Chapter Text
Rody was right. He did sleep badly tonight.
When he woke up it was still dark, but this time he could tell it was night and not near morning. He had closed the windows a long time ago, but the cold stayed, the temperature not improving one bit throughout the night. Rody tossed and turned, trying to get his blanket to sit on top of him correctly so it could actually block the freezing air from hitting his skin, but also because rubbing against the couch gave him some warmth. He got warmer from the actual wrestling he did on the couch too, but the comfort came as fast as it went.
He gave up and threw the blanket off of him. Rody navigated the dark room in order to find his closet. The streetlamps outside shed their light, not quite hitting his window and room, but he could still slightly see because of them. The closet was in front of him, and he opened the drawer, expecting to find that one sweater in one of the corners where he threw it haphazardly, but then he remembered that everything was nicely folded. After some searching Rody found it, not being used to the closet ever being tidy. It was just a gray sweater, nothing especially interesting but he still liked it. He threw it on.
Rody walked back to his couch, sat on it, and wrapped himself in the blanket. He wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, much to his annoyance. He looked out the window, the nearby buildings were dark, no one was awake yet. There weren’t many stars in the dark sky, but to his surprise there were more than usual, and the most surprising being the full moon. Rody pulled himself up the couch’s backrest with his hands, and leaned forwards pressing his cheek against the freezing window, trying to see it more clearly. He recoiled, it felt as if the window burned him. He rubbed his cheek. The moon didn’t shine onto his couch like it did sometimes, but it still looked as pretty as he has always remembered. It was just above the nearby buildings, the black chimneys and rooftops making the scene look like a painting. Rody looked at the scene mesmerized, although it didn’t take much time for his back to start hurting, and soon he laid back down onto his couch, looking at the stars and the edge of the moon.
Rody thought about Vince. The dark sky reminded him so much of him. Dark, cold, and mysterious. When the cold and put together man took one step into his place, he turned it into something which was so unfamiliar but yet so familiar to Rody. Vince was cold, and he turned the place cold. He is dark, and suddenly the place seemed darker than ever. He is tidy and the place turned tidy as well. Rody’s place didn’t seem to be his own anymore, it felt like Vince’s apartment on so many levels. It was a silly thought, this was still Rody’s place afterall, but it felt exactly like how Vince’s apartment did. It’s ironic how he’s able to sleep in one of these places like a baby, and in the other he’s shivering down to the bone. He misses Vince’s apartment. Even though now his place and Vince’s are so similar, it felt much more comforting when being in the cold man’s living space. Not only because of the very, very comfortable sleep equipment he provided, but it just made Rody feel less… lonely?
Lonely. Ever since Manon left it’s all he knew- to be honest he felt like that even when they were together. Don’t misunderstand, he really liked being in her company, he didn’t feel lonely often, but she didn’t invite him over very much. Didn’t invite him to stay overnight, or even slept at his place. Not like she would even want to do so in the first place, or anyone for that matter, she wouldn’t have a choice but to sleep with Rody on his dilapidated couch. But he wouldn’t mind if that were the case. Maybe then Rody wouldn’t be as cold as he is now, and he would lay close to his girlfriend, holding her so she wouldn’t fall on the floor. He would finally have a reason to cuddle her warm petite body as well. It’s not like she didn’t let him, they just didn’t have a chance to sleep together yet. They did hug a lot however, which was good enough.
Hug. Rody went back to the thought of Vince again. He didn’t mean to startle Vince like that, and what came after was so embarrassing, why on earth did he think it was a good idea?
Vince seemed to catch a lot of color in that moment, his face wasn’t a deathly white, but rather, a rose pink. He wasn’t composed and collected like he always was, he seemed to actually show some emotion. It was… unusual. Did he dislike the hug? Or maybe, just maybe, liked it?
Rody couldn’t feel the freezing cold anymore. Everything seemed to be warming up, becoming unbearable and hot. He wanted to discard his blanket since it was making him sweaty, he wanted to discard his sweater as well but he was so sure that it was just his body playing tricks, increasing his heartbeat, having it pound in his chest and head and down his back and… gut? His body was trying to pull him out of the couch and into the chilly room. Was he sick?
