Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was the best day of Rody’s week. And that’s saying something, since he’s recently been unemployed. Manon had agreed to a date with him!

Rody didn’t have much money… so he brought Manon to a park to enjoy the sunshine. She looked so beautiful in it, but then again, she looked beautiful anywhere.

This would be the woman he’d marry: he was sure of it. Rody had already met her parents, and maybe after a year or two he’d propose on the day they met.

“Rody?”

Rody snapped out of his fantasy, looking over at Manon with a smile on his face. “Yes, ma cherie?” He responded, giving her his full attention. She seemed nervous.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this with you.”

Rody froze. Had he misheard her? Surely not, surely he hadn’t. It must’ve been his imagination, right?

“..Wh.. what?” Rody asked, utter disbelief on his features.

“Just.. this. It’s.. too much.” Manon mumbled, unable to meet Rody’s eyes out of sheer guilt. “and not enough in all the wrong places..”

Okay. It’s okay. Rody could figure out what he was doing wrong, and he’d stop! It’s easy! Communication is what makes a healthy relationship, after all.

“I don’t understand, we were- I thought we were doing good, what happened-?” He asked, desperation leaking into his voice as he placed a hand on Manon’s shoulder.

“Ugh. Nothing happened, Rody-“ She said, jerking away from Rody’s touch.

“Just- just give me some time!” Rody began, trying to convince himself and Manon that everything was okay. “I’ve been job hunting after the last place. I’ll get enough money, we can go out somewhere nice, I promise-!”

“Rody..” Manon sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Is it the apartment? - I’m saving up for a nicer place, really-“ He laughed awkwardly, a tightening feeling in his chest.

“Rody!” Manon exclaimed, stopping Rody’s rant in its tracks. “It’s not just your apartment or our dates, it’s-!” She paused, taking a second to calm down.

“I can’t keep watching you ruin any semblance of progress you make with yourself while trying to make me happy, it’s exhausting-“ She said, giving Rody a sad smile.

“But-“ Rody uttered, the feeling in his chest not going away.

“You aren’t… ready for a relationship.” Manon admitted, any semblance of a smile leaving. “You’re killing yourself over me, and- I can’t have you spending money on someone you don’t need.”

Rody was speechless. “You mean well, and I do love you still, I really do. But until you can learn how to care about yourself, this will only do harm for the both of us..”

Manon started to back away, and Rody didn’t walk with her, too shellshocked to even manage it. “And I…”

“I’ll see you around, Rody.”

-
-
-

Rody couldn’t believe it. He had been sitting on the bench nearby, trying to put his thoughts together. He could still win back Manon! He could get a job, make money, and prove he’s stable enough to love.

Suddenly, that tight feeling came back to his chest. However, it was so bad it got to the point he started coughing. He coughed and choked, unable to stop.

Rody buried his face in his hands, when he suddenly coughed something into it.

It was a curious sight indeed- there, in his hands, was a small pink flower petal in the shape of a heart. He recognized it as a lyre flower, shown to him by a florist in town when he was looking to buy flowers for Manon.

Apparently, it was native to some far-off place in Asia, which only confused him further. How was it… in him?

Maybe he was hallucinating. Standing up, he solemnly walked back home, letting the petal drop to the ground.

Chapter Text

Vincent was tapping his foot on the ground, waiting for the newest hire to show. It was getting harder and harder to find employees: even though this newbie’s resume was… quite concerning, given the amount of jobs he’s had in a small amount of years, Vincent decided to give him a chance. Why? He didn’t really know.

Suddenly, the little bell above the restaurant door rang, and in came the new waiter. He was a little taller than Vincent, which even though that wouldn’t be an issue, it still ticked him off slightly. It would make it harder to keep his imposing nature.

The waiter’s hair was rather messy, and he hadn’t tied his tie. A bit of an issue if Vincent wanted to keep the restaurant’s prestigious reputation, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. He’d actually be kind of attractive if he so clearly didn’t take the time to groom himself.

“Oh wow, you actually showed up for training.” Vincent commented, looking the waiter up and down.

“On time too!” The waiter, Rody if Vincent remembered correctly, laughed. Vincent huffed, rubbing his temples. “Barely.” Vincent snorted.

“This is a highly sought after position. Be grateful you’re even getting the benefit of being told how to do your job.” Vincent hisses, passing two silver trays for Rody to balance dishes and drinks respectively on. “Your resume show many… many jobs in the service industry, so I assume you have some of this down, though I’m choosing to ignore the rate at which you got knew positions-”

“Hey! Having twenty-eight service industry jobs over the course of seven years is pretty impressive when you think about it!” Rody interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. Boy, this man loved to talk out of turn.

“And even less impressive when you think about it for five seconds more than that.” Vincent said sharply, moving on. “But with those jobs you likely already know how to seat customers. The next ones that come in, you go and get them the appropriate table.”

Vincent tutted softly as he watched Rody, getting a sense on how the waiter worked. His methods were… clumsy, to say the least. As well, it appeared he hadn’t read the interview either.

Oddly, though, he had the capacity for patience today. If this were one of his chefs he’d surely have fired them for incompetency.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he watched Rody deal with a patron.

“Yes, do you have to-go boxes or a way to order ahead of time by any chance?” The man asked. Of course they didn't, it was stated in the price section of the menu. He just hoped that Rody didn’t say they did, because that would mean a long conversation and potentially a bad review.

“No, we don’t.” Rody confirmed. Vincent was… slightly impressed. Maybe he read the menus, but then again, it was dubious whether or not Rody could read.

As Rody walked over to put in another order, Vincent gave him a polite nod. “Good work. Just watch your tone. You keep holding your breath in randomly. I don’t want our customers thinking our service is anything but professional.” He hummed. Vincent knew this was a rather nit-picky comment, but he felt like he had to say something.

“But I’m not a professional-” Rody protested.

“Exactly.” Vincent retorted, watching as Rody went back to work in a huff. Vincent’s eye twitched as he watched the customer that asked about to-go boxes leave on the grounds they were ‘taking too long.’

Deciding to take a breather, Vincent stepped out back to take a smoke break. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up. He’s normally not one to have them, but other than lemons, they’re the only thing that really gives him a kick these days.

Suddenly, as he took a drag, he started coughing. Vincent wasn’t stupid; he knew smoking would cause this sort of thing. But this time, it was so bad to the point he felt like he’d cough up a lung.

He prayed Rody didn’t walk out back and witness this, but luckily Vincent managed to get himself under control before Rody had to empty the garbage.

Luckily, he got himself under control, and went back in to supervise the chefs and Rody.

Vincent watched as Rody continued to work the shift. Lucky for him, he had his first shift on a pretty slow day. Finally, as the day drew to a close, Vincent sent all of his employees home except for Rody.

“You didn’t completely screw up your first day. Would you like to help me close up?” Vincent asks, giving Rody a half-compliment in the process.

“Oh. Sure! It’s not like my house is going to run away or anything-” Rody laughed, replacing the garbage bag that he just took to throw out.

“Alright then, go-” Vincent began, before spotting a dead plate. “...Rody.” Vincent murmurs, feeling a headache coming on. “How did that happen?”

“Oh! Sorry, boss, that’s just a leftover order from that man who walked out on us, I can throw it out-” Rody rambled, scrambling to rectify the issue.

“No, Rody, stop, none of that-” Vincent muttered. “It’s just more food waste if you throw it out. I’ll put it in a bag for you, and you can bring it home.” He handed the bag to the waiter, earning him a smile from Rody.

“Thanks boss! Guess I’m not fired?” Rody joked, however Vincent did not find it very funny.

“Fired- why would I fire you?! That would be such a waste of time.” Vincent responds, looking at Rody like he had sprouted a second, even stupider head.

“You probably wouldn’t believe it, but it’s happened before.” Rody admitted, rubbing the back of his head. He seemed to do that when he was embarrassed, which Vincent mentally noted.

“I can believe it. See you tomorrow.” Vincent states sharply, escorting Rody to the exit. Man, he needed a drink.

Taking a second to watch Rody go out of sight, Vincent retreated to his office to review the paperwork of the day, noticing a photo of him and his ex still on the desk. Manon, if he had recalled correctly.

He was so obviously her second choice that Vincent didn’t understand why he entertained her fantasy in the first place. Maybe it was because he could taste a little bit of the bitterness in her baking.

Rolling his eyes, he crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash can, not giving it a second thought.

-
-
-

Vincent had finally finished his paperwork for the night, taxes and such, when his throat seized. That same feeling he had felt back in the alleyway came to him as he hissed and spat, choking on something in his throat.

Quickly going over to the trashcan, Vincent’s throat seized as he threw something up. Which was odd, considering nothing other then liquids entered him.

Grabbing a tissue, he noticed a smattering of yellow petals in the tissue. He had a small knowledge on plants, and was able to deduce they were petals from a narcissus flower.

He’d swear he never ate one before. Vincent wasn’t that stupid.
Thinking he was probably just sleep deprived, Vincent stuck the napkin into a drawer and locked it, leaving to head to his apartment and relax.

Chapter Text

This was the best day of Rody’s week. And that’s saying something, since he’s recently been unemployed. Manon had agreed to go on a date with him!

Rody didn’t have much money… so he brought Manon to a park to enjoy the sunshine. She looked so beautiful in it, but then again, she looked beautiful anywhere.

This would be the woman he’d marry: he was sure of it. Rody had already met her parents, and maybe after a year or two he’d propose on the day they met.

“Rody?”

Rody snapped out of his fantasy, looking over at Manon with a smile on his face. “Yes, ma cherie?” He responded, giving her his full attention. She seemed nervous.

“I don’t know how I’ve been able to date someone as useless as you.”

Rody froze, a sick feeling building in his chest. Why… why would Manon say this? He tried to speak, but only muffled noises were wrenched out of his mouth as he hazily watched Manon, disbelief painted on his face.

“You’re so goddamn clingy. It’s pathetic. I can’t bear to spend another day with you.”

Rody tried to follow Manon as she started to leave, but his legs felt like they were rooted to the ground and his arms limply swayed like leaves.

“Goodbye, Rody, I don’t want to see you again.” Manon said, walking away. Rody wanted to follow after her, but walking was hard. Standing there, time passed. A day, a week, months. Those bleeding heart flowers inched their way out of his body, taking him over. Maybe he deserved this. He failed Manon, after all.

His body, and the park surrounding, slowly grew. Less and less people visited, leaving him alone.

Suddenly, something changed. There was someone else with him, but with his eyes covered by roots, he couldn’t see who was there. Their body embraced him, attaching themselves to Rody. Rody was overjoyed he wasn’t alone. If he could work up the energy to move, he’d lean into the touch.

However, this embrace felt suffocating. This person gripped tighter and tighter, unyielding.

More time passed. This suffocating touch never left him, even as they grew still, merging into the scenery just like Rody.

After what felt like a millennium of pain, the person’s grip stopped, whoever was there fell over, Rody following after, collapsing onto the ground as nothing but the petals he’d grown to despise.

…

Rody sat up, his heart pounding in his ears. He looked at his hands. They were his hands. He felt his face; no flowers sprouted out of his mouth.

He was fine.

Leaning over the bucket, he hacked up petals. It was… more petals than normal. Nothing too concerning, but about ten more compared to the two he normally hacked up every morning. He couldn’t stay frozen over some stupid nightmare, so he decided to go get dressed.
As he finished getting dressed into his uniform, he looked down at his watch.

10:10 am

Shit, he’s late! The restaurant would’ve opened ten minutes ago! Screw breakfast, he couldn’t be late on his second day. If he gets fired, it’ll take so much longer to make enough money for Manon.

Grabbing his bike, he rushed out of his apartment, running down the stairs. If only he had an umbrella for the rain. Maybe if he bikes faster he’ll make it.

…

Absolutely drenched, Rody let out a sigh of relief as the restaurant came into view. Hopefully Vincent won’t be too pissed he’s late. But given his current view of Vince as a person, Rody sincerely doubted it.

Opening the door, he was met with a very pissed-off Vincent, carrying a clipboard and drinking from the cup of tea next to him. Drawing in a breath, Rody prepared for the inevitable scolding. “Sorry I’m late-” Rody uttered awkwardly, a nervous smile on his face as he closed the door behind him.

