Page 18 of Baking Battles

“You can stay. It’s not like I have any plans, and pizza sounds good, no sauce though. Yuk. Thank you.”

“Gotta have sauce. What kind of person doesn’t have dipping sauce with pizza?” Christopher smiles and bumps his shoulder into Mattias’s as they step out into the cold night, just as a taxi rolls up in front of them, and Christopher rolls off Mattias’s home address like he lives there.

It’s been a good day. The funniest. Well Magnus had moaned like a man possessed about not having a whisk as he mixed the liquid for his Lussekatter with a wooden spoon. Then Jacob set his driftwood on fire, and the cut in filming was a welcome break for Mattias to sit on the floor with Siv-Linda, listening to her explaining the current standards in ecological farming, until his head was pretty much spinning and Louise was howling in the corner where Pablo was trying to teach her to dance the 'Baby Shark'.

Mattias once again got lost in his own head, as he knew he would. He found a plate in the prop cabinet and snuck off to cut a few branches of Christmassy pine from the Studio Christmas tree, sneaking around the studio setup, pinching small decorations here and there, earning himself a stern telling off from Caroline. Well, he was discreet. And desperate. And his Lussekatt display turned into what he hoped looked simple and rustic, earning praise from Isolde, even though Mattias is pretty sure that she hates him. She stares at him sometimes when she thinks he doesn’t notice, and it’s starting to annoy him. He doesn’t like it.

Still, he pulled off the technical challenge of producing a perfect plate of Riskrem, light fluffy perfectly cooked, lightly sweetened rice porridge, that he sprayed with a flick of cinnamon before producing a perfect, light, berry sauce on the side. Not like Louise whose rice was undercooked to the point of Christopher apologetically spitting his mouthful of porridge into a tissue, whilst Herman made no effort to hide his disgust with Siv-Linda’s Coconut and brown rice Festive porridge. At least it smelled better than Jacob’s Savoury rice porridge, laced with wild berry-marinated bacon rashers and obscure herbs from his windowsill at home. Mattias likes bacon. Well, he used to like it. He’s not sure he can ever eat it again after the stench from Jacob’s workstation. Whatever he had marinated that meat in, was not fit for human consumption. At least Paulina had offered him a taste of her perfect-looking dessert, but Pablo’s purple and green Rainbow porridge was… Well... It hadn’t been good.

Alima on the other hand had kept quiet in the back, shocking everyone with her intricate Lussekatter, beautifully dusted with edible gold leaf. Not traditional at all, but Mattias had struggled as much as Pablo, to hide the jealousy of her display. Her Riskrem had been acceptable, although Mattias knows full well she had burnt it. Her poise and careful smile had been both endearing and shockingly un-Alima-ish today, making Mattias giggle softly. She can always blend in when she wants to, yet she will stand up proud for anything she believes in. She’s a little shit, she always has been and Mattias laughs fondly at the only friend who has remained just that. His. The only remnant of the person Mattias had once been that he has realised may still be there somewhere deep inside of him. Someone that had once been his own person, until he lost himself trying to be someone he never fully was.

“What are you thinking of?” Christopher asks quietly as Mattias stomps his boots off in the hallway, still silent since leaving the office block over half an hour ago. The traffic was horrendous through town, and Mattias is now a bundle of hunger and nerves.

“That I am a shit person and I don’t know what I am doing most of the time.” Mattias replies, feeling like a toddler. He’s supposed to be an adult. A grown-up with a responsible enviable job, a child and his own home. Savings in the bank. Clothes on his back.

“Hey, none of us know what we are doing, most of the time. Look at me. I’m such a mess that even my Dad keeps asking me to move back home so I can get a grip. Grow up. Get my head around what I really want to do with my life.”

“What do you want to do, Christopher?” Mattias almost spits out. He doesn’t know why he is taking all this frustration out on Christopher, of all people, because he sounds almost aggressive.

“I want to be happy. I just want to find a way to be really happy.” he replies, and Mattias snorts.

“Nobody is ever really truly happy. Shit happens all the time.”

“Are you saying happiness is a myth?” Christopher almost sounds intrigued. Like he enjoys discussing total crap with random strangers. Strangers like Mattias.

“No. All I’m saying is that it’s not real. People bloody lie all the time, making out like their life is a perfect fairy tale Instagram-worthy stuff, when behind closed doors things are truly shite.”

“Yeah, I know, but there are people who are truly happy, who have found a balance and peace, and that one person that makes them just beam when they are together. I mean, look at Danijel. He’s so happy it’s sickening.”

Mattias just huffs. Just another reminder that he is a horrible person who can’t think to ask his closest work colleague some basic friendly questions. Things to show that he cares. He hasn’tasked Caroline if she is married, or seeing anyone either. She could have kids for all he knows. Caroline, who once was Sara’s friend too, before they fell out and then Caroline became his friend. She had been someone he once loved working with, and had a good healthy friendship with, until Sara put a stop to that in a rage of totally unfounded jealousy. He has never realized how much he has missed Caroline, her snarky comments and easy hugs, and again he questions why he always went along with what Sara wanted. Why he had let someone, who he adored, slip out of his life like that.

He kicks the leg of the kitchen table in sheer frustration.

“I’m not a party person, and I don’t know why you are so hellbent on hanging out with me, because I am not good company. I don’t want to sit and shoot the shit over fast food every night, and then do cosy small talk in the morning. I just want to be alone and wallow in being me. Being exactly me. The jerk who sits on his own at home and does exactly nothing, with nobody nagging me who to be and what to say, because I always say the wrong bloody things and I’m too blunt and direct, and then I’m not reserved enough and I should be more judgmental and that we should have people over for drinks and dinner, and that I always wear the wrong clothes…” He has run out of steam again, having said too much. Fucking Christopher and his ability to make Mattias lose his chill.

“I haven’t mentioned bloody dinner parties, or clothes…” Christopher starts.

“Then what do you want, Christopher? Why the hell are you here?” Yeah. Now Mattias is shouting. Great.

“I want to….” Christopher stops mid-sentence and turns around. Corners Mattias in the kitchen where he was about to grab a bottle of beer in the fridge. Instead Christopher grabs the fridge door and slams it shut.

“You can say no, Mattias. I am not making you do anything you can’t put a stop to right now. It’s clear that I just guilt-tripped you into inviting me back and that you really don’t want me here, and you have no idea how sad that makes me. I just want to be your friend. Because you are someone who I know from years and years back, and sometimes we just need someone to ground us. Someone who remembers who I was before all this. You are a good person, and Danijel can’t stop talking about you, and to be honest, I was just hoping to gain another person who would let me be their friend. Because trust me, I need friends. Real friends. But if I am making you feel uncomfortable, then I am going to go, because you don’t need that.”

He almost pants with exhaustion, having said everything right there in one never-ending sentence. His face etched with sadness and now he is looking at Mattias like Mattias is supposed to know exactly what is going on. Because right now Mattias doesn’t get it.

“I’m going to leave.” Christopher says. “The last thing I want is to hurt you, and it’s clear you don’t want me here.”

“Christopher.” Mattias has finally found his voice somewhere deep down in his mess of a brain. “Don’t go. Stay. Please. Please don’t…”

It’s no good, his arms flailing in the air behind Christopher, who walks out in the hallway, barely grabbing his coat and bag before the door slams shut behind him.

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