“Stupid.. That’s a man, what's wrong with you?” Rody whispered to himself, and ran a hand through his hair. He knew that feeling way too well, it’s the same one he felt when he grew a liking to his other ex girlfriends and especially Manon. Why? His girlfriend just left him, and now his mind is playing tricks on him in the worst way possible. Surely, he’s delusional. The loss of her absolutely ruined him, and the worst thing is that… she might, just might still care. Maybe she’s just waiting for him to get better, so that they could be together again. Whatever was happening to him at that moment was not helping at all, he’s not getting better and that’s why she wasn’t calling.
He looked over to the table. His eyes met emptiness, the only thing on the table was the magazine. He forgot. Rody put the telephone away into one of those cardboard boxes. He didn’t know which one it was. Tidiness was nice, but at that moment he didn’t know where to find anything. Maybe it was for the better, he didn’t want to search all these boxes just to be met with silence from Manon’s side again.
Rody looks up at his ceiling. His love life has to be some kind of joke. His girlfriend leaves him, and now he catches feelings for everyone who is kind to him? No, he didn’t catch feelings for Vince. He couldn’t, he’s not a queer. he likes girls. He likes their style, their shape, their voice and their dainty nature. So why was he thinking that there was something missing? Rody couldn’t stop thinking about the man. Vince is supposed to be his boss, a man. It’s wrong to like a man, that’s what everyone always said. Even if he did like Vince, the world would come for them, burn them on the stake.
Rody’s mind was aware of that. But it wouldn’t leave him alone, it was nagging him again and again telling him that maybe, maybe that he wasn’t well mentally, and that it was okay that he wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. He didn’t want to be abnormal, he wanted to be a normal man, try to be, set up a family like he had always wanted, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the cold touch of Vince’s hands on his tanned skin, on his arms, on his neck and jaw, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how the monotone man cared and how he reacted to every stupid thing Rody did and his stupidly good looks and he wanted more and more and more- stop.
Rody pulled at his hair. He really needs to find a better blanket and couch, the fatigue was getting to him. He couldn’t think straight. Which explains what he did next, Rody stood up, ignoring the cold and walked over to the fridge. Why did he want to eat now?
He opened the fridge, and was met with nothing but Vince’s dishes and cans of drink that hell knows how long they’ve been there. Rody couldn’t look anywhere without thinking about Vince anymore. He was about to close the fridge door when he thought about the dishes for a bit longer. Rody felt guilty about not eating them, but to be fair he was scared. He didn’t want to waste a plate just in case he didn’t like the food… so it stayed in the fridge. To be eaten later. Eventually.
But he did find it weird that Vince wasn’t giving him food anymore. Was it because he only gave food to those who started their first week of work? Or maybe… Vince knew that Rody wasn’t eating any of these dishes? He felt another pang of guilt. He looked over the dishes again, maybe he should eat at least one. He looked at them, they did look a lot worse than what he remembered them to look like, but he settled on the Squid Ink Pasta. The only difference was that the pasta didn’t have that shine anymore, but it should taste okay, right?
Rody went to place the pasta on his table, and went to turn the light on. Then he went into the kitchen to grab himself a fork and a knife, this time knowing exactly where they were. He walked back to the couch, sat on it and pulled the table closer. He stared at the pasta, not knowing where to start. Rody decided on the pasta itself, stabbing the fork into its depths and twirling it around to anchor the pasta on it. He brought it into his mouth.
He was hit with an unknown taste, he was fully prepared that it would taste like normal pasta, the only difference being the color. He chewed and put his hand on his chin, he couldn't quite figure out how it tasted. It wasn’t bitter nor sour nor sweet, maybe salty but he also waved the thought out of his head. Maybe savory. It was a weird taste, but it doesn’t mean that he didn’t like it. Sure, it would’ve been a lot better hot and straight out of the kitchen, but he definitely wasn’t proud of his microwaving skills, especially after Vince came over. He stabbed the fork into the dish again and again, tasting weird but good. He wanted more.
