Chapter Text
The wind chime on the front door made its usual noise, Vince walked out the kitchen, shouldering the new labour of having to serve customers once again, now that rody had quit. But as the door opened Vince was met with a familiar pair of soft green eyes.
''Rody?''
Rody scratched his neck, he did not look up to meet the other’s gaze, staring down at the floor as if an invisible hand was holding his head down, he spoke, a nervousness bathing his voice.
''Hey boss…''
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''..and.. she did not pick up the call.''
''I see.'' Vince replied, his eyes almost emotionless, showing no path whatsoever into his soul. Rody found it uncanny how hard it was to read him. ''Perhaps she’s changed her landline number?''
''Does she hate me that much?''
Vince looked at him for a solid minute, the way his lips curved downwards and his eyelashes fluttered, how the great volume of his hair seemed to have deflated.
''She did not deserve you.''
That day, Vince did not step foot in the kitchen, instead he helped Rody serve. One or two times they would brush against each other, and rody would smile at him, and in the hit of those moments all those fleeting thoughts of guilt and horror would leave his body, vince’s conscious and ability to tell apart between rights and wrongs would fade and in those moments no earthly force could convince him that what he had done was not right.
It had never occurred to him before last night, how miserable it made someone to be bereaved, he would not see rody again, he would not walk into the bistro with his stupid face beaming with an awkward smile, haunting thoughts, surprisingly haunting thoughts for someone with a lifeless body in the freezer. He could pass the distress off as the frustration of being short staffed, but that would be an obvious lie, for once he seemed to understand how rody had felt, when manon walked out.
And this morning, when fate gave way to a light of hope, Vince swore he saw heaven, the relief in his chest could match no other feeling in this world, it was euphoric. But he still wondered, why did rody come back? Was it the spine chilling loneliness, or did he feel attached to vince? Practically, it probably ISN’T the latter, but oh how Vince wished it was, how deep rooted this feeling was, he felt like he was overflowing with it. His soul felt intoxicated, almost wasted, his head was not here, he was lost somewhere in thought and for once, he did not hate it.
When your hands are tarnished with bloods, there are apparitions always surrounding you, a constant pulsing of ghosts, haunting you every moment of your life, but he felt at ease, he felt as though it was only a trivial matter as we watched Rody skid across the floor struggling to keep the bottle of wine erect. And it is truly horrifying to conjure such animalistic ideas, to run a saw through delicate skin and try to justify it, how he wished things were different, but since they are not, he has to make the best out of it, he has to get what he wants.
''I will see you tomorrow then?''
''Yes, be at time rody, its sunday, there should be more customers.''
''Okay, not a problem.''
Rody smiled,
''Uh..rody?'' vince said, looking away from his eyes, ''erm- you can call me.''
''Call you?''
''Yeah you know, if your sorry ass had trouble sleeping after getting dumped, you can always…ring.''
Rody's face lit up with radiant joy, his eyes sparkling with delight like sunlit jewels. A wide, genuine smile stretched across his lips, illuminating his entire countenance. His cheeks flushed with warmth, and a contagious energy seemed to radiate from him, infecting those around him with happiness. With a buoyant spirit and an infectious laugh, he exuded an aura of pure joy, his happiness palpable to all who beheld him.
''Ofcourse!''
''You seem..rather excited.''
''Aren’t we like, bestfriends now?''
''That is not what-'' vince paused ''sure whatever.''
As Rody beamed with joy, his whole being seemed to glow with an inner light, as if his happiness had taken physical form. His eyes, alight with mirth, crinkled at the corners with the weight of his grin, which seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Even his posture seemed to straighten with the buoyancy of his spirits, standing tall and proud, a beacon of joy in a world that often seemed dim, atleast to vince.
Rody’s house was rather desolate, often soulless even to him, he has not been able to touch those love letters in a while, he was living in a slump. He opened his fridge and he took out the strawberry shortcake, if he does not eat all this soon they will soil, so he grabbed a fork and he bit into it. Imagine the delicate sweetness of a strawberry shortcake, each bite a symphony of flavours dancing on your taste buds. As you take a forkful, the light and airy texture of the cake crumbles gently, melting in your mouth like a tender embrace. The strawberries, ripe and juicy, burst with tangy freshness, their natural sweetness mingling perfectly with the creamy richness of whipped cream. Every bite is a delightful contrast of textures and tastes, with the buttery notes of the cake harmonising beautifully with the bright acidity of the strawberries and the smooth decadence of the cream. It's a taste that lingers on your palate, leaving you craving another bite, each one as blissful as the last.
''Woah'' he thought. ''I wonder what he put it in this.''
