Falling → Stefan Salvatore [2]

The Day I Tried To Live

Chapter 51: The Day I Tried To Live

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WITH THE WHISK MOVING IN CIRCLES IN HER HAND, she found herself staring down at the bowl, losing track of time with each minute that passed by as she harshly mixed the batter that filled it. Somehow, the motion relieved each bit of stress that had built ip inside of her throughout the weeks that had gone by since she had returned, and the stress that had come to her on that day in particular.

So much time had passed that she hadn't even realized that the sun had risen, wakening those who had slept in the Salvatore Boarding House overnight, and bringing visitors that hadn't.

She focused on the batter intently, bringing her head down to look at it at a level where she could get a good look at it, unable to see anyone that had walked into the kitchen, "Hey, there you--"

In an instant, she lifted her head up, causing it to collide with the counter and bringing a severe amount of pain along with it, "Ow!"

"Are." Stefan Salvatore finished his sentence as she watched her come back up from the ground with her hand held on her head, easing the pain before it would heal, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Peachy." She replied with an immense amount of sarcasm before she walked over to the fridge and stole an ice pack from it, settling it on her head as soon as it was in her possession.

"Are you baking?" He brought his brows to a furrow at the sight before him, confused by the vast amount of muffins and brownies that were sitting on his kitchen counter.

"Yes." She leaned her free hand on the counter to ensure that she wouldn't be able to slip onto the ground or injure herself any more than she already had.

"Why?" He asked yet another question, still beyond confused.

"I'm stress baking. I'm stressed." She answered in a jiffy before grabbing onto the bowl at last, setting the ice pack onto the counter as well, "Let me stress bake." She then picked up one of the three trays of muffins she had made, holding it up for him, "Muffin?"

He put his hand on top of the tray, lowering it back onto the counter, "Should I be worried?"

"Have a muffin." She suggested once again, seeming to not have any interest in backing down from the idea of him eating one of her muffins, "I'm your girlfriend and I'm telling you to eat my muffin. Eat the muffin."

"Why are you baking?" He asked her once again, hoping to get some sort of an answer from her as he took a muffin from off the tray at last.