Chapter Text
Sunlight poured through the window, blinds that were hung not doing what they were meant to do, which was to offer some privacy and limit the light produced by the huge star in the sky.. But to the man's misfortune, the blinds did little to no help, mainly because they’ve been through wear and tear. The gleam poured across the apartment, tracing the tattered curtains, stained carpets from an unnamed substance —probably beer— peeled wallpaper, and many busted cooking electronics. The main focus was on the red haired man, who groaned in displeasure due to the sun.. Green-grayish eyes began to strain in a chance to find sight. Which he did after a few moments after fighting for his life against the burning ball.
Tears still stained his puffy, freckled cheeks, eyebags dark and present as usual.. Like they were the night before that.. and many days before that.. Rody couldn’t help it, breaking down over his now ex girlfriend, Manon. He felt so guilty for it too.. Why was he so dependent on the woman? During the break up, she described the man as something like a loyal dog, no rude intent behind it, it was just the truth.. Rody knew she probably wanted someone more independent, stronger, and didn’t get fired for the stupidest reasons; Like accidentally allowing a customer to use the employees only restroom— he got fired, even though recently his boss declared the customer was always right.
Rody rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands with a grumble.. Then a very annoying bell sound split through the air, piercing his ears with the memorable noise. Hand searched the ‘bedside table’ which was in reality a coffee table next to the couch he slept on. When Rody felt a cut in his hand, he knew he found the object. The shattered glass daring to pierce his skin, wanting to draw blood to mix with the tears that started to form at the sight of his wallpaper- Something as pathetic as that, he could just change it to the typical globe one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to it.
Rody tapped it a few times to make it brighten from the dim color to shield his eyes.. The colors filled his vision, his lock screen wallpaper was of Manon and him, in a park the two favored the most. Thick scarves wrapped around their necks.. orange, red and hues alike on the leaves that painted the ground. Easy to tell it was the season of autumn, his least favorite.. But with Manon, it would be just enough. Smiles painted their faces.. Rather only one was genuine, Rody could tell when Manon lied, her face held a light furrow of brows— in the picture, as well.. From what he could remember from the last blurred weeks, that was the day she had.. Well- put them on a break.. They didn’t actually break up or anything— he would hope.
Rody felt his eyes sting once again, tears beading at his lashes. He took a deep breath, inhaling the cold air of winter, perhaps even embracing it. The man wiped his cheeks once more; before he swung his legs over the side of the couch-bed, whatever it was called.. The lightweight blanket that provided little to no warmth slid to the carpet floor. Rody’s apartment felt suffocating around him, it seemed to be tighter every time he inched forward, chest tightened and he let out another sigh, this time shallow, soft and barely heard.. Annoying how the lingering smell of canned beer and burnt beyond recognition food was still present.
His fingers lingered on the phone once more.. and like he had done many times before, Rody’s fingers automatically dialed the familiar string of Manon’s phone number. It was like he was on repeat, any time he could, he would take another chance to get in contact with her.. As he laid on the couch, he noticed how much heavy back pain it gave when he awoke every morning; most solutions would be to add more cushions right? Well no, it didn’t matter.. Rody tried to recall when he began to sleep on the couch. Probably since he bought the apartment, eh.. Had to be long enough to where the indent of his well-built physique was indented inside the torn up couch.
The phone rung with impatience, awaiting for the directed caller to pick up, the ringing was starting to piss him off at this point.. but of course, Manon didn't answer, it went straight to voice mail, the girls familiar voice buzzing through the phone "Sorry I couldn't make it to the phone.. call again later, buh bye!" Another shiver pierced his body at the soft memorable voice. Rody dropped his phone beside him on the couch. Throwing his head back on the back pillows of the couch. Rather than be of major exhaustion or deepening depression that leaked into a pot of self hatred
“Of course.. What did I expect, she will never pick up rody.. Gosh you're so stupid..” He belittled himself, voice hoarse.. his chest seemed to tighten even more. A mix of an emotion he couldn’t pin down. Anger? Disappointment? Pining? Rody didn’t know, and that gnawed at him, like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. Fingers drummed on the plush of the couch, Rody tried to stabilize his breathing, ꒰ shes coming back soon.. ꒱ he thought.. but deep down, no matter how much he reassured himself, it was simply sweet lies, people like lies, they like how it comforted them it their worst times, but Rody couldn’t bring to accept something that simply wasn’t truth.