As he licked off the last bits of cream from his lips, he turned to his telephone, for the first time in what seems like months, he would call someone that is not manon, it was a comforting thought, his world kept shrinking on im, it left him in shambles for the longest time, everything he had built his happiness around, when it came falling down there truly was nowhere he could go, but now for a change, it felt different.
''Hello?''
''Hey vince.''
''Oh, rody. Is everything okay?''
''Yes, as of yet.''
''Have you eaten anything?''
''The strawberry short cake from a few days ago, i gotta say- you are a commendable cook.''
''Oh, you ate it.''
''Yeah?''
''Did it taste…different?''
''It tasted good. Like..like it was made with a lot of focus and-''
''And what?''
''Love.''
It is a hunger that cannot be satiated, it was a hunger for a taste not known to the world. It was drenched in blood and soaked in tears, this hunger was predatory, vile and disgusting. So disgusting in fact, anyone at all would pass it as an act of insanity, but it was truly only Vince who understood the beauty of it, the beauty in this violent yearning, the pleasure of the ache in his heart, the way his world had become an oxymoron.
''Well i never learnt to play the guitar.''
''Youre telling me you are self taught.''
''Yeah, so i am not good at it.''
''I am sure you are.''
''How are you sure.''
''Gut feeling?''
''Here why dont you be the judge.''
''Are you gonna play?''
''Sure am.''
''Ugh, is it a song you wrote for your ex?''
''Maybe, but music is perceptive, the dedications can change, the meaning can vary, that is the beauty of it.''
Picture a man seated comfortably, cradling a guitar in his arms. His fingers move with practised precision along the strings, coaxing forth a melody that seems to flow effortlessly from his soul. As he strums, his face lights up with passion, his eyes closing momentarily as if lost in the music's embrace.
With each chord change, his voice rises in harmony, carrying the lyrics with a depth of emotion that resonates with every listener. Whether his voice is gravelly and raw or smooth as silk, there's a sincerity in his delivery that captivates those who hear him.
His body sways gently to the rhythm, his movements fluid and graceful, adding an extra layer of expression to his performance. His audience can't help but be drawn in, transported by the magic of his music and the authenticity of his voice.
As he plays and sings, it's as though he's pouring his heart out for all to see, baring his soul through every note and lyric. And in that moment, there's nothing else in the world but him, his guitar, and the music that binds them together in perfect harmony.
''Well? Whadya think?''
''I umm-''
''Hmn?''
''What the fuck rody, why did you not study music you dumbfuck.''
Rody laughed, ''it’s a shame huh?''
''I am gonna hang up on you i feel so angry.''
Rody laughed harder ''hey don't hang up, please. Don’t go.''
''Tch, whatever.''
When rody walked into the bistro the following day, he was greeted by the usual crowd. It took him precisely ten seconds to notice that vince was not in the kitchen, so he strode into his office leaving the chefs in fear and praying for his life. But it was far from what they would expect. As he walked in, vince sat in his armchair a cigarette lazily hanging out of his mouth, thick smoke surrounded him
As the match ignited, a tiny flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow in the dimly lit room. With a steady hand, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, and with a soft hiss, it caught fire, releasing a curl of smoke into the air.
The room was immediately filled with the unmistakable scent of tobacco, a sharp and acrid aroma that permeated the space. It hung heavy in the air, weaving its way through the room like a persistent ghost, leaving an indelible mark on everything it touched.
Despite its harshness, there was an underlying hint of sweetness, a faint echo of the earthy richness of the tobacco leaves. But it was overshadowed by the sharp tang of smoke, which clung stubbornly to fabric and upholstery, refusing to be ignored.
''Morning, vince.''
''Morning.''
Vince walked up from his chair towards a rather dishevelled rody, at about two inches worth of distance from his body he stopped, stretching his hands out to his collar, he grabbed either ends of his loose tie and fastened it into place,
''Atleast try to be in proper uniform.''
''Yeah im sorry.'' rody looked towards his size, purposefully inverting his gaze.
Vince let go of his tie and moved his hands upwards towards his unkempt hair, he patted it down, running his fingers through it, it felt quite soft as it brushed against his skin,
''I am gonna start getting complains about hair strands in the food, rody.''
''Yes, i am sorry.''
''Use a hairband maybe?''
''I will cut it off if needed vince.''
''No-'' Vince said, his voice in a state of half-exclamation. ''I mean uh- no don't. It looks good, don't cut it.''
Rody flushed a lighter shade of pink ''as you say.''
As the shift came to an end, rody walked into the kitchen, worn out to the brim, he watched as the chefs laughed and cheered among themselves as they walked out, what in the world was the matter with them? Did they get a raise or something? Whatever it was, surely it was some sort of good news. Vince stood in the corner, a cigarette in his mouth, winding up for the day,
''Hello rody.''
