Chapter Text
Ring
.
.
.
Ring, ring
.
.
.
Ring, ring..
…
“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message”,
Beeeeeeep.
Rody’s grip on the phone tightened, yet he remained silent as he stood. The pitter-patter of rain against the booth’s glass did little to quiet the ever intimidating beeping of the phone. Hesitantly, he placed it back upon its stand; an extra quarter dropping from his palm, clacking against the booth’s floor. Slumping against the back of the booth, he bit his lip, refusing to allow his supposedly ‘maintained’ composure to falter.
He knew he’d have to accept it eventually; How childish of he. Manon was no longer his. Deep down, he knew this. But, his acceptance of this was another story entirely.
Exiting the booth, he was aimlessly wandering the Parisian streets. Countless umbrellas swirled past him; some getting his hopes up for that familiar face.. Though truthfully, he was only setting himself up for disappointment.
He found himself having wavered away from the busy streets, the swirl of passer-by’s not quite the most comfortable spot to think in. Though, a solitude park bench he’d spotted seemed fitting for the moment. So he sat, running a hand through his golden red hair as he finally let out a breath.
Footsteps resounded against the rain, having come to a halt just before him. An umbrella was hanging above him now, blocking the rain from him at the loss of the beholder. It had the scent of a familiar brand of cigarette about it..
“So,” The man would say, having crouched before where Rody was seated. An unamused expression tainted their face as they put out their cigarette on the bench. “You quit to go mope around in the rain?”
Rody blinked, lifting his eyes to meet those of his former employer. It felt strange. What was it.. The pitying gaze Vince gave him? No, it wasn’t pity; then was it rather.. worried? Locking his gaze with theirs assured him of this, which made him snap back to the present.
“It wasn’t really the intention.. But guess that’s how it turned out, huh?” Rody would remark, giving a self-deprecating chuckle.
Vincent gave only a frown, likely holding back more he would’ve said. He stood, still carrying the umbrella above the other.
“.. I don’t plan on standing here all night, Rody,” He would state. “I don’t intend on having a sick person waiting my tables.”
“But I put in my two weeks notice? I already—”
Though Rody began to protest, Vincent had already begun walking away, umbrella in tow. He didn’t seem to care to hear his excuses.. Well, now Rody had a choice to make. Would he rather return to moping about in this park (which mind you, he had no clue how to get home from), or follow his former employer who.. Seemingly cared for his well being?
Soon as he began feeling the drops of rain resuming their pitter-patter against his back, it seemed it wasn’t such a hard decision after all. He skittered to catch up with Vincent, tucking himself beneath the umbrella with him. Seems his two weeks notice has been.. overruled?