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who the fuck needs six large onions

"haley?" timothée asked. he was needed to shoot a few quick scenes for the movie and they ended later than expected, which is why he arrived back at haley's place at five in the afternoon.

he rang the doorbell as he entered, just to signal that he was back home, but as he was taking off his jacket he heard a crash from the floor above.

assuming the worst, he trampled up the stairs quickly and knocked rapidly on her door before entering to see an overturned lamp on the ground and haley lying down her eyes squeezed shut. the curtains were drawn closed and she had an open laptop beside her while a phone rested on her lap.

"what the... are you alright?" he asked, immediately clambering to return the lamp to where it was.

"mmph." was the answer he got, and a sniffle. that's when he realized she was crying.

now, timothée wasn't the best person when it came to dealing with crying women. despite his twenty-six years on the planet, he still didn't know what to do. it was different from dealing with a crying pauline, since she was his sister and he could crack a joke to make her feel better. so all he could do was stand there awkwardly.

"are you okay?" he asked, cringing at himself a bit as he was unable to meet her eyes. he literally just asked that. then again, it wasn't like she gave a coherent answer.

"it hurts," she complained. "my head." haley made a move to sit up so she could see him properly, but her arms gave way and she fell back onto the pillow.

"listen, why don't you just nap? i'll take this—" timothée began, shutting off her laptop, "—and i'll plug this in since it's almost out of charge..." he picked up her phone and connected it to a nearby power bank. "and you can take a nap and you'll feel better. may i?" he added, offering his hand to check her temperature. he brought it to her neck, which wasn't as warm as it had been two days ago. improvement, at least.

"do you want anything? water, food?"

"you're not gonna give me any champagne, will you?"

he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "we'll drink to your health once you're better, how's that?"

she scoffed. "what time is it?" her muffled voice asked.

timothée glanced at his watch. "uh, 5:41."

"well then, good night." she rolled to her side and pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. he left her alone.

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hey man.

do you know what haley's favorite food right now is?

i mean, i know she likes pasta but it might've changed and i really wanna cook something for her

seen 5:49 pm!

finn was ghosting him and timothée didn't like it.

calling ...

call

calling ...

call

calling ...

call

calling ...

call

"hello?" finn asked. timothée hadn't spoken to haley's brother in almost a year, and was unsure of what his reaction would be.

"hey finn, it's timothée."

"oh, no wonder your contact name is 'asshole'." he replied, sarcastically. "why're you calling?" he sounded annoyed, and it made timmy annoyed in return.

"listen man, i don't know what the fuck i did to make your sister break up with me, i don't know why the fuck you're so pissed off, but no one's giving me a reason and now I'M pissed off." he said angrily.

finn knew timmy had the right to be mad, considering that none of it was his fault. "you did nothing wrong to her, i just don't like you very much." he answered.

timothée wanted to throw a pillow. he took a couple of calming breaths. "okay. can you tell me your sister's favorite food?" he asked, enunciating each word slowly.

"are you trying to get her back? because this is a 'pov: you're the problem' situation, and the problem is her."

"no!" timothée practically yelled. "she's sick with the fucking virus and she hasn't eaten decent food in almost a week, so you will tell me her favorite food and i'm gonna drive all the way to fucking arizona to get it for her if that's what you fucking want!"

"is it that bad?" he asked, urgently.

"she lost her taste and smell and had a breakdown just awhile ago."

there was silence on the other end of the line, then finn began talking again.

"sorry. she's into chicken chili right now, there's this barefoot contessa recipe that she absolutely loves, just split it in half since a whole batch makes a huge serving. unless you want to store it all, which works too." he began.

timothée nodded, making a mental note to check that out. secretly, he was panicking, because what the hell was a barefoot contessa?

"use colorful bell peppers, preferably red and yellow, and if there's green throw some of that in. and when serving, put it in a bowl and give her a spoon. top it with a layer of grated cheddar cheese. if it looks like too much, add a bit more," finn advised. "can you make cinnamon rolls?"

"man, i can't bake for shit. isn't there a store somewhere i can get desserts from?" he asked.

"she likes her homemade goodies better than anything store bought." finn said apologetically. "i have this easy chocolate bread recipe from our dad, i should have a picture of it in my phone somewhere..."

"alright." timothée said, relieved.

"i'll send it to you once i find it, and..." finn cleared his throat awkwardly. "sorry for what i said earlier."

"it's fine, it's fine," he said, still a bit irritated at finn's tone from earlier.

"i was supposed to fly over there, you know?" the nineteen year-old boy's voice begin to shake. "i wasn't able to spend christmas, and i was on my way there, but then the fucking omicron happened and sweden went into lockdown," he cried. "i miss her so much man, i haven't seen her in ages."

"hey, hey, it's gonna be alright." soothed timothée, his heart breaking a little for the kid. "you'll be able to see her soon, don't worry. i'll try my best to keep her spirits up in the meantime."

"yeah." finn sniffled. "thanks a lot for everything, timothée."

"no problem."

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"six onions? who the fuck needs six large onions?!" timmy asked himself angrily as he was in the middle of chopping the second. his eyes were burning, and he could barely see anything. the recipe called for six onions, and since all of the ones he bought were gigantic, he made the executive decision to use only three, because six was just an obscene amount.

it took him almost a whole hour to chop up everything, because like finn said, the amount of ingredients needed for the chili recipe was huge ("eight fucking chicken breasts?").

he stood by the stove a while later, impatiently waiting for the chicken to sear, yelping occasionally when an angry burst of oil would pop by his eyebrow. i should've baked this, he thought, regretting his decision to pan-cook the chicken.

afterwards, he had it simmer for thirty minutes, while he agonizingly tried his best to follow the chocolate bread recipe instructions finn sent perfectly. scrape literally all of the batter, he texted. not a crumb, grain, or clump of anything left on the bowl, paddle, or counter. so timothée took the advice to heart, spending about ten minutes with a spatula to get everything into the loaf pan.

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i am so sorry

could you please get me cold water :D

seen 9:32 pm!

haley heard a knock on the door, and timothée walked in with... not a glass, a tray.

"the hell is that?" she laughed.

"your brother kinda told me your favorite foods," he explained.

"you made this." she stated, looking at the slice of chocolate bread and bowl of chili. it was a doubtful statement, really. the only pasta he could cook the last time she saw him was just tossed in plain butter.

"yeah!"

"how'd you know to put this much cheese on top?!"

"i read your mind."

she grinned back at him because he looked very especially proud of his creation. she also noticed that he stole a couple of flowers from the parlor vase and threw them onto the tray for presentation. though she was a bit nervous, haley decided to give it a go, but recoiled after the first bite.

"fuck, is it disgusting?" timothée asked. he'd been watching her closely.

"it's just—" she coughed. "—very salty."

I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY