Chapter 3: Sour Candy

"Hey Vince."

Vincent was so close to letting out a grunt. This godforsaken nickname again. Seriously, where did Rody get the absolute audacity to give Vincent, his boss, the Vincent Charbonneau, a nickname? And more importantly, why hadn't he bothered to correct him?

Well, believe it or not, he had attempted to correct him once, and Vincent always trusted in his memory. Because Vincent hated it so much, he made sure to nip it in the bud the very first time it happened, very sternly too on top of that. There was just no way he was going to be remembered as Vincent "Vince" Charbonneau. It didn't roll off the tongue at all. That didn't sound like the name of a world renowned chef now, did it? It made him sound silly, like some guy that you would meet in passing in your trade school, and develop the delusion that you both were friends just on the basis that you were in the same class the previous semester. No, that absolutely wasn't Vincent speaking from experience. And no, he totally didn't despise it, and it totally didn't make his intolerance for people grow stronger.

No, he was Vincent Charbonneau, a talented, skillful chef who had made a name for himself and made his bistro into what it was today from his remarkable managing skills. He had always been serious about his career and he demanded to be taken as such. Everyone got it, except for Rody apparently.

Rody was a… unique case, in more ways than one. Despite having received a warning, it was as if he had never heard it, and had chosen to keep calling him "Vince". Moreover, Vincent had not tried to correct him again and somehow had just let it be.

Ah well, if it didn't work that time, then this time wasn't also the time to try, Vincent thought, conveniently forgetting the fact that he had the choice to fire Rody for unprofessionalism, which was the exact reason his previous waiter was fired and the position became vacant for this idiot Rody to come in. Oh, what irony.

"Hi Ro-" Vincent cut himself off after he finally looked up to Rody's face. "Jesus, you look terrible. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"I had a nightmare" Rody rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the ground, hoping to hide his tired face even though he knew it was for nothing-Vincent had already seen it-and now he was embarrassed.

These nightmares had been reoccurring for five days straight, ever since he started working for this restaurant. Well, maybe technically he couldn't call them nightmares, but at the very least, they were peculiar. Very peculiar. Every one of them, there was Vincent in it. And every one of them always included them doing… something, and that something Rody wouldn't dare talk about. If you were to successfully convince him to tell you what it was, the most you would likely get out of him was they were things he "would only do with Manon".

Speaking of Manon, why couldn't it be her in his dreams? Why did it have to be Vincent, out of all people? No matter how he looked at it, it just did not make any sense. They said your dreams are a reflection of your conscious thoughts, but Rody would argue that his case was an exception. He just could not see him and Vincent in that way, basically, practically and statistically. With the obvious professional relationship between them aside, along with how Vincent had been with him, Rody wasn't even interested in men that much. He was interested in men, sure, but he had always had a preference towards women. Same with Vincent, was he even into men in the first place? Plus, the guy had already expressed how he had no desire to share his wealth and success with anyone.

Selfish bastard.

But in this matter, it only solidified how ridiculous his nightmares were. Anything else would've made more sense, like, hell, Vincent chopping him up to bits, maybe? He had seen Vincent absolutely ripped that one chef apart because of a small mistake he made, and with the stove still burning besides them, Rody swore Vincent could've grabbed that chef's head and shoving it down the glowing flame. Luckily enough, he didn't get laid off and only received a warning, but if Rody had to be truthful, perhaps getting fired wasn't that scary compared to literally getting fired-third degree burn.

Another example was the look Vincent gave him when he dropped the trash bag and spilt everything all over the pristine floor on his third day. Vincent's eyes widened, his face darkened and the look he had on it was murderous. If Rody were to actually get chopped to bits by Vincent under some unfortunate, unforeseeable circumstances, he was sure that would be the last thing he saw before his untimely death. That was, until Vincent… pulled out a bandage and proceeded to wrap his wound up? Only after then did he notice the cut on his finger, which was likely caused by a piece of shard in the trash bag.

Now that Rody was reminded of that, he wasn't sure what was more bizarre-his nightmares or Vincent's unusual tolerance towards him? Or might he even call it "kindness"? No, that word just didn't suit Vincent, so for now, Rody would stick with "tolerance". Yeah, that was more fitting, and it gave Rody an excuse to not think about it further. Because why would Vincent have any reason to treat him any more kindly than his coworkers? Rody was aware he wasn't special. He wasn't terrible, but not unique enough to receive any special treatment, especially not from Vincent.

How did he even end up in this restaurant, he did not know. He only knew why, and it was for Manon, his precious Manon.

It was just so sudden. Everything was going fine. Things between them were fine, and they were happy together. Sure, they had a few disagreements here and there, a few fights even, but wasn't it something all couples did? And sure, the reason she left him, she almost always brought it up, and it was one of the main causes behind every one of their arguments, but it couldn't be the actual reason, right? What was wrong with dedication? Any worries, he never wanted her to experience. Any tears, he never wanted to see rolling down her rosy cheeks. Anything she wanted, he would do his damn best to get for her, even if it meant working extra hours at every given chance. Any dream she had, he would make sure to make it happen, even if it meant sacrificing his own. All Rody ever wished for was Manon's happiness, because her happiness was his happiness, and it wasn't a crime to be devoted to your partner, was it?

It couldn't be it, there was no way. It must've been her way of hinting that she was unhappy with something she wasn't willing to tell him, and wanted to take a break to let him figure it out on his own. Yeah, yeah, that must've been it. And it was just a break, she said it herself. She didn't actually break up with him, he wasn't doing this for nothing-

"Yeah, I can tell. Did you need to ask something?"