“Sorry!? Sorry doesn’t cut it, it’s only your second day and you already-“ Vincent paused, his eyes turning to slits as he examined Rody’s sopping wet form. “…why do you look like that?”

“I thought biking really fast through the rain would dry me as I go… but turns out it just soaks me faster.” Rody explained with an awkward laugh. Vincent stared at Rody with mild disgust, before taking a sip of his tea again. “I’ll get you a towel so you can dry off. You can’t be seen by customers looking like this.” Vincent guided Rody to the kitchen, grabbing a chair and getting him to sit on it. As Rody sat down, Vincent got to work, drying his hair roughly with the towel.

After a moment of silence, Vincent spoke up again. “You do know umbrellas exist for a reason, yes?” Vincent asked, ringing out the towel before going back to the waiter’s hair.

“Don’t own one.” Rody responded without missing a beat. Vincent stared at him with a deadpan expression for the third time this morning.

“…I’m giving you mine for the ride back, so this doesn’t happen again.” Vincent sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh, thank you!” Rody exclaimed with a grin. “But wait… how are you going to get home without one?” He asked, concern tinging his tone.

“I live here, Rody.” Vincent huffed flatly, annoyance painted on his face. “Like… in the restaurant?” Rody asked, even though in immediate hindsight that was a stupid question.

“My apartment’s upstairs.” Vincent shrugged, gently running the towel through Rody’s hair. He occasionally lingered for slightly too long, but Rody never noticed.
“Oh, yeah, that makes a lot more sense. My bad.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Is there a problem with that?” Vincent questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no problem with that, it’s- it’s just worrying? Like if something happens its all gonna be-” He started, before Vincent interrupted him by throwing the wet towel in his face.

“If you have time to talk nonsense, then you’re ready to work.” Vincent stated firmly, moving back into the kitchen and leaving Rody to get to work.

…

Rody busied himself with work that day. He had an easier time with the customers, even if some of the more obviously stuck-up ones gave him the hairy eyeball for starting up a conversation. Like a decent human being. Oddly enough, it seems like his coughing flared up in the restaurant, so whenever he took the trash out he’d take a second to cough a petal or two into the trash bag.

He wished he could go to the doctor about it, but what would he say? “Oh, after me and my girlfriend fought I suddenly keeled over and coughed up petals from ASIA, and they keep coming even though there’s no obvious source?” Obviously not. Finishing up throwing out the third trash bag that day, he went back into the restaurant. Vincent was standing next to the door with his tea, and because the people he had seated were still eating, he decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hey Vince, can I ask you something-” Rody asked as Vince turned to look at him. “It’s chef.” He responded flatly, an unimpressed look on his face. “Right- uhm, chef- can I ask you something?”

“I doubt you have enough free time on your second day to ask me something.” Vincent said, rolling his eyes as he went back to watching over his cooks. “Yeah, but I’m bored, and I don’t see you doing much back here!”

“I’m supervising. I expect all my cooks to prepare the dishes with perfection, so if it becomes slightly off I may need to step in.” Vincent commented to a dumbfounded Rody. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Rody asked, tilting his head. “Sorry to interrupt your questions, but you know asking so many has a bad outlook on your job, right?” Vincent commented, and Rody decided it was high time he got back to work.

Eventually, as the day passed without any more hitches and the occasional flower vomit, Rody was finally done.

“Rody?” Vincent called, beckoning Rody over. Praying it wasnt more work, he walked over, to be met with a container being handed to him. Inside, there were blueberry crepes with some kind of yellow garnish that Rody couldn’t recognize.

“You don’t seem able to take care of yourself, and I’d prefer my employees didn’t starve.” Vincent explained as Rody was about to ask. Rody nodded, admitting to himself that he appreciated the gesture.

“Thanks, Vince. See you tomorrow!” Rody said with a smile, taking the umbrella Vincent had gifted him and the food, hoping on his bike.

It only crossed his mind later how Vincent hadn’t corrected him not saying ‘Chef’ as the way to refer to him.

How odd.

Chapter Text

Vincent drank a sip of tea, appreciating it. It was merely like drinking water, but he was still fond of the thought. It certainly distracted himself from what he did.

The flowers in his lungs haven’t ceased, and in fact, they only got worse in the restaurant. At least he could hide it with his smoker’s cough. But it only got worse when Rody was around. All the more reason to fire his ass. But Vincent just couldn’t. Something was stopping him in his brain, telling him to keep Rody close.

A lightbulb lit up in Vincent’s head. His unique illness must be caused by Rody in some way. All the more reason to gain his trust, keep him close… and it made him feel slightly better about what he planned to do to Rody. Maybe with him dead and his taste back, the illness would leave as well.

He paused his thought, choking and hacking, the air leaving his lungs as his body yearned to throw up what was in it. Vincent grabbed the bucket he had for this sort of thing, and threw up the flowers. They lacked stems, but the petals he had coughed at first seemed to have developed.

Feeling disgusted with himself, he took the petals off of the flowers and bagged them, taking them into the kitchen with the rest of his herbs.

Rubbing his eyes, he went down to the cold storage, wanting to get something done.

…

“What did you need, Vince?” Manon had asked as we met at my restaurant. I called her, wanting to question her connection with a certain new hire.

“Come in, come in. It’s cold out here anyways.” I had said with that smile, one that would normally charm girls immediately. Manon was smarter than that, but not immune.

“I wanted to ask about somebody I met that knew you.” I began as Manon had sat in one of the chairs, adjusting her headband before refocusing.

“Ah, was it one of my school friends? They seemed quite interested when we were dating.” Manon suggested, but I merely shook my head.

“He’s a new waiter I hired. Rody? He said he wanted to make money for you.” I explained, watching as Manon’s pleasant expression soured. “He called you his girlfriend.”

Manon sighed, fidgeting with her necklace. She looked extremely embarrassed. “Oh, no, it’s nothing-“ Manon rambled as I raised an eyebrow.

“He’s my ex. Great guy, but not really in the best state of mind at the moment.” Manon answered, a bit of sadness creeping into her expression. “I’m a bit disappointed he’s still trying to get me back. I love him, I really do, but he needs to focus on himself.”

That connected the dots for me. Rody seemed utterly obsessed with Manon. Love to a level so strong it’s supposedly killing him.

Maybe that’s what I need. I’m missing love in my dishes, maybe…

I felt disgusted just thinking about it. But I need my taste back. If I start with Manon… Rody loves Manon. He’ll love the food. In a real way, a real, true way.

“Earth to Vincent! Are you doing okay?” Manon had asked, and I nodded. “Yes. I was just worried he might’ve been stalking you or something.”

I changed the topic, wanting to get this disgusting thought out of my head as soon as possible. “I apologize for dragging you out here for essentially nothing. Would you like some leftovers for the ride back? They’re in the kitchen freezer.” I asked, planning it out in my head

“Oh, Vince, you’re too kind! That’d be great.” Manon smiled, turning her back to me. I lied. Of course I wouldn’t keep leftovers in the walk-in freezer, I just needed a private, inaccessible place.

As she stepped in, looking through the storages, I grabbed a frying pan off the shelf…

Vincent brandished the frying pan, closing the door behind him. Holding up the frying pan, he waited. “Are you sure there’s-“ Manon started, but she’d never finish her sentence.

A sharp crack resonated through the walk-in freezer as he bashed her face in. Swinging the frying pan again and again, her nose was flattened in. Sticky-sweet blood sprayed everywhere as Manon screamed in pain. Vincent shattered every bone in Manon’s face to make sure she died.

A euphoric feeling washed over Vincent as he stood over Manon, watching the life leave her eyes.

Vincent turned on the sawblade, watching as it roared to life. He needed to make sure.

…I refocused while cutting down the flanks of beef I recently got. It was rare, so I knew to use it for special occasions.

Noticing my shirt was covered in blood, I scolded myself. I needed to be more careful.

…

Out of the corner of his eye, Vincent noticed a sparkle. He turned around, picking it off the ground.

It was a golden pendant. Seemed quite expensive, like genuine gold. He bit down on it, and sure enough, bite marks showed up.

Opening up the pendant, he realized what it was. Two pictures, one of Manon and one of Rody. He must’ve thrown it on the ground when he got rid of Manon.

He needed to get rid of it somehow. Bringing the pendant back into his office, he took the pictures out, throwing them in the trash, and locking the pendant in one of his drawers.

Then, he heard his phone go off with a bunch of notifications. It was his friend group from college.

R: Hey, Vince, are we still good for dinner at your place?

J: What Richard said. Honestly, I don’t see why we don’t just have dinner at your place every other week.

Vincent rubbed his eyes. His friends gave him a headache, but he loved them.

V: Because I don’t have enough time on my hands to entertain it that often. See you all then.

R: Sounds good, Vince!

Vincent put down his phone, running at his temples. He still had a few days before the dinner party, so it wasn’t the first thing he’d think of. He’d just hire a caterer later.

…

Vincent sipped his tea as he watched the employees work. Rody had come in on time today, which somewhat helped his case. However, another issue arose in the form of his chef’s presumably gossiping about his treatment of Rody. He’s not deaf after all.

Of course, if Rody wasn’t… Rody, he’d be long gone. The chefs didn’t really have anything to complain about, as their wages were twice the size of Rody’s. Some of them may be incompetent, but they went through higher education.

Speak of the devil, Rody approached Vincent while he was smoking, having finished his tea. “Hey, Vince!” Rody said with a smile.

“It’s Vincent, Rody.” He reprimanded, continuing to smoke. “Right, Vincent, can I ask you something?” Rody corrected, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you want?”

Rody took a second to form his words, seemingly nervous around Vincent. “How am I doing so far?” He asked.

“Well, you aren’t fired, right?” Vincent responded, deciding to be vague. “Yea..” Rody began, before he quickly cut him off. “Exactly.”

“Also, are you supposed to be smoking in the kitchen?” He asked again, with Vincent promptly exhaling some smoke into his face. “Why wouldn’t I. It’s my kitchen.”

“But doesn’t that ruin the point of drinking tea? It’s supposed to soothe your throat and all-“ Rody responded. Vincent rolled his eyes. If only he knew the real reason.

“I can drink tea for the sake of it.” Vincent said, fiddling with the cigarette. “Nevermind. Ill get back to work.” Rody commented.

Vincent started coughing, as if he were hacking up a lung. All of the chefs and a dumbfounded Rody turned around to look at him, but he ignored them, promptly going into his office and locking the door.

Choking and wheezing, he went to the flower bucket. It took a second, but then two narcissus flowers were expelled from his mouth. All the more evidence that Rody caused this. He knew he should hate him, but he didn’t.

As he opened the door, Rody exclaimed in pain. Rushing over, Vincent stopped in his tracks. It was a garbage bag full of meat, and the broken frying pan was in there. That must’ve been what cut Rody.

“Ah! Sorry, I think there’s something sharp in the bag, it probably ripped it when I dropped it-“ Rody rambled as Vincent stared at him, internally panicking. Rody couldn’t find out. It’d ruin everything.

“I swear I didn’t throw anything out that I wasn't supposed to! At least, I don’t think so-“ He said. Vincent needed to distract him, anything. Rody paused, noticing the look he was being given.

“I can clean it up-“ Rody began, before Vincent slapped his face with the back of his hand, shocking the waiter. “…don’t worry about that. Someone else will clean it up.” Vincent said, pretending it didn’t happen:

“Let me see your hand.” He said, grabbing the first aid kit. He slowly patches it up, as Rody stares at him with a shocked expression. “You can’t be serving customers like this. Try and be more careful next time.”

It felt… oddly nice, touching Rody. In any context. Rody nodded. “…right.” He responded hesitantly, before going back to work.

…

Vincent waved Rody out after giving him squid-ink pasta, absolutely dumbfounded with himself.

Did he… like Rody? He hoped he didn’t. Rody was Rody. An idiot, for one. Even then, Rody was probably the cause of his hanahaki.

Taking a sip of his wine, he felt the oncoming headache. Vincent needs to think it over.

In a few days, Rody would be gone. His taste would be back.

But… did he want that?

Chapter Text

Rody squirmed and writhed as his body itched. Something was wrong. He scratched and scratched, it never being enough.

He turned around, screaming as knives appeared and cut through his skin.