''Hey vince.''
''I was going to have some vine, would you like some?''
Rody thought about it, there was no harm in it, one glass would not be a bad thing after such a tiresome shift, besides, he had too much on his mind lately.
''Sure, why not.''
They sat down on a table for two,
''Do you'' vince asked poring the vine into a glass ''miss manon?''
''Like a dog.'' rody replied with a defeated smile.
A pang of pain hit vince in the chest, ''but-''
''I know i should not, i should not miss someone who left me at their will, but it really is hard not to.''
''You will find someone so much better.''
''What about you vince, do you miss anyone?''
''No.'' he said ''but i would like to have someone i love enough to miss.''
''So we both are on the same boat?''
''No rody, i am on the boat, YOU are drowning.''
Rody laughed, ''help me up then.''
With a last gulp, vince placed his empty glass on the table ''i would, but you’re wearing this life jacket you got from your previous boat that’s already sunk and you just won’t let go of it''
Rody smiled, ''boss.'' he said ''all these metaphors are weighing me down.''
''Good, my boat cannot bear the weight of a life jacket along with two people anyway.''
''Fine. I'll open the life jacket.''
''We will see about that.''
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His dreams get more morbid with time, there is so much blood it blinds him, someone is gnawing into his heart, gently decapitating it, it hurts, it hurts so much, he sees nothing but red, horrifying and bloody, but they are whispering into his ears, sweet gentle whispers, it is not easing the pain, but they think it is, rody tries to move out of their grip.
As the pain surged through him, it felt as though his entire being was engulfed in a maelstrom of agony. Each heartbeat sent shockwaves of torment rippling through his body, leaving him gasping for air and clutching desperately at any semblance of relief.
Physically, it was as if every nerve ending had been set ablaze, a relentless inferno consuming him from the inside out. Every movement sent jolts of searing pain coursing through his limbs, rendering him paralyzed by the sheer intensity of it all.
But it wasn't just his body that suffered; his mind was a battleground of anguish and despair. Thoughts swirled chaotically, each one a dagger plunging deeper into his already shattered psyche.
The person tore through his heart with their teeth, he shook himself as hard as he could
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Gasping for air, rody sat up on his couch. Perhaps he needs to see a doctor, the way these dreams have been manifesting lately.
Just as everyday, he got dressed and set out for the bistro. But when he reached, to his surprise, it was not open yet, he stood there, waiting for about ten minutes, it was way past reporting time and no one else was showing up either.
What's the matter? He thought to himself, confused as can be, his only resort was to climb up the stairs to vince’s apartment, and so he did, he knocked at his door and was initially greeted by a familiar face, those same eyebags, that slender figure, he walked out, trying to hide his smile,
''What’s the matter?''
''Is the bistro closed?''
''Yeah? Did I not tell you? Everyone is getting a day off today.''
So that’s why the chefs were so happy.
''You did not tell me.''
''Oh'' vince smiled ''i didn’t?''
''No vince.''
''That's my bad.'' he said ''well, i will make up for it, why don't you come in?''
Rody walked in, now somewhat familiar with the place, the desolate interior design, it barely looked like someone lived in there.
''Sit down.'' vince said pointing at his couch ''i will be right back.''
The couch was not very comfortable, but it was a personal belief rody had, that beds and couches are made comfortable by the people who sit on it, if it was someone he loved and cherished even a wooden plank would seem soft enough to sleep on.
When vince walked back out, he had a guitar in his hand.
''What the hell, you play too?''
''No.'' he said ''this is for you.''
Rody froze ''what?''
''I bought it for you, dumbass, take it.''
''When did you-''
''Last night, stop asking questions, your other guitar is crappy you deserve a better one.''
''But vince i cant-''
''Just take it!'' he exclaimed, then coming back to his senses ''please?''
''Th-thank you.''
Vince even made him food, rody had a sliver of hint in his mind, the tension was ice thin, and he was scared to break it. They talked, they sat in silence, there was not anything they did not do in what seemed like an hour and a half, rody enjoyed hearing vince talk, given that he does not much. He watched his chest rise and fall, the movement of his eyes, rody felt a pang in his heart, it was getting hard to hold back.
''You did it on purpose, didn't you vince?'' he smiled.
''Huh?''
''You set this up.''
''Erm, surprise?'' Vince half smiled.
Rody scooted closer to him, cupped his face in his hands and spoke ''am i on your boat yet?''
''Depends on what you do next.''
Rody closed his eyes and locked his lips with Vince's. A kiss, a delicate dance of lips, a meeting of souls in a fleeting moment of intimacy. It's the soft brush of skin against skin, a symphony of sensations that sends shivers down the spine. In that brief exchange, time stands still as two hearts connect, sharing a silent conversation that speaks volumes without a word. It's a gentle caress that ignites passion, leaving an indelible mark on the soul long after the moment has passed.
