Chapter Nine

Monday, 2 October 2017. Late Afternoon. Apple Of The Earth

Working from 5:00 to 10:00 that night sucked. It always did.

Though, seeing how patient Siebold was with his new server astounded him. He was always gentle, but firm in his words. She had even dropped a tray stacked with empty plates when he was teaching her how to balance the tray.

He didn't even seem upset over the broken dishes. "I'm ordering a new set here soon anyways. I'm sick of their design," he had told her.

Cress half expected him to fire her for the mistake.

Then again, maybe Siebold wasn't such a bad guy after all.

Tuesday, 3 October 2017. Late Afternoon. Apple Of The Earth

Cress hurried his way through the kitchen. He was careful to avoid any of the cooks, and made sure to voice, "Behind" as he worked his way around them.

The warm, savory smells of veal enveloped him. For a mere second, he found himself distracted. In that second, he collided with Jean.

The dishes fell to the ground, sending a cascade of shattered porcelain through the kitchen.

Cress looked at the sous chef, who was now fuming with anger. "You know, rat, I have half the mind to leave Siebold because of you."

"What does anything I do have to do with your shitty relationship skills?" Cress could have sworn all noise in the kitchen ground to a halt as he said that, and he instantly regretted his words.

Jean got in his face. "First you throw us into debt, and now you're wrecking our inventory. You're not even in proper attire. You don't belong here, rat. You belong on the streets with the rest of your kind."

Servers peered over the food window, trying to get a view of what was happening. The other chefs kept an eye on their food, but kept an ear on the conversation. Surly Jean was about to kick the boy out.

"Jean!"

If Grant hadn't stepped in when he did, Cress would have hit him. The hand on his shoulder simmered him down enough to think rationally.

"So sorry, chef! I was the one who sent him through the kitchen. Cut him a break. I'm at fault here." Grant did well to soothe Jean's anger, but it didn't shake Cress's any.

"Just make sure this mess gets cleaned up," Jean hissed before returning to what he was doing.

Grant guided Cress back into the dish room, letting go of the sigh he had been holding onto. The normal kitchen noise resumed, but it didn't aid in comforting Cress any.

"Xerneas, I hate that guy," Grant mumbled.

Cress found himself shaking with anger. "Why is Siebold even dating him? He could do so much better!" He hissed. He almost added, "He deserves so much better," but Grant had already begun answering his first question.

"I'm not entirely sure why they're dating. They've been seeing each other for years now. Jean's just…the only thing the guy has left, I guess." He grabbed for a broom and dustpan as he spoke.

Cress's questioning look prompted him to continue.

"Both of Siebold's parents are dead. They have been since he was 18. Siebold and Jean started dating when he was 17. Jean has pretty much been his main support system."

"I think it's hilarious that they don't even live together!" Another washer added.

Grant nodded. "I've known Siebold for years; longer than anyone here, anyways. He's a…solitary guy." He paused for a moment, leaning on the broom. "Anyways! I'm going to go clean up those broken dishes. You stay here and get working on those wine glasses. I think keeping you out of Jean's sight is a good idea for now."

Cress agreed, not wanting to face Jean again for awhile.

Though, as he began to prewash the wine glasses, he realized something: it wasn't Jean he was afraid of. He could have cared less about Jean. It was Siebold he was terrified of.

Even then, it wasn't a physical fear. He didn't think Siebold would ever hurt him again like their first meeting. He was afraid of disappointing him more than anything.

It was a strange notion to Cress.

At the end of the night, after Siebold had collected him from his work, he was told that his debt had fallen down to €690. It was still a staggering amount of money, and he was still feeling like he would never pay it off.

"I have an offer for you," Siebold began, sitting with Cress in his office.

Cress placed the plate of food in his lap, giving Siebold his full attention.

"I'm behind as far as restaurant setup is concerned. Normally, I've set up my fall decorations and whatnot by the middle of September. However, the restaurant is still in full summer setup. If you're interested, you can come by tomorrow night and help me set things up. I'll pay you double for however long we take."

In Cress's mind, it seemed like a great idea. However, he couldn't help but voice one concern of his. "What would Jean think about that? I know he's still pissed at me after breaking those plates."

Siebold ran a hand through his hair. "Oh my– Is that what he's been pissed about?" He asked.

Cress nodded. "I was taking some of the dishes back to the kitchen, and I got distracted for a second, and ran into Jean. He yelled at me and said things like I don't belong here…" If he could just get Siebold to see how awful Jean really was.

Siebold fell back into his chair, sighing. "That man I swear…his temper is worse than a Mankey."

Cress tried to repress his laugh, but he couldn't.

"I've ordered an entire new set of plates and silverware. I'm not worried about the loss of a few plates. Hell, destroy them all. See if I care."

Again, Cress laughed.

He liked Siebold when he was away from Jean. He was far better company when it was just the two of them.

"So, regardless of what Jean thinks, you're more than welcome to work tomorrow night."

Cress agreed to working, but he wished Siebold was more willing to make decisions on his own, not swayed by Jean's opinion.

Wednesday, 4 October 2017. Night. Apple Of The Earth

"I trust Panpour is well?" Cress asked, fishing for conversation with Siebold.

Siebold looked up from the cloth he was spreading, meeting Cress's gaze. "Very well. He's taken up battling with some of my pokémon. I believe he's turned his Bite into a Crunch. It seems more powerful here lately, anyways," he answered.

Cress put down his share of table clothes in a chair to go help Siebold flatten out his cloth.

