It's Not What It Looks Like

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ | ʀᴇᴄɪᴘᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

She was decent enough at most of the stuff she tried, but her skills were never outstanding, nor has she ever felt the excitement that is required for someone to try and make up for the lack of talent with ambition.

There was, of course, the cheerleading, but she never thought of that as anything serious. It was just something to do while in high school, and not that groundbreaking to begin with. Her backflips could hardly change the flow of the universe, and she isn't so spectacular that she'll ever completely rewrite the game, or even a single rule. She did what was expected of her, she was good at it, and it never went anywhere further than that.

It isn't like Jonah and his sports, or Lyrica and her art, or even Mena and those revolting chemical equations of hers.

She's not insecure about it, though. Mediocrity never was a thing that Silena was particularly worried about. The world needs its stars, she supposes, but she never had any inclination towards being one of them. Having the attention of the people she knows is tiring most days, and she has no desire to be remembered by people she doesn't care for. Besides, when did living a quiet life become considered a failure? Who ever said you needed to be extraordinary to be important?

In short, Silena has no problems with being average.

She does, however, take some issues with being below average. Especially at easy, dumb tasks that she should most definitely be able to get.

Like baking.

She leans against the counter, flour staining her cheeks like war paint, and frantically flips through the printed out recipe. She feels like some sort of a mad scientist, in a feverish frenzy over their latest failed invention. Except even the maddest of scientists would probably be a little scared upon witnessing whatever it is that she created.

"Good morning!" Mena chirps, still pleasantly oblivious of the horrors that await her in the kitchen. "What's cooking, good looking?"

She's already dressed in her hot pink tracksuit, but the messy curls on her head imply that she got up five minutes ago, at most. She sets the empty coffee mug that Silena had left by her bedside in the sink, and curiously leans in to take a better look at the brownish-yellow mass standing at the counter.

"Woah," she says. "What's that?"

Silena drops her head into her hands.

"A mistake."

Mena chuckles, carefully poking it with her finger.

"What are they supposed to be?"

"Chocolate chip cookies," Silena grumbles.

"Woah," Mena repeats, like a kid who is absolutely mesmerised by some fucked up, disgusting thing they found at the playground. "Can I try it?"

"I wouldn't recommend that. It tastes like rotten eggs."

This, of course, only makes Mena even more excited. With some struggle, she breaks off a piece of the cookie abomination, and plops it into her mouth. Preemptively, Silena pushes her own glass of water in her direction.

She immediately starts coughing, and downs the glass in one go. Then, she looks at Silena with wide, almost amazed, eyes.

"Dude. How did you make scrambled eggs out of cookie batter?"