Vince’s food tasted self absorbed most of the time. It didn’t feel like food to Rody, it would cease his hunger but there was nothing enjoyable about it. Vince’s food lacked something every homemade food had- love and care. It was childish, yes, but it was true. But this… it tasted wonderful. Rody didn’t know how Squid Ink Pasta is even prepared, but whatever Vince did definitely had care put into it. Despite its cold, it warmed Rody up. He tried the shrimps, and even though they had no right to taste any different than ever, they did.
Rody was smiling to himself. Over what, a dish which was over a week old? He kept eating, savoring every bite. Is this how the customers felt every time Rody came with their food? But If so, then why did that one customer get so angry and waste a whole bowl of soup? Why did customers get so impatient often? Was it because they didn’t feel the sincerity of the food prepared in the kitchen? But then why did this dish feel so different? Was it because… it was made for him?
He waved the thought away. He was getting excited over nothing, another trick of his brain. Suddenly, the fork hits the plate, trying to find more of the peculiar and stupidly good pasta. There was nothing left, he ate it all.
Rody felt bitter disappointment. He walked to the kitchen to set his plate in the sink, and then walked back to the fridge. He wanted to eat more. He felt guilt, he would eat every dish presented to him from this point on. He would lick them spotless, eat the plate. He would eat until he’d vomit. Okay this was ridiculous, what did Vince do to him?
He opened the fridge, picking out his next victim. He decided on the “Fresh” Lemon Tart, since it looked the best out of them all, and to be honest he was craving a dessert. He took it out, and went to sit on the couch again. Then he sighed, and remembered that he didn’t have his utensils. After a short trip to the kitchen and back, he could finally start eating. Rody stabbed the fork into the tart, cutting easily through the lemon custard, until he hit the shell which required him to press the fork against it with greater force. After a clank against the plate, he brought the piece into his mouth. He chewed. The custard had tasted more sour than what Rody was used to. He smiled again. Rody wondered whether it was because of Vince’s tasting problem. Another thing that made the chef’s food special was the combination of tastes, things that shouldn’t work together working spectacularly to bring out the most feelings from the food hitting the taste buds. Rody remembered when he would show off eating lemons to his parents whenever he was sick with a clogged nose. He couldn’t exactly taste them, but he could feel the sting of sourness. He wondered whether Vince’s taste was like that, because why else would he stand eating raw lemons?
He ate and ate, the custard being his favorite part of the tart. The shell wasn’t bad but, he kind of wished it wasn’t there at that time. Maybe it was because it hardened in the fridge and due to time.
Rody reached the part where a blob of whipped cream was sitting on the tart before, now being completely melted. It didn’t matter, it still tasted great, complementing the custard. Not soon after the whole thing was gone, not counting the shell. It was quite hard, but it tasted nice. A good way to end the lemon tart. He finished with a smile, and went on his last trip to the kitchen. Rody looked out of the window. It was starting to get bright outside, he better get ready for work.
. . .
The morning was crowded with people, but it didn’t last long. By 1PM most customers left, making Rody feel bored. He went into the kitchen, expecting Vince in the corner of it, supervising all activity in the kitchen and in the dining hall. Though to Rody’s disappointment, he wasn’t there. He went to throw out the trash when it was full, and then finally saw the chef outside, smoking his time away.
“Did you need something?”
“Actually, yes! I wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”
“That’s not a reason, Rody.”
“It could be, I’m bored”
Vince sighed and dropped his cigarette. He stomped it out before crossing his arms and turning to look at Rody.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Well, there aren’t many customers so no.”
“Mhm.”
“So… Vince, why aren’t you giving me food anymore?” The chef’s eyes opened in surprise.
“You’ve been eating the leftovers?”
“Well yeah,, I really liked them actually. So i’m asking”
The chef looked to the side. “Which ones exactly?”