…

Rody woke up in a cold sweat, almost falling out of the bed. He choked and coughed, resulting in him vomiting up a flurry of petals into the trash can. He hated it, he hated it all. It was getting worse by the day, and the waiter couldn’t understand why.

Nothing ever went right, nothing ever did. He screwed up every chance he had to be worth something early in life, so now he just had to be a good boyfriend for Manon. Honestly, if anything were to happen to Manon, Rody didn’t think he’d be able to live. What point was there when his only goal was to make her happy? It's not like anyone else cares.

At least he wasn’t late this time. Putting on the cologne he got, he decided to just arrive early. He still had Vince’s umbrella, so he’d take the time to hand it back.

…

He knocked on the door to Vince’s restaurant, smiling as his boss opened the door. “Morning, Vince!” Rody said, letting himself in. “I brought your umbrella back. Thanks for letting me use it!” He smiled, turning to his boss.

A flash of surprise went across Vincent’s face, disappearing just as quickly. “Ah. That’s… surprisingly nice of you. You’re also early, which is shocking.” He said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his tea he had left on the counter at the front.

“Well, I wanted to make up for being late the last few days.” Rody chuckled, rubbing the back of his head out of embarrassment. He then looked at the tea, gesturing at it. “What kind is it?” He asked.

“Not sure. The bag didn’t have a label on it.” Vincent shrugged, looking at the time. “It’s ten minutes till opening, so I’m going to check on the cooks. You should get ready.” He said, his eyes flicking to Rody before he left.

Rody got to work, passing the time by. He set up the tables, almost dropping a few plates in the process, (which luckily, Vincent didn’t see.) As people started to come in, Rody fell back into the routine he’s had for the past few days. It seemed his cologne was doing something, as his customers were a lot more respectful. He even saw a fifty dollar bill in the tip jar!

During a lull in activity, Rody took an opportunity to go and talk to Vincent. Stepping into the kitchen, he went over to his boss. “Hey Vince!” He grinned, getting his attention. “What is it?” Vincent said, rolling his eyes.

Rody took a second, not actually sure what he wanted to talk to Vincent about. “Uh- are you single?” He asked, honestly not sure what to expect, but Vince merely raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well-“ Rody began, trying to explain himself. “I dunno, I was just curious. You must get a lotta ladies, right?” He questioned, admitting to himself that Vincent is attractive.

“Sure.” Vincent said in a dismissive tone of voice.

“Well- are you with any of them?” Rody asked, ignorant to the weird look Vince was giving him. “Look- I’m not really getting what you’re digging for with this conversation.” Vince responded, looking a tad confused.

Rody blushed, not wanting Vincent to think he was hitting on him. “I guess just- why are you here? You stand around watching others work, you don’t actually cook anything, you’re more than stable in finances, why not just hire a manager to run the place while you kick your feet up and relax? Maybe even settle down with someone?” He asked, the ginger stumbling over his words.

Vincent let out an audible sigh, clearly not agreeing with the way the conversation was going. “Y’know I don’t just do this for the money, right? I have actual stakes to this. This is me settling down, so chasing petty romances would be a detriment.”

“Wh- a detriment? Who is this all for if it isn’t for someone else. What’s even the point if you don’t have a wife and kids to share it with?” He asked, practically in shock over such a statement that goes against his ideals so harshly. Rody cleared his throat, a small cough leaving him.

“Isn’t it enough to have it for myself?” Vincent asked, more confused than angry. Rody decided to end the conversation there, wanting to get back to work. This conversation was pissing him off, and an outburst was the last thing he needed, giving how many times it had gotten him fired.

“Nevermind.” He huffed, heading back to work.

As Rody took more orders, he felt more nauseous. Like it was getting harder to breathe. He almost dropped a few plates of food onto a patron because of it. Luckily, his fear of being fired was stronger than his fear of throwing up.

“Mister, are you feeling alright?” The voice caused Rody to pay attention, realizing he hadn’t let go of a customer’s plate of food. “Feeling great- my apologies.” He responded, giving the patron a smile.

“Oh- you have a little something sticking out of your mouth-“ The patron pointed out, and Rody felt for it. His stomach dropped as he noticed it as one of the heart-shaped flowers. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

Rody quickly went to the kitchen, deciding he’d throw the trash out and cough up anything in his lungs. However, he came upon an argument between Vincent and a cook, his boss seemingly chewing out the cook.

“Who the hell do you think you are!” Vincent spat to the chef, who looked embarrassed and a little scared. Rody could only watch, praying he didn’t throw up right then and there.

“Sorry chef-“ The chef started, but Vincent interrupted. “A sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, now does it?!” He retorted, looking the angriest Rody’s ever seen him since when he was slapped. “Do you think a dish like that is acceptable in my fucking kitchen!?”

“No chef.” The cook said, fidgeting with his hands. “Then why did you make it.” Vince responded, his voice a challenge. “I don’t know chef, I must’ve-“

“You don’t know!?” Vincent sighed, looking flabbergasted. “It slipped my mind, sorry Chef- someone had left some flour by the stove and I didn’t want it to get burnt-“ The cook responded, scratching his arms.

In a flash, Vincent grabbed the cook by the back of the head, holding the poor cook’s face inches away from the burning stove. “Don’t talk back to me in my own kitchen, you fucking pig.” He hissed, keeping the chef there. Rody felt nauseous. He needed to go, but he felt frozen in place just from watching the scene.

“If you plan on being a semi-decent cook, you should have zero reason to be scared of something as simple as a stove.” Vince began, going on an anger-fueled rant. “If you get burnt, you keep cooking. Being unable to follow safety regulations is your own fault.” Vincent hissed, his fingers tightening in the cook’s hair.

“Y-yes, Chef.” The cook responded, shivering in fear as the heat wafted in his face. “I couldn’t hear you.” Vincent snapped back, almost pressing the cook’s face into the stove, however he pulled the cook back.

“Yes chef!” The cook nervously said, finally being released. Vincent looked tired and annoyed now. Rody hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, finally exhaling.

“I need a break. Get the hell back to work.” He said, leaving, finally letting Rody slip by to sweet relief.

Stumbling out into the alleyway, trash bag in hand, Rody felt horrible. He coughed and coughed and gagged, falling to his knees. It was like his lungs would pop. Rody hacked and gagged, bending over on the ground.

Then came the flowers. The hearts, coming out in clusters. The pink color did nothing to soothe Rody’s mind. He hates pink now. It wasn’t just flowers: the stems left him too, bubbling up in one big mess.

Rody’s chest throbbed in agony. It was getting worse. He wanted to scream, but no air dared to leave his lungs, choked by the petals. He hit his chest, trying desperately to dislodge the flowers in his throat.

Thinking this was where he would die, his throat suddenly cleared. This gave Rody the time to notice he had completely missed the trash bag, the resulting mess all over the ground. He’s an idiot.

Nobody ever came back here, so Rody decided to risk not cleaning it up. He had to get back to serving customers.

As he reentered, he smelt the smoke wafting throughout the kitchen. Rody reasoned the smell was coming from Vince’s office. Refilling the garbage can, he noticed a small mouse poking its head out from a mouse hole.

“Hey little guy. Hungry?” He asked, talking to the mouse. Rody gave it a piece of cheese from the counter, watching it take the piece and scurry off. He knew he shouldn’t feed them, that they were vermin and all, but they were just so cute.

…

As the day came to a close, Vincent watched as Rody ringed up the last of the customers. The waiter had adapted surprisingly quick, even though he somewhat ruined the formal atmosphere. Vincent liked having him around.

Earlier, he had noticed Rody feeding a mouse. It was vermin, and was gross, but it inspired Vincent to swap the food he’d give Rody that day. He hoped he liked- no, loved it. He should. He would.

Coming out of his office, he noticed the garbage hadn’t been emptied. Rody must’ve forgotten. “Ah- Rody, you forgot the-” Vincent paused as he turned around, noticing the waiter had left in a hurry. Rude. He’d let it slide just once.

Walking over to the garbage bag, he tied it up. It was a struggle to lift it on the account of Vincent not being the most muscular in the world, but he could deal. The only thing was that he hoped none of the cooks saw this, given this kind of work was ‘beneath him.’ Vincent knew they wouldn’t dare mention it, but it’d spare the awkward moment for both.

As he stepped outside, his eyes immediately flicked over to something on the ground. It was odd. Peculiar even. Little pink hearts. As he kneeled down to look, Vincent realized they weren’t just hearts, but flowers, each attached to a green stem that connected to one long and thick stem. How had they gotten here? Nobody but Rody went to the alleyway, how would something like this end up here-

Vincent suddenly recalled that after Rody had coughed in their conversation earlier that day. He had a theory. A theory that would spell something horrible if proven correct, but he’d have to see. He collected the flowers, deciding he’d try them later.

Walking over to where he had the conversation with Rody, Vincent spotted it. Right there on the floor, almost tauntingly, was a little pink petal. He knew it might be a stretch, but given his own situation with, Vincent couldn’t help but think he and Rody were suffering from the same affliction. What other answer was there? The chef knew Rody wasn’t the brightest, but he had enough hope that Rody wasn’t eating presumably inedible flowers by the stem.

Heading up to his apartment, Vincent had an idea. If what he was missing in his dishes was love… maybe the petals would help. They came from Rody after all, someone with an immense capacity of love and compassion.

Going to his kitchen, Vincent grabbed what he needed to make himself tea. He got a pot of water, getting it ready to boil. As it did, he grabbed the heart petals, giving them a quick wash to get the gunk off.

After that, Vincent plucked the flowers off the stem, placing around the same amount he normally does into the tea, letting it steep as he went off to read a book.

…

Upon coming back, he poured himself a cup. It smelt… fragrant. A lot more then more things do. Sitting down with the cup, Vincent blew on it, before taking a sip. Something felt off almost immediately. His chest felt oddly tight, as if someone had been sitting on it. The feeling was uncomfortable.

Another sip. Vincent started feeling warm. Flushed in the face. This never usually happened, something was making it different-

Rody. Something was different between Rody’s flowers and his own. As soon as that damned waiter crossed his mind, it was like a wall was broken down in his head, the thoughts about Rody coming in like a tidal wave. It wasn't even a normal thought, it was just of the idea of being near him, talking to him, fucking hell, even the thought of Rody glancing over at him was making Vincent sweat.

Vincent was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he drank the whole thing, until he looked down. It wasn’t taste that made him like it, no, it felt bland as ever- but the feeling that came with it. He wanted more. It felt like his addiction to smoking- but with the primal subconscious that wanted him to engage in the addiction instead being his conscious thought.
Realizing that he felt utterly dirty, Vincent stood up and went to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he felt like someone else. He was sweaty, his hair was messed up, and his face was flushed red. Vincent was blushing, for fucks sake!

Vincent wanted to share the feeling. Maybe… maybe a future with Rody was possible.
He’d have to see.

Chapter Text

Rody’s eyes flicked open, trying to get up and start his day. But by god he felt awful. Throughout the whole night he had been on-and-off throwing up, to the point he probably only got three hours of sleep. At least the lack of sleep saved him from a potential nightmare. Something was making him sick. A soft groan left him as he lazily looked over at the phone. Maybe Manon was awake, and she’d answer his call. Maybe.

Rody shuffled over to where he had the phone, resting his head on the cool table for some kind of respite, and then dialled her number. Rody didn’t even have to think about it: Manon’s number was so deeply ingrained in him that he could probably put it in without looking.

[Ring]

[Ring]

[Ri-

Rody doubled over, hacking up a lung. It was happening again. Like clockwork, he threw up, fluids and flowers splatting onto the ground. He rolled back over, trying to avoid thinking about anything. Even avoiding thinking of Manon, as normally thoughts of her improved his mood. This just made it worse.

..No answer. No Manon. Honestly, Rody was worried sick at this point. Normally he’d get at least one call back. Was she serious about not seeing each other? No, she wasn’t. Manon knew Rody could do better, and he would. Rody just had to stop being sick.

He could theoretically call in sick, but the waiter knew Vince probably wouldn’t like that. Rody needed all the tips he could get anyway. No work, no tips. So with a wince, Rody sat up, and went to get ready for his day. He was getting close: soon he’d be able to take Manon out to eat. Rody had chosen a steakhouse, as he was mostly sure Manon liked steak. He hoped.

