Confectionary Confession

Charlie’s bedroom is cold. His eyes slump to the bottom right corner of his laptop screen. It’s 2:47 A.M. His last auto-pilot breath leaves him as he becomes conscious of his lungs expanding and contracting in his body. Standing from his desk, his knees and elbows crack.

After putting on his overused beanie and off-brand Ugg-boots, Charlie stretches his arms to the ceiling. The room fizzes and blurs for a moment as blood rushes back through his body, forcing him to lean against one of the walls, all of which cry for a fresh coat of paint and a good cob-web cleanout.

Trudging to the kitchen, he finds Ted sitting on a dining chair next to the sink. The two of them exchange tired and dreary nods.

“Thought I’d lost you to your assignments,” Ted says. His long hair is tied back into a messy ponytail, leaving some strands to droop by the sides of his face.

“They’re almost done, I just gotta re-draft the third article analysis for Rep-3 and export the AutoCAD files for… what are you doing?”

“Felt like toasting marshmallows,” Ted replies, his eyes glued to the skewered marshmallow, slowly rotating an inch over a frangipani-scented candle.

Charlie raises an eyebrow, trying to make sense of his roommate’s reasoning. “You know you could have used the stove, right?”

Ted’s eyes widen in realisation, slowly understanding why his previous attempts at a late-night snack tasted like wax and flowers. Charlie smirks, taking some chocolate from a cupboard and putting it in a bowl.

Moving his chair to the oven and turning on the gas, Ted lights the stove with a match. He shifts the knob to the lowest heat. Only one of the four stovetops still works.

“What would you do without me?” Charlie shakes his head and nudges Ted’s shoulder. Placing the chocolate in the microwave, he presses start and waits.

The hum of the microwave fills the space between them.

“So… about the other night,” Ted says, prepping more marshmallows for their fiery demise. Charlie stares at the microwave, hoping if he stares hard enough, the conversation will go away. “I’m… are you… are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh. Um. I was just wondering… is everything—”

The microwave beeps. Taking out the bowl of melted chocolate, Charlie places it on one of the vacant stoves. He leans around Ted and grabs a skewered marshmallow, adjusting it slightly before holding it over the flame. Slowly, the two rotate their sugary snacks above the grate as the low buzz from the fridge grows even more apparent.

“Can’t believe we’re almost done with uni,” Charlie says, watching the flames reach for his confectionary cloud.

“Yeah… crazy…”

Taking his marshmallow away from the stove, Charlie drizzles on some melted chocolate and takes a bite, spilling a drop on his jumper. The treat coats his tongue, a mixture of light fluff and gooey cocoa dancing along his tastebuds.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it,” Ted continues, “but you know I’m here for you… right?”

“Damn,” Charlie replies, still trying to swallow the chocolatey mess, “sugar makes you sentimental.”

“I’m serious. You can’t hide in your work forever.”

Breathing heavily through his nose, Charlie finally manages to finish his mouthful of food. He looks up, seeing a rather unfamiliar side of his roommate. Ted’s eyes were overflowing with concern, a degree of seriousness peppered across his face.

“Are— are you okay?”

“I— I don’t think so. no.”

Ted gets up and hugs Charlie tightly, making him stumble. After a second, Charlie hugs him back.

As the abandoned marshmallow moulds to the countertop, the two of them feel an eternity pass and know that this hug will last a lifetime.