Chapter Text
Vincent blows out the smoke of his cigarette. A long sigh follows as he looks out his window. The wind throwing harsh blows at him but he didnt care. Vincent Charbonneau, a chef. A strict man. A man who killed a man just a few days ago. A man who ate that man. Yet, after all of that, he still couldn't taste. Leaving what he did to be utterly useless. Vincent will never forgive himself. He looks downwards- seeing the cars pass by and people crossing the roads and sidewalks. He stares off and wonders for a few minutes, what would've happened if he didn't kill that poor man and his ex-girlfriend? He shakes his head- not wanting to remember or think of what he did. He shuts the windows in a fast and strong motion. He tries to keep it off his mind by laying down and going to bed. It took him quite the while to do so, but he ended up falling asleep. Still thinking of the man. Of the waiter. Of Rody.
Vincents woke up the next morning,it was still very early and the restaurant didn't open in an hour or two. He rises from his bed and gets into uniform, he heads out the door and locks it. While he walks down the stairs he starts thinking about what meals it will be for the day until he reaches the end of the steps and accidentally kicks something- a package? He thought to himself, he checked where it was addressed from and it was really for him, yeah. It was. It was signed with his name on it- but no mailing address. He tried not to question it too much and brought it inside his home. He still had time.
When he got back inside he made sure to be very careful when opening the box. He still didn't know where or who it was from, much less of what was inside. After carefully unboxing the object he reached inside and felt a soft, squeezable thing that was shaped oddly. Confused, he picked it up and got a better look at it, he stared and just blinked at it. It was the waiter, or the man he killed- Rody. Not like his actual body, but more like a toy version.
A soft, stuffed toy version of him. The kind kids would put them on their bed to guard them at night (even though they couldn't). He didn't know if he could look at it for much longer.
He went down the practically empty hall of his house that only had a singular painting hanging and entered his room and threw the plush in. He would probably stuff it inside deep into his closet later, but he was now running out of time.
After work, Vincent watches all of his chefs and his replaced waiter leave. When they all exit the door, he waits a few minutes until he leaves too. He did not feel like talking to them today. He walks up the steps to his apartment connected to the restaurant and heads back to his room- not paying attention to his surroundings, just wanting to get that stuffed toy out of his house. He opens his bedroom door.
The plushie wasn't where he left it. He looks everywhere- even the directions he knew he didn't throw it at yet it wasn't there. He sighs, hoping he won't see it later or something so he could throw it out. He exits the room down into the kitchen where he sees it. The plushie. But it was moving on its own. He thought he was dreaming- did he start drinking that day? He couldn't recall. The plushie turns to him- before it does or says anything Vincent slams the door shut.
No. nope. Not today. He was not dealing with that- he figured, maybe, he just needed to lay down. Take a nap maybe? And so that's what he attempts.
After sleeping for what meant to be a bit, it was way earlier than when he normally wakes. He gets up, deciding to see if it was really all a dream, it probably was, he thought to himself. When he opened the kitchen door, he saw nothing. Thank god, he thought. But not even a minute later- he hears a small creek from under the table.
Slowly turning his head. There that toy was. It was leaning on a chair leg, must've been why that sound was made. He stared at it. Because, what the fuck? He grabbed a kitchen knife and the plush toy looked like it was trying to scream and it ran- Vincent chased it around the kitchen. Making a pretty big mess before he finally gave up.
He looked at it again, he was panting a bit and the toy was hiding in the cabinet with the door slightly open, open enough for him to see it. Maybe it couldn't do anything? Truly, he was the one who could kill it, if he could chase it down..
The toy was defenseless and very small and tiny- couldn't hurt him if he even wanted to.
He put the knife back, and started opening the cabinet door. Laying his palm out for him. He knew the toy probably didn't trust him and it would have every right for that. But he still wanted to try.
The stuffed toy seemed very hesitant at first, it took him some time to figure out if he really trusted this guy. It finally made up its mind and sat down on the palm of Vincent's hand. They stared at each other and Vincent tried to analyze it. Yup, definitely a toy and not witch-craft or whatever, he was still confused of why it was here and more of why it was even able to move? Was it possessed or something? He couldn't figure it out.
He checked the time, fuck- he was gonna be late. He put the plush down and told it to stay there, or else. He rushed down stairs and slammed the doors open with a gush of wind, what terrible weather lately. He takes a deep breath and heads into the kitchen. He stands where he usually does and supervises. He tries to watch over the chefs
but he can't stop thinking of that dumb toy..
It's time to close down the restaurant. He once again waits for everyone to leave then walks out the door. He heads back upstairs and immediately heads to the kitchen to make sure the toy of the waiter was still there. Which it was. Thank god, Vincent thought to himself- he’d probably squeeze the life out of the thing if it did anything to his kitchen. The smaller version or toy version of the waiter waved, and Vince gave a small wave back- he still didn't understand this thing. Such as of why it came here but Vincent thinks that's a question that won't be answered.