Rody pushed himself to his feet, avoiding the areas that held stains that randomly appeared, the chill bit and chomped at his skin, wanting to take him over. It reminded him that winter was edging closer. Though he could thank it for keeping him grounded. Rody’s steps were heavy with drowsiness, but he pushed himself towards the small kitchen of his shitty apartment. The foul smell of his microwave which was on life of death filled his nostrils, making him gag lightly. Rody’s hand found a glass cup, mended together with something like glue. He turned the sink faucet on, the lukewarm water filled into the cup with speed.. then he started to doze off, the liquid almost started to overflow from its space before he quickly reached to turn it off. Rody soaked himself in the process, he groaned in annoyance.
“Could this day get any worse…” The man grumbled, forcing the water down his throat, it did little soothing to the knot coiled in his chest. Rody set the glass down a bit too hard, sound echoing around his near-empty apartment.. sort of? It was full of garbage and a pile of clothes yet to be washed. Rody returned his eyes to the now mess of shattered bits of glass that painted his already chipped counter. It seems the morning light was already relentless, highlighting his mistakes like he had won a golden medal for worst person in the world. Reflecting over the stick surfaces of unwashed dishes and other misfortunes.
The humming of his fridge peaked, snapping him out of the trance he was in… tiles were cold and hard against his bare feet, making him clench his teeth for every step he took, sure he could wear socks; but all of them had holes in them or were unwashed. Rody, after a bit of stumbling, ended up in front of the fridge. He pulled the door open, the fridge seemed to hesitate but opened with a heavy grunt and a long-lasting creak. Shelves held little to no food, but what remained was either left over take out from a week ago, molding— and a bottle of something Rody didn’t want to name, nor could he because the label was faded over. It could be sauce, a drink, or something else. Rody didn’t feel like gambling the chance of sickness today though. Rody closed the fridge with a slam.. He can eat later, sure, but what could he do now.. Eh, showering would suffice.
The man dragged himself to the bathroom, hopefully a shower would wake him up.. and release the tension in his back muscles, to make it stop painfully aching. Passing the doorframe that had marks of measuring height due to the most recent tenet.. The cracked tiles in the bathroom were colder because of the cracked window that allowed more cold air in, Rody didn’t really care, nor did he have enough money to fix it. So it was a lose-lose situation in the first place. Speaking of money, he should probably go job searching today.. A nice bike ride would also do him good.
Rody peeled his shirt that seemed tighter than usual off his body, tossing it aside, next followed his boxers; Adding to the growing pile of yesterday's clothing.. Sure he’d need to wash them sometime soon, but his washer seemed to go against him, and once again he didn’t have enough money for a laundromat. Definitely not going to hand wash them himself. That would take forever —in his head at least— and Rody had better things to do..! Like sulk around in his apartment.. and drinking canned beer.. His face painted a light frown as he realized his drinking habits probably weren’t getting him anywhere. Beer cost money that he didn’t have and/or needed for other purposes. Rody decided he would cut back.. or try to at least
Rody pulled the curtain back, it seemed to squeak softly.. Or was that the rat infestation from his neighbors making it to his apartment? God hope not, more money would have to be spent, money he once again didn’t have!— the tub looked like it had seen better days, much like the rest of his apartment. His feet made its way inside, careful not to slip. Hand automatically reaching down to twist the knob, praying for hot water, but bracing himself for lukewarm water.. Rody waited impatiently; said lukewarm water poured down his features. It was hot enough to make him sigh in relief.. Rody let the stream of water wash down his shoulders, tracing the tense lines on his back.