Speaking of food, his stomach growled. God, he was starving. Going over to his rickety fridge, deciding to risk eating the blueberry crepes. Opening up the container, he shoved a piece into his mouth, almost immediately gagging at the bitter taste. But after a second, he somehow wanted more. He was starving, and the food felt like a temporary relief to the void in his stomach. So, Rody ate the whole thing, not even noticing the bitter taste anymore. But once it was gone, the void in him came back. Not from hunger, no: something else.

Rody didn’t care to acknowledge it.

…

Opening the door, the waiter noticed Vince wasn’t there to greet him as usual. That was fine; he was probably busy doing manager things. Well, this did make Rody feel more eager to see him. Changes in routine being hard, ‘n all. He rubbed the sweat off his brow, looking at the tables.

Rody froze. If he could somehow become more pale despite being sick, he did. Every bouquet on the table held a familiar sight. Those flowers. It was probably a coincidence- no, definitely a coincidence, but it still made the waiter uncomfortable and on edge. Maybe he’d ask Vince about it later.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong: that people were looking at him. Of course Rody got the occasionally pitiful look, or the occasional disgusted look, but that wasn't all that Rody felt. Someone else was there. He paused, looking over his shoulder. Nevermind. Being sick was probably just making him paranoid.

Rody had to get to work. And so he did, ignoring the glances of other customers and the few other waiters. He was fine, he didn’t need help. Apparently, however, Vince somehow noticed, even though he hadn’t left the office. Rody had noticed this as a cook waved him over, the one closest to Vince’s door. What was his name again? Jaques?

“Hey, Rody, the chef wants you in his office.” The man said, eyeing Rody’s form. Rody forgot that he probably looked terrible. Had he combed his hair? God, Rody hoped Vince wouldn’t chew him out for this.

Rody anxiously opened the door to the sight of Vince reading. He closed the door, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “What are you reading?” He asked as he walked over to Vince’s desk, waiting for the other man to look up at him.

“Restaurant reviews.” Vince mumbled, his eyebrows scrunching up as he stared at the paper, almost like he was trying to bore a hole through it with his very gaze. “What does it say? Am I mentioned?” Rody asked, honestly curious.

Vince paused, thoughtfully taking a sip of tea. It looked like a different colour this time. Maybe he was trying something new. “It didn’t mention you, no.” He said, looking up at Rody. The waiter didn’t notice the flicker of surprise from Rody’s sorry state. “Awww- damn, they must not appreciate good service!” He said with a weary grin.

“Guess not. But nothing about that right now.” Vince said sharply, getting back to what he was going to say to Rody. “You look awful. You better not be fucking sick, or I swear to god-.” He said, and Rody froze. He should’ve just stayed home sick. But, the chef didn’t continue that thought, instead bringing the cup of tea to his lips and downing almost half of it immediately. It was kinda scary, but also a little impressive.

“...I am sick. I just know that you need me to work, and I need the money-” Rody mumbled in response, feeling small. Vince noticed the change in demeanour, calming down. “...It’s fine.” Vince stood up, walking over to Rody. “You’re going to go into my apartment, and I’m going to make sure you can get home without collapsing, alright?” The chef said, grabbing Rody’s hand. The contact surprised Rody so thoroughly that he didn’t say anything in protest, just followed.
Honestly, Rody’s feverish little head liked the touch. He didn’t recall the last time he held hands with someone, and it felt nice. Like he wouldn’t mind it if their hands were permanently stuck together after this. They might end up like that, given how much Rody was sweating. Or maybe Vince was? He didn’t know.

“Rody, do you want tea?” Vince asked, breaking Rody out of his train of semi-concerning thoughts. Rody thought about it for a second, his eyes flicking to the other man. “Why tea?” Rody asked as he was sat down on a chair in the living room.

“I don’t know. It’s just the traditional ‘get-better’ drink I guess,” The other man shrugged, patting Rody on the head.

“So… uh… you got a favourite food?” Rody asked, unsure what he was going on about. “Not really, no.” Vince responded, tapping his foot.

“That’s very noncommittal.” Rody chuckled, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. “Well, I only have about two options.” Vince dryly stated, watching Rody intently. “That’s not an answer,” the waiter shot back.

“I guess… tea, then. I have a specific kind I like.” Vince murmured, looking somewhat wistful. “But that’s not food. That’s a drink.” Rody responded to his boss’s chagrin. “Alright, if I had to choose a food, lemons.”

“Like lemon pie? Lemon tarts?” Rody questioned, honestly feeling a little bit curious. “No, just lemons.” Vincent responded with his signature deadpan stare.

“How can you stand eating just raw lemons? Aren’t they sour?” Rody asked, still digging. He rubbed the sweat off his brow. “I wouldn’t know.” The other man stated, and seeing the waiter’s confused expression, he continued. “I don’t have any sense of taste.” He admitted, and Rody couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, I could see the decorations out there, what’s that got to do with-” He began, before Vince quickly interrupted him. “Not- no, I lost my ability to taste food when I was younger. Minus really extreme flavours that come in things like lemons.”

Rody’s eyes widened, slightly surprised by the revelation. It was ironic, too. “Woah- What, really?? No wonder your food tastes like that, you must be a miserable cook!” He exclaimed, almost immediately regretting it. “What’s wrong with my cooking?” Vince asked, and Rody quickly apologised. “Erm- nothing, Sir!”

The two sat in silence for what seemed like hours, before Vincent started talking again. “What about you?” He asked, looking the waiter up and down. Seeing that Rody probably didn’t understand what he meant, he continued. “What’s your favourite food?” Vincent asked, almost seeming genuinely curious.

“That sounds pretty non-committal.” Vince responded in his best Rody impression. Rody sighed, before looking back up. “I guess just whatever the person I’m eating with is into?” The waiter shrugged, honestly not too sure. “That’s- Rody, that’s not an answer either.” Vince huffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“It’s better than lemons!” The other man shot back with a small chuckle.

“Nevermind. Anyways, wait here. I’ll get you some tea.” He said, before walking back to the kitchen. Rody closed his eyes, a soft groan leaving him. The light hurts his eyes. Rody almost dozed off, but Vince came back with tea. “Rody.” Vincent huffed, nudging the other man.

“Uh- wha-” Rody grunted as his eyes opened again. He swore Vincent snorted at the reaction, before placing the cup down. “Drink up.” Vince said, sitting down with Rody. Rody took a sip, surprised at the taste. It was oddly familiar, too.

“Hm. Thanks.” He said, not catching the slightly disappointed look in Vincent’s eye. “No problem. I’m going to head back down to the restaurant, feel free to rest up.” Vincent said, turning to leave. Then Rody remembered the question he wanted to ask.

“So, uh- those pink flowers in the bouquets out in the dining area, what made you pick them?” Rody asked, slightly nervously. Vincent cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t make a comment. “It’s Valentine's Day in a few days, so I thought it’d be a good choice for a theme.” He said, and Rody let out a small sigh of relief. “Alright then, bye Vince.” The waiter said, watching as the other man left.

Laying down on the couch, he closed his eyes, drifting off. It was comfortable here. Comfortable, and safe.

Safe.

…

Rody was lying in a field of daffodils, staring up at the blue sky. It was peaceful here. He didn’t recall how he got here, but did that really matter in the end? He didn’t think so.

Moving onto his side, he noticed a bush of daffodils in the shape of a body. Odd. But… as Rody stared at the flowers, he couldn’t help but notice how amazing they smelt. Not only that, he was hungry. Really hungry. Reaching out, he took a flower, stuffing it into his mouth.

It was the sweetest thing Rody had ever tasted. And so, he gorged himself on another, and another, and another, until every flower on the bush was plucked off in an attempt to fill the void in his stomach, this craving that never seemed to leave him.

He looked back down at the bush, frozen in place as Rody saw a familiar pair of eyes looking back at him, the expression that of someone long dead.

…

Rody woke up with a start, his stomach churning in pain. He needed to throw up. In a panic, he threw the blanket that had been placed on him off, and went to the sink in the kitchen, choking and gagging. The world spun around him, the dizzy feeling making Rody barely able to stand.

He recoiled as his body dumped out all the fluids he had drank, as well as the crepes from that morning. Rody stood there in shock, staring down at the yellow chunky mess. It felt as if there was this huge weight that left his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he washed out the sink. It seems like Rody had slept for hours, given it was dark out and all the lights were off in the apartment. He should probably make his leave, given he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

Heading down the stairs, Rody noticed that the door to Vince’s office was ever so slightly ajar. Even though he probably shouldn’t be nosy, Rody decided to go in to get a better look. He spotted the clippings on the wall, posted with endless praise of the restaurant. He never really understood the appeal of not being able to choose what you eat, but Rody shrugged at the thought.

Looking over to the newspaper, a small smile was plastered on his face as he noticed the review from the restaurant for the day. Hm. Looking it over, Rody spotted a small section about presumably himself that had been crossed out with a pen, calling him ‘brash’ and ‘unhygienic’ as he had been apparently seen coughing multiple times. It only lowered the review by .5, it seems.

Looking over to the desk, the only thing of note was the daffodil arrangement in a vase on his boss’s desk. Flicking his eyes to the trash can, Rody froze. Inside, next to a napkin, was a collection of crumpled up loving letters, each signed with an ‘-M.’ Manon. He needed to go.

Heading back out, Rody ran for the door, feeling utterly horrible and gross. He would go home, and ask Vince why he had that stuff in his trash. Good plan.

Chapter Text

Vincent rolled out of bed, a yawn leaving him. He had an amazing dream. Rody… in his arms… unable to leave… God, it was beautiful. He wanted to just… just destroy him from the inside out. To pull his heart from his body and hold it close. It’d probably taste delicious.

Hazily stumbling out of the bed, he went to the kitchen. Rody… he was still in his house. Boy, he was hungry. That ever growing void in his stomach begged for Rody. Begged for his smell, his face, everything about him. Vincent would have him.

He had the waiter right where he wanted him. Even if Vincent’s plan had changed ever so slightly, he could still enact it. Vincent would have Rody. Have those lovely petals. He’d feel. Slipping the knife out of the block, he turned around and stumbled back to the living room. Sneaking up to the couch Rody was at, he raised the knife, and…

He wasn’t there. Rody had left him. Vincent hissed in annoyance, rubbing his forehead. How dare he. Vincent went back to the kitchen, praying he still had leftover petals. Luckily, he did, however Vincent was running out. There was only enough for two more batches of tea.

The chef stewed in anger as he contemplated yesterday. He had invited Rody into his home, when the man was sick, no less. This was how he repaid him. Vincent angrily watched the pot boil, urging the water to do so faster.

As soon as the water boiled over, Vincent brewed himself some tea. However, as soon as the damned tea boiled over, his phone went off. Setting the cup down, he pulled out his phone, cursing under his breath. “Hello?!” He exclaimed, anger evident in his tone.

“As angry as ever, Vince!” The voice on the other end replied. It was one of his university friends. Vincent sighed. After the rather interesting week he’s had, he almost forgot about them. “Good morning, Maryse.”

“Good morning to you too. Just wanted to check in about the dinner party tonight, you’re still clear to host it, right?” Maryse asked, causing Vincent to freeze. Shit, he had forgotten all about that! He couldn’t just cancel of course, obviously they’d ask questions. Even then, he was fond of his friends, and genuinely didn’t want to disappoint. “Vince?”

“Yes, yes. I’ve got it covered. You’ll be arriving at six, right?” Vincent asked, crossing his fingers. “Yep, see you then. I know I’ll be on time, but not too sure about Jeanluc. You know him, always late.” The woman said with a laugh, causing Vincent to chuckle in response.

“Definitely. See you tonight, Maryse.” He said, hanging up. The chef practically jumped back to his tea, praying it hadn’t cooled. Luckily, it hadn’t. Taking a sip, he laid back against the couch, a sigh of relief leaving his lungs. The hole in him covered itself, giving him some relief.

Vincent thought back to when he woke up, and internally cringed. That wasn’t normal. It was like this tea made of whatever Rody had in his lungs cleared not just his stomach, but his mind. He prayed he wouldn’t run out. Vincent doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if Rody quits.

Shit. Speaking of which, he didn’t have a caterer, nor did he have entertainment. Vincent knew he shouldn’t keep Rody this close, especially after yesterday, but he really, REALLY didn’t want to have to break out his cello. He hadn’t played in years, after all. So, he’d call Rody, bribe him with overtime pay, and pray the waiter knew how to play an instrument.

