Chapter 5
1048 Words
POV: Damian
The first thing Damian Knight learned about ordinary life was that instant noodles came with instructions.
The second thing he learned was that the instructions actually mattered.
He stood in the tiny kitchen, staring suspiciously at the packet in his hand.
How difficult could this possibly be?
Boil water.
Add noodles.
Wait.
Even a monkey could manage that.
Confident again, he filled a saucepan with water and placed it on the stove.
Nothing happened.
He frowned.
He turned the knob again.
Still nothing.
"Come on..."
Another twist.
A click.
Then..
Whoosh!
A blue flame burst to life so suddenly that Damian stumbled backward.
"Right."
He cleared his throat, pretending no one had witnessed his near heart attack.
Of course, no one had.
He was alone.
Mostly.
He glanced toward the window out of habit.
No cameras.
Good.
The water eventually boiled.
He ripped open the noodle packet.
One seasoning sachet landed neatly in the pot.
The second bounced off the counter.
The third somehow disappeared.
Damian froze.
"...Where did you go?"
He searched the countertop.
Nothing.
The sink.
Nothing.
The floor.
Nothing.
He crouched.
Still nothing.
Had seasoning developed legs?
Five minutes later, he discovered the tiny packet stuck to the sleeve of his shirt.
He looked at it.
The packet looked back.
"We're not discussing this."
He emptied it into the pot with unnecessary dignity.
The noodles softened.
Steam filled the kitchen.
A pleasant smell drifted through the apartment.
Not bad.
Maybe Ethan had underestimated him.
Feeling victorious, Damian reached for the saucepan.
He forgot the handle was hot.
"Ow!"
He jerked his hand away.
The saucepan tipped.
Boiling water splashed onto the burner with an angry hiss.
Steam burst upward.
Damian grabbed the nearest towel and started waving it wildly.
"This is under control."
The towel promptly caught a corner of the pot, knocking it sideways.
The noodles slid onto the stove.
Half the broth followed.
Smoke curled toward the ceiling.
The kitchen suddenly let out one piercing scream.
BEEEEEP!
Damian looked up.
The smoke detector flashed furiously.
"Oh, no."
BEEEEEP!
He jumped onto a chair and waved the towel beneath it.
"Stop!"
BEEEEEP!
"Please!"
BEEEEEP!
"It was an accident!"
The detector remained unconvinced.
Then the entire building answered.
A deafening alarm echoed through every hallway.
Damian closed his eyes.
"...Ethan is never hearing about this."
A furious pounding shook his front door.
"OPEN UP!"
He hurried over and opened it.
Emma stood outside.
Her ponytail was slightly crooked, and she was breathing harder than usual after running upstairs.
Behind her stood nearly every resident in the building.
Mrs. Alvarez wore fluffy bunny slippers.
Mr. Wilson held a flashlight despite every hallway light being on.
A teenager carried a hamster in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other.
Someone else had brought a folding chair.
Why?
Damian had no idea.
Emma looked past him.
Smoke drifted lazily from the kitchen.
She looked back at him.
"What happened?"
"I was making dinner."
She blinked.
"Dinner attacked you?"
"It escalated."
Mr. Wilson leaned sideways to peek into the apartment.
"I smell noodles."
Mrs. Alvarez sniffed dramatically.
"I also smell regret."
The teenager raised his hand.
"My hamster wants to know if we're evacuating."
Mr. Wilson looked at the hamster.
"He seems calm."
"That's because he has no idea what's going on."
Emma walked into the apartment without waiting for permission.
She switched off the stove.
Opened the kitchen window.
Picked the saucepan off the burner.
Then she looked inside.
Silence.
She looked at Damian.
"You burned noodles."
He straightened.
"Technically..."
She raised one eyebrow.
"...Yes."
Another long silence.
Then Emma laughed.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
She laughed so hard she had to hold the counter.
Damian stared.
"You find this amusing?"
She tried to answer.
She couldn't.
Every time she looked at the blackened noodles, another laugh escaped.
Mrs. Alvarez wandered into the kitchen.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She looked into the pot.
"Oh."
She patted Damian's shoulder.
"I've seen worse."
"You have?"
"No."
Mr. Wilson leaned over her shoulder.
"I didn't know noodles could become charcoal."
The teenager took out his phone.
"Can I post this?"
Emma immediately stopped laughing.
"No."
"Aww."
"No photos."
"What about a sketch?"
"No."
The teenager sighed dramatically and put his phone away.
Mrs. Alvarez opened one of the cupboards.
Damian frowned.
"What are you looking for?"
"Ingredients."
"For what?"
"You clearly aren't eating this."
Before Damian could object, she pulled eggs from her shopping bag.
Mr. Wilson proudly produced bread from somewhere behind his back.
The teenager held up butter.
"I contributed."
Emma looked around in disbelief.
"Why is everyone carrying groceries?"
Mrs. Alvarez smiled.
"We're prepared people."
Within minutes, Damian's tiny kitchen looked less like an apartment and more like a neighborhood cooking show.
Everyone was talking over one another.
Mr. Wilson insisted toast tasted better if you argued with it.
The teenager claimed ketchup belonged on everything.
Mrs. Alvarez threatened to disown him.
Emma stood quietly against the counter, watching the chaos with a smile she seemed unaware she was wearing.
Damian watched her instead.
She fit here.
Perfectly.
She knew everyone's names.
Everyone listened when she spoke.
Even when they ignored her, they somehow still listened.
It was... different.
Comfortable.
The alarm finally fell silent.
The neighbors slowly returned to their apartments, still laughing about the "Great Noodle Fire."
Mr. Wilson paused at the door.
He pointed at Damian with complete seriousness.
"Congratulations."
"For what?"
"You've earned your nickname."
Damian frowned.
"...Nickname?"
Mr. Wilson grinned.
"Mr. Disaster."
Laughter erupted down the hallway.
Even Emma failed to hide her smile this time.
She picked up the ruined saucepan.
"I'll bring this back tomorrow."
Damian folded his arms.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She reached the doorway before glancing back.
"Oh, and Mr. Disaster?"
"...Yes?"
"Tomorrow, we're buying you a cookbook."
She disappeared into the hallway before he could reply.
Damian closed the door and leaned against it.
One day.
He had lived in the building for one day.
He had been laughed at by an entire apartment complex...
...and somehow, he wasn't nearly as annoyed as he should have been.
His phone buzzed.
Ethan Hayes:
Heard the fire trucks never had to come. Proud of you.
Damian's eyes narrowed.
How...
...did Ethan already know?
- Writer
