Work Text:
~-R-~
“But why?!” Rody looked up to his dark-haired boss, blood trickling down Vince’s mouth. His ear was dripping wet, hot blood down his freckled cheek. His breath was coming out in uneven pants as he tried to process what had just happened, but the ringing in his ear was overpowering to the point where it hurt to think.
Vince just looked down at him, his stupidly pretty eyes wide in rage.
No, that wasn’t rage.
The ginger blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze out of his eyes to look at his boss properly. He looked…different from how Rody would have imagined. Vince’s lean body was shaking, his hands by his side as he dropped the steel blade from his pale hand with a piercing clunk on the tiles, the sharp noise piercing through Rody’s damaged ear. Vince didn’t move at the sight of Rody flinching, he just…stood there.
Rody should run. Take his shit and get the hell out of here. Maybe he’d move somewhere more peaceful, preferably somewhere away from Vince. It wouldn’t be the first time Rody hitchhiked, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Besides, if he could survive this long with his mentally unstable boss, then surely he could survive some potential creeps on the road.
It wasn’t like he had anything to lose, anyway.
The work at the restaurant was shitty, rushed, and degrading. The only interesting thing about it was trying to pry information from Vince about the Chef’s lonely life, and even that had gotten tiresome by the end of it. Cracking the mask around Vince was a challenge, and while Rody did love a good challenge, it was… getting a bit too much. Too many inpatient Carrons, too many hurtful phrases from Boss. It would be hard, saying goodbye to the decent pay, but he would make do. He always did.
The only thing really tying to this location was Manon. And well…
He shuddered to think about her trying to push the thought of her…meat out of his head as bile rose from his throat.
He should leave. He was lucky he made it out alive. The longer he stayed, the more likely it was that Vince would just snap and end him already.
So then why the fuck was he still here, staring at the raven-haired man looming over him?
“I--” Vince started, his voice lathered with…uncertainty? He sounded generally speechless, which was stupid in itself. Was he speechless? He killed Rody’s fucking girlfriend, for crying out loud! Rody should be punching him in his stupid…perfect~--URGH! Perfectly normal face! He was a psychopath, a cannibal!
He should grab the knife on the floor and stab Vince with it! For Manon!
But he can’t.
With a huff, Rody uses his remaining energy to bring himself to his knees, struggling to get back on his feet. Only after Rody faceplants down again for the 3rd time does Vince sigh and give in, offering a pale hand to pull the ginger up next to him. Rody’s head is still screaming, his vision starting to blur as he looks at the other man's eyes. They were…very close to his… their faces almost touching…--Vince's dark midnight eyes are open wide and panicked, the normally calm and collected man breathing in a quick breath at the proximity. Rody tried to breathe in long and hard, hazily remembering Manon telling him that fresh air could help with headaches and such, catching a strong whiff of the addicting scent of Vince. He smelt like charcoal and cigarettes, but not in a dizzying way, his breath tinted with wine and blood.
“You- smell good…” Rody drunkenly gurgled out before he promptly fell onto the other man, losing the fight for consciousness and brain power as he drifted away.
~-V-~
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Vince couldn’t move; hell, he could barely breathe, each breath feeling like a desperate gasp for air. What had he done? What had he done? His heart was hammering against his chest…against the warmth of Rody passed out on him, blood dripping from the ginger's ear to his nice Chef outfit. It felt like his whole brain had bluescreened, the only thoughts surfacing were stupid, irresponsible ones of his…favourite employee. Laying on him. Rody was warm, and it made Vince’s normally ice-cold skin tingle with the new temperature, his fingers itching to pet his soft hair. He could feel Rody’s strong build under his layered clothes, prominent and strong…and oh god, he was heating up.
How could such a mere touch have such an effect on the ‘immoveable’ chef? It wasn’t like he’d never been in a relationship before; he wasn’t completely touch-starved, so how could some guy make him feel such a magnetic attraction?