So, he pulled out his phone again, dialled Rody’s number, and waited for the other man to pick up. Oh, did Rody pick up. “Hi-hello? Manon, is that you?” The redhead almost yelled into the phone.

God, her? Again? Vincent hadn’t gone through the whole process of dealing with her just for Rody to bring her up in almost every fucking conversation. “...-pardon?” Vincent responded, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, Vince! Sorry about that, I thought-” Rody began, before pausing. Vincent rolled his eyes, knowing that loverboy was probably fantasising about her again. “Nevermind. What’s up?”

“Are you free tonight?” Vincent asked, running a hand through his hair as he waited for a response. “Uhh..” Rody mumbled, and the chef sighed. He REALLY didn’t want Rody to get the wrong idea. “I’m hosting a dinner party. I’m just checking if you are available.” Vincent said in response, mild annoyance in his tone.

“Oh! That’s what you meant… wait, you’re inviting me?!” Rody exclaimed, and Vincent could almost hear his metaphorical tail wagging a mile a minute. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Vincent paused for a second, letting Rody contemplate, even though he knew he wasn’t giving Rody a choice. “I- well, Sure? I just wanted to ask you about-” Rody began, before Vincent cut him off. “Great. Be there at six pm. Sharp. Don’t be late. Oh, and the dress code is business casual, and bring an instrument if you know how to play one.” He ordered, before hanging up.

Vincent sat back down on the couch, looking down at the empty tea cup, the remains of petals drying at the bottom. He… he loved Rody. A lot. Maybe he’d talk to one of his friends about it. They probably wouldn’t be of much help, they’d probably start to tease him about actually finding a lover he was attracted to, but he knew he needed to tell someone. Anyone.

Going to the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face to make sure he was awake. Vincent yawned again, however when he opened his eyes, he was met with…

Her. Standing behind him, she stared him down through the mirror, her voided face boring into Vincent’s. ‘You did this to me,’ Her face seemed to say, although there wasn’t much expression it could show in the first place. ‘Rody will be scared of you if he finds out. He’ll hate you. I hope he hates you. You deserve to lose everything.’

Vincent stared at her, knowing he’d have to turn around. Have to face her. Face the object of his suffering, the thing that stopped him from being with Rody. Being brave, he inhaled, and turned around, being met with… nothing. Vincent sighed, going to get started with his day. He was probably still tired.

…

Rody straightened himself up mentally preparing to knock on the door to Vince’s apartment. Guitar in one hand, he knocked on the door, praying things weren’t as awkward as yesterday.

“God… why does it feel like I’m walking into a mousetrap?” Rody mumbled under his breath, honestly feeling sick to his stomach. Something was telling him to run. “Maybe I should just ditch him or something and tell him I got a flat tire-” He uttered, before Vincent opened the door and stared him down.

“Good, you made it.” Vince said, sounding almost… happy. Odd.

“Oh! Hey…! Yes, here I am, in the flesh. Super stoked to be back here, wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on this lovely night-“ Rody rambled, accidentally laying on the charm when in reality he didn’t know what to say. “Brought a guitar, like you said I should-“

“You don’t need to act so excited. Come in.” Vince mumbled, moving aside so Rody could get in. “Right- uh, pardon my intrusion.”

Rody stepped inside, taking off his shoes so that he didn’t track mud inside. He stretched, unaware of Vincent’s eyes on the back of his head.

“You smell different.” Vince commented, causing Rody to look back at his boss. “Oh- yeah. I ran out of my lemon cologne so I got a new one. ‘Eau de Narcissus’ or something. Wanted to make myself look good for the dinner party.”

Rody chuckled awkwardly, before looking around. “Wait- you said this was a dinner party, right?” He asked, wondering where the guests were.

“It is.” The black-haired man responded flatly, eyeing up his waiter. “Then why am I your only guest here?”

“Guest?” Vince asked, a ghost of a smile on his pale face. “Yeah, I’m supposed to be your guest, right-?”

“Hah! No. I had to find someone to cater and play music for them when they arrive.” Vince said with a sharp chuckle that seemed mostly genuine.

Rody paused, realisation dawning on his face. “…wait, you called me here for work?”

“The dishes I prepared are on the kitchen counter, you know where that is.” Vince began, in a tone near indistinguishable from when he was instructed on his job the first day he went in. “Go fetch them and ask around if anyone wants one when they get here. You can treat yourself to a wine bottle I’ve left for you when you’re done.”

Rody was mildly annoyed at being ordered around like this. Besides, he had to ask about Manon. “-Now listen here. I may work for you but I’m not your pet dog, besides, I actually am here to ask you about-“

Annoyingly enough, the doorbell rang, interrupting Rody’s train of thought. “That must be them. You were saying…?”

Rody huffed, staring to walk over to the kitchen. “Alright! Fine! I’ll do your bidding!”

He looked around the kitchen, admiring the scattered equipment. Rody, to be frank, had no clue what some of the stuff even did. He was a hazard in the kitchen, after all. Rody then turned his attention to the plates, and the bottle of wine that was left out for him. It seemed to have weird chunks floating around the bottom, but he shrugged it off.

Ignoring that, he reached for the escargot, deciding to start with that. Looking around, Rody took count of the guests. There were four. A man with blond hair on the couch, another man with a fancy fur jacket wearing shades indoors, which Rody didn’t know what to think of, a woman, and…

Oh shit. That last guest looked terribly familiar. Rody could only pray that his hunch was wrong, and it was just another episode of paranoia that seemed to plague him.

The waiter went over to the woman on the ottoman who eyed up his plate.

“I’d like that one, please.” She said with a small smile, taking one of the escargot. “So… who are you?”

“Oh- uh- I’m Rody. I’m a waiter.” He said, reaching out to shake the lady’s hand before pulling it back awkwardly when she didn’t take it.

“I’m Maryse. But… you’re serving while wearing that?” Maryse asked, looking genuinely confused and mildly concerned. “What’s that supposed to mean- what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Rody questioned, looking down at his getup. It wasn’t like his uniform, sure, but Vince said business casual, so he brought business casual.

“…nevermind. Whoever you are, Vincent must be getting desperate. Or he likes you! He usually doesn’t invite anyone outside our friend group, let alone someone of your level.” Maryse chuckled, eating one of the escargot as she did.

“What do you mean my- okay, nevermind, I probably don’t want to know the answer. Nice to meet you, Maryse.” Rody quickly speed-walked back to the kitchen, not wanting to continue that extremely, EXTREMELY awkward conversation.

He decided the cheese platter would be his next choice, so he grabbed it, and walking around waiting for another guest to flag him down. The guy on the couch did, so he went to serve him.

“Let me take one.” The man said, skewering a few pieces off of Rody’s plate. “So how did you end up meeting Vincent anyway?”

“Through work.” Rody shrugged, not seeing any reason to lie. “Oooh, so you’re a cook there?” He asked, causing Rody to shake his head.

“Not exactly, no.” Rody mumbled, honestly embarrassed. “Oh. A waiter, then?” The man questioned, and Rody nodded. “And he- pfff- he convinced you to come and hand out snacks? Is he paying you?”

Rody wasn’t really sure about that, to be honest. The call he got from Vince was so quick that he didn’t really pay attention to the details. “Oh my god, he’s not even paying you-“

Not even finishing the conversation, Rody high-tailed it back to the kitchen, wanting to finish the serving as soon as possible.

To get through it, Rody decided to pour himself a glass of that wine, as he’d get the serving done either way. Taking a sip, Rody let out a sigh. The taste seemed familiar, weirdly enough. And it made him hungry.

Anyway, grabbing the deviled eggs, he went back out and the man in the fur coat immediately flagged him down. “Oooh, what’s that dish?” He exclaimed as he took one, and bit down.

After a moment of chewing, he looked back up at Rody. “So, new guy, what’s your favourite thing about the chef’s food?” He asked, and Rody stuttered trying to find something to say.

“I like how it tastes.” Rody mumbled, the answer coming to him almost immediately. “And that is…?” The fancily dressed man asked while adjusting his shades.

“I…. I’m not too sure, frankly. The food tastes alright when I bite in, but as I eat it gives me this void feeling-“ Rody rambled, recalling his experience with the crepes. “In the way you can eat it and eat it and never be full, and even when the food’s gone you still want more. Does… does that make sense?”

The man stared at him as if he had grown a second head, causing Rody to feel awkward once more. “Not in the slightest. Isn’t that what makes him great?”

“Nevermind.” He mumbled, turning around, before the man added in one more comment. “Your voice is pretty loud, y’know. The chef can probably hear you.”

Rody blushed, and quickly left. However, before he could move back to the kitchen, he was called over.

“Rody, over here!” The waiter froze, not wanting to turn around just yet. “…Rody, is that you?-“

“Oh! Uh…” Rody mumbled, looking away from the man.

“It’s me, Richard from class!” Richard said, smiling at Rody. “Econ, remember? I think you were majoring in hospitality, too!-“

“Right, ah,” Rody began, quickly interrupting Richard. “College is a bit fuzzy for me-“

“I stopped seeing you after a while. What, did you switch majors?” Richard asked with a small chuckle, nudging Rody in the arm.

“Well… I flunked out.” The waiter mumbled, shuffling his feet. “Oh, we all kinda assumed that.” Richard responded, with a knowing gaze.

“-we?”

“Mhm! Everyone in class thought you wouldn’t keep up for long. Anyway, your poor parents, how did they take it? They must’ve been really disappointed.” Richard rambled, before looking back up at Rody. When the waiter didn’t really respond, he decided to keep talking.

“Well, it’s surprising to see you again! What I really want to know though, how did you end up working for someone like Chef Charbonneau? How much begging was required?” Richard said with a laugh.

Speaking of the devil, Vince came up from behind them, Rody’s unfinished glass in hand. “Richard, don’t overwhelm my employee.” The chef tutted, but he very obviously wasn’t serious.

“Anyway, Rody, grab your guitar and play something. Jeanluc is dying for entertainment and I’d rather be stabbed in the neck than try playing the cello.” Vince said, acting a lot more loose with his words. Maybe it was the wine.

“Ah, sure. Give me a second.” Rody mumbled, nabbing his guitar. He hadn’t played it in a while. Why was that again? He… ah, never mind. It wasn’t important. Vince wanted him to play, so he would.

With the guests sitting around, Rody couldn’t help but be nervous as he tuned his guitar, praying that it was actually good.

“Any suggestions?” Rody asked, trying to make light of his situation. With no answers, he breathed in an exasperated manner, and decided to wing it.

…

Vincent stared at Rody as he played, enraptured with the man. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed whenever he gulped out of nerves, his fingers manipulating the strings so expertly, it was like he was a work of art.

“Pff. Earth to Vincent!” Philip grinned as he nudged Vincent, causing the chef to almost spill his wine. “What’d ya want.” He uttered in response, slurring his words ever so slightly.

“We see you admiring your eye candy of a waiter.” Jeanluc chuckled, lounging back in his seat. “Don’t blame you, but even then, what happened to your girlfriend? Maria? Not sure what her name is.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. There was only one partner for him, and he was a few steps away. “We broke up.” He mumbled, taking another sip and flicking his eyes back to Rody.

“Hah, pay up, Maryse!” Philip laughed, causing the woman to roll her eyes and slip the blonde some cash.

“A- again with the bets? You’re gonna make each other go bankrupt.” Vince said with a chuckle, causing Maryse and Phillip to launch back into another argument about it. God, he loved the idiots he called his friends.

…

Rody laid back on Vince’s couch with a groan. The guests had left by now, and he was starting to get a little tipsy. He had already cleaned up, so he was counting down the minutes until his boss kicked him out.

“R-Rody?” Vince slurred as he sat down with his waiter, his hand immediately wandering to Rody’s thigh, causing the redhead to blush.

“Uhm… yes, Vince?” He asked as the chef was uncharacteristically clingy, leaning his head against Rody’s shoulder. He decided to avoid asking about it to spare the both from embarrassment. “Did ya have fun?”

Rody stuttered as he looked at the chef, the way Vince was looking at him as if he was undressing him with his eyes. “..yes. I did.” Rody responded, blushing like a beet.

