Chapter Two:

I took in a deep breath before letting out a gust of air, the flame beneath my lips almost instantly going out as the people around me cheered. While all of the attention is great I can't really enjoy this moment. I felt like my insides were being torn apart, almost like that one time I drank three two liter sodas, five bean burritos, and a huge ghost pepper pizza in one night. Man that tore up my stomach. I had to sleep in the bathroom after that, living with my parents can be a hassle in those times. No matter how much of the family business I've taken over they are always the ones I turn back to in the end. Their role as parents overpowered their role as bros. I sighed as I continued to converse with the people around me, a practiced smile on my face, my pearly white teeth glistening in the artificial light. My teeth had to be my second best feature aside from my brain, turns out the stereotypical rich and stupid blonde boy aesthetic wasn't my thing, especially considering that I'm not blonde. In truth I plan to advance my father's company after he hands it down to me rather than feed off of his previous success, to be accurate I've already begun to help advance his company. An hour after I blew out the candles, all of the excitement from the guests began to die down and people started to leave. This was my favorite part of my birthday, every year as the guests would start to dissipate, my parents would wrap up any business pitches they were conducting and we would disappear into the kitchen and bake as many of our favorite sweets as we could. 

My mom would make some new cookies she had been fascinated with and she would dab my nose with some of the dough, giggle,and say, "Now I can say these were made with love.” 

It always made me so happy no matter how old I got. The majority of the guests had left and I still hadn't caught my parents yet. They had come over not too long ago and told me they'd be a while and that they needed to take a call from the Atlas family, something about their daughter. While they did that I allowed myself a moment to just relax and let my mind wander while I was waiting. 

Just as I had finally relinquished my hold on reality I was snapped back by a strong hand grabbing my shoulder, "Kye Bridington I suppose?" The person behind me asked in a gruff and posh voice. 

Taking a look behind me I could see that he was an older looking man with grey hair and a tux that would've been able to fit him if he were just a couple pounds lighter, his entire look was an old rich white guy with a cane. Having dealt with enough people I decided to mess with him a bit as I didn't recognize him and thought it'd be funny seeing as my face hasn't been revealed to the public it wasn't going to be too difficult to do,  regardless of the fact that I am well into my twenties my parents couldn't find a reason to reveal what I looked like outside of the business. 

"No that'd be my sister, she's currently resting because social situations drain her too much. Maybe because old folk like you believe they have the right to touch anyone they see. It's quite an ill mannered practice if you ask me," and with a shrug I stopped giving him the attention he so desperately needed. 

I wasn’t technically lying to him, I’m horrible at that, I do have an older sister who has a distaste for social gatherings; however, her name is Athquia and she is currently at the bar drinking as if there were a demon possessing her to do so. All I can say to that is, her ex-boyfriend is an asshole, and her soulmate died when they were twenty-three. Not a pleasant story if I do say so myself, but her two children and herself seem to be thriving, sometimes. Just not tonight, luckily the kids were out in the playroom with one of the caretakers that Athquia hired when her soulmate, Trenton, passed. 

While deep in thought a harsh hand smacked the backside of my head, “Don’t treat me as a fool boy!” 

A loud pang resulted from him hitting my head, and everyone’s eyes on after. The entire area went silent, and before I was able to turn back to this moron Athquia was stumbling our way, a sour look crawling over her face, “Wha-up,” she choked out before covering her her mouth and trying again, her words acting like clumsy children, “Wha- if fee ifue here!” -she shouted pointing a drunk and accusing finger at the balding man behind me- “I’m be omy one hit him!” She spoke slightly less loud as she put up her fists in a ‘fighting’ stance. In humor and embarrassment I stood up and attempted to pull my sister away from the situation with a not so fake smile. 

“Athquia, we need to go.” 

Athquia continued to stand defiantly regardless of the fact that she couldn’t hold any ground under her spaghetti legs. Blowing some hair out of her face she crossed one arm over her chest and proceeded to point her forefinger and middle finger at her eyes then turning them towards the man who had slapped me, he hadn’t muttered a word this entire time.

She then proceeded to whisper, “Noboby hiths my baba except me,” and then allowed me to drag her away. 