Rody began to slip off his shoulders, his unconscious body almost hitting the floor again before Vince managed to snap out of it just enough to catch Rody in his pale--and skinny in comparison--arms. And that’s when he realised that:
Oh. He wasn’t heating up, Rody was.
Like, in a bad way. The boy was practically burning in his arms, sweat dripping down his clammy forehead as he panted wildly. Shit, did he have a fever? No, no, no, he didn’t want to hurt Rody--well. He had been…not in his right mind when he had…caused the loss of his right ear, he reasoned with himself. He really didn’t want the man to die…
Shit. Shut the hell up for one second, he yelled to the flustered part of his brain, forcing shaking arms to pick up the other man. He was…heavy, which was to be expected of his larger, more muscular build. For once in his life, Vince was grateful that his apartment was just upstairs and that he didn’t have to carry Rody to his own apartment. He really didn’t feel like people shaming him for ‘being gay’ or getting drenched…so his property it was.
It was really fucking hard to focus on getting Rody up the stairs when all he could think about was how warm the ginger was on him. He felt comfortable, inviting. Like he belonged there. But of course, such fantasies could never be the case. Rody had a girlfriend…one that Vincent had killed. He grunted, his wine-tainted brain not wanting to dwell on that for too long, or at least until he was sober.
Eventually, the chef reached the top of the agrevatualy long staircase, and began the lonely walk to his room. He wondered what Rody's room would look like. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Rody was low on the money side of things, but despite that, Vince felt that the redhead's home would look more…homely than his.
The chef's house was not a home; that's for sure. He had heard that 'home' means it feels lived in. His certainly didn’t. The many expensive couches and lounges were all for decoration, even his kitchen didn’t feel as lived in as the restaurant's one downstairs. It was cold, dark, and quiet. It mirrored Vince's personality, and normally, he’d be happy with that, grateful that he has such money to spend on luxuries. But tonight it just feels…empty. Lonely. Sad.
With a small stutter, he reached his bedroom. He had no spare bedroom. Rody would…Rody would have to sleep in his bed. It was totally normal, he reasoned with himself. Rody was sick, and he was just being a good friend and taking care of him. There was nothing else going on here, nothing that would explain the way his heart hammered at the image of Rody curled up in his sheets.
Totally normal, straight thing to do.
The dark-haired man gulped as he gently placed Rody down on the blue-grey sheets, carefully closing the red curtains beside him so that Rody wouldn’t be rudely woken up by the sun. He sighs as he grabs the bandage in his cupboard to treat the gingers' ear, trying not to get blood on his nice sheets. It was late, but there was no way he’d let himself sleep in the same bed as Rody. As much as the cute, cuddly sleeping figure of the man was enticing…
no.
Rody probably didn’t like him anyway. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came back to find his employee had run away by the time he woke up. As much as it hurt, he deserved it.
Ugh.
He needed to smoke.
~-R-~
God, his ear hurt.
Rody rolled over on his couch, trying to ignore the dazzling sunlight peaking through his half-closed eyelids. Had he slept on his ear funny? Could you even sleep on your ear funny? Oh, the great mysteries of life. His couch felt…different this morning, he thought groggily. More supported, more comfortable, proper. His makeshift bed no longer creaked every time he shifted, but it also felt… strangely cold.
“Mmhhhh”, Rody groaned as he forced himself to sit up, blinking sleepy eyes at the harsh sunlight. God, what time was it?
…
Shit, he was going to be late, wasn’t he?
He swung his feet over the couch, expecting to meet his grotty carpet, and maybe some fast food rubbish he hadn’t bothered to put away, but instead…clean, fluffy, neat rug.
What?
The ginger opened his eyes properly, and that's when he realised that he wasn’t in his room. He was in Vince’s.
He had slept in Vince's bed. He felt his face heat up as he tried to think of why-- Had he gotten, like, really drunk maybe? Nah, there was no way Boss would get that drunk...right?