Rody’s breath hitched as Vince kissed his way up his shoulder, aiming for the waiter’s neck. “‘M glad. Very glad.” The chef purred as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to Rody’s neck.

“Did you… did you want to move this to your bedroom…?” Rody asked, embarrassed and unsure what to do. He knew where Vince was planning on leading this, but Rody never had gone this far, even with Manon.

But there he was, being walking to the bedroom of his fucking boss, Vince on his heels. “I…” Rody paused, looking back at his boss, who was obviously horny and excited. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You’re very clearly drunk, and even then, we’re boss and employee. I don’t want to start something like this.” Rody rambled, feeling awful about not going along with it. “I’m scared. I like you, but I’m scared. I’m sorry.”

Vince paused, a flash of minor anger on his face that disappeared just as quick. That line seemed to have sobered him up slightly. “Alright. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have come on so strongly.”

Rody nodded, and pushed past Vince to get to the door. He only caught a glimpse of silver before he keeled over, throwing up those fucking flowers.

…shit. Shit shit shit SHIT. He did that in front of Vince. Even if he was drunk, Rody was sure Vince would remember this. He got teary at the thought, choked cries leaving him as he threw up more.

When Rody looked up, Vince was there, wiping up the flowers with a cloth he got from the kitchen. Rody sniffled, his hands shaking from fear.

“I’m not mad.” Vince murmured, gently holding Rody’s hands to calm him down. “I’m- I’m sorry, please don’t worry about me, I’m fine, ignore the flowers, please.” Rody sobbed, unable to hold himself back.

Vince merely nodded, helping Rody stand up. “It’s fine. I… I hope you feel better. You have work tommorow.” He said, guiding Rody to the door.

“Right. My last day.” Rody uttered softly, looking down at his shoes. Shoving down the butterflies in his stomach, he looked at Vince, and kissed him. Their tongues touched, gently embracing as the two shared an intimate moment.

When they broke away, the two were panting, and were red as beets. “See you tommorow, Rody.” Vince mumbled, a blush on his face.

“Good night, love.”

Chapter Text

Hey guys! I am so so so happy about the reactions to this fic! I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far with writing it, writing is hard lol.

I just wanted to say that it’ll be a bit before the next chapter is up, as I’m taking a step back to look at previous chapters, adding more to the story and world, making characters more interesting, and overall fixing the shitty quality that some of them are.

So, consider this intermission, and I’ll be back with the next chapter in a bit.

Chapter Text

Rody sighed softly to himself as he entered the building. It was time to quit. Yesterday was awkward, and given he had kissed his boss, it was in his best interest to get out. Besides, he had gained enough money to take Manon out to a steakhouse. A nice one at that!

Rody fidgeted with his hands, praying he wasn’t immediately yelled at as soon as he entered, given he no-showed that day. It would be awkward seeing Vince after yesterday. Best to hope that his boss completely forgot, and they could put all of that behind them. Besides, he wasn’t gay! He loved Manon!

The ginger man walked through the kitchen, ignoring the curious gazes of the cooks. Rody immediately opened the door to Vincent’s office, surprised that it was even unlocked in the first place. Approaching Vince, he sighed, before opening his mouth. “I quit.”

Vincent looked up in shock and horror, the most emotion Rody’s ever seen on that man since the few days he’s known him. “Pardon-!?”

“I quit. I- uhm, you said this was a temporary replacement for someone, remember? I know I’m supposed to give you a two weeks notice and everything, but it’d probably be better for me to leave-” Rody rambled, unable to meet Vince in the eyes. Why oh why was this so difficult? It should be easy. It needs to be easy. “You’re probably going to want someone more qualified and… healthy… for the position.”

Vincent stared at him, his left eye twitching. Rody had no clue how the man was so hard to read. It always freaked him out when people kept their cards close to their chest, as for someone like him who wore every emotion proudly, it was hard to describe.

“...The position is still available if you need. You seemed to be desperate for it; and it’d probably be harder to find a new job given your…” Vince hummed to himself, the black haired man trying to find the way to word it. “Your… condition.”

“Yeah, and now you don’t need to worry about it anymore.” Rody stated, his tone a bit snappy. He wished he could take it back now that he noticed. After everything, he still wanted Vince to like him. Why did he still want Vince to like him?

The two stared at each other again for an agonizing minute, before Vincent stood up to meet Rody face-to-face. “...Did you at least like the leftovers?”

“Huh-”

“The- the leftovers-” Vincent insisted, looking down at him intently.

“Oh! Right. I had the crepes, bit of a bitter aftertaste but they were addicting, honestly. I’ll reheat the rest tonight.” Rody chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward yet charming way of his.

Vincent hummed, looking content with that answer. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ll send you out with some steak I made last night.” He said, the slightest of smiles on his face.

“How’d you know I like steak?” Rody asked, cocking his head. Vincent chuckled, walking towards the door. That chuckle sounded like the lightest of music, something so utterly rare from that man, it was like it lit up the room. “You mentioned you’d take Manon to a steakhouse today back when I interviewed you, so I figured you’d at least like it.”

Rody nodded, looking down at the ground. He waited for Vince to bring him the leftovers, taking the box gently.

“Have a good night, Rody.” Vincent calmly said, his hand gently patting Rody’s shoulder, however his touch lingered for a little too long, got a little too close to his face. It almost felt like Vincent had more to say, that he didn’t want to let Rody go. But, Rody had places to be, so he was the one who broke away from the touch first.

“You too, boss.”

…

Rody breathed in and out as an attempt to calm himself before calling. He had dropped the food back off at his apartment, as he had a date tonight. A date to win back his Manon. Everything he’d been through at that odd bistro, with that odd boss, he could put it all behind now.

…and get rid of the flowers. The bleeding hearts petals in his pocket reminded him of the infection that was hurting him. Surely, if they were brought about by losing Manon, regaining Manon would rid himself of them!

Stepping into the phonebook, he nervously slid the coin in. Dialing her number, he immediately started rambling. “Hey Manon! I know you said we should- take a break and all- but I was thinking maybe we could get dinner at the steakhouse you like! My treat! I just wanted to say sorry, and-”

[Your call could not be connected. Please call again or try again later. Good bye.]

Okay. No need to panic. Maybe she was just… baking. In the kitchen. Cookies, maybe. Or macarons. She said she was trying to make those before they broke up. Picking up the phone, Rody slid another coin in, dialing Manon’s number.

“...Hey, Manon? Hi, I tried calling you earlier but I don’t think you were at your phone. I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner anywhere, super casual, money’s no problem for me, so-”

[Your call could not be connected. Please call again or try again later. Good bye.]

Rody’s eyes got teary as he leaned his head against the wall, his chest tightening again. He needed Manon back. She was the light of his life, there was nothing but darkness without her. Nobody wanted him but her, and nobody SHOULD want her but him. Third times the charm, so picking up the phone, he slid a third coin in and dialed her number once more.

“...Manon? Hello? I need to know if you want anything to- to eat. To eat anything. I don’t want to bother you, but I just wanted to get dinner with you, if its alright-” Rody rambled, practically panicking at this point.

[Your call could not be connected. Please call again or try again later. Good bye.]

A choked sob left the ginger man at the same monotone voice meeting him at the other end of the line. What had he done wrong? What was wrong with him? He was a good boyfriend. He gave everything and more to Manon. He had done something wrong, one hundred percent. Manon couldn’t do something wrong. It was his fault. His chest tightened again, choking on spittle.

It was… his fault.

Picking up the phone, he desperately dialed the number. He was indeed panicking now. Was she alright? Was something wrong? Was she hurt?!

“Listen- I- forget dinner. Can I- Can I just hear your voice? You haven’t even picked up the phone once in the past week, and I-” Rody sobbed, realising tears were streaming down his face. “I just need to know you’re there-”

[Goodbye]

Rody cried, unsure what to do. Was he that worthless? Maybe he was. He was unlovable, to the point he didn’t deserve to be broken up with. It hurt. It hurt so much.

His head hurt. He swayed in the phone booth as his lungs felt like they’d pop. He needed to cough. Rody needed to cough. He threw up, flowers and petals and stems exploding out of him. It was too much. The man wanted to die, it was so bad.

When it finally stopped, Rody looked down and froze, the puddle of normally clearish flem now… red. Red of his blood.

He was dying. Nobody would be able to help him. He didn’t have the means to get medicine, and he doubted a doctor would be able to help him.

Rody was supposed to be strong. To be fearless. Thats what a man had to be. He had to protect people, be brave, and face danger with ease. But here he was… sobbing. Crying for help where nobody would come.

He’d go home now. Stumbling out, he walked past the bistro, with the lights turned off. He was tempted to knock, to try to ask for help. But he couldn’t. Rody was a grown man, and he couldn’t go crawling to Vince whenever he needed something. It would only further prove what a worthless piece of shit he really is.

…

As he arrived back at his cold and lonely apartment, Rody felt gravitated towards the fridge. Right. The leftovers.

Taking out what was supposed to be a ‘grilled hanger steak’, Rody opened the box and felt stick to his stomach. He should be at a steakhouse by now. He should be with Manon. But… maybe, just maybe, he could close his eyes, eat the steak, and imagine her lovely voice.

Sitting down, he looked at the meat, taking in the smell of spices and the semi floral scent he had gotten used to by now. Closing his eyes, he took the first bite. And another. And another and another and another…

He devoured the food voraciously, like a starving wolf who hadn’t been fed in weeks. Manon. Manon. Manon, why did you have to leave- Manon, come back, I need you, come back come back come back-

By the time Rody was done, he had licked up every last morsel of food on his plate. It was delicious. Leaning back against the couch, he patted his stomach. But to make the moment ruined, he had a horrifying realization.

He couldn’t remember her voice. The scenes he had imagine in his head, of her and him, she’d been silent. Rody was forgetting her. He was such a shitty boyfriend, forgetting her.

Throwing up some petals and speckles of blood, Rody limped to the kitchen. He needed to eat. Grabbing the can of beer he’d save for occasions like these as well as the leftovers, Rody went back to the table and feasted. No matter how moldy, he needed to eat. He needed something to fill the ever growing void in his heart that was missing Manon. Every inkling of the food reminded him of her.

As quick as the food had arrived, it was all gone. Every last inkling of food, in him. He felt full. He felt gross. He felt like he was going to throw up. Why was he like this? What went wrong? He wanted to give those he loved everything he had. What was wrong with that?

Leaning back, Rody wallowed in self pity as he slowly nodded off. He didn’t want to go to sleep, but all the sobbing and weak whimpering tired him out. He needed to rest.

He needed… to…
rest.

Chapter Text

Vincent sighed to himself as he closed up the bistro for the day. It had been nearly a week since Rody quit, and things hadn’t been active much. Boring, even. He fell back into that same routine he had for years, and knowing that there was more than that routine drove him mad.

He got up, ate his smoothie, drank a bit of tea, opened the bistro, worked, had a few smoke breaks, closed up, did whatever manager duties he needed to do, and then unwound before going to sleep and doing it all again. He hated it.

Vincent was lonely. He could admit it. The boring routine just made the depressing truth worse, as he had to acknowledge that he missed having Rody around. It hurt, and the man knew that there was most likely nothing he could do to change his loneliness. Vincent tried to play coy to that fact, but even then he had nobody to convince but himself.

The only good thing, Vincent thought, was the new waiter with actual credentials he hired. Her name was Céline. He was nervous as to whether she’d catch feelings for him, but she didn’t seem interested in anything more than the current boss-employee relationship they had, for which Vincent was thankful. She could never be Rody, after all. Nobody could be Rody.

His coughing flower fits were spaced out, but they were coming back more often now that Rody left, which worried Vincent to no end. Hanahaki wasn’t a well-documented issue, but from the few books he was able to find about it, it could be lethal if handled incorrectly.

Even still, he smoked. Maybe in an attempt to kill the plants with the fumes, but in reality it was just a habit Vincent would never really shake off. Burning the butt of the cigarette and tossing it into the ashtray, before exiting his office.

He couldn’t hold it off much longer. He needed to get rid of this sickness, lest it take him over. With a sigh, he turned around, and noticed Céline coming back from emptying the last trash bag for the day.

“Hey, Chef?” She asked, approaching Vincent. Unlike Rody, she consistently called him ‘chef’ or ‘boss’, never by name. “Make it quick, I have something to get to.” He responded, looking down at her.

