Simon stood still for a beat, unsure how to respond. "You don't have to do anything to repay me," he replied finally, though his stomach thought otherwise. Kaye didn't owe him anything. He couldn't just take his food, that would hardly be fair.
"C'mon, it'll only take a couple minutes," Kaye insisted as he continued to grab a few more ingredients out of the cupboards, trying to think of what he was going to make. He didn't give Simon much a voice…just part of him wanted the other man to stay for a little longer, even if it was only a few minutes. "How does french toast sound?" He asked, glancing over towards Simon in question.
Simon's eyes widened a fraction. Proper breakfast? He hadn't eaten one in years, let alone something as delicious as French toast. He managed a nod, incredibly confused. Kaye would go so far as to offer him such a good breakfast? "Thanks, Kaye- you don't have to do this."
Kaye shrugged loosely as he continued to move around the kitchen, already stirring a mixture in a bowl which he prepared for the bread already sitting near a pan. Of course he had to do this. Simon had walked him home, put up with his drunk babbling, and treated to his lip…he needed to repay him somehow. Dismissing his thoughts, Kaye continued to move around the kitchen, he hummed a small tune, the stitches, bruises and his hair sticking in every direction made him seem odd in such a peaceful area.
Simon blinked and focused on the floor, feeling extremely out of place. He also felt as if he was cheating Kaye, making him feel obligated to make him food, but was afraid of being rude if he said anything more.
After about ten more minutes of moving around the kitchen, Kaye managed to have two plates stacked with french toast, a satisfied grin crossing his face. He grabbed the two, bringing them towards a smaller, wooden table near the kitchen, setting the plates down on the surface. "I'm not the…best cook, though these should be pretty good," he explained, taking a seat at the table.
Simon followed, taking a seat at the wooden table. He stared down at the plate laden with French toast, wide-eyed. This was a bigger breakfast that he’d had in months, hell, this was a bigger meal than all of his daily meals combined. “This— this looks really good. Thank you— thank you, Kaye.”
"Anytime," Kaye answered with a small shrug, though a small smile crossed his face at Simon's compliment. He pushed a plate towards Simon, motioning for them to eat as he got up to grab a small can of what appeared to be some sort of caffeinated soda and a straw. Sure, Kaye wasn't the healthiest person ever, though he needed something to wake himself up.
Simon lifted the French toast to his lips, taking a small bite. A sweet taste bloomed on his tongue, causing his eyes to widen noticeably. When was the last time he'd eaten something this delicious? A long, long time. He took another bite, and a sharp pain burned in his gums. Two sharp canines slid out in front of the human teeth, and Simon clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself for being so careless as to eat in front of someone else.
Luckily, Kaye wasn't looking towards Simon as they began to eat the French toast, and instead he was cleaning up a few things in the kitchen. He occasionally touched the stitches on his lip softly, still finding the sensation odd and to check if they were still intact.
Simon was careful to cover his mouth with his hand when he chewed to hide how full it seemed suddenly, sending anxious glances Kaye's way every few seconds. Stupid Siren genes… I'm not about to eat a goddamn shark, he thought, frustrated, wishing he could control his birthright more.
After a few minutes of cleaning up, Kaye made his way over towards Simon with a small yawn, though he seemed a little more awake due to his caffeinated drink. I wonder how much sugar is in this…, he thought to himself jokingly, knowing that there was way too much for it to be healthy.
"So, is it good?" He asked with a small hum, sitting back down in front of Simon.
Simon nodded sincerely, covering his mouth as he took another bite. After he had swallowed, he tried to reply without flashing his sharp canines. "It is, thank you. You didn't have to." It felt so strange to be treated this way, without being told to get lost, without seeing the fear in another person's eyes.
"It's fine. I rarely get people anyway," Kaye explained with a small hum as he took a sip from his drink. He had never had many friends, other than Ashley, and he tended to make more enemies that acquaintances anyway, so anyone that didn't leave when they first met made Kaye doubt himself a bit. Would he mess it up?
Simon finished off his meal quickly, gulping down some water. He was relieved when he finally felt his canines retract, and tried for a smile. "When… When do you want me to leave?" he asked hesitantly, unsure what the proper etiquette was in this situation. Would it be rude to leave? Would it be rude to stay?
(Any ideas for plot? Just to make sure we have ideas for later on.)
"You can leave whenever you'd like. Or…you could stay," Kaye answered after a moment with a small shrug, hoping that it wasn't that obvious. Part of him actually really enjoyed Simon's presence…and wanted them to stay for a bit longer.
(Well, maybe Simon could accidentally find out about Kaye’s mission and end up helping him? Plus he has Siren heritage, what could we do with that?)
Simon’s brows drew together in a confused furrow. Did Kaye really want him to stay, or was he just saying it out of politeness? There was no way to know.
All of a sudden, a slightly more urgent matter called for his attention. He hadn’t noticed, but an itch had been creeping up his back to the nape of his neck, and by now it had dissolved into twinges of pain, as if his skin was cracking open. Swearing inwardly, he tried to twist and catch a glimpse of his back. When was the last time he’d been submerged in water?
(Maybe for Simon's heritage, he could have some problems with not getting enough of water…or maybe someone from his past resurfaces?)
Kaye watched Simon for a few moments, though even in his partly drowsy state, he could see that the other looked a bit concerned. "Are you alright, Simon?" He asked after a few moments when the other man glanced over their shoulder. Was it something that he said? About asking the other to stay?
(Ooh, good idea)
Simon felt his skin crack open and a small trickle of warm blood trickle down the length of his spine. Shit. He stood abruptly, the skin of his knuckles beginning to dry up. “Can I use your washroom?” his voice was drenched in urgency. “Medical issue.”
"Y-yeah, of course," Kaye stammered, suddenly stressed at the sight of Simon being so urgent and worried. What kind of medical issue? Were they alright? Thoughts continued to race through his mind as he tried to calm himself, watching Simon make his way towards the washroom.
Simon locked the door behind him just as the dry skin of his knuckles cracked open. Blood seeped through the openings, dripping down onto the floor, and he hastily shoved his hands into the skin and turned the tap on. The cold water trickled down over his clenched fists, loosening and relaxing them as it began to bind the cuts together. Slowly, over the course of ten minutes, Simon’s hands were restored to their original state, but there was still the awful condition of his back and the rest of his body to consider. He turned to the tub, hesitating.
Kaye went to knock on the washroom, to ask if Simon was alright, but decided against it. The last thing Simon probably wanted was for him to bother them. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, making his way back towards the living room as he grabbed his drink, taking a small sip.
Simon quickly fabricated a partial lie, opening the bathroom door a crack to call to Kaye. “Hey, Kaye? My back is really irritated and I’m out of meds— would you mind if I used your bathtub quickly? Water helps with the bleeding.” He bit his lip, awaiting the answer.
Kaye leaned forward, listening to what Simon was saying before he paused for a moment. Bleeding? Was his back bleeding? "Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything," he called out after a few short moments, easily keeping the worry from lacing his voice.
“Thanks.” Simon shut and locked the door. By now, the pain was almost unbearable, rivers of blood staining the back of his shirt as the skin of his shoulders and chest began to follow suit. He fumbled to get his clothes off, then with the shower head, finally getting it to turn off. He stepped under the flow of water and closed his eyes with a whimper of relief.