The next morning she sent me a message confirming last night. 'Still in for breakfast?'

'Sounds good.' I messaged back, before putting on my shoes. I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door.

About fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the driveway, got out of my car, and walked up to the door. I knocked lightly and waited. She opened the door. An apron was on her waist, her spiral hair in a bun.

"Hungry," she asked with a huge smile on her face.

"Kinda the point," I laughed. She joined in.

"I know. It's a joke I have with Emily but it won't really make sense." She explained. "Well, anyway come in." She moved to make room.

"It smells amazing." The smells of cinnamon and sugar-filled the air.

"Well, as according to plan, they are cinnamon rolls. Usually, I plan something and decide differently in the morning. And no I did not buy a pre-made package. I make them." She said.

I laughed. "You're so defensive."

"No, I'm avoiding hurtful questions."

"I wouldn't question that," was all I said in reply.

I followed her into the kitchen. The walls were light yellow just like they were the last time I've been in here. The cabinets were white. That was different, they were brown last time. Dishes were in the sink. Not very many just the ones she used to make the food. On the fridge, there was a picture of us. Her hair was down, a smile was on her face.

I was drenched in water. Probably when she decided to ambush me with water balloons. I tried not to smile. I'd forgotten all about that. There's so much we've done. And crazy enough a lot we've never done that we always wanted to.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah. Sorry. Were you saying something?"

"No. You just seemed to be out of it."

"I was just thinking," I said.

"I believe that." She pulled the food out of the oven. She poured icing all over them. It melted way better than when I do it. Maybe because I wait a few minutes.

"I would get you some. But I don't know which one you want so help yourself."

She handed me a spatula and grabbed herself one. They were huge rolls. She slapped my spatula with hers. I slapped hers back.We both laughed as we put some on our plates. We sat at the table. It was in a different spot.

"Remember when we had that food war?" She laughed.

"How could I forget? That was the most fun I've ever had."

"Same." She looked at her food.

"Don't even think about it." I laughed.

"Oh come on. It wants to taste your hair."

"Not icing. Maybe something else."

"Fine. I'll get you another day." She said.

"And I'll be sure to get you back," I said. Her eyes still looked different. Like she's been crying again. I don't want to annoy her but maybe she'll say something. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's just I've been thinking about my parents a lot."

"Are they okay?"

"They're dead. They passed away when I was eight." She said, shrugging it off.

I looked at her. "I'm sorry for asking."

"Don't be I should've told you before." She paused. "But I guess it never came up. Or maybe I just like to avoid things I can't control."

"Well, if it helps, I think that makes you human. We have the tendency to like to be in control so when we feel it's not in our power we tend to focus on what we can. And you can control who knows. But honestly, I think it's deeper."

Her eyes began to shine with curiosity while being brimmed with tears, "deeper?"

"Um, I think it may have to do with acceptance. Evidently, you accept they're gone, since it's been a long time. But once you say it out loud it becomes real again."

She fumbled with her left hand and then looked me in the eyes. "Well, I think you have a point."

She broke the eye contact. "this got dark and serious fast."

She let out a second long, forced laugh.

"Yes, I guess it did." a drop of icing fell to the floor. We both looked down at the drop of white contrasting against the dark brown floor.

"And now it's back to normal," she tucked the escapist piece of hair behind her ear.

"We have a weird normal," a smile began to creep up on her face, brightening the dark clouds that had just rolled over us. "Maybe it's cause all we are, are two very messy people hoping to find someone who sees it as artwork instead. Someone who doesn't see the mistakes as blemishes but shooting stars."

"Wow, that's so descriptive," she paused. "Ooh new game, we should figure out what the artist was drawing when they decided to paint us. I'll describe yours."

"I mean if that's what you want to do." I placed my messy hands on the table and looked at her.

"They were definitely drawing a fire when they were painting you, a fire in the shape of water. Cause you yourself would be water since it's all about the soul and healing. And fire, just your ideas run rampant like fire, it needs to burn, only many try to put it out."

"And you?"

"I came with the gasoline hoping to make the flames rise."

I struggled to find words so instead, I replied, "I guess it's my turn then. I think they painted winter, growing into spring. Cause at first glance winter is cold. But really it's time for warmth, it's time for friends, it makes you appreciate everything cause you know, and turning into spring because that's when nature takes back what was taken in autumn. Winter was the state of accepting and making the most of it, spring is taking it back. It's the time you choose whether you want your friends around cause you know it'll be okay. It's warm now."

She didn't reply but she didn't need to. We were both in the open and our buried feelings were uncovering every time we spoke.

We both finished at the same time. She took my plate and put them both in the sink. I grabbed the cups.

"You know. Love is many things. But nobody ever tells you it's terrifying." She said randomly. Our hands hit as I went to hand her the cups.

"You have a point," I said. "It's okay to be afraid. It shows that we care."

She pulled away. "You want to sit on the couch?"

"Sure," I said.

So we made way to the couch. She sat on one side and I sat on the other. We both were quiet. A little too quiet.