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There was always something about the smell of brewing coffee in the morning for Christopher Breakfast.
Of course, it wasn’t the only element of the kitchen’s daily symphony. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Chris kept every part of the kitchen busy as he did every day. The scent of freshly-squeezed orange juice just barely cut through the aroma coming from the ham grilling on the pan. The neighboring pan held a bright, sunny egg, sizzling next to a few curling strips of bacon. Shredded hash brown potatoes waited their turn to face the flame on one end of the counter, while fluffy waffles already familiar with the sting of heat released wafts of steam on the other end of the counter. Every piece of the meal had its place, and every one was important, but coffee always set the stage, allowing for the rest to come together. It was a calming aroma, a comforting guide through the early morning hours of the day.
Chris watched the final drops of coffee pour into his mug, the sacred liquid finally ready to be consumed. He gratefully wrapped his hands around the mug and took a long sip, monitoring the food on the pans in silence. For him, there was still a simple joy in this symphony, in this daily dance, even if many others did not feel the same anymore. Despite the lingering thought of being forgotten, despite the crushing weight of not having any, the mornings were still his, or at least, he wanted them to be.
As he finished creating every piece of the breakfast spread, the pride and joy he felt as he dug in was equally met with anxiety and dread. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, breakfast wasn’t like it used to be.
He didn’t expect everyone to live like he did, but his heart couldn’t help but break at the thought that he was one of the few sitting down to enjoy such a meal, a meal that people used to call the most important one of the day. He certainly didn’t feel important, especially on days where he felt no summons, no pull from the joy of breakfast in people’s lives. Chris hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days, but if he were honest, it was less of hoping for something good and more of dreading the inevitable bad.
Even as he polished his plate, the meal perfect as he intended, the flavors couldn’t take that feeling away, the unease seeping into his being with every passing minute. He gripped the handle on his coffee mug, taking another unsteady sip. What if he never got to share the joy of the first meal of the day again? What if breakfast as a concept disappeared from the public consciousness, and he was forced to wander aimlessly without purpose forever? What if…the only breakfasts left were his own?
Chris stopped mid sip, the mug still on his lips. The realization hit him like a whole ham, throwing an anchor into the waters he would typically sail past. The days were not great recently with people skipping breakfast, sure, but he had never felt this negativity so strongly before. Why? He always said every day was an opportunity, didn’t he? Breaking the fast of the previous evening also meant breaking patterns, starting anew; the woes of yesterday did not need to carry into today. He knew that, he believed that, he truly did, but the unwavering positivity he usually held wasn’t in his heart that morning. It was replaced by something else, something he had not felt in a long, long time.
He was afraid.
“Didn’t think you felt fear anymore.”
“Land sakes!”
Chris jumped in his seat and nearly allowed the coffee to slosh out of his mug, the words sending a shiver down his spine.
He took a careful breath in, then out, and slowly lowered his mug, placing it on the table with a muted thunk. He raised his eyes to find the exact man that would be here at a time like this, a man that Chris assumed he would never cross paths with in this way.
The man stood there before him, his posture straight and arms folded rigidly behind his back. His military uniform and hat were as green as ever, while the four stars on his shoulder marks shimmered in contrast. He stared at Chris with a hardened expression, his sunken eyes seeming to cast a shadow over his whole face.
The Fear General.
Chris swallowed.
“I-I didn’t either,” Chris finally got out.
The General took a few steps closer, keeping his eyes on Chris.
“What could have possibly shaken you enough to bring me here, Breakfast?” He looked down at Chris’s empty plates. “Especially at a time like this?”
Chris followed his gaze down to the table displaying the remaining evidence of his solitary breakfast. He knew what the General could do. How couldn’t he? After all, they were coworkers in a sense, being eternal beings and all, only Chris shared the joy of breakfast with other people, while the Fear General, well…true to his name, he latched onto people’s fears, and it seemed he was here because of Chris’s. They didn’t cross paths very often with their different assignments, but in the few times they had, Chris became very familiar with Fear General’s operation. He knew the man was well aware of what his fears were.
“Hey now, why ask that when you already know the answer?” Chris asked, doing his best to calm his panicked thoughts.
“Most of my subordinates don’t know that when they are placed under my command, do they?” The General slammed his hand down on the opposite end of the table, making Chris flinch in his seat. “You might have the luxury of being able to talk to me, but the fact that you know my methods doesn’t mean I won’t use them.” He straightened up, his hands finding their place behind his back again, and took a few more careful, calculated steps forward, landing directly next to Chris. “Just because you have an assignment like mine, doesn’t mean I won’t do my duty.”