Oh.
His blood ran cold.
That's right. His boss was a psychopath who had bitten his ear off. And eaten his girlfriend.
Rody winced as the memories from last night hit him like a truck, forcing a small gasp out of him.
Had…Vince brought him upstairs after he passed out? He- he didn’t want to acknowledge how hot that would be, Vince carrying him up the long staircase into his bed--
Rody! He’s a freaking psychopath! Oh my god-
He scolded himself, dragging his feet along the floor as he headed for the bedroom door. Where had Vince slept? Had he slept…beside him..? Surely not! Vincent Charbonneau wouldn’t bring himself to such an all-time low!
…Right?
...
Oh. Nevermind.
Rody’s hazel eyes caught on Vince as he made his way to the front door, trying to get out of the cannibal's home as fast as possible…. The chef looked tired. Like, more exhausted than Rody had ever seen him, his shoulders hunched and his eye bags dark. The dark-haired man stood on the balcony, taking in deep puffs of smoke. He looked…sad somehow.
Right. Rody had a choice to make. There was option 1: He makes a run for the door, hopes Vince dosn’t see him, and that the doors unlocked. If he makes it out, he can move somewhere far away and forget all about Vince and Manon and his weird relationship with the two. Start agin. He could be a brand new Rody.
Or.
Option 2: He stays. Goes to talk with Vince. He’s sure that there’s a totally normal explanation for the chefs actions. The job pays well, and he had a --albiet extremely trashed and messy apartment -- here.
It hurt because Rody knew the right option. He should leave. Be safe, be alive. Easy choice.
He furrows his eyebrow and goes to head towards the door.
Before doing a 180 to put himself next to Vince.
God, that stupidly handsome boy was going to be the death of him.
Literally.
~-V-~
The cool air hits his pale skin. He normally wouldn’t mind it, but it felt freezing in comparison to Rody’s warmth. God, he was so screwed.
Vince took a long drag of his cigarette.
Why did he always ruin these things? He didn’t understand! Every girlfriend that he’d gotten had never felt…like this. Every glance, every goddmn smile Rody gave him made him feel lightheaded, his heartbeat quickening at the mere sight of the ginger boy, let alone the feeling when he had made contact with him. Was this what love felt like for other people? He had never felt this way. Not with any girl or boy.
Gah! What was wrong with him?!
He breathed in the smoke again, letting the nicotine cloud his thoughts.
And yet he still found himself struggling with feelings, not knowing what to do with them. Was he supposed to flirt? How do you even flirt? Whatever he was meant to do, acting like a complete asshole was definitely not on the list. But after every time he pushed the other man away, every snarky comment, he still found Rody coming to the back office after every shift to talk with him.
Willingly.
Vince puffed out the air, noticing how it made a smoky cloud in the morning air.
Rody had asked him about his life, not even about the job, either! What his favourite food was, why his apartment was upstairs, and why he never took a break. The ginger asked if he was single, for fucks sake! God, he still remembered the day Rody had worn lemon cologne to work after asking Vincent what his favourite food was, as if it wouldn’t drive him crazy. He had short circeted for the entire day, his brain only being able to focus on the enticing smell of Rody.
Vince jumped back, burning his fingertips on the hot cigarette accidentally.
Too bad he’d ruined everything.
The sun was starting to climb the cloudy blue sky, reminding Vince of the boy sleeping in his bed and how he would probably wake up soon. Had he been smoking the whole night? Probably, knowing him. The tired man turned his eyes downcast, scanning the streets for a certain young ginger. He wondered if he would run away in fear or walk away with the confidence that Vince couldn’t bring himself to hurt him.
Well. Couldn’t bring himself to hurt him anymore.
Would he go tell the police? He thought numbly, or just disappear. He’d have to get a new waiter, he realised with a sting. That would be a heartbreaking process.