The man began to scrub mechanically, before pumping out the last remnants of his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. It gave him a temporary peace to maintain, that was until his water began to grow cold, within minutes it began to rain at an icy temperature. Rody held himself there for a few moments, making sure to get out all the dirt and grime he had obtained for just laying on his couch. A deep breath to clear Rody’s swirling mind and then he stepped out of the tub. A great mistake, because the wind hit the poor guy in the face like a bullet train. It was beyond annoying at this point.
Water pooled around his legs, sinking into the cracked tiled floor to cause water damage. Most likely, Rody groaned, it seems everything in this apartment was against him. He pulled on a ratty towel, wrapping it around his waist.. His hands found the pile of clothes from two days ago.. Rody sniffed it to check for any remaining odor, a hint, but not too unbearable to the point where people would flee.. Therefore it was A-okay to wear in his eyes! Thankfully the day before yesterday's shirt, boxers, and pants were a bit more loose. So it didn't feel like his organs were being squeezed out. Honestly he felt bad for the people who wore corsets everyday.. What was it like fifty years ago? Rody didn’t pay attention to Royal history.. Or whatever it was.
When Rody finally stepped out of his bathroom, his mind drifted to the thought of food.. Nothing seemed edible besides the dry, stale croissant that was on his counter, wrapped with a paper towel so no flies would try to eat it, or whatever they did, they were so painfully annoying. He brought it up to his mouth, taking a bite, nothing to be tasted. Rody was thankful of the take out he had last night, it still had its remnants in his mouth, so that gave something of sorts? It was one of his favorite places to eat out, good food, and cheap. So very luxurious to him.
The croissant tasted bland, but it was something to fill a temporary hunger. The silence was heavy, emphasizing his complete solitude.. Manon was gone, he had strained ties with the rest of his family, no one to talk to about his situation, and zero support system. Rody couldn’t look back at his parents' faces, disappointed— because he dropped out of college, his grades were dropping when he reached high school. The truth was he never wanted to major in hospitality or anything of the sorts. The only reason he tried was because he wanted to be like his mother and father. Which made his self loathing sky rocket even more.
Rody’s foot pressed against the foot pedal of his trash can, it opened with a sigh. He swallowed the last bit of dry pastry.. that he could eat. Half of it was still present in the paper towel, it was dropped in the trash, joining the rest of his chance at a future. Hands rubbing his face once more. He could get taken out later that night, to feed himself for the night.. As for the morning after, he had zero idea what to do. ꒰ putain.. I should have just listened to my parents... ꒱ His parents told him to join his fathers company, he denied, wanting to be independent, all for that.. and now hes in this shithole.
Rody rested his palms against the counter, the surface sticky with spilled beer and soap residue, looking at the wall in front of him, holes that weren't meant to be there, but of course the past residents decided to ruin the unit for the future renter. What was he supposed to do.. Become homeless and ask for tips on the side of the road? What was the point of job searching, who would hire someone with ratty clothes, nine euros, thirty-four centimes and some lint in their wallet. Someone looking for a waiter would want someone.. Classy, exquisite, respectful.. Rody couldn’t sit still and had a twinging-everyday anxiety, also the patrons hated him!
When Rody’s phone buzzed, his eyes snapped towards it immediately, stumbling over to grab it off the table, falling onto the carpet in the process, he pushed himself up. A bit of hope ran through his veins, shattering immediately when it was a text from his landlord, Gaëlle. Rody rolled his eyes in annoyance, tapping the message with a grumble about pissing me off and of course, to no surprise it was a reminder about his overdue rent. He sighed, dragging a hand through his damp, flamed hair; in an attempt to ignore stress… which of course failed miserably
A pause, Rody was trying to recall his earlier plans.. slumping on the couch, mind fuzzy.. Ah that god damn pastry was probably moldy. No- .. his mind clicked in recognition.. “Right…” he muttered “Gotta get off my ass.” Rody huffed, pushing himself off the bed-couch thing of his. Even if it was so uncomfortable, it sounded better than biking around for hours trying to find work.. from a semi-decent person who didn’t pass college using AI.. he had heard stories of that. A whole new low, I mean hey! Rody dropped out.. but.. dropping out is a whole different thing!
