Page 52 of Baking Battles

Jealousy is a new emotion Mattias has added to his repertoire. It’s something he hadn't fully grasped before he met Christopher. Christopher who stands over by the monitors, laughing at something Isolde is retelling next to Danijel, who shakes his head and points at the screen in front of them. And Mattias rages in some irrational fear of rejection. He has no reason to, he knows that deep down. He shouldn’t have felt it when Isolde’s laughter had rung out in the street the other night. She had obviously shared a taxi with Christopher, to make sure he got home in one piece, but Mattias has still sulked with jealous rage. Pretended to be asleep when he clearly wasn't, then he had grabbed his daughter and moved them all around so he could spoon his body into Christopher’s. He had just lain there and felt Christopher’s body curl around him, arms gently holding on to Mattias’s body as Christopher’s champagne-fuelled snores had echoed in the bedroom. He has no reason to be jealous, yet any time Christopher is not fully focusing on him, whenever someone else gets to bask in Christopher’s attention, Mattias's pathetic little heart fills with fear and dread and anger. He somehow likes it. He likes that he belongs. He likes that Christopher belongs to him. Because Mattias has never been so sure of anything in his life. Christopher. Belongs. To. Him.

They dropped Emi at nursery this morning, Christopher charming the staff with his usual self, full of smiles and warmth and giving Emi a hug before grabbing Mattias’s hand, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Two blokes in full winter gear holding hands as they walked briskly towards the TV3 building where the studio was already in full shooting mode.

The constant schedule delays, retakes and mishaps have meant that they are finishing filming yesterday’s eviction scene, first thing this morning, sending Ida home in a flurry of tears. Thus leaving Mattias reeling with relief, yet despair, and despite Magnus’s best efforts of reining in Paulina’s perfect streak with his ban on using bowls in any shape or form, Paulina has proudly taken the Battle Baker title, and in the same breath imposed a ban on Pablo using an oven for the next episode. She had screamed out loud when Christopher had gone straight into announcing, “Waffle week,” making Pablo cry with relief. He cries the fourth time they film it, with an added bonus shot of Pablo fist bumping Christopher across the screen, and Mattias is exhausted before they have even begun baking. He has been changed into a new set of clothes and is ready to go on. Waffle week it is.

He thinks he pulls it off, churning out perfectly perfect golden Fattigman pastries, crisp yet soft, the pastry deep fried in coconut fat, to absolute perfection.

The whole studio still smells of the golden crisp Strull biscuits they perfected earlier. His showcase waffles should be fine. Well Pablo is seriously unhappy with his efforts, but at least he is hanging in there, and cheers up no end after Danijel sneaks over to give him a quick hug. Which kind of gives Mattias an opening. Because he is going to do this. Be a good person. Be kind. Actually care about the people who so selflessly care about him, without getting anything back. Because people have been kind to Mattias, very kind. He hasn’t had anyone say a bad word to him this week, despite the week he has had. He has no doubt that the gossip and lies about him are still making the rounds, but he’s honestly stopped caring.

“Pablo?” Mattias tries to stage whisper. Because he doesn't really want to gossip. He doesn't want to be that person.

“What?” Pablo sings back, burying his face in the arrangement of avocado slices in his edible rainbow waffle display.

“I was wondering.” He says quietly.

“If you are asking advice of the sexual nature, I can offer to show you some very educational video links available with a quick search on the world wide web.

“Pablo.” Mattias sings back. He can’t help it. He kind of mimics Pablo down to the hand on his hip and it makes them both laugh. Because Pablo is Pablo and Mattias is Mattias and it’s just a little ridiculous. He shakes his head, and Pablo blows him a kiss.

“What do you want to know?” Pablo smiles. “You know you can ask me anything, I mean it is very hard to make me blush. I have extended knowledge of everything gay and can give you the lowdown on everything from the best brand of lube to where to get hold of the new Chanel handbag. You know the ‘Lisa’. The one with the little rainbow hanging of the clasp? It’s marvellous. I need one, just to keep on the shelf by the door and admire. Not that I use a handbag, but it’s so fabulous that I think I could get away with it as a man bag. What do you think Mattias? Would you be offended by a man bag?”

“Can I ask my question?” Mattias pretends to be bored and offended, when secretly he is not. Because Pablo is always entertaining, even when he rambles.

“My baby bi-boy.” Pablo blows him a kiss. “Ask away my little unicorn.”

“I’m not bi.” Mattias says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not either.” Pablo replies without missing a beat. “Does it matter?”

“Nope” Mattias replies and his laughter is almost natural. Because does it? Nothing matters. Apart from Christopher. Emi. Christopher. Sara. And his friends. He thinks he’s even got a few new people who are his friends now.

“What do you need, Mattias?” Pablo has stopped working, despite the cameras rolling over by Magnus’s workstation, where he is producing crisp waffles whilst chatting about his musical influences with Herman, with Christopher nodding enthusiastically by his side, holding up a waffle heart to the camera.

“You know Danijel goes on these Wednesday dates, where you can’t contact him and he’s kind of made it out to be a big thing.”

“Mmmm. Wednesday nights are Wednesday nights. A bit like Fight Club. First rule about fight club. You don’t talk about fight club. Did you see the film? Brad Pitt. He’s yum in it. All those sweaty bodies all over Brad Pitt. Very enlightening.”

“Pablo.” Mattias whines, looking over his shoulder to ensure they are not on camera. “Who is he dating?”

For the first time in his life Pablo seems to blush.

“I mean, I’m not being a gossip or anything" Mattias continues. “I just thought since Danijel is a friend and I realise I don’t know who he is dating, which feels a bit shit, because as a friend I should know these things shouldn’t I?” Yeah, now Mattias is rambling.

“Have you asked Danijel?” Pablo sasses, with a knowing smile on his face.

“No. We work together. We don’t sit around and discuss our private lives over coffee.” Mattias tries to sound kind, but it's frightening how easy it is to slip back into being snarky. He shouldn’t.

“Mattias. My sweet innocent boy. Who do you think he sees every Wednesday night? Who do you think it is who puts that spring in his step? Who do you think it is who adores that boy to the point of giving up all the other gorgeous men just lining up to get a taste of all this?” Pablo does his little twirl again, letting his hands shimmy down his body with a wink and a curtsy.

“I don’t know?” Mattias almost whispers. “I know I’m a crap friend, but he doesn’t tell me, and I don’t ask?” He feels like an idiot. Like there is something he should be getting when he doesn’t. He doesn’t get it at all.

“I met this guy once. Let’s say he was a friend of a friend. Did nothing for me. Attitude and all that cropped shaved hair, and thinking he was some kind of big wig gangster type when I could see right through him. He was scared, and he was desperate, and he was needy as anything, but he didn’t dare to just step out of his comfort zone and grab it. A little bit like you, my darling little unicorn. I took him home with me under the lame promises of letting him fix my vintage boom-box stereo in return for a blow job. You see, I was pretending to be a right slut, when I was just too intrigued to let him go. Turns out I never got to show him my boom box. I had my cock down his throat before we even had our shoes off, and…”

“Pablo…” Mattias whines. “I don’t want to know.”

“I think you do. You asked. Remember? And the boom box…”

“I didn’t ask for a blow by blow account of your sex life.”

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