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Chapter 14: Grilled Cheese

Autor: Yurivale
last update Fecha de publicación: 2026-10-03 20:29:33

It was 3:12 AM.

Milo burned the pasta again.

It wasn't even complicated pasta. It was from a box. Boil water, add pasta, add sauce. Milo somehow made it smoke.

The fire alarm beeped once and then stopped, because even the fire alarm was tired of Milo.

Lucien walked into the kitchen in his sleep pants, hair messy, no shirt, and saw Milo standing over a smoking pot, holding a spatula like a weapon, looking close to tears.

"I'm sorry," Milo whispered. "I wanted to make you midnight snack because you worked late and— and I burned it."

Lucien didn't say anything. He just turned off the stove, threw the pot in the sink, and opened the fridge.

"Bread. Cheese. Butter," he said, listing.

Milo sniffed. "What?"

"You burned the pasta, my love. So I will make grilled cheese. My specialty. My mom taught me when I was 8 because I burned pasta too."

He made two grilled cheeses. Golden, perfect. He put them on a plate and sat Milo on the kitchen counter, standing between his legs.

Milo was still in Lucien's hoodie. Freckles bright even at 3 AM. Lip piercing catching the fridge light.

"Eat," Lucien said.

Milo took a bite. Cheese stretched.

Lucien watched him eat like it was the most important business deal of his life.

"You know," Milo said, mouth full of cheese, "for a billionaire CEO, you make really good grilled cheese."

"You know," Lucien said, mouth full too, "for a crazy possessive photographer, you make really terrible pasta."

Milo kicked him lightly with his socked feet. "Hey!"

Lucien laughed and kissed cheese off the corner of his mouth.

And that's when Milo said it. Not planned. Not romantic. Just cheese and smoke alarm and 3:12 AM.

"I love you."

Lucien froze. Grilled cheese halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

Milo's face went red. Redder than the burned pasta sauce.

"I— I said I love you. I— you don't have to say it back, I just— the grilled cheese is really good and you're here at 3 AM making it even though I burned everything again and you defended me at the gala and you let me check your phone and you—"

Lucien put his grilled cheese down. Carefully. Like it was important.

"Milo."

Milo looked down, scared. "Yeah?"

"Look at me."

Milo looked up. Tears in his eyes. Ready for rejection.

Lucien took his face in both hands. Big hands, warm from the pan.

"I love you too," Lucien said. Clear. No CEO voice. No hesitation. Just Lucien. "I've loved you since you told me not to wear that black shirt because it showed too much. I've loved you since you sat in my chair and told my interns they'd go to New Jersey. I've loved you since you threw wine on Daniel for me."

Milo's tears fell onto the grilled cheese.

"You love me?" Milo whispered, like he didn't believe it.

"I love you," Lucien said again. "I love your crazy. I love your freckles. I love that you burn pasta. I love that you're mine. I love you, Milo Chen."

Milo slid off the counter and into his arms, knocking the plate. Grilled cheese fell on the floor. Neither of them cared.

"I love you," Milo said into his neck, over and over, like a prayer, like claiming. "I love you, I love you, you're mine, I love you."

"I'm yours," Lucien said back, holding him in the smoky kitchen at 3:13 AM. "I'm yours and I love you."

They ate the grilled cheese off the floor because Milo said "5 second rule" and Lucien said "that's not sanitary" but ate it anyway because Milo fed it to him.

That night, Milo wrote on the fridge, under all the other notes, in his messy black marker:

3:12 AM - He said he loves my crazy. I said I love his grilled cheese. We are in love. - M

Lucien woke up at 7 AM, saw it, and added underneath in his neat CEO handwriting:

I loved you first. - L

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