"Interesting. Panpour and I haven't battled in forever, really," he continued.

"I can tell. His movements started out sluggish, but I think with a little work, he could be a fine battling partner. Maybe even one fit for a gym leader," Siebold mused.

Moving on to the next table, Cress abandoned his pile, figuring they might work faster together. "Speaking of, why isn't there a Pokémon League here in Kalos?"

Siebold shrugged. "I couldn't tell you why. Maybe not enough interest? Many of the other regions are in an alliance of sorts, and their league holds governmental power. Our president and prime minister probably don't want to share any power."

This confused Cress. "Couldn't the league just not have power? I mean, in Unova, the sports leagues didn't have any political power. Why couldn't a Pokémon League be the same way?"

Siebold stopped what he was doing, thinking that idea over. It was such a simple solution, he wondered why the region had yet to create a league.

Shrugging, he said, "Good to know the homeless population had better ideas than our actual government."

Cress rolled his eyes. "Politicians in general are awful, and don't look out for anyone but themselves. A lot of the people in my group are some of the first to give. We know what it's like to have nothing."

Cress continued without Siebold for awhile, placing the new table clothes, and pressing them flat.

As Siebold watched him work, he felt stuck with sympathy pain.

He also hoped that somebody would soon buy his father's old mansion. The profit from that would hopefully make a difference for a lot of the people in the city. Hopefully, Cress too. The young man deserved that much.

An audible growl caught his attention. Looking to Cress, he noticed that he had a hand across his stomach. "S-sorry…haven't eaten since yesterday," he mumbled, forcing himself to continue with the tablecloths.

Siebold chuckled. "Well," he began, looking to the watch on his wrist. "There's no sense in making you work on an empty stomach. How about I teach you to make something?"

The look Cress was giving rivaled that of an excited Lillipup. "You would really teach me?"

It wasn't even the idea of food that excited Cress. Getting to learn from the best chef in Kalos felt like a once in a lifetime treat.

"Of course."

Siebold led him into the kitchen, and back to the walk-in fridge. "Anything in mind? A favorite dish?" He prompted.

Cress shrugged. "Well, if I'm to be honest, anything you've prepared has been my favorite."

"You flatter me," Siebold responded. Looking around the fridge, he grabbed for a few vegetables, and then headed for the freezer.

The blast of cold air that greeted the two caused a visible shudder from Cress.

"Not a fan of the cold?" Siebold asked, grabbing what he needed.

Cress bolted out of the freezer. "Not in the least."

"Well, go wash your hands, and we'll get started."

It was strange how different the kitchen sounded when it was just the two of them. Every noise they made was swallowed by the empty kitchen. It was even cold until Siebold turned on the stoves.

Cress stood by patiently, watching as Siebold cut up a mango.

"Vinaigrettes are, in my opinion, one of the easiest dressings to make. They don't require too many ingredients, and are very versatile. It can be as sweet or bitter as you want it," he explained, keeping a careful eye on his cuts.

Once he finished, he grabbed the other mango, passing it to Cress. He droned on about knife skills, making sure Cress knew exactly how to hold the knife and the fruit.

For Cress, it wasn't difficult at all. If anything, it was just refreshing him of what he learned from his parents.

The vinaigrette came out a little too sweet for Cress's taste, but he decided that he wasn't in a position to complain. Remaining silent on the matter, they moved on to the main dish: pan seared scallops.

Siebold had avoided cooking them for the past few months. Ever since he made them the nightly special back in June, he developed a strong distaste for the shellfish. Their smell, normally, would make him sick to his stomach.

As the scallops seared away in the pan of heated olive oil, their warm, spiced smell brought a smile to his face.

A few of Cress's scallops were on the darker side, but not to the point where he would have deemed them inedible.

Sitting with Cress back in the dining room, they shared their meal. "Excellent work for your first time cooking," he praised. "I might make a chef out of you yet."

Cress smiled, looking off to the side. "Don't get my hopes up like that. Being a chef if something I could only dream of. Being trained by you, well, I find that even more unthinkable."

The statement didn't settle well with Siebold. He hated thinking that he might be another person in Cress's life to let him down.

Secretly, he vowed to do whatever he could to make sure that didn't happen.

Friday, 6 October 2017. Night. Hibernal Avenue.

"I just…don't understand these feelings. They-they can't be natural! How could I fall in love with someone like him?"

A loud, overly anguished groan filled the air. "Dear Reshiram and Zekrom, help me survive this awful crap," Chili grumbled.

He received a prompt "shh" from both Burgundy and Cilan, who were completely invested in the movie they were watching.

"I'll agree with you later on how terrible this movie is, but until then, I need to know if they end up together or not!" Burgundy snapped, returning her attention to the movie.

Chili let out another grumble, much to Cress's amusement.

Burgundy's parents were away for the next two weeks, and she had graciously allowed the boys to stay with her for the time being. In return, they had promised to help her keep the bakery running smoothly.

After ordering in some food, they had settled in on some terrible romance film. Its story was cliché and easy to follow, but Cilan and Burgundy found themselves enamored with it.

Cress found himself hardly paying attention. He was more focused on the anxious feeling in his stomach. He hated that he wouldn't be going back to Apple of The Earth until Wednesday. No longer was he anxious to pay off his debt. He was anxious to see Siebold again, and hopefully see Panpour some time.

At least, until then, he would have a place to stay. Even if his bed was just a pallet of blankets on the floor, it was much better than anything else he had for the past few months.

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