''Fuck the boat.'' vince smiled ''i’ll drown with you.''
Rody kissed him again.
''You know'' he said ''the last time i was here, i quite liked your bedroom.''
''Oh my god rody just be direct''
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each breath Vince takes is laced with violence and bloodthirst, and never before had such disgustingly visceral feelings been a second to love, one would squirm at the thought of it, gag and turn away- but never before had metal and grit tasted better or anything, for that matter, like expensive liquor, divine ambrosia, rich ichor - godly, heaven sent, as he bit into Rody's wrist. It was like he tasted something for the first time.
Rody always just lay there and took it, his Rody, Rody Rody Rody- sweet beautiful Rody, the most beautiful poem, a song composed by the primordial, his name was branded onto each and every one of Vince's ribs.at the eleventh hour, Vince had always been the animal with blood on his teeth, he had been a ghost with a heart beat, but now with just one kiss Rody had breathed life into him, now he had, utterly painfully, become a man, a man with his heart beating against the most beautiful thing the earth had ever conjured.
there was blood on his lips, dripping down his chin, there was life stained all over his mouth, and oh how decadent it tasted. He sinks his teeth into broken skin and shaking bones and he aches, he aches like a madman.
He desired to consume Rody, not just metaphorically, but literally. He craved to savour his taste, to experience his heartbeat coursing through his veins. Rody made no move to resist, though he could have, feeling the shame of being perceived as helpless prey, his vulnerability laid bare. Yet Vince didn't recoil from this rawness; he hungered to be touched, almost animalistically, yearning to be torn apart, fragmented, only to be meticulously pieced back together, engulfed by a consuming affection. He wished for Rody's cruelty, knowing gentleness could wait for another time.
With the heavens and earth bearing witness, Vince yearns to be restrained, to be entombed alongside the skin he reveres so deeply. For if their fate is to be buried together, then let the vultures feast upon all four hundred twelve of their bones, for if it must culminate in flesh and blood, no earthly power could prevent them from confronting it united as one.
so Rody kisses him, Rody kisses him and kisses him till they are breathing the same air, he tastes himself on his tongue- vile, animalistic and alive- disgustingly and most certainly alive. such a desperate thing, this love, so hideously beautiful, so attractively ugly.
''Vince.''
''Yes?''
''Slow down.''
''I can’t.''
He traced down his body as if taking in every inch, admiration staining his face, his eyes were as good as glowing. Humans are starved, humans are dangerously hungry, a hunger only satisfied by the horrors of intimacy, and intimacy that glows red like a spider lily. in all their sleep drunk laziness, with each motion as they fed the fire of passion, with each gasp and shudder the raven haired stole from Rody there was nothing in the room but love and light in the shape of lovers.
Marks of red and blue on the sunkissed canvas made Vince fall into a trance, how beautiful and all his. He climbed up his torso and bit his ear, gaining a yelp as a response, he drew blood and licked it off his lips, he nibbled on his ears till Rody begged him to stop, till his eyes swell up with tears of pain. He would have bitten it off it meant they could be closer, but a man has to keep his composure, you know?
''You are eating me alive, Vince.'' Rody teased, ''could you please slow down? It hurts.''
So he did, Vince moved the strands of hair from Rody’s face and kissed it all over leaving a giggling and blushing mess underneath him.
''God you are driving me crazy.'' Vince panted.
Rody gave him a warm smile, before flopping him down onto the bed, now on top and very clearly in control.
As it turns out, rody likes to hear his own name roll off vince's lips. Everything else he was saying was abhorrence, spewing the ramblings of a lunatic, a string of ‘yes’ and 'please’, Vince liked it more than he would like to admit. 'Vince'' Rody said with a softness only someone who had lived through so much to learn it could, green eyes scanning each part of the other’s. rody was not one to hold back, pushing forward ever so gently, like the night wind, like a hum in the dead of the day, when everyone was asleep. vince's back arched, and lips parted. rody could only smile, leaning forward to meet the latter's lips, a sweet taste, tongues dancing with the pace of their hearts, giving birth to a kind of stupor, melting into one another, a slow and beautiful death that would be.
''I’ll write you a song.'' rody said, vince buried his head into rody’s shoulder ''mhm.''
''I will make it real nice.''
''I think.'' vince cooed ''i think i am in love with you.''
''Oh? I did this to get a raise.''
Vince sat up. Rody pulled him back down, laughing so hard there were tears in the corner of his eyes.
''I am just kidding, mon amor.''
Vince blushed ''god that is so corny rody, say it again.''