Chapter Text
Yellow tinted overhead lamps illuminated the elegant room before their eyes. Rody Lamoree, boots polished in attempt to hide the years of scuff marks, accompanied by his girlfriend— no, the love of his life— Manon Vacher, stepped into the world renowned restaurant; the one, the only, La Guele de Saturne. Located on the top of a hill on the outskirts of Paris, only accessible by a winding road blocked off by a gate you could be granted access by with a ticket that cost near a year’s worth of rent. It was owned by the five Michelin star chef, Vincent Charbonneau. How had your average, run of the mill, lower-class citizen of Paris managed to acquire not one but two of those tickets? Well it all started two weeks prior…
“I’m sorry Rody, I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Manon’s sweet voice that always served as music to his ears, for once sent a sharp pang through his heart. “What…?” Rody managed through a shaky tone of disbelief. What had he done wrong? He had done nothing less of be as gentlemanly as possible for the past month of their relationship, making sure to carefully balance entertaining and respectful. “It’s not you, it’s me.” She was quiet for a moment before adding on, “That was a lie. It is you.” Rody sank further into the wooden bench he was seated upon. “Look, Rody I do care for you. You’re handsome and kind, dedicated and definitely funny. But there’s just something…off. I just don’t think I can love you the same.” She was careful with her words but thoroughly honest. “But— Just tell me what it is, and I’ll try to fix it, I promise!” Rody pleaded. He refused to let it end like this, not when he knew that Manon had to be the one. But he was only met with a solemn shake of her head. “That’s the problem, it’s not something you can fix. I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you, I just think we should take a little break. Give it a month.” “A month?! That’s as long as we’ve been together! Give it a week.” He had to protest, unable to fathom going a month without the girl, even though two months ago he didn’t even know her name. Manon let out a small sigh before giving in. “Two weeks, and that’s final Rody.” He nodded, grateful she was at least lenient to that extent. “Okay. In the next two weeks I will prove that I will never learn to love another.”
And so, for the next week Rody worked as hard as he could to earn the most money. Odd job after odd job, he ended up with a steady €1300 and change. And he knew exactly what he would do with that money.
The payphone down the street from Rody’s apartment rang several times before Manon’s delicate and familiar voice greeted him through the speaker. “Bonjour, Manon speaking, what may I do you for?” He all but let out a laugh at how formal she was. It was admirable, but sometimes a little comical— though at this point, he would strive to hear her say anything. “It’s me— uh, Rody. Your…uh, well anyways, I have something for you! Can we meet up, please?” He could hear his own voice getting quieter with each word, his former confidence going up in smoke like his wallet was bound to. “Alright. How about I come meet you at your apartment?” Rody nodded enthusiastically, the relief lilting a heavy weight from his heart, before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Yes, please! That sounds great.” Her soft giggle could be heard, a sound that never failed to cause a flutter in his heart. It wasn’t long before the call’s time was up, and they swiftly agreed to meet at 5PM.
As Rody stepped into his apartment to get ready, he was hit with the realization like a ton of bricks that his apartment was an absolute mess. Clothes strewn about the floor, random objects cluttering the coffee table, and God only knows what happened in the kitchen. He spent the next hour cleaning his living space with zeal he never before knew he had. By the time the soft knock was heard against the thin wooden door, the apartment looked decent, which was winning in Rody’s standards. He swung open the door, a surge of warmth flowing through his veins at the sight he had longed for; half-way past shoulder length blonde hair, warm chocolate colored eyes, and a patient smile on thin lips painted upon a milky white porcelain complexion. He stepped forward to embrace her before pausing for a moment in hesitation— just because she had agreed to meet him didn’t mean things were the same between them again. Instead he took two steps backward and gestured for her to enter. Once they were both seated upon his cracked leather couch, Rody produced a thin white envelope from his pocket and passed it to the young woman seated beside him. “I know you really admire this guy so uh, I…got this.” His words might not have made sense quite yet, but once the seal (which was actually just a strip of tape) was torn and the contents slipped out, it all fell into place. A soft gasp escaped her lips, followed by a shimmering gaze. “Rody, how— I mean, gosh, merci, merci!” Before Rody could respond, he was swept up in her embrace.