After pulling his bike from the pile of rubbish that he had yet to clean, he grabbed his jacket from the hook —one of the few things that hadn’t fallen apart yet. Its demise was soon— and slipped it on. Rody’s bike was surprisingly in good shape, and seemed to have no plans of snapping in half, or setting itself on fire, or killing him in his sleep… or something like that! Rody felt like he was starting to go er… crazy, it was probably the excessive drinking he was doing, or something like that! Rody’s palm grasped around the door handle.
The cold breeze slapped him across the face, Rody closed his eyes shut, his cheeks were already starting to sting red. Tucking his chin into his collar, pulling his bike down the outside stairwell of his apartment, the third floor was where he resided. A positive to his situation was he got a good view of Sanguis Cœur, a beautiful, small town.. Even if half of the residents were bigots. Their sour moods didn’t affect the beauty of this area, the food here was great too! Rody remembered a restraunt.. Ah what was it’s name.. La Guacamole of Venus? Something like that, it was really popular and brought a lot of tourists here.
The man’s eyes squinted against the morning glares into his eyes, the sun doing the best to blind him.. What did he do to these inanimate beings? Did he have a target on his back or something? Eh.. His breath made smoke like puffs weakly in the sky, cold clearly taking a hit on everyone. Lucky for him though~ the cold never bothered him. The roads were slick with brand new frost and patches here and there of dirty slush. The snow glittered faintly under the pale white sky. Children bounding out of their homes to make snowmen or snowangels; Parents watching carefully from afar, their looks reminded him of his own parents once again. Rody slid onto his bike with ease, like he had many times before.
Sanguis Cœur seemed to already be awake, even at the break of dawn they were.. the street vendors being the first to get a good spot for their stalls. The bakeries next to prepare for the morning rush hour. Smells of food and such mixing through the air, roasted chestnuts and fresh pastries waving through the air, calling his attention, which he tried to ignore. Rody’s stomach growled, the stale croissant from earlier sat heavy in his gut. He began to pedal faster to get his mind off it.. which did help it a little bit, Until his eyes fell onto the cafes.
The past ones he used to visit with Manon, to talk, read, eat, or whatever she wanted to do that day. Rody pretended he wasn't glancing toward each one in hopes of seeing the girl once more.. Hands fiddling with the handle bars of the bike endlessly, Rody was a bit surprised his bike was holding up despite the lack of care to the streets and also him not focusing on the road like a good driver was. Stray cats lingered everywhere, enjoying the free food they were getting, just for lazing around on the steps of cafes and being cute. God how he wished he could do that all day.
Rody pedalded a bit more.. Until a flyer hit him square in the face, stabilizing himself if he didn’t want to be face first in concrete right now. The man quickly removed the piece of paper from his face.. ꒰ famous bistro searching for a temporary shift, experience required. Call ... ꒱ Was this a divine intervention? Sure, he had experience, but then again this was.. What was the name? Rody reread it.. “Oh.. La Guele de Saturene..“ He fucked up on the name, embarrasing. Rody rubbed the back of his neck subconsciously. It'd be a good idea to apply even if there was a 99% chance he wouldn’t get the job.
For an odd reason, he felt someone staring at him intensely, though when he looked up, nothing but passersby shopping.. Perhaps he was going insane? Needing to be put in a lunatic asylum, they may not be active anymore, but abandoned ones still existed, and boy were they horrifying. Rody went to one in high school with his other friends. When he was failing miserably and needed another break. He took a deep breath, folding the piece of paper and shoving it in his jacket pocket. Starting to pedal once again, ignoring the feeling of someone watching his every step..