The morning air was nicer now, warmer. It reminded him of--
O-oh.
Vince completely froze, cigarette falling out of his hand and to the ground below the balcony as he felt…a heat coming from behind his back. His brain stopped functioning, breath stuttering.
R-rody..? He dared not turn around, in case he really was too high for his own good and imagining things. The hot ghost of a hand near his made his pale cheeks flush, brain stammering at the proximity.
“I-I just want to talk.” He felt Rody’s words before he heard them, clammy breath tickling Vinces neak from behind, sending a shiver down his spine. Oh god it was him. If he was blushing before, he must be a tomato by now, his eyes wide, and the only thoughts coming to mind being:
Holy shit. He's so close.
What had Rody been saying again?
Oh right. He wanted to...talk?
“T-talk..?” He asked hesitantly, his voice lacking the authority it normally carried.
“Yeah. Please don’t freak out, ok? I just want to know why” Strong hands lightly grabbed Vince and turned him around to face the ginger boy. It took all of Vinces will power to resist leaning into those inviting hands as he tried to ignore the way his cheeks were practically glowing red.
“Why?” He tried to push the usual sharpness back into his words, to drown out the growing attraction he was feeling.
“Yeah. You had a reason, right?”
Oh. Yes, he did have a reason. That reason being he was stupid at love.
“You only talk about her.” He spluttered out, dark eyes fixing on Rodys hazel ones.
“What..?”
“You got the job for her. Your favourite food is ‘whatever she likes’. You- the job pays well, Rody, and yet you still don’t have enough money to afford an umbrella. Do you put the money towards her, too?”
“Who-”
Vincent sighed. So he had been right. For once.
“Manon, Rody! Is everything you do just for her?” He almost yelled, frantically trying to make the other man understand.
“W-well…yes…but it's only ‘cuz she deserves the best! I’d give her my life if I could!”
Oh my god.
“Don’t you see!? You’re ruining your life for someone who doesn’t even like you! You know what she told me, before I ended her?”
Rody drew a sharp breath at Vince's words.
“She told me that your life would be saved! You were barely surviving, all because you refused to get yourself anything! Everything is all Manon, Manon, Manon! What about you, Rody!”
He stopped, out of breath. His eyes were beginning to tear up, something that he hadn’t let himself do for a long time. Feelings were for the weak, his Mother used to say. He had shown more feelings in the past 24 hours than he had for most of his life!
“What, so you killed her? How was that 'sposed to fix anything?” Rody strained. He was trying to understand, Vince realised.
“I-I..I DON'T KNOW, OK?! All I KNOW IS THAT I WAS SO SICK OF WATCHING YOU RUIN YOUR LIFE FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS GOING TO DUMP YOU!”
He sighed, finally acknowledging the pang in his chest, and lowering his voice to barely a whisper.
“Look, I'm... not good at this, ok? Feelings and shit. I was just trying to save you.”
Rody breathed out a long breath.
“But why? Why would you go to such lengths for me?”
Why? Why?!??
“I-”
“And I don't know why you would do it for me of all people, like I can’t even do my job--”
“Rody-” If he would just let him speak--
"WHY WOULD YOU KILL MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND OVER ME? ME OF ALL PEOPLE! I CAN'T EVEN DO MY GODDAMN JOB PROPERLY!
“BECAUSE I FUCKIN LOVE YOU, DUMBASS!”
…
“I- I love you.
~-R-~
God, he was screwed. He knew this would happen, eventually, didn’t he? Hadn’t it been the reason why he’d chosen to stay, why he’d gotten just a little bit too close to Vince on the balcony? Just to see his reaction, to see if he’d actually admit it?
Vince looked so ruined, tears spilling down his face; hell, they both probably did. Rody hadn’t seen Vince cry before. The other man's dark eyes wouldn’t meet his own, instead insisting on focusing on the floor, his eyebrows furrowed with…anger? Self-hate?