And thus, a week later they were dressed to the nines and driving up that windy road to Heaven’s Kitchen. Once they entered, they were met with the elegance that one typically imagined when hearing the words ‘top class’. Dark oak wood walls, handcrafted details adorning the framing and furniture alike, all illuminated with dim yellow lighting from amber-shaded overhead lamps above each table. The walls were thick, adding a peaceful atmosphere of calming silence; one wouldn’t know that there was a busy kitchen just a couple of rooms over. Various plants stood in the corner of the room, and upon closer inspection could be seen they were not just any plant, but herbs and leaves used in the very same cooking this restaurant was praised for.
They were greeted by a server in a freshly ironed tuxedo, causing Rody to jump slightly. “Is it just me or did that guy come out of nowhere?” He whispered to Manon. She merely shook her head, though unable to conceal the smirk that upturned her lips. The server, who’s silver name tag read ‘Antoine’, had an air about him that one would expect with a butler rather than a waiter. But then again, this was not any waiter, but a waiter that served the highest class restaurant the world had to offer.
Besides the main couple, there were several other guests standing in the entranceway. One that particularly caught Rody’s eye was a tall middle aged man with long red hair that faded into black at the tips, evidently dyed, and dressed in a dark red suit that looked minimalistic but at the same time seemed to be tailored for him and him alone. It wasn’t just the monochrome red color palette nor the expensive suit, but rather the way he carried himself; as if he stood for not just one person, but representing an important bloodline. Of course, not one that Rody would recognize— he would hardly recognize Steve McQueen if he was a foot in front of him.
Meanwhile Manon’s attention was caught by a large group of people that looked vastly different appearance-wise, but all appeared to come from the same place— an important company, most likely. A couple within that party was speaking to each other in low voices, though when they caught Manon’s gaze for a brief second their gaze sharpened and they fell silent. Suddenly the air felt a little tighter. Manon had come from a decently well-off family, but suddenly she felt like a street rat in comparison to these important people. Is this how Rody felt when he met her family?
The man in the red suit was seated first in a solo table in the corner of the room, and the server, though he treated everyone equally, seemed to be familiar with him.
The large group went next, two tables set for four becoming swiftly conjoined to make enough room. Then it was Rody and Manon’s turn, in which they were sat in a table for two located on the side of the room against the smooth dark walls. A couple of minutes passed as Antoine tended to the other tables, and the couple felt a slight weight lifted off of them. At first there was continued tense silence before Rody burst into quiet laughter. “I feel so broke! And that’s saying a lot!” Manon joined him in her delicate but heart filled laughter, covering her mouth in lingering self consciousness. “Me too. But I’m excited at the same time. I’ve always wanted to taste Vincent’s food!”
As if almost on cue, chef Vincent Charbonneau stepped out of the kitchen. He was a tall, lean man dressed in pristine chef whites that were hardly a shade darker than his pale skin marred only by the dark circles beneath his onyx eyes. His stride was long and slow, every step made with purpose as he silently walked through the room, his gaze shifting methodically between each table.
Once he reached Manon and Rody’s table, he came to an almost abrupt halt. His eyes lingered on Manon, and before Rody could become anymore uncomfortable, Manon broke the silence. “Vincent! It’s me, Manon!” Vincent’s stance became slightly more tense as he stepped closer to their table and bent down to eye level with Manon. “It has been a while.” Was all he could manage to say. “Wait. Manon don’t tell me…you and Chef Charbonneau…know each other?!” Rody asked, doing his best to keep his voice down despite the shock. He had no idea Manon’s admiration for this man ran deeper than a mere fan’s. She nodded in confirmation. “Yup, we went to college before!” “Oh-“ Before Rody could finish his reply, he was met with the suffocating gaze of the chef beside them. His gaze seemed to pierce right through him, looking sharply up and down. He felt as if he was being undressed with this gaze— right through his skin and into his organs. But the feeling faded as soon as it appeared and Vincent straightened back up. Manon didn’t seem to want the reunion to end, so she blurted out, “How are you and Charles?” Vincent’s gaze hardened. “That’s hardly an appropriate question. I am working.” And with that he walked to the next table.
