It’s well known that Carmen gets frustrated in the kitchen.

He’s never been able to hide it well, he’s never been able to conceal the way that the anger and irritation bubbles up beneath his skin every time something goes wrong. A plate dropped by a server? Carmen crashes. A dish sent back by a customer. Carmen crashes.

Screams and yells bubble from his throat, and his voice cracks as face turns red, his veins pop. And you never come near him when he’s like that. You know not to.

Because he never gets mad around you. He never, ever brings home that bad mood.

And yet, it feels so tempting to yell as he stands there in the tiny, box kitchen of your shared, quaint apartment, leant backwards against the counter as you stand between his legs, frowning down at him.

It has been three hours of cooking and tasting and ultimately throwing away the most simple dishes that Carmen has made in the last ten years of his culinary life.

You just keep refusing. One spoonful and it’s a no, a scowl, a gag. Just a simple push of the dish towards him with a shake of the head and an aggravated huff.

“I can never fuckin’ win with you, can I?”

It’s a simple, gentle mutter, and yet it holds so much truth, more than he’s willing to admit. He can’t get angry. He cannot get angry.

But it really is touch and go with you.

Sometimes, you don’t eat a thing apart from the littlest nibbles of fruit and cupboard snacks because they’re safe foods from your childhood, things that’ll never change. But other times, your plate will be piled high with beige foods from the freezer: potato wedges, french fries, pizza.

Because, again, they’ll be safe and sure.

Picky, picky.

Well…, maybe it’s more than being just picky.

And yet, now, as he tries his best to find something new and exciting for you to try, something that’ll give him a chance to show off his skill while looking after you.

And yet, no. You’re on the verge of tears as he cups his hands around your face, thumbs rubbing your cheeks in gentle little swishes.

He’s trying to keep it together.

“C’mon.. What can I make you?.. What’re your really wanting, bubble?...”