“Oh? Uh,, the pasta and the lemon tart? I’ve never eaten pasta like that before so it was pretty new to me, and the custard was great.”
“... Good to know.”
“Mhm.”
“Well, is there anything specific you’d want to eat?”
“Huh? No, not really, I still don’t have any favorites.” He chuckled awkwardly, again bringing his hand to his neck.
“Hm.. We could find something to do later then.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean that… There aren’t many customers today. I can’t really give you any leftovers if there aren’t any dead plates.”
“... Right.”
“Meet me after work. I’ll go make something for you if you’re that needy.”
“Huh??? You’re serious??”
“I am.”
“Wow,,, you really don’t have to do this for me you know..”
“I know. Now go back to work.”
Rody sighed. Does he always have to be like that? He just wanted to have a nice chat, without being shooed away to work. “Aye aye sir..”
. . .
Rody scooted around gathering the last of the dirty dishes. The day ended, nothing interesting had happened, there weren’t many customers for the rest of the day. He was about to enter through the kitchen doors, when Vince came out of them. He nodded approvingly and held the door out for him.
“Set them on the counter, we will take care of them in the morning.”
“Huh? Why not now, we’re going to cook anyway?”
“What? No, we’re not cooking in the bistro’s kitchen, are you serious?”
“Wait what??”
“I’m not going to waste the kitchen’s ingredients to satisfy your hunger, Rody. Unless you come and order yourself. Have you even thought about this for more than a second?”
“Uhh.. No.”
Vince sighed. “We’re going to take this little project upstairs. Hurry up.”
“Huh??”
The chef jingled the keys in front of him, and walked to the entrance of the bistro. “Up up, I won’t be waiting forever.”
Rody stumbled when rushing into the kitchen, though none of the dishes suffered through that display luckily. He soon came back, snatched his boots from behind the cashier, and followed Vince outside.
. . .
“Did you really have to go up the stairs with those skates?”
“I didn’t have time to change!”
“I wouldn’t have left you just because you had to change shoes. I’d rather wait than lose a waiter in an accident.”
“Still…”
“Whatever. Wait here, I’ll go change.” Vince left into the kitchen, leaving Rody alone. He missed being here, the apartment was as cold as always but it didn’t nag him one bit. He actually missed the cold honestly. He thought back to the thing Vincent said. To be honest, if he thought about it for a second like he said, then cooking here made more sense than in the kitchen downstairs. But it still surprised him that the man even let him stay here, just because he asked why he didn’t make him food anymore.
Rody stepped forward. Nothing really changed, the only thing that did though was the red couch. The last time he saw it, it was covered with sheets and all sorts of stuff, but now it looked just like the first time he’s seen it. He felt as if he was actually at the party again, nervous at the sight of a new place, the new smells that accompanied the apartment, nervous that Vince even invited him. Well, he wasn’t a guest, rather a waiter, but still. If guests arrived at that very moment he wouldn’t be too surprised. He went to touch the couch, it looked so much smaller. He sat on it. It was the same couch alright, but it felt like something was missing. He wanted to lay down to check whether it was just as comfortable sheetless, but then Vince came out, wearing his usual black long sleeve and pants.
“Come on.”
“Right..”
Rody stood up with a huff, and walked to the kitchen with Vince. He was met with the lemon tree, not looking any different than before. Most lemons weren’t ripe yet.
“So.. what are we going to make?”
Vincent stopped, looked at Rody, and then back on the floor while crossing his arms. He hadn’t thought about it yet. He went through everything he had in his kitchen in his head. He didn’t have enough to make a really fancy dish, but he could still make something which would satisfy Rody.
“... Minced Meat Cutlets.” Rody thought about it for a bit. He had never tried cutlets before. They had to be good though, so he didn’t worry too much.
“Okay.. well how do we start?”
“I’ll prepare everything, but you can pull out a bowl and a meat grinder. They’re in the cabinet to the right of the stove.”
