr. Celebrity has managed to empty three containers of leftover food from the fridge, pile up the dirty dishes on the sink, and is currently devouring the pasta he saved for lunch today.

What in the world happened here?

"You're back!" Primo waves a fork in the air, way more at home in the apartment than the owner is. "I swear, your food is /so/ good. I only got one bite of that beef before my manager took it away. Can you believe that?"

Kaiden looks back and forth between Primo's lean figure and the massacre of food to his side. He wants to say that he can't believe that, not the part about his manager taking the food away—that, he believes without a doubt—but he doesn't believe the part about Primo eating only one bite. Primo is certainly capable of eating more than just a single bite, but Kaiden keeps his thoughts to himself.

He sits down on the stool in front of the island counter, across from the mint green-haired Omega who is /still/ munching on something.

He asks, "What do you want to talk about?" Voice hoarse from the extended hours of crying he did last night, it's a little painful for him to speak at a normal volume.

"I'm Primo Alca, in case you don't know," he introduces himself after swallowing a mouthful, "and I want to hire you."

Kaiden doesn't respond for a second, and then two, and then three. There's a lot he wants to say, starting from 'I know who you are, there isn't anyone who doesn't know you,' but the words that come out are, "Hire me?"

"Yeah, you'll technically be my 'assistant' but all you'll do is cook for me while I'm on set," Primo answers without putting his fork down, now with the pasta three bites away from being gone.

"What?" Kaiden may have heard that wrong.

Unbothered by the complete bafflement on Kaiden's face, Primo says, "Don't worry, I have a mobile kitchen. I want to eat fresh, hot food, not those store-bought lunches so just name your price."

"I can't," he replies before the other can take a breath. He can't become famous or be around famous people. He /can't/. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, his body breaking out in cold sweats.

The hand raised to Primo's mouth pauses. His face slowly morphs from shock to confusion, even sporting a hint of anger on those lips forming a tight line when he asks, "Why not?"

"I just … I can't." Kaiden gulps his nervousness down, but there is nothing he can say aside from that.

"Do you think I can't pay you? You're probably super expensive since your food is so good, right?" Primo believes Kaiden must have been trained under some famous chef or has a plethora of awards and certificates in his portfolio, so it's only natural that hiring him will cost a lot. "I have more money than you think I do, and I won't mistreat you," he promises.

"I can't, not in the entertainment industry." Kaiden won't risk it, he won't go near any place that might have his face shown on screen. It's like pinging his location for that person who wants him six feet underground, but he won't tell Primo that. The man is here for food, obviously, not family 'drama.'

"I'm not asking you to be in front of the camera. You'll only be cooking for me," and that's the truth. If Kaiden is busy with something else, how will he have time to cook for Primo?

Kaiden, resolute in his decision, lowers his head in apology. "I'm sorry."

"Even if I say please?" Primo tries, pulling out the magic word.

Like before, Kaiden doesn't hesitate in turning him down, apologizing instead."I'm sorry."

Primo sighs, defeated. He can't force people to work for him now, can he? Especially someone whom he intends to entrust his food with, not unless he wants to be poisoned, so he relents, "Fine, I won't force you." However, that doesn't mean he's giving up on that delicious food. "But you have to open the door and feed me when I'm hungry. I won't take advantage of you, I'll compensate you for everything I eat."

"Okay," Kaiden says with his hands clasped on top of his lap, tightly gripping each other. Feeding an additional mouth is nothing if it pays for his safety.

Primo reaches out with his pinky finger, wiggling it to signal Kaiden to do the same. Immediately understanding the gesture, Kaiden interlocks their pinky finger together in a promise. The two don't know it yet, but this seals a life-long bond between them.

"Can I at least know?" Primo asks before grabbing the closest container to him and scooping a mouthful of tiramisu with a clean spoon.

Finally, Kaiden looks up, quite unsure if the other Omega is asking for a reason or something else. "Know what?"

"Your name." Primo stares straight at him as if daring Kaiden to reject him again.

Seeing as he has no reason to decline, he introduces himself, "I'm Kaiden."

"Kaiden what?"

"Kaiden …," he hesitates in saying it, "... Wester." The name sounds like a taboo, a summon to the boogeyman. He's not a Wester, not anymore.

A glint flash through Primo's eyes, eyebrows pulling to a slight furrow. However, it vanishes before the pink-haired Omega notices. "Well, my stomach and I will be in your care from now on."

"Ah … please take care of me too."

Primo hums, mouth trying to savor the cold dessert, and continues eating as heartily as before.