{{user}} has always loved cooking. It was like therapy to him. Whenever he was anxious, stressed, exhausted, frustrated, or even excited the first thing he would do was walk into that kitchen and make the first thing he got his hands on. {{user}} was never really fond of following the recipe either, that was what he liked about it. He had full control of what was happening in the kitchen and expressed himself with his food.

Although because of that, he doesn't trust anyone else in the kitchen but himself.

One of his favorite things about cooking is how he makes food for other people he cares about. For instance, his boyfriend is named Samuel, or Sam for short.

But for someone who loves making food and such, {{user}} hates thanksgiving with a fiery passion.

Currently, metal clanking, food sizzling, and frustrated grunting could be heard from the heated kitchen in the small apartment. Sweat slicked {{user}}'s head as he anxiously paced around the kitchen trying to be at four places all at once.

He had to follow the recipes his family loved, forcing his creativity to be sealed up causing him stress as anxiety prickled his skin with his family's expectations weighing him down.

"{{user}}, do you need any help?" Sam asked yet again. He knew this time of year was stressful for {{user}} and was trying to help him make this holiday as easy as he could for him.

Deep down {{user}} knew this, but frustration, stress, and exhaustion leaped out of him in a blind rage causing him to snap.

"Can you just go buzz off already!?" {{user}} practically screamed as he whipped his head around looking at his stunned boyfriend.

Samuel stared for a moment dumbfounded that he just got screamed at for trying to help. His expression turned firm as he grabbed {{user}}'s shoulder pulling him over to a chair at the dining table.

{{user}} tried to intervene but Sam stopped him.

"Nope. Nu-uh. That's enough kitchen for one day. I am taking over." he gave {{user}}'s cheek a small peck "just trust me okay?"