He did just that. Rody crouched down to open the bottom cabinet, trying to find what he was looking for. It was completely filled with bowls, saucers, pans and more. He had to be careful when taking out a bowl, so that the rest wouldn’t crush him in a cookware avalanche. But he could easily take out the meat grinder. When he reemerged, he saw Vince finishing putting everything they needed on the counter. One second passed and suddenly the kitchen counter was full of ingredients. Vince passed him a bag of pork.
“Put this through the meat grinder.”
Rody looked at it dumbfoundedly. It felt cool against his hands, bagged meat always had this weird squish for it, but before he thought about it feeling nice, the pork started freezing his palms. He looked around for a knife to open the bag.
“Oh, and wash your hands.”
“Oh- Yeah right sorry,,” Rody felt a bit insecure in the kitchen. It felt as if he stepped into unknown territory. He’s only been there to fetch dishes for the guest, and had a small look around, but he hasn’t actually gone to inspect the place thoroughly. He didn’t know where everything was, left to cower in the smack dab of the place. He located the sink after turning his head left and right, and went to do his task. Meanwhile, Vince was dicing and mincing onions and garlic on the other side of the kitchen. Rody was shocked, he didn’t know whether he could tap that fast with his own index finger, yet Vince was there cutting with the speed of light, one blink and he’d already diced everything up. Rody hasn’t even started grinding the meat, while Vince was already setting up the pan.
Rody got himself a knife and then went back to the meat grinder. He cut through the bag, and held the meat up. He has never actually ground meat before. He saw people doing it alright, more than once actually, but he was still unsure how you were supposed to do it. Were you supposed to put all of the pork in there all at once? He tried doing so, but then Vince went and snapped at him.
“What on earth are you doing?? You’re supposed to cut the meat before putting it through the grinder. Don’t be stupid.” The sound of frying could be heard, along with the strong smell of onion. The man turned away from the pan, but he was still turning the onions over, not letting Rody interrupt him.
“Haha… Right, sorry,,” So he thought right afterall. He just… didn’t go through with it. He picked his knife back up and started cutting the pork into 4 slices, while Vince was adding different stuff to the pan. Rody put the first slice through the grinder, turning the knob with full force. Did Vince even make Minced Meat Cutlets often? Because if he did this every other day then he should’ve been absolutely ripped by now. But he quickly ruled out the option, since the grinder seemed to be rusty and unused. Sweaty and tired, Rody put his second slice in, when Vince went and threw his pan’s load into the bowl. He then cracked an egg in it, added spices and threw in a blob of dijon mustard.
“Do you really.. huff… have to add so much stuff??” His arms were about to fall off, how much longer did he have to keep doing this? Either it’s this rusty grinder’s fault, or this pork has to be made of iron, because there is no way that he is so terribly weak.
“This is all necessary. Unless you want to eat bland food.”
“Yeah I know I know but still…”
Vincent went to open a cabinet, and then returned to Rody holding out a spoon. “Here, mix everything together.”
The other man finished grinding the meat, taking the spoon from Vincent. While he stirred the mass, the dark haired man went to open one of the top cabinets. Suddenly, he realized something. He looked back at the meat grinder, and then back at the cabinet starting at it with horror.
He still had her leftovers down in the freezer downstairs. He didn’t bring her out.
He was so stupid. If he had thought of making cutlets with Rody earlier, then he could’ve taken her upstairs. There wasn’t much left of her, but there was definitely enough for cutlets. He wanted to scream. Vincent finally had the chance to feed Rody, the man that came to him today asking for more food, and he fucked up so badly. It was the perfect set up- instead of gifting the ginger man steak, not even knowing whether he’d eat it or not, he could serve him so-called pork while having 100% guarantee that the man would actually eat it. He wouldn’t be able to even taste the difference, right?