Chris averted his gaze from those terror-inducing eyes and racked his brain, trying to figure out how to escape the man. He might not have had much to do in terms of his own work lately, but that didn’t mean he wanted his hours to be filled with fear hanging over him. He didn’t need the onslaught of heart palpitations or shortness of breath that the General brought along with everything else.
“Ah, gee,” he began, attempting to sound casual, “I don’t mean to get in the way of your operation, but since I am one of the few people who can actually ask this of you…” Chris cautiously met his eyes again, trying to keep his mind and heart in check. “May I ask that you don’t do your usual…business here? No need to waste your time on me, right?”
“It was your fear that brought me here, sunshine.” the General said fiercely, leaning forward with his hands still behind his back, his face now much closer to Chris’s. “You’re a soldier of mine like any other, so don’t be surprised when you enter the war zone.”
Chris swallowed again, staring into those hollow eyes. His heart began to race and his palms grew sweaty, just as they always did around the General. He had a way of causing that kind of effect on people, or, at least on him.
“R-Really, now, you don’t have to worry about me. Not everything is a war zone, General.”
“And not everything is sunny side up, Breakfast.”
Chris averted his gaze, the reason for the general’s appearance resurfacing in his mind.
“I…I know.”
The General’s cold stare cracked, for just a moment. Chris didn’t recognize the expression, especially not on the General, but perhaps it was…shocked? Disappointed? Perhaps even…soft?
Surely not the Fear General, no. Absolute hogwash.
“Where is that unending optimism, soldier?” The General asked, his usual commanding tone slightly lower in volume than usual.
Chris stared for a moment, unsure of what to respond to this slightly more subdued General. It was odd, for someone whose voice was usually so stentorian to be even slightly softer. That with the expression…What in tarnation was he thinking about?
Chris shook his head, shaking the thought away. He was still the Fear General; his job would be his one priority above all else, no matter what. That was just who he was.
Well, if he was so focused on his job, Chris could most definitely do the same.
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you, General? Times change, I suppose,” Chris replied simply, standing to collect his dishes from the table. “Have you eaten?” He stacked each plate carefully, feeling the General’s eyes on him.
“Excuse me?” The general barked, back at full volume now.
“If you’re going to stay, why don’t I fix something up for you?” Chris placed the dishes in the sink and turned to face him again, trying to appear more confident than he felt.
The General straightened up again, chin held high. “That is highly inappropriate, soldier.”
“Why? I’m not just one of your regular ‘soldiers,’ right? We have similar assignments, just like you said. Why can’t we share a meal?”
Though he had only asked the question to distract and push the General’s buttons a bit, his heart was already fluttering at the thought of sharing breakfast with someone. With the Fear General, of all people. Chris turned back to the stove, ready to start a set of pancakes anyway. He was worried about not having any summons, but he could always bring breakfast to others, couldn’t he?
The General coughed behind him. “I’m…no longer needed here.”
“Hm?”
Chris turned around, but the General was already gone, off to torture someone else, he supposed. Chris couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, the lack of his looming presence freeing up air in the room so he could breathe properly again. If he stayed, Chris might have been able to share a meal with him, but it was better this way, wasn’t it, without the fear lurking in the corner of his mind?
Yes, this was infinitely better.
Right.
He stared at the spot where the General just stood only moments before.
Definitely better.
Chris wondered when he would see him again.
While he didn’t see the General for the next few days, the circumstances of his situation didn’t improve much. There was this growing cavity in his chest, a cloud of darkness covering his usual sunny days as fewer and fewer people summoned him in the mornings. Each day he still got up, made breakfast, and sipped his morning coffee as he watched the sun stream in, a routine he used to love that he was growing to loathe. It reminded him of the people who didn’t do the same, the people who didn’t want to do the same, the people who would never know what they were missing.
Surely all of this would have warranted a visit from the Fear General, but he hadn’t seen him since that day. Perhaps he had taken him up on his offer, of not wasting his time on Chris when there were so many others out there who he could torment more effectively. Perhaps he didn’t like dealing with his enduringly positive spirit. He liked breaking people down, using their minds against them, and Chris’s just wasn’t one that was easily turned.
He was always thinking about his duty. It always came first, meaning dealing with another guardian instead of everyday people was probably not his first priority.
With all the pieces shuffling around in his head in full view now, Chris realized he would probably never see the Fear General again, and for some reason, that made him more afraid than ever.