“Well, you mentioned that the bistro currently owned fifteen waiter uniforms. I counted when you brought the box out, and including mine I think we only have fourteen.” The girl explained, her calculating blue eyes staring at Vincent.

“I doubt it,” The chef snapped, before calming himself down slightly. “But I’ll check to see if I made a mistake checking stock. Thank you for pointing it out.” He said, getting a smile in return.

“Is something wrong, boss?” She asked, looking Vincent up and down. Smart girl. She caught onto things much quicker than Rody did, or ever would.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I just wouldn’t be very thrilled to learn I’ve been stolen from.” Vincent explained, and Céline accepted that answer, however the look he got from her told him that she definitely knew there was more to that story.

“Okay, boss. I’ll be on my way now. See you tomorrow!” Céline called, making her way out. Vincent mumbled something in return, before making a beeline for storage.

Opening the storage closet in his office, he pulled out the box and dumped it on the ground, not giving a shit about the fact he would need to fold it later. He counted each individual pair, sorting them into female and male uniforms, and came out with thirteen. Fuck. Céline was right. Where was the fifteenth one? He had an amazing memory, and Vincent knew he ordered fifteen.

…Rody.

He had it. Vincent was sure of it. He didn’t give it back, as Rody was the type to easily forget things. Given that man’s lifestyle. Vincent wouldn’t be surprised if it was buried under dirty clothes.

However, as he ruminated on the fact, the man realized something; he could go see Rody. Vincent would have an excuse to see the object of his affections, even if it was only once.

So, he would. No matter if Rody was busy. He still had the other’s address, so he’d still know where to go. However, before he left for his car, he decided to grab two bobby pins he had lying around… just in case.

Vincent’s heart thumped in his chest, his cheeks getting rosy. This was like when he had the first sip of that tea. That delicious tea, that made him feel normal for the first time in years. That tea that made him feel such powerful emotions, that you could almost consider it a form of taste.

Unlocking his car, Vincent got in, and started the ignition. Trying to ignore the sweaty feeling in his palms. He’d drive to Rody’s place, confront him, and maybe offer him dinner sometime. They kissed back at the dinner party, and Rody initiated it, so clearly the ex-waiter harboured some feelings that Vincent could capitalize on.

He began to drive, imagining the confrontation in his head over and over and over again. He had no clue how this would go, and he felt nervous. The great chef Vincent Charbonneau, nervous. He was glad nobody would ever see him like this.

Before Vincent knew it, he was at Rody’s place. A sigh left him, a futile attempt to shake off the nerves. As he got to the door, he knocked on it. “Rody. It’s your boss. Let me in.” Vincent commanded, knocking a little harder. The windows were covered, so he couldn’t see inside.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was worried for Rody. Where Vincent was in a pretty stable state with his hanahaki, Rody seemed to only get worse as the days passed. It scared him. “Open the door, Rody! I won’t ask again!” The chef exclaimed, putting his full weight on the door. Surprisingly, it flung open, the only thing stopping it from opening being the piles of garbage.

Speaking of which, it smelt awful. The area was a cook’s worst nightmare, as piles of unsanitary garbage covered every surface. The lights weren’t on, and when he tried to flick them on they flickered painfully, so Vincent turned them back off. He then let himself in, zipping up his coat so that his nose was spared some of the fumes.

There, on the torn couch, was the scruffy form of Rody Lamoree. If that first day was bad for his hygiene, this was hell. He had a scruff, his eyes were glassy, and his mouth was stained red.

“…Rody?” Vincent asked, poking the man’s body, only to elicit a cough from the depressing mop of a man. It took him a second to notice the spatters of blood that came out. Was… was it that bad? Vincent hadn’t been gone for that long.

“Mm… Vince…?” Rody whined, the pitiful man clearly drunk as the chef could faintly smell the beer on his breath. That was saying something, given Vincent’s sense of smell was weaker given his lack of taste. “Don’t… look at me…” he cried, curling up in a ball.

“You’re drunk, Rody. You’re coming to my apartment.” Vincent responded flatly, trying to hide his rapidly growing concern. Maybe it was the hanahaki talking, but he wanted to take Rody into his arms and never let him go if that was what it took to make him happy and healthy.

“But… I don’t work for you anymore… why did you come back?” Rody asked, his tearful face sniffling between words. It was almost adorable.

“You forgot to return your uniform, and I needed it back. Let me help you stand.” Vincent insisted, helping Rody up. The drunkard could barely stand as he leaned into Vincent’s chest, Vincent unable to be flustered as he took in the sight of hundred of little pink heart petals, all on stems and a few with roots. These were fully formed flowers that Rody was coughing up, and the amount of blood he couldn’t ignore. When the other wasn’t looking, Vincent scooped up a handful of the petals and shoved it into his pocket. He had an addiction to keep abusing, after all.

“Right-“ Rody hiccuped, the snotty man stumbling out with Vincent. “I’m… sorry my apartment isn’t the best…”

“Shut up. You’re clearly not in a state to take care of yourself. Here I thought I already knew you at your worst.” Vincent hissed, unable to help how mean his tone got. Rody clearly didn’t appreciate it either, as he let out a low whine at the comment.

As he loaded Rody into the car and buckled him up for him, a thought crossed Vincent’s mind. “What happened to you and Manon? Here I was thinking you two would be frolicking together in a field somewhere.” He commented, unable to help the jealously inflicted in his tone.

Rody looked at him, trying to stutter out a few words, before he broke down into drunken sobs. “I- she- I- she’s gone-! She’s missing…” Rody cried, sobbing into his arms, the man barely coherent. “I’m such a shitty boyfriend, I’m such a terrible person, I didn’t notice this- I would’ve told the cops, but- but I haven’t been able to leave the house-!”

“You’re not a horrible person.” Vincent stated flatly, despite knowing his words probably wouldn’t get through. “You’re sick. Deathly sick. You shouldn’t be expected to take care of yourself like this.”

Although, Vincent noted that it did make it more ironic if Rody ate the grilled hanger steak. Vincent began to drive back to the bistro, having to listen to Rody’s sobs the whole way. He felt remorse over killing Manon, given it made Rody this sick.

Eventually, they parked at the bistro, and Vincent went back to dragging Rody inside. What a heavy lump of a man. As they finally entered the apartment, he gently turned to Rody. “Alright, Rody. I’m going to get you a change of clothes, and you’re going to shower. You smell like shit.” He said, trying to pull away, but Rody only pulled Vincent closer, hugging him.

The two stood in silence, till Vincent broke it. “Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner that it was this bad? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his tone almost angry.

Rody sniffled, nuzzling into Vincent’s chest. “I… tried… but they couldn’t do anything, nothing worked, an’ I didn’t want to bother you, you hate me, I don’t want to burden you anymore…” he whined. Vincent sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that evening alone. How could Rody be this dense? “But…” Rody slurred, his sleepy and glazed eyes barely open. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You- you- fuck it.” Vincent hissed, pulling Rody in for a kiss. “That’s what I think of you. Now, let’s get you clean.” He stated, ignoring Rody’s blushing expression and stammering voice. He led Rody into the bathroom, pointing him to the tub. “Get in, and strip.” He stated, bringing out some soap.

“There, there is no need-“ Rody hiccuped, pushing Vincent away to no effect. “I can wash myself, I’m an adult-“

“Rody.” Vincent said, his tone firm. It took all his effort to not snap at the other. “You’re drunk. I doubt you’d be able to wash yourself without blacking out and drowning in a few inches of water. No buts, I’m washing you.” He explained, before adding on, “…I won’t touch you anywhere weird. You can wash your body, I’ll wash your hair.”

Rody nodded, a small cough leaving him as a few petals made their way out. This seemed to cause something of a chain reaction, as Vincent coughed up a few of his own. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, those big eyes staring at him. Vincent quickly picked up the flowers, pocketing them before Rody could see. It gave him an idea. Maybe… if ingesting Rody’s flowers made Vincent unable to think of anything but the other, maybe the vice versa was true with his own flowers. Maybe it could help. Save him.

Shaking the idea out of his head for now, he looked back at Rody, who was now in the bathtub. “I’m fine. Let me start.” Vincent hummed, turning the shower valve on and hooking it off the wall.

He gently wetted Rody’s curly hair, taking his time to get every inch. The other was oddly silent as Vincent worked through his hair, causing the chef to get worried. “Are you alright, Rody?” He asked, gently rubbing the other’s neck with his free hand.

“…hate your bathtub. It’s fucking weird.” Rody commented, still slightly drunk. The comment took Vincent off guard, making him snort.

“Well, I’m sorry the bathtub isn’t to your liking.” Vincent teased, moving onto rubbing the shampoo into Rody’s mop of a head of hair. At one point he softly scraped the other’s scalp, a groan coming from Rody at the sensation. “Want me to stop?” He asked, only for Rody to shake his head.

“No… I like it.” Rody mumbled. Vincent felt his face fluster, unable to bury his feelings for his waiter. He looked adorable like this, and he found himself becoming soft.

As he continued the monotonous task of washing the other’s hair, Vincent found his eyes raking over Rody’s form. “God, you’re pretty…” he mumbled before he could think. “What?” Rody asked as he looked back at Vincent, Vincent promptly splashing water into Rody’s face. “I said you look shitty. You need to wash your hair more.”

“Well-“ Rody hiccuped, “Fuck you too-!” He exclaimed, splashing water into Vincent’s face in revenge. “Your hair doesn’t look any better. It looks so shiny all the time!”

“It’s called hair gel, Rody.” Vincent hummed, putting conditioner into Rody’s hair. “Now shush and let me do my job.”

Silence fell over the room as Vincent finished washing Rody, said man slowly falling asleep from the gentle ministrations. However, just as he was about to drift off, Vincent stopped, being met with a whine from Rody.

“I’m done. Let’s get you dried off.” He said, and although Rody grumbled something about being able to do it himself, he relented, getting out and drying off.

Vincent guided Rody into his bedroom, sitting him down on the bed. “Stay.” Vincent commanded, treating the other like a dog. He went over to the closet, trying to find something Rody could wear to sleep. There, Vincent thought, pulling out a large fluffy robe and tossing it to Rody.

“I didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy to wear this-“ Rody chuckled.

“It’s from a previous partner. Put it on.” Vincent stated, the other obeying immediately. He could get used to this. “I’m going to go make you some tea to help with getting sober, as well as a large bowl for your… problem. Okay?”

Rody nodded, so off Vincent went. The flower tea never had any adverse negative effects, so even if it didn’t work, it’d still be a good idea to try. He quickly brewed the tea, his lungs tightening as he did.

Eventually he made his way back, only to be met with the sight of Rody, out cold on his bed. He should’ve expected that, to be honest. Sitting down next to Rody, he gently tilted the other’s head up. “I need you to drink this for me, okay?” He hummed, watching as Rody’s lips sleepily parted.

He forced Rody to drink the tea, occasionally breaking away to give the other air. Vincent hummed with approval when Rody finished. “Good boy. Feel free to sleep off the alcohol.” He said, turning off the lights and leaving the bedroom.

Heading into the kitchen, Vincent took a second to gather his thoughts. Rody was… sick. Badly sick. Especially if he was coughing up roots. But… maybe Vincent could help. He could help. In return, he would essentially have free access to Rody’s petals, the only thing that made him able to love properly. He hadn’t had the tea in two days, so it’d be good to start again.

Rody. Rody was back. Now, Vincent wouldn’t let him go again. Not like this.

Chapter Text

Rody had been experiencing a weird few days. Drinking away his sorrows, coughing up blood, having his water turned off because he forgot to pay the bills, but honestly, what was the point of trying to fix his life anymore. He was coughing up ACTUAL blood.

He was a jobless, soon-to-be homeless waste of space. Rody’s mind is pierced with a terrible headache, and the feeling of misplacing something. Why had he even quit his job? That was the only human interaction he was getting. He missed Vince.

That man had his life together, always knew what to say, what to do. He helped Rody where he was sure nobody else would, such as when he was sick. Rody just wanted to have him. He wasn’t sure in what way, but having him would be nice.

He opened his eyes… where was he? The smell of his house wasn’t assaulting his nostrils, and it felt like he was on a bed, not his raggedy couch. Standing up, he stumbled towards the wall, feeling around for a lightswitch. Shit. That familiar dark colour palette- he was in Vince’s house. Taking in the smell of the sheets, Rody took a minute or two to melt in the warm, comfortable bed.