Vincent looked at Rody, how his hands worked hard to mix the mass, and then on the leftover meat on the grinder. If he hadn’t been so stupid, he’d be standing there looking at the man grinding his ex-girlfriend, and mixing her in a bowl full of ingredients which would only strengthen and add to her taste. If he hadn’t been so stupid, he’d see him eating her with delight, asking for more when in reality the main ingredient was a one time thing only. If he hadn’t been so stupid, then maybe he’d finally gain his lost sense back. He didn’t know whether these thoughts made him ecstatic or furious. He was so close. Again, she lay rotting, never serving her purpose.
He shakily took out a bag of bread crumbs, gripping it so tightly to the point where the bag would pop any second. He wanted to tear his whole place down. His plan failed, again. He would never be full. He would never taste again. He looked at the ground miserably. He had been planning this ever since Rody stepped into his bistro. When his plan failed a week ago, he didn’t give up, but when he’s presented a chance to actually fulfill his quest once more, he acts like a blind man. Is it normal for a man to want to cry?
“Vince? I uh… finished. I think.”
The man in question took a deep breath to calm himself, and turned to walk towards Rody, looking into the bowl of pink meat.
“Mhm. One more thing though.” He sipped a small amount of bread crumbs into the mass. “When you’re done then we can start forming them.”
Rody only sighed dejectedly. He had enough of stirring. “Okay…”
Vincent took out a plate and sipped the bread crumbs on it. Maybe he should go and choke on them, and then have them return from his stomach and lungs in a mix of stomach acid and phlegm. Maybe then he’d probably taste something. He knew he wouldn’t, vomit didn’t taste much different than the food he had to force himself to eat on a daily basis, but maybe he’d be able to taste it while on the verge of death. If the world was keeping him away from fulfilling his wishes, then nothing mattered anymore. He just wanted to taste.
“Okay, am I done now?”
Vincent nodded. “Place the bowl here. And go run your hand under water, it’ll be easier to form the cutlets.”
He held the bowl while waiting for Rody to come back. If he hadn’t been so stupid, he’d be looking down upon her now. She’d look exactly like this pork too, just pure meat, with no characteristics which made her- her. He could punch the mass and she wouldn’t feel a thing. Obviously he wouldn’t, but it still was an amusing thought. He placed the bowl back down, scooting over to make space for Rody. He took a small handful of the meat, and formed it into a ball. Then, he flattened it and put it in the bread crumbs, flipping it over to completely cover the small cutlet.
“Do just as I did, don’t worry if the crumbs stick to your hands too much.”
“Okay…” Rody carefully took a piece of the meat, more than what Vince took, and then rolled it in his hands carefully to form a ball. He brought the hands impossibly close to his face, cupping the small meatball and squinting his eyes, trying not to mess up the small sphere. He then flattened it, forming it into a big uneven oval. Vincent snickered, bringing a hand to his mouth and smirking. Maybe this wasn’t so bad afterall. It’d be more funny if it were her he was trying to form, failing miserably, but honestly that didn’t matter anymore.
“Hey! What’s so funny?”
“Pfft- Nothing, nothing. You’re doing great.”
“Was that sarcasm??”
“No no no, not at all.”
Rody frowned before ripping a small piece of his creation, and throwing it back into the bowl. He rolled it in his hands again, looking at Vincent’s cutlet for reference. Vincent was still smirking, taking out another piece of the meat and rolling it until it became a near copy of the one he made before. Meanwhile Rody was still struggling, but he gave up and started rolling it in the bread crumbs. The cutlet didn’t look too bad, but it still looked funky. Vincent had to look away to not piss off Rody anymore by smiling.
“Oh come on, what now??” Rody’s frown was reaching the kitchen floor at that point. It didn’t last long though, since a second later he perked up due to a realization. Vince was laughing. Well, not full on laughing, but he wasn’t stone faced as always. He liked the sound, it made his heart flutter. He wanted to hear more.
He went to pick up another chunk, again trying to form the cutlet. He failed miserably, on purpose or not, Vince was still amused by it. It made Rody laugh at it as well.
“Right, hand it over. You’re horrible at this.” Vincent practically snatched the poor cutlet out of Rody’s hands, fixing it up himself. Maybe it wasn’t her he was holding now, but that didn’t matter anymore. Making food with Rody, messing around wasn’t that bad actually.
