A/N: So sorry for the slow updates pookies, here's more chapter for u <3

TW: HEAVY ANGST, MILD BLOOD/GORE, SKIP TO THE FIRST ♡ · ♡ · ♡ · ♡ · ♡ IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH TOPICS

So here he was.

Drowning in his own pitiful hole of wistfulness and pining. They were dead, and they would remain buried in the graveyard of his mind as Vincent traps himself with just him and his anguish. His soul, his heart-- crushed into nothing. It had to be this way.

He'd tried. Nothing could silence the racket inside him, and he would do anything to take it all back. To rewind, to before the non-consensual, uncalled, unwelcomed kiss, before the panic and suspicions, before the murder, before that one point where things started to take a terribly wrong turn. It had to be wrong. Vincent bathed in the silence of his apartment, a messed-up, twisted war raging in his mind. 

A part of him wanted to end his own pain. An even smaller part of him wished it'd lasted longer, wished Rody had pulled him closer and kissed him back, kissed him until his lungs forgot how to function and he had kissed him like he loved him, loved him with the same intensity and ferocity in which Vincent loved Rody, or at least hard enough to convince Vincent that he did love him and let him bask in the blissful illusion just for a moment. A moment of kissing him back, just long enough fool him into thinking they were in some passionate romance movie.

That part of him, that flame--no, that would be too large. Candlelight--of flickering hope was snuffed out by the other part of him that just wanted to reset everything. This part of him was far larger in scale. 

Images, meaningless, empty images flashed through Vincent's mind, carpet-bombing it with hopeless strands of hope. His thoughts were jumbled up in a tangled knot that made no sense whatsoever. He hadn't even noticed his finger had found its way to his own lips, the same ones that had been on Rody's earlier.

Images of him and Rody, tangled up in each others' arms, his hands laced in his messy hair. Another part of Rody he'd grown to love. His mouth fitting against Rody's in a languid embrace, knowing it was wrong when it felt so right--two mismatched puzzle pieces, tied up in each others' light, merging their bodies together. Images and scenes that were too painful to think about. Vincent touched one of his scars, pressing two of his fingertips into the split skin, which was a by now a dried dark red and purple mess with dry discharge enveloping the edges. The pressure on his laceration set his pain nerves screaming. So he dug his fingers into the wound, the helplessness and hurt still refusing to seep out of his now reopened scar. 

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With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Vince trudged into his bistro, making an immediate beeline towards his office. The last thing he wanted to do was run into Rody- but he obviously couldn't shut down his restaurant, his only pride- and firing Rody because of his own mistake would be cruel, too. And Vincent couldn't even bring himself to think of killing that man anymore-- he was in too deep. 

He could only hope he would be able to avoid the Waiter as much as possible until one of them somehow work up one day and forgot about the incident. Unlikely-- but Vince didn't know what other option he had in his mental list of reasonable choice to make after a stupid decision.

Disregarding his cooks' nervous greetings as he passed them in the kitchen, he almost ran to his office, locking the door and slumping down on his office chair with a sigh.

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Much to the redhead's dismay, he failed to coincidentally run into the love of his life when he burst through the doors of La Guele de Saturne, his breaths coming out in short, heavy gasps from rushing not to be late again. He made it in the nick of time for his shift- but what else did he expect, really? Vince was probably hiding in his office again and Rody wouldn't get to see him until the end of the day. The Waiter groaned in exasperation, mostly directed towards himself and his alarm clock than Vincent. Sighing, he tried convincing himself that it wasn't his fault he couldn't get any sleep the previous night, and during the 3 hours he did get, he was dreaming of the Chef.

'I knew I shouldn't have set it on snooze 5 times...'

And as the hours ticked past and it was soon time for Rody to clock out, there was still no sightings of his favorite Chef. How lovely. After staying behind for half and hour in the restaurant to see if Vince would make an appearance, Rody ended up leaving with disappointment yet a newfound determination to find a way to talk to Vincent. After the Chef's kiss, he was certain he could bypass any limits he previously held for himself to run into him. He even considered camping overnight inside the bistro someday if worst came to worst- but then, after much debate in his head, he decided against it, realizing he'd probably get locked inside. Although.... Rody ended up deciding that if none of his other plans worked for the next month, he could perhaps tolerated being trapped inside a poorly-decorated restaurant until the next morning.

But for now, as the world outside grew dark and tiny dots of light littered the night sky in Paris, Rody set his alarm clock for 4 AM. If Vincent wanted to avoid Rody by knowing he never arrived early, the Waiter could certainly be up to play that game.

Long story short, Rody realized the hard way that Vincent could beat him at everything. Especially being early. 

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As the days went by, which soon turned into three weeks- Rody's hope and excitement grew smaller, along with Vincent's will to live. Actually, Vincent didn't really have any will to live anymore besides his only pride, his bistro. Vince wasn't seeing Rody's face now, either, and that alone made dejection his default emotion every day. 