Chris lugged his bag of groceries through the doorway, closing the door with his foot. He did have the ability to procure breakfast ingredients on his own, but he liked the experience of grocery shopping. Looking through items, talking with fellow shoppers, getting new ideas from both of them on what to make—all of it made his days brighter, especially on these cloudier ones.
As he walked to the kitchen to deposit his bags, it was the smell that hit him first, a savory smell that meant one disastrous thing: someone was cooking in his kitchen.
He marched to his kitchen, his sacred space, ready to confront whatever odd burglar decided to make use of it, only his legs seemed to stop functioning as soon as he laid eyes on the figure in front of the stove.
The bags of produce tumbled to the ground. His entire body tensed up, each muscle frozen in place as he took in the scene.
There the Fear General stood, nursing a pan of scrambled eggs in Chris’s kitchen. His cap hung delicately off the edge of one of the dining table’s seats. Chris had thought perhaps that thing was properly attached to his head, the way he never saw the man without it, but he really did take it off, it seemed. Even stranger than the hat, though, was the lack of his military green jacket. It hung opposite to the cap on the chair, leaving the General in a white button down.
For more reasons than he could readily name, Chris couldn’t breathe.
“At ease, Breakfast. I’m not here for your fear,” the General said gruffly without turning around. “Though maybe I should be, with the way your heart is pounding.”
Chris knelt down and slowly picked up each fallen bag—luckily nothing was damaged or dirty from the fall—keeping his eyes on the General. He could sense Chris’s fear, then; no surprise there. But, if he wasn’t here for his fear, then what was he here for?
He walked up to the kitchen counter with the collected groceries and began unloading each bag, trying not to be rattled by the presence of the literal General of Fear to his left who was apparently not there for his fear. He glanced at the man from the corner of his eye, the spatula in his hand moving swiftly through the eggs in the pan. Chris locked back onto the groceries in his hands.
“Your jacket,” he finally got out as he placed oats in the cupboard. “I’ve never seen you without it on. Why are you not—”
“I’m not on duty right now.”
Chris furrowed his eyebrows at the peanut butter he pulled out of the bag. The general was the most hardworking person he knew. Taking a break was not something he did. Was it? This seemed like a trap of some kind.
“But you’re always on duty, aren’t cha?” Chris said cautiously, forcing a casual chuckle.
“I can afford to take off my hat once in a while,” the General stopped moving the spatula, turning his head toward Chris slightly, “for the right reason.”
“R-Right.”
Chris scurried behind the General, peanut butter in hand, trying not to think about what that could mean. He opened the cupboard above the L-shaped counter and slid the jar in its rightful place. He turned back around to fetch more groceries only to come face to face with the General who had silently moved away from his spot in front of the stove to the spot in front of him without Chris noticing. The two locked eyes.
“The salt and pepper are behind you.”
Of course his past self decided to place the salt and pepper in that very spot on the L-shaped counter.
Without waiting for a response, the General reached behind Chris, his arm touching his side as he grabbed the seasonings. Chris stiffened as he felt a breath brush past his cheek, once again frozen in the man’s presence.
The General leaned back out, salt and pepper in hand, but he didn’t return to the stove, lingering in front of him only inches from his face. Chris’s heart hammered in his chest, paralyzed by his gaze.
If he wasn’t there for his fear, what was he here for?
“I-It’s hotter than the hinges of hell in here,” Chris stammered, unable to form more coherent thoughts. “What temperature do you have that stove at?”
The General didn’t keep his eyes off of him.
“Hot.”
They stayed there for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes. That was simply not a setting on his burner, but with the view he had and the room’s heat pressed against his skin, he could almost believe it.Where else could the heat be coming from?
The General finally, finally, stepped back, turning back to the stove. He slammed the salt and pepper on the counter and grabbed the spatula, chopping up the already very scrambled eggs like they did something deeply personal to him.
“That’s probably not good. For the eggs.”
Chris walked up next to him, a hand hovering over the General’s around the spatula, before he quickly pulled the hand back.
“Why are you making eggs?” Chris mused aloud, the words clumsy and slurred as they fell out of his mouth. “If you’re not here for me, then…why are you here, taking over my kitchen?”
“I’m not here because of your fear,” the General paused, sneaking a glance at Chris, “but I am here for you.” He went back to stabbing the now minced eggs, looking decidedly away from Chris. “When I visited the other day I—”
“Don’t torture the poor eggs while you explain this to me. That hurts my heart more than anything you could do.”