“Hey, I was trying my best, you know?” Rody playfully punched Vincent in the shoulder, causing him to scoff, making both of them smile.
“Then try even harder. I don’t want to keep fixing up the mess you make.”
“You’re so mean.”
“You’re welcome.”
They continued forming the meat. Occasionally, Rody would giggle at his own creations, while Vincent rolled his eyes amusingly, or they would make small comments aimed towards each other’s patties. Soon, both of them were done, making 10 cutlets in total. They went to wash their hands, and Vincent went to set the pan, while Rody went to sit on one of the stools. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them. He stared at Vince’s back, how it turned to grab the cutlets to place them on the pan, how his shoulder raised when turning the cutlets over, how his head turned to grab a plate, and how his legs carried him left and right, going from stove to counter. It was mesmerizing to see, Vince looked like an actual alive human, instead of being an emotionless drone, controlling all activity which was done downstairs. He liked Vince this way. He was calm, relaxed, taking his time, making sure that the cutlets were fried to perfection. Rody smiled. He was pretty when he didn’t look so strained all the time.
His eyebrows scrunched at the thought. He was just complimenting him, nothing more.
He was staring at the man for a little longer, until he was finally done. Vince set all of the cutlets on the plate, and put the pan off the stove. After sprinkling the plate with greens, he was done. Rody immediately sat up straight, and beamed at the dish. Vince walked over to him, and set the plate down on the counter.
“Bon appétit.”
“Thanks!” The room smelled of cooked meat, it was wonderful. Rody was drooling just by smelling the little meat patties. There is no way that Vince couldn’t smell them, Rody couldn’t imagine what it would be like. He felt a bit sad at that thought. He’ll make sure to enjoy every single bite. He wanted to throw himself at the cutlets right at that moment, but Vince went and shoved a fork in front of him.
“Easy there. I understand that you’re excited but for god’s sake, stop acting like a damn dog.”
Rody only smiled apologetically and snatched the fork out of the man’s hands. Back at his apartment, he had trouble when trying to find the perfect way to start the pasta. But this time, he knew exactly where to stab his fork. He went for the top cutlet, picking it up, causing the green on it to drop. He took a big bite, immediately dropping the fork and bringing his hands to his mouth. He held them in front of his mouth before he gasped heavily while having his mouth wide open. He forgot that the meat was straight out of the pan, therefore, hot.
Vincent didn’t even know whether he felt disgusted, concerned, or even amused at this little show. Did the cutlets really look that good? So good to the point where the man just couldn’t wait anymore? No, how did he forget that they’ve just left the stove? They looked just like every other piece of food, so why was Rody so excited over them? Something he’d never understand he guessed.
After a little bit of huffing from Rody, he finally started chewing.
His eyes never shot open so fast in his life. The cutlet melted on his tongue, hitting every single taste bud. It was soft, yet firm. Spicy, yet mild. Meaty, yet the taste of mustard was loud and clear. It was hot, yet it caused shivers down his spine. He chewed and chewed, wanting to feel more of the wonderful creation. He was going insane, so much was happening to the point where he might’ve died because of sensory overload right there and then. He picked up his fork and took another bite. He dropped it again. Rody had to cover his mouth in order not to moan out loud. He let out a weird muffled sound instead. These cutlets were perfect. He had never eaten a more perfect dish in his entire life. He wondered how normal cutlets tasted. But honestly he didn’t care, he had the best of the best in front of him now, so why was he thinking about anything else? Vince corrupted him, he’d never be able to eat ordinary food again without wishing he was eating Vince’s instead. He can’t believe that he was so against Vince’s food before. He should be banned from the bistro at this point, he can’t imagine how he would last everyday working without snatching the customers’ meals and eating them all by himself, in the corner somewhere like a wild beast.
“Oh my god Rody.. Are you alright?”
