Chapter Text
Breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day is the perfect idea. Really. It’s Evan’s chance to prove he cares about his mom and appreciates everything she does for him, which is pretty much everything.
At seven in the morning, Evan opens the fridge door, and almost has a heart attack. There are no eggs.
No big deal. It’s fine. He can just — he can just borrow some from Jared, that’s fine. Jared won’t mind. Maybe he should call ahead.
Evan and his mom live in 404, and Jared lives in 504, exactly one floor above them. As Evan slips out of their apartment door in his beat-up sneakers, he dials Jared.
The phone rings eight times before going to voicemail. If you actually intended on leaving a message — wow, you’re a nerd. Grow up. This is 2016, no one checks their voicemail anymore. Evan, seriously.
There’s a beep, and then Evan sighs and hangs up. He never leaves Jared messages because he knows he’ll get teased harshly about it later, and it’s honestly not worth it. Jared must still be asleep, anyway.
He has a key to Jared’s apartment, but he doesn’t end up needing it, because as the elevator pulls to a stop at the fifth floor and Evan tries the doorknob, it twists open.
Strange — Jared is usually paranoid about ninjas and creepers sneaking into his apartment and watching him as he sleeps (his words, not Evan's). Whatever.
The apartment looks — different from how Evan remembers it. There was never a mirror on the front wall there, as far as he remembers, and also wasn’t Jared’s couch black? And is that someone’s laptop, just sitting there for anyone to open? Evan can’t remember the last time he saw Jared so laissez-faire about his laptop.
He shakes off the unsettling feeling that he’s in the wrong place. This is Jared’s apartment — 504. Maybe he redecorated. It’s been a week since Evan’s actually been here. That’s plenty of time to buy entirely new furniture, and...
He shuffles his way into the kitchen. The lights in the apartment are still off, and Evan feels mildly bad for breaking in, but he remembers his mom, and thinks of how crucial it is that he make her this breakfast, to show how much he loves and appreciates her, and he powers through. Jared will get over it. He'll never even know Evan was here.
The fridge is full of salads and weird pastes. Evan is startled to say the least: he's pretty sure most of Jared's fridge used to be filled to the brim with old pizza and half-finished ramen, plus, like, twelve different kinds of cheese.
But there – yes! – are two dozen eggs, stacked one on top of the other, pushed up against the side of the shelf. Evan exhales with relief and moves to take them out when the light flicks on in the kitchen.
He whirls around. "Jared, it's just m –"
Oh, well, that's distinctly not-Jared.
The girl is in a t-shirt that falls to her thighs and gray sweatpants that pool at her feet. She's squinting through a beautiful mess of mussed-up light brown hair. She also looks kind of nervous, but Evan can't exactly blame her for that.
"Who are you?" she whispers angrily. "Are you robbing us?"
Us ? "What? No, no, I was just – see this is my friend Jared's apartment, you must have, well, actually, I don't know why you're here, he's gay, but I just needed to borrow some eggs for –"
"Who the fuck is Jared?" the girl hisses. "This is my apartment. Who the hell are you?"
Evan gulps. "W-what? No, no no no, this is Jared's apartment – 504, that's Jared, see, I live in 404, and –"
"This is 604, genius," the girl says in her whisper-hiss.
Evan does a double-take. "Um – what?"
"6-0-4," she repeats sharply. "How the hell did you get in?"
"Oh well your door was just unlocked so that's why I thought – you know this really doesn't – I should go," Evan says desperately.
"It was unlocked?" the girl echoes, uncertainty etched into her face. "You didn't break in?"
Evan shakes his head so vigorously he can feel his brain rattling around in there. "I'm not robbing you, seriously, I'm not. Look, um – what's your name?"
"Zoe," the girl mutters.
"Zoe, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to disturb you or wake you, I was just trying to borrow some eggs from Jared, and I got the wrong floor, that's all. I'm really sorry, so sorry, I'm just – okay, I'm going to leave now."
Evan closes the fridge and hurries past Zoe, his face in flames of embarrassment. Of course, only Evan could walk into the wrong apartment in search of his friend. God, what kind of a loser is he? How pathetic is that? If he'd just checked –
"Wait, um, what's your name?" Zoe says to Evan's quickly retreating back. He halts, and then slowly turns around. Zoe's followed him out into the front hall, her sweats dragging along the spotless hardwood floor.
Evan is having a bit of trouble breathing, to be honest. He inhales through his nose and then out through his mouth once, as discreetly as he can so she doesn't notice and think he's a freak, and then says quietly, "Evan."
Zoe chews on her lip. "Um, well... you know, as long as you're here, you might as well just borrow eggs from us."
Evan swallows what feels like fifty rocks. "Uh – well – no, you don't have to do that," he starts.
Zoe almost smiles. "Come on, it's not a big deal. My parents won't care. And my brother doesn't eat healthy stuff anyway."
"Well –" He's prepared to argue, but Zoe has already turned around and returned to the kitchen, and Evan feels obliged to follow.
She pulls out a dozen eggs from the fridge and hands them to him. "Is that enough?"
Evan forces a chuckle. "Yeah, no, this is plenty. It's just me and my mom, really. I thought I'd do something for Mother's Day. I guess – well – thank you," he finally tells her, and tries to stop being so freaking nervous for like one second so he can smile at her.
She nods, and he can almost see the faintest trace of a blush on her cheeks. There's also a frown, though, which kind of cancels it out. "It's Mother's Day?"
Evan furrows his eyebrows. "Today it is, yeah."
Zoe's quiet for a minute. "Oh. I – I didn't know that. I don't really keep track."
"Do you have a mom?" Immediately, he wants to facepalm. Good one, Evan, what if she doesn't have a mom? What if her mom left just like your dad? How would you feel? Oh, god, what if she starts crying? What if she yells at me?
She doesn't. Instead she pulls a strained half-smile and says, "Ha. Sometimes I'm not sure." And then, "I mean, yeah, I do. She's just a little – difficult. Anyway. Happy Mother's Day to your mom, I guess."
Evan isn't really sure how to respond to that. "Thanks?" he tries. "Um, you too. I mean, your mom. Not you, I doubt you're a mom. Not that – you know what, never mind. Thank you for the eggs and – and for not calling the police on me." He flushes.
Zoe chuckles. "No problem. Nice to meet you, Evan."
"Nice – really nice to meet you too, Zoe," Evan says as he follows her to their front door. Their voices have been hushed the whole time for fear of waking anyone else in the apartment – parents and brother, apparently – but as Evan slips into the hall outside the apartment door, he reverts to his normal voice. "Um, and, well, you're welcome to stop by today. Or ever. No pressure. I'm in 404 – I think I already told you that, um, but anyway, you can come by whenever, if you feel like it. Only if you want. Thanks."
He lifts a hand in salutation, and she smiles. "Maybe. You – uh, you can stop by too. If you want. Although if my brother answers the door, good luck." She half-laughs, so Evan half-laughs as well.
"Cool," he says. "Well, sorry for breaking into your apartment."
"Don't worry about it," Zoe says. "I guess it's kind of our fault for not locking the door. Although..." She tilts her head as she looks at him. "It could've been worse."
And with that, she closes her apartment door. Evan hears the lock click.
He stares at the closed door for a full minute before pressing the elevator button. His phone buzzes with a text from Jared.
jared: why the fucking jesus fuc k did you call me at 7am
jared: unless youre dying im about to be seriously pissed
evan: it was nothing, never mind
Except, he thinks as he scrambles the Zoe-eggs in a frying pan and puts two slices of white bread in the toaster oven, she was actually really something.