Manon sunk lower into her chair. “Guess I should’ve known things would be off— it’s been almost a decade after all.” “Who’s Charles?” Rody couldn’t help but ask. Manon’s gaze flickered between Rody’s curious blue eyes and Vincent’s rigid figure in the opposite corner of the room. “I don’t think he’d want me to say.” And with that silence once more fell.
Meanwhile not long after, Vincent strode back into the kitchen. As he did so, every chef in the room’s posture straightened up even more, their movements laid out with nothing less than a surgeon’s precision. The head chef slowly walked down one side of the kitchen, carefully inspecting each chef’s current task. Halfway down coming around the other side, he stopped abruptly. Every other chef subtly turned their gaze away, though the bold ones decided to watch— they all knew what happens if he stops directly beside a chef with that purpose in his gaze.
“What is that?” He asked plainly, not making a movement to gesture towards anything in particular. It should be obvious after all. The unlucky chef, who’s name was Jeanne-Jacques, slowly straightened up from his bent over position. A halfway cut carrot lay on the cutting board, two slices which were mildly slanted. “I-I’m sorry I’m not the one who usually cuts the vegetables I was originally in charge of the oven.” He stammered out in a rush, quick to get his point across in hopes Vincent would have mercy. “So then why aren’t you tending to the oven?” He spoke slowly, his tone sharp enough to cut through steel. “I…got burnt so Chef Mikhail let me trade.” Jean-Jacques forced out, his words tapering off like the vegetable in front of him. Everything was silent for a agonizingly slow two seconds before the next movement happened in the blink of an eye.
Vincent grabbed Jean-Jacques by the collar and shoved him towards the nearest stove-top, bending him over and turning on the flame in one swift movement. His face was but a mere inch above the flame, and he was paralyzed down to the bone, unable to even breath. “You’re a chef. You shouldn’t be afraid of fire.” “I-I—“ Before he could even attempt to apologize, Vincent cut him off. “Don’t talk back to me in my own goddamn kitchen, you damn dog.”
Silence stretched on between Rody and Manon in the dining hall, before Rody finally broke the silence. “What…was that, exactly? He seemed pretty pissed at the mention of Charles. Hell, even before then he was glaring at you like dog-water. Not to mention how he looked at me…” Manon shrugged, a slight frown of disappointment tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly back in school, but he was a lot more civil at least. I mean, we were friends! We had tea together, studied together, all that.” A pause before she added on, “I’ve never even seen him get mad. Not when he got a bad grade from the unfair professors, or when the immature students would say rude things to his face.” Rody nodded along as Manon recalled their student days before shrugging. “Well, it seems things changed. I mean, he’s famous now. Maybe he got an ego boost or something.” Manon was hesitant before agreeing half-heartedly, “Yeah, maybe that really is all it is…”
Rody decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Well I have to admit he was quite a looker. Was he popular with the ladies?” “Ah, well…yes, he did have a few female admirers.” Rody squinted suspiciously at her almost hesitant tone about the subject. “Don’t tell me… were you one of them?” Manon rapidly shook her head. “No, of course not! That’s not.. no.” Rody let out a laugh. “Just teasing.”
The rest of the night served to be just as they expected it to go; the food was served and it surpassed their expectations by leaps and bounds. Rody stated that nothing in his life had ever tasted so good. Manon, though spoiled in her younger years by her family’s private chef, was certain that this was the highest quality meal that had ever graced her mouth. Two hours passed in a flash and it wasn’t until Rody glanced down at his watch and did the math (it was always fifteen minutes behind) did he realize how late it was. “We should probably get going home.” Manon nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
As they gathered their coats from the coat room near the exit, Rody spoke up, trying his best to suppress the hopefulness in his tone. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” “I did too.” Manon replied with a warm smile that melted Rody’s heart like butter. A few seconds of unspoken yearning passed between them before Manon made the first move and she put her weight onto her toes and leaned in, her soft lips pressing against the other’s. Rody was sure his heart melted and slipped out of his body entirely as he leaned into the kiss.
Meanwhile, a certain pair of piercing dark eyes watched sharply from the kitchen window.