“‘m s’rry… s’good. So good.” Was he crying?? Vincent was speechless. No one, in his years old career as a cook, has ever reacted this extremely to his dishes. He felt as if he was warming up every second he watched. Sure, he has seen people beaming at his food, but full on covering their face as if they were holding in a dangerous beast? Astonishing.
Rody ate and ate, and Vincent swore he could see him kicking his feet. What on god’s green earth did he do to this man? He wasn’t slowing down, Vincent had to pull the plate away from him in the end. He regretted doing that to be honest, he really liked watching Rody eat. He wanted to see more of it.
“I think that’s enough.”
“Aww….”
“Wh-?” Did he just say… aw? Who is this man? A baby? Vincent can’t believe he liked him so much. This was bizarre.
“You’re.. whatever. I’m going to pack the rest for you. If you eat anymore you’ll burst. I can’t have that, I’d be accused of murder then.”
“Yeah yeah, I'm full anyway.” That, was a lie. Vincent believed with all his being, that if he didn’t pull the plate away from him, that man would continue eating until he ate the whole kitchen. However, he didn’t say anything. Vincent sighed and shook his head.
“You are something else.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my fault! You make such good food. We should do this more often.”
“If you learn how to control yourself.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
. . .
“Can’t believe you’re kicking me out..”
“Rody, it’s late in the night. You’re not staying here, unless you want to pay for the taxes.”
“Actually, nevermind, I never said anything-” Rody was standing at the door frame, putting on his shoes while holding a box of the cutlets Vince packed for him, along with the skates. He was ready to leave and bid his goodbyes, when Vince suddenly ran into the kitchen. Rody was left in the doorframe, awkwardly standing. He.. has never seen the man actually running before. Before Rody could stand there thinking about it a second longer, Vince soon reemerged, holding a familiar item. It was the blanket he slept in. There was also something placed on top of it. When Vince got closer, he noticed that it was a small red clock.
“What- huh?” Did… Vince want to give this to him?
“I’m giving you my blanket. And a clock as you have noticed, because I doubt you would actually go get one soon. Accept it.”
“But- Vince-”
“No buts, take it. At least you’ll have something proper to sleep in.”
“Vince…”
The chef took everything Rody was holding out of his limp hands, and placed them in the blanket, so that the man could use it as a makeshift bag. He then gave it to him. Rody didn’t know what to do anymore. He had the urge to cry, but he would look stupid so he didn’t. He just looked at Vince.
“I promise. One day I will make it up to you. I mean it.”
“Can’t wait. Goodnight Rody, sleep well.”
“... Thank you. ‘Night.” He left out the door and flashed Vince a small smile. He was gone.
Vincent sighed, crossing his arms. He really did hope Rody would keep his promise. He really wanted so much from the man, but he would never admit that to him. The chef started rubbing his arms. He really wanted that hug again. No, he wanted more than that.
He started walking back to the kitchen, and when he arrived he went and sat on one of the stools- the same one Rody sat in. In front of him, stood a plate with a single cutlet. He wanted to keep at least one, Rody made it look so good, he had to try. Vincent took a small knife and cut a small part out of the patty, carefully stabbing the fork it in, to not have it fall apart. He scooped up the extra minced meat, and put it all in his mouth.
It…
Didn’t taste like anything.
He was disappointed. But he kept chewing. It didn’t taste but… it felt edible. It surprised him, Vincent was eating something he didn’t hate. He chewed and chewed, he could feel the texture, and the juiciness of it, but it didn’t do much. He ate more.
Soon the patty was gone, to Vincent’s returned surprisement. He actually wanted more of it. How come?
He wanted to laugh. To cry maybe as well, it’s been so long since he actually, near enjoyed food. What made this patty so special? Was it the fact that it was made with Rody’s help?
He remembered the shape of it. It was the first cutlet made by Rody. He remembered every movement the man made to make this singular piece. Every prod of the finger, every press of the palm, and he could feel it all while eating it. Vincent was glad that he could feel textures.
He smiled. He was hungry.
This was only the appetizer. The main, side and dessert were yet to come.