Chapter Text
𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐟
落ちた心のたどり着く先は
"𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭"
𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍' 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍
“Mingyu, the client from table 5 gives his compliments.” Mingyu looks up happily to one of his waitresses. Considering that it was his first time cooking a dish like that, he was glad the snarky looking man gave him his compliment.
Since he was tall enough to reach the stove Mingyu loved to cook. In the beginning it was more of a necessity for him to cook. His parents were, inattentive, to say the least. Soon after he began to cook food that made him feel satisfied. First in taste, then in presentation. Soon enough Mingyu was cooking meals that looked like they belonged in restaurants. Although he was only an average student, the minute he saw the opportunity to move out and go to culinary school, he took it. Right about now, the loans for the $52,480 tuition were starting to hurt his pockets. And he had only gone to The Chef Apprentice School of the Arts for an associate’s degree.
People wouldn’t think that being a chef is competitive or exciting but God they’re wrong. Mingyu has never felt as much pressure or passion to cook the best meal he ever has like when another famous chef or critic walks into his restaurant, sits at a table, and orders. Not to say he’s “famous” or owns his own restaurant. It’s more like he has a bit of competition with other chefs and he is the only chef his employer hired.
Mingyu considers himself lucky enough to have almost been hired instantaneously. Though he wishes he had his own restaurant. It’s been a year since he graduated from his expensive ass school, a year since he was stuck working in this tiny little corner cafe, a year fighting to keep his dreams alive. But saving up and paying off student loans at the same time is practically impossible.
It’s usually difficult or impossible to tell a critic apart from a regular client.
Maybe that’s why when the customer that looks and dresses like the epitome of a critic walks in, wearing Versace he catches Migyu’s eye. Mingyu considers it a challenge to get him to like his food. However, his snotty demeanor angers Mingyu a tad too much.
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Kimchi ramen had been a long time favorite of Minghao’s. The noodles tasted fresh, and they had a nice consistency, they weren’t too thin or too thick. The shiitake, avocado, and lime were fresh, they tasted organic. The broth although nice and warm, even managing to fog up his glasses. The actual taste of the broth- however- was far too spicy, making it difficult to taste anything but chilli and hurting his stomach.
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The critic sauntered his way into Mingyu’s kitchen like he was the owner of the restaurant, he leaned over the counter where Mingyu plated the food and the waitresses took it to their respective tables, put his chin in the palm of his hand and hummed with a lazy grin on his face. Mingyu, too busy to stare, spared a quick glance to the male and focused his attention back to the patty on the grill.
“The broth was too spicy.” was the first thing out of the critic’s mouth.
Mingyu’s head snapped up, “You just can’t handle spice.” Mingyu replied with the traces of a pout on his lips and his brows furrowed. The other chuckled when the other man got defensive of his cooking. “Whatever” was his reply, “Here’s my card.” The male placed his business card in the tip jar and left promptly.
The tip jar, the fucking tip jar, really? Really? The tip jar was for tips, not business cards. Did the so-called “Xu Minghao” not know any business etiquettes? Mingyu took the tips of the day, a measly $20 and threw away the business card.
A couple days later and the same critic showed up again. Mingyu heaved a sigh, a little too loud maybe as the male snapped his head to look towards the direction of the noise and found a Mingyu, rolling his eyes. Great, he had to cook for that popsicle again.
A falafel, that’s what Minghao ordered. Mingyu was astounded by the difference in between this and his previous dish. As much as he hated to admit it, Mingyu vividly remembered when Minghao came last, from the minute he walked in to the minute he left after leaving his business card in his tip jar- something he still couldn’t get over. Partially because of the wits needed to do that and partially by the utter lack of etiquette on Minghao’s behalf. I mean you would think that someone as fancy looking as Minghao would know not to leave a damn business card in a tip jar, but no.
This time Mingyu minded more attention to Minghao, noting how a black car dropped him off, how someone even opened a door for him. If he’s lucky, Minghao might be a CEO, a CEO he hates. It’s not just the fact that he Minghao nitpicked his food, but the way he thinks he’s entitled to a conversation with Mingyu, and the way he walks so cockily, also did Mingyu mention the way Minghao dresses, like he’s hiding himself from paparazzi. If the male never set foot in his restaurant again he’d be happy. But no, the exact opposite happened. Now he has a Xu Minghao sitting at a table where when Mingyu turns to get an ingredient he sees Minghao’s face in all it’s rich person glory, staring back at him with one of the dumbest smirks known to mankind.
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The pita bread was freshly made, the diced cucumber, tomato and onion were definitely organic. The tahini was the right amount of creamy and bitter. But the chickpea patties were lacking, Minghao wasn’t quite sure what, but if you asked him they didn’t taste quite right.
Minghao liked teasing the taller man. He walked over to the counter, paying his check and giving the waitress her 15%. After heading to the counter like last time and leaning his hips against it. He looked up at the chef as he busied around the kitchen. When he came out to the counter Minghao stood up, being more attentive at the thought that he might have an adequate conversation with the other this time. That is, until he saw the other carrying a plate to place on the counter.
Minghao, looking directly at the other inhaled, “Have you thought about it?”. Mingyu looked up from the plate he had just placed on the counter, confused, “Thought about what?” before Minghao could respond the other was talking again, “Your inadequate business etiquette? You want to do business with me? Do you even know my name? You know what that doesn’t even matter. Why would you want to do business with me if you don’t even like my cooking?”.
Minghao closed his mouth, realizing he had left it hanging open as he was talked over. He pursed his lips and inhaled before opening his mouth again. “My inadequate business etiquette?”. He wanted to say more, but he just stared confusedly at the cook which seemed enraged. “You left your business card in my tip jar.” “I know, and?” “What do you mean ‘and’, you’re not supposed to do that, have you never worked a day in your life?”.
Minghao bit the side of his cheek, exhaled through his open mouth and gulped. Thoughts of his youth flooded his mind. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”.
The air around them filled with tension and the work staff and customers around them went quiet, having felt the anger in Minghao’s words.
He straightened himself and looked directly at Mingyu, recovering his previous demeanor “What’s your name then?”. The cook looked dumbfounded, stopped himself from tilting his head and with furrowed eyebrows answered, “Kim Mingyu,” Minghao nodded, “Why haven’t you contacted me Mr.Kim, I’m interested in hiring you.” Minghao responded, staring blankly at Mingyu, waiting for an answer.
Meanwhile Mingyu was still contemplating the weight Minghao’s words had carried “Never ask me that again”, the look on his face accompanied by them and being called “Mr. Kim”. He regained his composure, “I threw away your business card,” the blunt answer sent Minghao stumbling back a little “You did what now?” “I threw it away” Mingyu answered honestly again, “it ticked me off that you put it in my tip jar.” Minghao couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You’re joking right? What was I supposed to do? Leave it in your pocket or something?” Mingyu stared blankly, mouth forming an “oh” as realisation hit him.
Mingyu rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Can I have it again please?”. Minghao hums and hands Mingyu another of his business cards.