When Athquia and I began to walk away everyone reverted their gazes from us and went back to their initial conversations. The man seemed to lose interest after Athquia showed up, I guess she was too embarrassing for him to deal with. After leaving everyone’s sight and hiding out in the corner of the ballroom for ten minutes, our parents came and brought us to the kitchen to begin our family cooking spree. 

When we got to the kitchen counters my mom pulled my sister aside to address her safety in the kitchen, “Are you drunk?” she whispered into Athquia’s ear.

With a cherry red face Athquia swatted the air in front of her, “Nooo, why woulb I be-up drunk?” 

My mother rolled her eyes, “Go to your room and get some sleep, you don’t need to be around an open flame when you’re 'not' drunk,” mother whispered harshly, and with a pouty face Athquia walked out of the kitchen to what I assume was either her room or the bar. 

When she got drunk, drunk was never good enough. With a chuckle my dad started digging through the cupboards for honey, vanilla, ginger, flour, baking soda, baking powder, and all of the other baking materials that were needed for any number of sweets we even hoped to create. I stared at the goods on the counter in awe, I was so excited to get my hands dirty, in a clean way. I suppose my parents agreed with my own thought process because as soon as everything was laid down we were all prepping our materials, including our hands, and beginning on our works of art. Mom was obsessed with crinkle cookies this past year, so I’m guessing that is what she’s working on, dad already made it clear that he was set on a 7-up cake, and I am going to make cream filled coconut donuts. The good thing about being rich was that our kitchen was never too small and we always had a number of ovens to choose from, on the bad side it was so narrow that it felt like we were reaching over each other to get ingredients. Mom didn’t seem to mind and dad kept casually coming up to everyone’s mixing bowls and taste testing for us, mom and I got a thumbs up but when he got to his own he sniffed the air around his bowl and scrunched up his nose giving it a wapping thumbs down before he even tasted it. Mom and I were playing around and purposely bumping into each other, right before we tossed our concoctions onto their trays and into the oven my mother scooped up a good amount of cookie dough on her finger and whipped it off onto my nose before giving me a huge smile and giggling at my appearance.

“Now I can say I’ve made it with love,” she said in her tilted accent before squeezing my arm and setting her timer for her cookies that were freshly placed in the oven. 

With a charming smile I placed my donuts in the fryer, sure to keep an eye on them. As I took them out of the fryer I let them rest on a specialized draining mat and waited for them to cool down. I had three piping creams that I was going to be using for the donuts, pumpkin, vanilla bean, and coffee, so one donut after the other I began to fill the first ten with the assorted creams at my disposal. With a cocky grin smeared on my face I began to mix my coconut icing, it was going to be thicker than a glaze and lighter than a pudding. "Donuts are awesome," I whispered in an excited and childish voice. 

My mom casually looked over at me as she took out her cookies and I finished dunking my donuts in icing. My father was the last one to finish, he always was, but he was coming out with the birthday cake not long after mother and I had tallied up our pastries. Soon after we began taste testing, I won, like always. It was my birthday after all, so it's really more of an obligation that I one up everyone in sight. It helped that I had worked on my donut recipes all year long, just for this one single day, August twenty fourth, the one day that my soulmate wasn't supposed to interrupt my happiness. Luckily they have never gone into my kitchen before, so I always came to cook when their feelings were overwhelming my own, I believe that's where my passion for baking rooted from. What can I say, baking brings me joy, it feels right almost like being in the kitchen is the missing piece of my own huge puzzle, it completes me. After every pastry was tasted we placed them down on the bar and sat around each other. 

Mom and dad smiled kindly at me as my mother sang, “Sana helwa ya gameel, Sana helwa ya gameel, Sana helwa, Sana helwa, Sana helwa ya gameel. 

“Sana helwa ya gameel, Sana helwa ya gameel, Sana helwa, Sana helwa, Sana helwa ya gameel,” and my father would chime in with a, “Cha, cha, cha,” when necessary. 

With a boyish chuckle I blew out the candles on the 7-up funnel cake that would be used in place of a normal birthday cake. My amazing dad thoughtfully made it specially for me as he knew I hated traditional birthday cake flavors. My mother softly stepped over beside myself giving me a loving shoulder hug and a kiss to the side of my forehead. My father on the other hand put his fist on the table with an inquisitive look, silently asking to play rock paper scissors to decide who should cut the cake. 