It slightly ticked him off people are already shopping for Christmas even though it's quite literally the middle of November, he never saw the appeal in that; Mainly because the event that overshadowed one of the best, Thanksgiving...! yes, sure, it's an American holiday, but he learned about it online a few weeks ago, and it had food, therefore it is the best holiday! Rody pedaled quicker, not sure where he was headed.. Just trying to do something to get his mind off things.. Then deciding to head to the take-out place that he had thought of earlier. He reached the place only to find out..
When it was closed, he sighed and sat there for a minute, the bell that indicated entrance or exit rang, he turned his attention towards the exciter. The sweet old lady he had helped and ordered from many times stood in front of him, a bag of food in her hands. “Here you go, young man..” she handed it to him, dropping it in his hold. “Oh- thank you Mrs Hwangbo” said the woman with a warm smile. Mrs. Hwangbo gave a light wave before returning to the warmth of the shop. Rody waved back before quickly speeding to his bike that was probably gonna be stolen if he waited any longer.
The man biked back to his apartment, clambering up the stairs, trying not to drop his bike nor his graciously given food. Which he dug into as soon as he went inside. The warm flavors bathed into his tongue, he somehow looked forward to sleeping tonight.. But he had to put in an application into; The very very fancy restaurant that.. That Rody had already forgotten the name, it clicked once again when he found the paper in his jacket pocket that he had forgotten was in there and was just searching everywhere in the apartment for it to be right there.
Rody pulled out his laptop, it had a cracked touchpad, but thankfully the screen was saved from damage. His fingers flew across the keyboard.. To type a very short password 123456 was complex enough for the man. Typing up the web browser, in a way these younger generations would call it old. He was teetering on the edge of being a millennial because he was born in 1997. But technically he was an older Gen Z.. within those twenty eight years of living he could’ve been something better than waiting tables in other restaurants and not getting fired. Rody promises himself he’ll do better.
The website was very detailed in visual perspective, though the credits of the web design was listed as someone else separate from the owner. Hopefully that doesn’t mean that the Vincent guy had terrible interior design skills. Even if Rody’s house wasn’t exactly.. Ideal for many, but he grew up with parents who knew how to design stuff! So he was pretty experienced if he would say so himself! Rody clicked the application link, it asked for typical stuff like addresses, past jobs —which he had many..—. Name, and phone numbers.. His mobile phone wasn’t active but he did have a telephone, so that was the number he put down.
After a bit of filling the form out, he clicked submit and closed the laptop.. Then it dawned to him that he had just applied to be a Waiter at a Michelin star owning Bistro. Rody’s hands rubbed his face with a groan, perhaps he’ll find work tomorrow, he was sure he wasn’t getting accepted to this.. As the flyer said a “Highly sought after position” Rody doubted that a bit, who’s dream job would be working as a waiter and not a chef instead? Or someone better, like a doctor- basically any high paying job.. Which the man was hoping to find.
The laptop made a whirring noise like it was gonna blow up in his face, but it faded after a few seconds, thankfully. Rody did his nightly routine, showering, brushing his teeth, and other things that he had watched Manon do before bed.. Rody always chose to sleep the thoughts of Manon away, which was what he was doing that night. When he glanced out of the window, a flickering light from the apartment across from him. Then it turned dark.. They couldn’t possibly be watching him, just the anxiety creeping on him. The man drifted into a deep slumber.
Until an annoying ringing noise filled his ears.. Not even minutes later, to him at least.