How did he get here? He was definitely too drunk last night to make his way over here himself. Vincent surely wouldn’t have come back for him, not like this. He was way too much of a burden to take care of.

Rody anxiously moved out of Vincent’s bedroom, moving into the hallway he threw up in, revealing himself to Vince. He shakes that memory out of his head, looking for the other man.

“Rody. You’re awake.” Vincent hummed, poking his head out of the kitchen, with a small smile on his face. “Good. How are you feeling?”

Rody rubbed his face, trying to bring his words together despite the slight shock from seeing his stoic boss, of all people, smiling. “I’m feeling great. Bit of a headache, haha.” Rody rambled awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation, what to say, how to deal with the tension. He wanted Vincent to like him really badly. “How did I, um, get here? I swore I fell asleep at my place-“

“You forgot to return your uniform when you quit, so I went to your place. You were in such an awful state, so I brought you back to my place.” Vincent responded sharply, patting Rody on the shoulder. The touch felt great. Was he blushing? He was probably blushing.

“Ah- right. Honestly, I don’t even know why I quit. Spur of the moment, maybe.” Rody chuckled. He looked up at Vince, freezing as he noticed Vincent staring him down with an almost shocked expression. “…what?”

Vincent broke eye contact, his stiffness easing. “…nothing. Anyway, I made us breakfast. Would you like it?” The other asked, and Rody nodded eagerly.

“I’d love some of your food. I’ve missed your cooking, honestly.” He admitted, coming into the kitchen with Vince. His stomach growled audibly, eager at the idea of having something inside of it that wasn’t fast food or cheap booze. More the latter these days.

“I- uh- I-“ Vince sputtered, causing Rody to look back at him. It seemed like today was the day for surprises, as Vince was uncharacteristically flustered and stammering, unable to express himself.

“I just complimented your food, what’s the big deal?” Rody asked, more surprised than anything. “Surely you must get more detailed and lengthy compliments from a wide variety of food critics.” He joked, watching as Vincent brought two plates of bacon and eggs, decorated with some unidentifiable spices.

“Well… yes.” Vincent began, watching with intent as Rody started to eat. “But you’re different. You’ve never really expressed liking overtly fancy food and food that doesn’t really have ‘heart’ put into it, so hearing you look forward to eating what I make is an honour.”

“Oh.” Rody nodded, looking back up at Vincent. “You really do care.”

“Mhm.” The other hummed in response, before figuring out a question of his own. “So… your birthday was a few days ago. How was that?”

“How do you know my birthday?”

“It’s on your resume. February 14th.” The black-haired man explained, exasperation seeping into his tone as it was a simple reason.

“Haha, right.” Rody awkwardly mumbled, picking at his food. That day had been particularly depressing, but weirdly enough he completely forgot what he had done for most of the day. Something about trying to call someone? He forgot. “Honestly, I didn’t do anything that day. Too busy.”

Vince knew that wasn’t the whole truth, but he chose not to comment. “Well… if you want, we can do something tonight to celebrate. I know a bakery nearby that has surprisingly easy-to-eat food.”

“That’d be nice!” He exclaimed, practically beaming. Someone cared. Finally. “You don’t have to though, the day passed and there’s always next year.”

That brought silence between the two men as Rody continued to eat. It wasn’t all that uncomfortable, minus Vincent’s staring. It was… alright. Eventually, though, Rody broke the silence. “So… when do I get back to work?”

Vincent paused, before a laugh, albeit a strained one, left him. “Did you really think that I’d let you work in the state you’re in?” He chuckled, before taking Rody’s now finished plate.

“What- are you serious? How am I supposed to pay you rent?” Rody questioned. He was incredibly confused, and that tiny part inside of him didn’t want to be useless. That’d be bad, after all.

Vincent stared him down with a expression of utter confusion, as if the mere idea of someone wanting to be useful was beyond him. “Rody. I don’t want any money from you. I just want you to stay healthy, and not burn my house down.” He huffed. “Besides, you don’t need money for anything anymore.”

“But-” Rody sputtered, trying to piece his thoughts together. He really, REALLY didn’t want to stay in Vincent’s apartment all damn day. He just needed to find the right thing to say. “Well- I’ll get bored up here all day! And, and if I start to look sick or something, you’ll literally be right there! It’ll be fine…”

Vincent contemplated Rody’s words, before finally relenting. “Fine. But if anything bad happens, you’re staying in the apartment where you’re safe. Okay?” He asked, and Rody knew he didn’t really have any say in the matter.

“Understood, Vince.” Rody grinned, getting up to go over to Vincent, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you so, so, SO much. I promise I won’t screw anything up!” He rambled. The ginger buried his face in the crook of Vincent’s neck, treating him with a level of intimacy that went so much farther than friends. However, Rody didn’t realize what he was doing.

Eventually after a minute or two, Rody reluctantly let go of a flustered Vincent. “So… uh, I’ll go get a uniform on.” He chuckled.

“It’s in the leftmost drawer in the dresser in my room.” Vincent hummed. Rody barely acknowledged that as he left the kitchen, cringing at how awkward that was.

What was this feeling? He could barely go a second without thinking of Vincent. His heart was beating in his chest, he was sweaty, and Rody just wanted to grab Vincent, pull him into his arms, and never let go.

This was what love felt like, but- he wasn’t gay! He wasn’t one of those… freaks.

But as he changed into his uniform, that idea sat with him. Did it matter anymore? He probably wouldn’t make it much longer, and it’s not like there’s anyone in his life who’d be disappointed in him.

However, Rody was scared. He didn’t want to admit it to Vincent, not out of fear of rejection, but of fear for exploring relationships once more. He was never good at it, and he didn’t want Vincent to leave because of his own ineptitude as a partner.

So, he’d wait.

Vincent tutted softly as he watched Rody come out in his uniform, slyly checking him out, when something came to his mind.

“Ah- Rody?” He called, a small smirk appearing on his face as he noticed the man in question look over. What a good dog. “I hired a new waiter. Her name is Cérise. So, you’ll have extra help for the foreseeable future.” Vincent explained softly.

“Ah- alright.” Rody responded awkwardly, seeming like he had his objections about that. Vincent had no clue why. Honestly, he was more worried about himself. What if Rody had more of an attraction to women than men, and she took Rody away from him?

Vincent immediately extinguished that train of thought, realizing how stupid it was. Obviously not. Vincent wouldn’t let Rody leave that easily.

“You… hired another waiter?” Rody asked, a bit of a whimper in his tone. Vincent looked at him as if he had grown a second head, before slowly responding. “Yeah… I needed someone to replace you, and I didn’t want to waste time waiting tables myself.”

Rody nodded, and the two left it at that as they went down to the restaurant.

Vincent began to go through the motions of getting ready for the day. Opening the restaurant, letting the cooks in, updating his waiter, (now waiters) on the menu of the day, but now something made him… happy. He had Rody back, so even though his mood wasn’t overall different, a watchful eye could tell Vincent had an energy to him that hadn’t been there for weeks.

He had decided to retreat to his office, drinking more of his tea. God, he didn’t know what he’d do without it. Vincent pondered what might happen to the flowers if they were cured of hanahaki. Would the petals stop working? Who knows.

Vincent could feel himself fluster further as he thought of Rody. Maybe… god. That night he had the dinner party, he was drunk later that night, but he recalled the waiter… kissing him. Fuck, maybe he had a chance? He hoped- no, prayed he did.

He got up to peek out the hole in the wall, pinpointing Cérise and Rody, a sigh of relief leaving him as he went back to drinking his tea. Unknown to Vincent, his pining for Rody would be fixed that night.

Rody huffed to himself as he threw out the last garbage bag of the day into the dumpster. Today had been exhausting for him, as even though he surprisingly hadn’t coughed, Rody still felt out of breath often.

Walking back into the building, he noticed Cérise and Vincent talking. He seemed… happy. Rody watched from a distance, feeling a tightening in his chest. What were they talking about? Why couldn’t Vincent be looking at him like that?

Rody approached the two of them, leaning on the table next to Vincent. “Hey guys!” Rody said, trying to keep his tone normal, only for it to come out strained. “Whatcha talking about?”

“Oh! Hey Rody.” Cérise said, a small smile on her face. “We were just talking about what my work schedule would look like now that you’re here.” She explained. The girl seemed… alright. Nice, even. “Thanks for coming back, by the way. Took a load off my stress with the amount of people to serve.”

Rody’s eyes flicked over to Vincent, noticing him staring him down. “No problem.” He hummed, partially distracted. His thoughts felt- different. His thoughts, definitely, but molded into stuff he’d never usually think. “So, uh, Cérise. What do you plan to do tonight?”

The lady shrugged, fidgeting with her black hair. “Just heading back to my apartment. Need to make money for college, after all.” She explained. “What about you?”

“Oh, nothing much. Forgot to celebrate my birthday a few days ago, but now I got the time.” Rody chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, cool, happy belated birthday!” Cérise exclaimed, gently patting him on the shoulder. “Anywho, I’m going to head out. Bye Rody, bye boss!” She huffed, heading out the front door.

An awkward silence fell over the two men as they stood alone in the bistro. Rody cleared his throat, deciding to look over at Vincent. “So… uh. She seems nice.” He commented, unsure of what to say.

Vince nodded. “She is. Even though she doesn’t have much work experience, I don’t regret hiring her.” He hummed, beginning to out to the stairs to his apartment. Rody followed close behind, a bit of insecurity bubbling inside of him.

“I.. okay.” Rody mumbles, looking away as they got inside. Vince huffed, clearly mildly annoyed. He finally brings it up to Rody, “You’re being weird. What’s wrong?”

“I just… I dunno. I feel weird about it, but I’m worried you like her more? It’s stupid.” Rody explained, unsure himself of what was wrong with him. He hates it. Vincent immediately grabs him, gently grabbing Rody’s chin to make him look at Vince. Rody let him, even though he could very easily break away.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Rody.” Vincent hissed, causing Rody to fluster. “You’re the only one for me.” He said, gently pressing himself against Rody.

Unsure what to do, Rody pulled Vincent ever closer, kissing him. Vincent yelped as this happened, before melting into it. Rody’s heart pounded in his ears, unable to think of anything but the other. It was almost suffocating, how good it felt. When they finally broke away, Rody was practically panting, and Vincent had broken eye contact.

“OhmygodI’msosorry-” Rody began, before Vincent shut him up with another kiss, this one quicker than the previous.

“Shush. I liked it.” Vince murmured, recovering from the romantic tension. “This is- what, the second time you’ve initiated that kind of thing? Honestly, Rody, is there something you want to admit?”

“No- What? Wha-” Rody stammered, red as a beet from the pure and utter embarrassment.

Vincent laughed, cracking a genuine smile that Rody could practically melt at just seeing. “I’m kidding! But honestly, do you- want something from our relationship? More than what we already have, I mean.”

Rody stuttered, totally confused. What… what were these feelings? Were had they came from? He didn’t know, and even though the red flags were blaring in his mind, he wanted that feeling. Rody wanted all of it. “I… do. Can we try that? I mean, two guys aren’t supposed to do that kind of thing, but I really like it..” He trailed off. It wasn’t like he wanted or had anyone else.

“I’d like that.” Vincent smiled, standing up. “Let’s have that birthday dinner. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

Chapter Text

Heyyy sorry I haven’t updated this fic in like. Forever. I had plans for it (past tense) but after some personal quarrels with people in the studio INVESTIGRAVE fandom as a whole, I got a major turn off to finish any of this.

It’s been forever, but I do still remember what I had planned for this fic. If enough people want, I’ll edit this chapter to include a general list of plot beats in the rest of this AU and how hanahaki as a whole works in my interpretation. (Different from the normal one because it made me feel gross lol)

Again, sorry I left you guys in the dark for so long.
I’m writing a Stanley parable fic if anyone wanted to check that out????

Since like. 2 people showed interest in the plot, here’s a link to a document containing the general plot beats. Do not click on it if you want to hold onto the hope I’ll update some day.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/121SOMuG4UPtYob-92__FVxeHh_NV8Qr2RlnngOPqGGo/edit?usp=drivesdk