Also, what kind of a confession was that? Did he just expect Rody to forgive him? After he killed Manon?!
…had Manon really been thinking those things? That he was killing himself for her? Was she really going to break up with him? Rody didn’t want to believe it, wanted to yell at the man in front of him that he was wrong, sick, twisted. He should push Vince away, make a run for it.
Keyword: should.
Because as much as he hated to admit it, Vince was right, wasn’t he? His life was a wreck, he was barely eating enough to survive, and Manon…had been distant. There had been a time when the two of them were close, and would go on dates, and spend hours talking to each other. That time had faded when Rody had gotten his recent job. Something had changed in Manon…she had isolated herself. She said she had just ‘needed a break’, and Rody had tried to stay hopeful, but.
Vincent was right.
God, he should leave. Neither of them was ready for a relationship; they were just two messy men trying to deal with their problems in very bad ways. Vince with his smoking and killing, Rody with his ‘selflessness’ and silent suffering. They were two sides of the same coin.
...
Ah, fuck it.
With a huff, Rody gave in and wrapped his arms around Vince's…thin…waist, nuzzling his head into the chef’s shoulder.
He felt…weirdly cold, like his bed had, but in a comforting way. Like he was a steady, cool beat keeping Rody’s chaotic good in check.
Meanwhile, Vince had completely frozen in Rodys arms, his body shaking subtly, and his heart beat hammering loud against Rody’s chest.
“Wh-what are you doing..?-” He stammered, his voice breathy, seemingly unsure of where to put his arms.
Rody stifled a giggle at the man's stupidity. Ok, maybe stupid was too harsh, especially coming from someone who forgot to buy his own food--on the regular.
“Hugging you, dimwit.”
…
“Oh.”
~-V-~
So this was what a hug felt like? It felt good. But awkward at the same time. He didn’t understand; why had Rody done this? What could it mean? Had he forgiven Vincent? There was no way, right? He had killed Rody's girlfriend; he was dangerous. Rody should be running. But he wasn’t.
He was curled up against Vince, strong arms around…his waist. Normally, this sort of thing would have made Vince's skin crawl, but now? …it felt…nice. Warm. Safe.
“Why?”
The ginger looked up at him, hazel eyes wide. Oh god, his eyes were stunning. Like the most beautiful garden of greens browns and yellows, all marbling together to create something gorgeous.
“Why what?” Rody blinked, holding Vince just a little bit closer.
“Why would you forgive me?”
Rody laughed. “‘Cuz I love you. Yeah, you’re not perfect, but neither am I.”
What.
What.
Vince felt like his world had melted away; the only things still standing were him and Rody. Together.
“I-i thought you liked girls”
“I do.”
“But-”
“It's called being bi, idiot.”
“Oh.” So this was really happening?
“Im no good at love”
“Neither am I!”
Ugh, he was making this impossible! He should’ve just left while he had the chance! Vince didn’t want to reject Rody. But he had to. It was for his own good. He didnt mean to confess his feelings for the poor kid. And now he was in too deep to back out.
He should just--
Oh shit.
Rody had moved his hand up to Vincent's dark hair and had begun patting it.
And it felt so good.
He involuntarily leaned into the touch, breathing out the breath he didn’t know he was holding as he did.
Goddmn, Rody was irresistible.
“I don't deserve a boyfriend like you.”
“Well, you've got one”
And with a sigh, Vince finally leaned into the hug he didn’t deserve, rapping his arms around Rodys's broad shoulders. He was so warm and conforming and romantic--
“Why are you so cold?” he felt the other man whisper into his ear, causing him to laugh.
To fucking laugh.
“Why are you so warm?”
"Ha!" Rody laughed into Vince, causing his whole body to go all tingly. Rody was still rubbing his hair, and it felt so damn--
“Are we like, opposites attract?”
…
“Oh my god, you just had to ruin the moment!”