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Vincent Charbonneau, a national treasure in the country of France; Owner of the famous bistro, La Guele de Saturne. Grew up lower middle class, devoting his skills to culinary school which resulted in his current job. Vincent had a cheerful, warm persona outside of the bistro. Only few knew of the cold, real version of himself, Brutal.. But he keeps the same batch of employees besides the waiters who manage to spill any type of food. They were quite annoying, taking breaks when not authorized to, ignoring their duties, or Vincent, disrespectful to customers… oh the list could go on!
Smoke curled in the air of his dark office, it was dark due to the lack of lighter colors and the lack of light in general, papers were stacked in a neat pile, otherwise they couldn’t be done and Vincent would have to organize them for hours, trying to ignore sleep before the person closing that day would pull him out of his own bistro. He would fire them if their face wasn’t blurred because of the bleariness that was caused with fatigue of his own making. So the employees got off the hook for that one. Vincent was becoming less.. Aggressive with his employees, he noticed how they stopped making mistakes after that, so he supposed he wouldn’t do anything unless they really messed up.
A ping from his computer caught his attention, it was an application form that had been submitted. For the waiter job! His lucky day.. Vincent clicked on the application, the page’s colors matched his office, full of blacks and dark velvets.. His eyes lit up at the name, he’d been waiting for the man to apply here. Though Manon did mention that he was probably looking for work, so thank her for that. She also told the chef about the applicant only being in a few lines of work, the main one being Waiting.. Manon was an intelligent woman a shame she had to go though,
Vincent had seen the other earlier, through his own window, his apartment complex was rather shabby and about to crumble. Would be.. A shame if it caught on fire.. But that's another scandal for another day, The man was attractive, in Vincent’s twisted eyes at least, the auburn curls paired with those dark sage eyes made him practically swoon. An overstatement, to be exact, love was a silly thing that only some could understand, and it most definitely did not belong in the experienced culinary world. People are supposed to focus on the flavor, not the chef behind it. Vincent was not a meal to be enjoyed, if he were to be, it’d be a bitter flavor on their tongue.
His eyes scanned the page, the chef almost choked on his tea when he saw how many jobs the man had been with over seven years, thankfully most were about being a waiter, so he had nothing to worry about with training.. What was his name? Rody Lamoree.. Yes the light brown haired woman mentioned the name, it was appealing on the tongue to say the least. Vincent internally pleaded that he wouldn't have another waiter. The man was twenty eight so he should be mature.. Vincent learned from the single teenager he hired during summer, that was hell. All these younger folks and their attitude.
Vincent gave a mischievous smile, mouse sliding across the pad to click accept. Hand coming to rest on the office telephone he had, the chef never found the appeal in those new ones. Much more fragile in his opinion, if he had to he would settle on a sturdy one, like a nokia. Vincent dialed Rody’s number.. The line buzzed through, he used his normal voice, which was quiet, low-pitched and blunt. A tang of menacing in his tone. When the line finally registered he spoke. “..Hello, is this Monsieur Lamoree? -” Vincent could tell the other side was fiddling with the phone, most likely dropping it from the thump he heard.
“Yes-..yes! Hello– I swear if this is my bank I'm hanging u-” Vincent interrupted his angry.. But oddly soft, rambling; “No need for that, this is La Guele de Saturene, the bistro you had just applied to about.. A few hours ago?” Rody’s relaxation clicked. “Yes- I did.. Um-” A hum from Vincent. “Your application has been accepted, I am too busy at the moment for an in person interview, so would you take a moment of your time to do a telephone one?” The chef could tell the other side was pondering for a moment, before quickly accepting. “Yes- I can do one right now.”
The interview went rather well, only lasting around fifteen minutes, none of Vincent’s precious time wasted, he wasn’t even busy.. It was short and simple, Rody will be working under Vincent's grasp starting Monday, which was in two days. All was well and dandy till a familiar, tanned woman, short curled red hair with a light blue paisley bandana burst through the door. Vincent sighed deeply, already beginning to stand up.”Heeyy… Chef, er.. Nico may or may not have set his station on fire..?” she began, although the chef was already on his feet. “On it.”