Before he could overthink it, Chris finally placed his hand on the General’s and moved the pan away from the heat, then used his other hand to turn off the stove.
The room didn’t feel any cooler.
“Go ahead, General.”
Chris once again gathered the courage to make direct eye contact with the General, ready to face whatever the man had to say no matter how frightened it might make him.
Instead of a piercing gaze, though, Chris met a set of widened eyes. That was not a face the Fear General made, that was one he caused. Which could only mean…no. Surely not.
“Well I’ll be,” Chris said in amazement, keeping his eyes on the curious creature before him. “General, are you…afraid?” he asked softly. “I didn’t think you felt fear anymore.”
The General raised his head high, the unusual trepidation in his eyes still present. “I don’t want people to feel fear, Breakfast.”
“Ain’t that your whole thing?" Chris tilted his head. “If you don’t want that, then what do you want?”
“Your fear. It’s unusual,” he said brusquely in lieu of an actual reply. “Most people are haunted by their greatest fears at night, but you…your fear is small yet overpowering, and it comes in the morning. It throws off my whole schedule,” he huffed, throwing a hand in the air.
“Is that why I haven’t seen you?” It didn’t seem like something the ever-dedicated General would do, but it would explain why he never showed up again, despite Chris’s spiralling thoughts.
“Only partly,” The General admitted. “I know who I am. What my presence does to people.” His gaze grew distant, “I thought if I stayed away it might be more bearable for you. You already had this fear hanging over you. You didn’t need me there, too. But when I still felt that summons from you every morning, I…I wanted to do something about it.”
He took a careful step forward.
“I might be fighting with fear every day, but,” the General reached toward Chris, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, “a real general knows the best way to win a war is to not fight it at all.” He gave Chris’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I just wanted to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Based on the way Chris’s heart hammered in his chest, there was definitely something to be afraid of, and every sense told him it was the man in front of him.
“Breaking into my house is a funny way of trying to make me less afraid, isn’t it?” Chris asked timidly, trying to find something else to focus on so his head would stop spinning from the sudden contact.
The General glanced at the pan pushed aside. “I…I wanted to make you breakfast,” he said sharply, seemingly getting the words out before he could think about them too deeply. “You were afraid of not having anyone to share it with so I thought…” He trailed off, coughing awkwardly into his fist with the free hand not gripping his arm.
Chris couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on his face. “You…You wanted to make breakfast for me?”
“Well…yes,” he said matter of factly, expression back to its usual hardened state.
The Fear General, known for never spending a moment thinking about anything other than his work, took time out of his day to make breakfast for him. He still didn’t fully understand why, but if it wasn’t a sentiment sweeter than a cherry pie…
“That’s just about the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Chris said softly, the wonder evident with every word.
“Well, then people haven’t been kind enough to you,” The General shot back, almost angry at the thought. “I haven’t been kind enough,” he added, an air of sadness tinting that simmering anger.
“Oh shush, none of that,” Chris assured, still smiling. “It’s alright, you’re a busy man. I appreciate what you’re doing now”
“No one should ever be too busy for what’s important.”
“But with your assignment, I’m hardly important considering—”
“You are,” the General affirmed with such commanding authority that Chris’s tongue couldn’t help but still. “You’re a bright soul. All too rare these days.” He ran his hand down Chris’s arm, landing on his forearm. “I don’t want you to lose that, sunshine.”
Chris felt heat rise to his cheeks. His heart thrummed in his chest once again, every part of his mind unable to focus on anything except the feeling of the hand on his arm and the gentle way he said “sunshine.” Doggone it, didn’t he turn the heat off already?
Though, even without a stove present, that was always how Chris felt with the Fear General around, right?. He was the Fear General, after all. It only made sense for his body to involuntarily react in such a way when he watched the man march off to his next assignment, or when he heard him say the most menial things in such a commanding voice, or when he saw those broad shoulders…It was nice getting a better view of them without the jacket in the way, wasn’t it? He wondered if he would ever get to see them on full display one day. He wasn’t sure how many layers a general’s uniform usually consisted of, but surely there couldn’t be that many more. If he were to peel off each layer one by one, then eventually…
Chris let out a small gasp.
Oh.
Heavens to Betsy.
Two realizations hit Chris like two whole hams.
First, the feelings of fear and excitement felt very similar in his body.
Second, he was most definitely not afraid.
The General suddenly snatched his hand away from Chris as if he had touched a hot iron, tucking his hands behind his back again with a rigidity only a general would have.