It also left Rody becoming even more of an overthinker than he already was. The kiss had to have meant something, right? Lying on his ratty old couch and replaying all his life decisions in his head since he'd met Vince, he tried to fish out one moment- anything- when he'd done something to cause Vincent to think him as the plague. As Rody stared at the wall, never having felt more defeated, the silence of his apartment besides the constant ticking of the annoying-ass alarm block was abruptly broken as he stood up suddenly on the couch- and banged his head on the ceiling.
"I- AHhhhHhHhHHHHHH-!!" Rody groaned and sat back down, taking amental note not to get too excited the next time he got a genius idea. The neighbors might've suspected a kidnapping....

But going back to his idea, Rody decided that if he couldn't find out how to talk to Vincent alone, he might as well use the help of the only people who spent their entire shifts next to Vincent's office.... the cooks. If that kiss really meant nothing, Rody figured he might as well at least get to return the favor.

That night, for the first time in three weeks, Rody didn't set his alarm clock for anything, much less 4 AM. After all, the best that could happen if he was late would be for Vince to come out of his office to chastise him. 

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"Pleeeaaaseee? I'll buy you dinner! I... I'll convince him to give you a raise!"

Rody pleaded, holding a garbage bag as an excuse to be in the kitchen- not like Vincent would come out of his office long enough to care anyways. The Waiter had managed to keep the customers occupied with a meal or a menu long enough so he predicted he'd have at least a good 6 minutes before he'd get an annoyed complaint about being too slow with the serving. The lack of employment in La Guele de Saturne drove Rody crazy in these situations.

"Raise...? Find out how to convince that man to give you a raise before jumping to others- because clearly, you need it more than me." The cook scoffed, eyeing Rody with an amused expression- although his decision didn't seem to be wavering.

Rody visibly flinched but quickly regained composure. "Come onnn... we're friends, right? What are friends fo-"
"Bold. You have never interacted with me once before this." The cook cut him off, obviously unimpressed with Rody's current performance.

Rody groaned. He'd already talked to- er, attempted to talk to- all the other cooks during his previous break- and it was clear none of them were willing to lend a hand, leaving him at this cook's mercy.

"Please, uh.... respectable-looking cook... You're my only hope-!" 
Rody attempted again, refusing to give up and this time throwing in a compliment- which was hard to do when he didn't even know this guy's name. The cook merely shook his head, grinning almost tauntingly. 

"Sorry, waiter. I got better things to do."

And with those words and a dismissive wave of a hand, Rody saw his last chance to talk to Vince again walk away. 

Desperate and panicking, in the heat of the moment, Rody lost any sense of rationality he previously had. Quickly, he blurted out, not thinking in that moment- "Please, I love him!"

Oh, how Rody immediately wished he could swallow those words back. This was the first time he'd admitted he loved Vincent out loud... and to one of the Chef's random cooks he didn't even know the name of, out of everyone-! 'Merde....' If the word got out, he would be in serious trouble, to put it as a huge understatement....

The cook stopped, his back still facing Rody in a mid-walking-away-from-him position. Rody nearly whimpered, practically trembling and squeaking out a helpless "...I- I mean.... I meant that I love his... c-cooking...? I mean, I love him as a friend- no, as a boss, nothing more... h-he's a great boss...."

His stammering was useless, as it was obvious that he'd said what he said, and there was no taking it back.

Then, turning around, the Cook looked at the Waiter with wide eyes and an unreadable expression, although just for a minute, a flicker of something unintelligible seemed to flash in his eyes- empathy? It was fleeting, however, and gone too soon to tell as the cook gently held out a hand to shush Rody's desperate excuses. After a long, agonizing pause, the cook spoke that last words Rody was expecting to hear from him after what the redhead just admitted.

"....You owe me one. By the way, it's Aimé. Aimé Fournier."

With an encouraging smile, the cook mouthed "Go get 'im," to Rody before calling out loudly,
"Chef! We need you in the kitchen!"

Staring at the cook in a mix of awe and appreciation, Rody then made a second mental note in two days to ask Aimé to be friends later.

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Vincent wasn't suspecting anything when he dragged himself out of his office for the first time in what felt like centuries. He prepared himself to give a good lecture to one of the cooked for breaking a dish or burning a meal- but certainly wasn't expecting in the least to be pulled back forcefully into his office as soon as he stepped outside by the hand he'd missed so much, but would never admit it. Rody.

Before Vincent could say anything- not like he had any words to say from his dumbfounded brain- he heard his office door shut and the love of his life that he'd tried so hard to avoid- and had been successful, for the most part, until now- standing in front of him. Although part of Vince wanted to knock Rody out and run out of his office, his limbs betrayed him out of nerves, and the millions of emotions he hadn't felt during the past three weeks came crashing down on him like a tidal wave when he saw Rody again. The Chef found himself unable to move a finger.

"Putain d'enfer..." 

That was all the Chef could utter out before any other words he would've said were knocked out of his throat with The Waiter's lips- a kiss holding just as much swiftness, intensity, and desperation as the one he had Rody almost a month ago. Except the two differences.

For one, it was Rody who was kissing him. 

And secondly- this time, Rody didn't pull back and run away like Vincent did.

And neither did Vince.

From that moment, nothing was the same.

-End of Chapter Thirteen-