I gave a goofy grin as I placed my fist on the table and chanted, "Rock, paper, scissors!" 

Father came out with scissors and I came out with rock, beating him, like always, and taking the knife from between us to make three even slices of the cake. I left plenty more on the tray so that Athquia could have some when she wakes up tomorrow, and so that any of the kitchen staff or maids could come in and get some if they wanted to. We baked so much that they had already come to know that they may need to help clear out our collection of sweets. Handing out plates I took the first bite. The cake was still warm and buttery sweet yet tangy and salty all at the same time. It almost melted in my mouth. It was so good. Mom was never one to savor cakes and sweets so by the time I got to my third bite she was on her last, dad on the other hand was practically nibbling on his slice. After an hour and a half we finished eating the cake and placed a lid over it on the tray before placing the tray on our pastry counter. Yes, we do have a secluded pastry counter, for obvious reasons. All of the pastries I made last night, I really needed to relax yesterday and baked a little too much, as well as the sweets we made today were laid out on the counter in an order only I seemed to understand. It was a little full if I do say so myself, luckily tomorrow we had an old family tradition, started up because of my little baking habit, where we would eat all of the leftover sweets that we hadn't gotten to yet instead of making more. Due to the fact that our kitchen was the only area where my soul mates feelings weren't reflected onto myself no one outside of kitchen staff, maids, and my family were permitted inside. I wasn't even safe in my own room, which is crazy because I have yet to meet the mystery person whose feelings are absolutely horrid. I think I would know if I had met my soulmate let alone had invited them into my room, however being as my family hosts a whole bunch of parties throughout the year I'm certain that at least one person could have slipped through my radar. The night was ending at a slow pace, but as I've learned slow and steady wins the race and tonight just happened to be one of the best nights this entire year. I wasn't too scared to leave the kitchen area. I had learned that my soulmate usually felt at a peaceful slumber around this time of night. One of the main reasons I stay up late is to make sure they are okay at the end of the day. As I walked out of the kitchen I got kicked in the gut by what felt like happiness, it was warm, kind, and it went down like a cup of apple cider during winter. It was a nice contrast from their feelings earlier today, but a surprise that they were still up. I smiled as I drank the warmth of their feelings, stretched and got ready for bed. I felt like a kid again, my soulmate wasn't scared or in pain, they were happy like they used to be, and that made me so overwhelmingly happy. My feet softly glide across the floor as I walked down the long stretch of a hallway to the stairwell in the entry of the house. Step by step I got closer to the bathroom and felt like I was on cloud nine. Every scent I would usually smell had dissipated and every feeling I once had vanished, my entire perspective was on the other end of this invisible red string that was tying my soulmate and I together. Reaching the sink in the bathroom I clasped my toothbrush and snapped the tab of the toothpaste tube off before placing some paste onto the bristles of my brush. Slowly turning on the facet I dunked the brush beneath the gentle stream of water and began to scrub the plaque and leftover food from my teeth. When I finished I spat the foam from my mouth and rinsed it off of the side of the sink before brushing my tongue and spitting again. Finishing brushing my teeth I sighed and gave a pearly white grin to my reflection. Then I went to my room. Getting on a new pair of boxers and black pajama bottoms I crawled into bed and leaned against my cushioned headrest, letting my soulmate's emotions wash over me in waves. These times when they were truly happy had become very rare the past three years. Half of the time their emotions felt heavy, almost like a too sweet cream giving you a toothache with a single taste, while the other half was like they were being dared to eat as many ghost peppers as they could without cooling aids.  Now they felt like the donuts I had made today, crisp, fresh, sweet, creamy, and soft near the center. It was bliss. With a deep breath I heard Micah, our Pyrenean Mastiff with no boundaries, waltz into my room and begin whining at the foot of my bed. Letting my soulmate's emotions become like a background I invited Micah onto the bed with a pat of my hand, and like that was the only thing holding him back he hoped on up and buried his nose into my side with a happy little gruff of a puppy noise. I smiled and patted his back as I cradled his head with my arm. 

“Good boy.” I whispered as I focused on both Micah and my soulmate. 

I could feel my soulmate's emotions fade into bliss as we both fell into a blissful sleep.

Another day and my soul mate's life has just begun.