“I’m sorry, Breakfast. I…I meant well.”
“Sorry?” Chris shook his head, trying to reorient himself and be present after his revelation. “For what? You’re doing such a sweet thing for me.”
The General scowled, an expression that should have been frightening, but was absolutely magnetic in ways Chris was only now starting to understand. “Even if it is…sweet, I’m still…me. Right now, just me being here is making your heartbeat race unnaturally.”
Chris let out a small laugh. It made sense, didn’t it, for him to mistake his feelings for fear just like Chis did? He could hardly blame him for jumping to the same wrong conclusion.
“You know, sometimes that ain’t such a bad thing.”
The General’s brow furrowed, clearly lost.
“Don’t get me wrong, you certainly make me jumpy. I swear a goose walks over my grave every time I see you.”
The General opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown.
“I…don’t know what that means.”
Chris chuckled at his bewildered expression. “You give me the shivers, General. But…”
Chris took a step forward, landing only inches from the General. He was absolutely terrified, but he tried to cling onto the part of the thrumming in his chest that was excitement rather than fear. He reached up and placed a soft hand against the General’s cheek, gently cradling his chin in his hand.
“Most of that isn’t fear.”
The General raised a single eyebrow, shifting his face slightly in Chris’s hand.
“Are you flirting with fear, Breakfast?”
“That depends.” Chris slowly ran his thumb across the man’s cheek, the pad of his thumb just barely making contact. “Is it working?” he murmured, his powers of speech faltering the longer he stared at the man before him.
“With that smile that could start and end wars?” The General’s hand reached up to land on Chris’s wrist, the touch far gentler than Chris thought was possible for the military man. “Of course it’s working.”
Chis grinned, the lingering fear melting away. He leaned forward and hovered only an inch away from the General’s face.
“Permission to proceed, sir?”
Fear, the one who struck terror in the hearts of so many, the one who took every little thing far too seriously, the one who would rather be caught dead instead of caught slacking, smiled.
“Permission granted.”
Chris finally closed the gap and pressed his lips against Fear’s.
The General slid his hand down Chris’s arm, slowly and methodically. As soon as the hand landed behind his shoulder, Fear used the new position to pull Chris in closer. In that moment, no place felt safer than in Fear’s arms, and no scent was more delightful than the one clinging to him now. It was just about everything he could have imagined: sweet and savory like a generous breakfast spread, sunnier than a bright yellow fried egg, soft but strong like a butter croissant fresh from the oven.
In short, it was the bees knees.
When they finally pulled apart, Chris couldn’t help the dazed smile from spreading on his face.
“I reckon I wouldn’t mind adding that to my morning routine.”
Fear matched his smile with a smug one of his own, once again pulling him closer.
“I’m sure I can add it to my daily work schedule.”
Breakfast wasn’t like it used to be, and Chris couldn’t be more grateful.
All the elements that created a full breakfast were still there—the bacon, the hash browns, the coffee—but there was a new presence in the kitchen that made the room brighter than the rays of sunlight that streamed through the windows.
Chris stood in the kitchen with Fear just as they did every morning, shoulder to shoulder, the smell of the brewing coffee enveloping them. He guided Fear’s hand holding the spatula, showing the man how to scramble eggs without pummeling them into oblivion. It was a lesson he had already tried to teach, but one that didn’t seem to stick with the military man. He didn’t mind going over it again, though perhaps both of them were enjoying the forced proximity a little too much to say anything much about it.
Mornings were filled with joy again. That thought Chris had all those weeks ago when the General visited him, that disheartening thought that breakfast was a thing of the past for most people was but a distant memory now.
Yes, that fear was gone, but this Fear was not. He was choosing to be there, choosing to stay every morning with him. He didn’t need to be afraid anymore, because he at least had one person to share the joy of breakfast with every morning, and for Chris, that was enough.
After they built their breakfast plates—including Fear’s only slightly decimated scrambled eggs—and took their places at the table, Chris smiled warmly at the man seated with him, feeling the heat emanating from the food and in his own chest. Steam curled and twisted out of their coffee mugs, the pleasing scent once again calming his heart as it usually did, though the coffee wasn’t the only catalyst anymore.
Just before they dug in, Chris leaned over and gave Fear a peck on the lips, earning him a small smile from the stoic man. He hovered in front of his face for a moment, just taking the man in simply because he could. Now, he was ready to begin his morning.
There was something about the smell of coffee, yes, but now Christopher Breakfast could confidently say it was nothing in comparison to the smell of Fear.