Vincent's voice broke Rody out of his train of thoughts. What were they talking about? Oh yeah, the fact he was so sleep deprived from his nightmares, and now Vincent was looking… worried for him?

… This is another one of those nightmares, Rody reached behind the back of his head and lightly pulled his hair. Ouch, it hurt, and Rody sweated. Not by the fact that it hurt, but by the fact that this was, indeed, not a nightmare.

It was definitely weird when Vincent went to patch him up when he cut his finger the other day. While Vincent didn't seem like he would go out of his way to hurt someone physically-probably because he already could do it emotionally-he also didn't seem like he would care that much if you hurt yourself, either. That was why Rody chalked up the kind gesture as, Vincent was just concerned Rody wouldn't able to work that day. Besides his legs, Rody also worked mostly with his hands, Vincent couldn't let it dripping blood for the rest of the shift, and possibly getting into and ruining the exquisite dishes the chefs have meticulously prepared, or onto the shiny, squeakily clean floor. But now? What was Vincent possibly worried about this time? That couldn't be about his very own well-being, which Rody couldn't even be bothered to care for himself?

Oh, he must be worried Rody wouldn't have enough energy to be sent running back and forth around the restaurant. Yeah… Yeah, that must be it. At least, Rody would love for it to be true. Being treated just as an industrial machine by his employer had never felt so good to him.

"Oh-Uh-Yes, uhhhhhh-" Rody averted his gaze for a few quick seconds before turning back to Vincent. "You got a favorite food?"

"Not really, no." Vincent's reply was so quick, he could've cut Rody off mid-question. It was as if he had been asked that question so many times. Now that Rody thought about it, that could be true.

"That sounds pretty noncommittal."

Vincent rolled his eyes and shrugged, seemingly as though another reaction he was somewhat expecting. "Well, there's not much that I can really pick from."

"That's not an answer."

Vincent sighed. "Then I guess"-He paused for a quick moment, looking off to the side as he did so-"Lemons."

"Like. Lemon pies? Lemon tarts?" Rody's eyes perked up in excitement. Finally, something to prove Vincent had some taste? Normal taste? Lemon pies and tarts weren't even on Rody's list of his top favorite food, that was how desperate Rody was to convince himself that Vincent wasn't an alien who had been trying to blend in with humans. No way someone was this blunt, this caring and not caring at the same time, and this… perfect.

"No, just lemons."

Nervermind. In fact, Rody would much rather prefer alien Vincent than imagining how biting into a lemon straight up would go.

"How can you stand just eating raw lemons? Aren't they sour?" Rody asked as he shot Vincent a midly disgusted expression, intentionally this time.

"I wouldn't know."

Rody furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What did he mean he wouldn't know? The alien thing was merely a joke, mostly, don't tell him it was actually true.

It was as if Vincent could sense that Rody didn't understand what was going on, as he elaborated immediately. "I don't have any sense of taste."

"Yeah, I could see the decorations out there, what's that got to do with-"

"Not-Urgh."

"No." He swiftly recomposed himself and continued the conversation. "I lost the ability to taste food when I was younger."

"Woah-What, really?" Rody seemed to be in disbelief, and rightfully so. "No wonder your food tastes like that, you must be a miserable cook!"

"What's wrong with my cooking?"

Vincent threw him a menacing look and that shut him up real quick. Rody may have the awareness of a ten-year-old with Vincent, but at least his survival instinct was still active enough to tell him if he didn't stop right now, he himself would become a meal, and not in a good way.

"Ah-Erm-Nothing, sir!"

That's what I thought, Vincent let out a small huff of victory. He seriously questioned why this stupid guy was even alive at this point. And why he had not personally changed it himself.

That was a good question, now that he thought. Why was he so damn easy on Rody? Sure, he was the only waiter here, but with La Gueule de Saturne's widespread reputation, Vincent was never worried about finding new people to fill in their positions. The "Hiring" sign could never be put up for long, it would be take down in the matter of days because of how many people sending in their resume, and some of them wanted in badly. It was only fair Vincent was picky of who he let in and kicked out of the restaurant, and there was absolutely no reason for him to be keeping Rody here right now, let alone be this lenient. Being cheeky with him like that was an almost immediate ground for getting fired, yet Vincent was just… taking it, especially when he didn't need to?

And sure, Rody's performance hadn't been horrible per se, not enough to lay him off at least, but it had not been great either. In fact, it had not been going so well, even borderline terribly, and that wasn't just from Vincent's observation alone. If Vincent's "loveless" cooking wasn't going to be the cause of his restaurant's unlikely downfall, then Rody's service would be. Ever since his arrival, the reviews had been riddled with many displeased customers' words of his service, some even calling him "a low-class bum". Usually, that would give Vincent enough to fire someone, but somehow, all he felt was anger on Rody's behalf.

How dare you disrespect him like that? You do know not everyone could afford a place a sleep, a plate of food, or even a glass of water. Those "bums" are out there working hard every day to even make ends meet, to get things that shouldn't be considered luxury, while you sit on your ass refusing to eat because your steaks wasn't salty enough. So, insult my food all you want, insult me all you want, but don't you fucking call him by that name again, you brat.

That was the only train of thought he managed to remember before it came a blur, and when he came to, the review section of the newspaper had already been scribbled off.

Did someone cast a spell on him? Did Rody cast a spell on him? What the fuck was going on with him these days? Surely, it wasn't what he was thinking of.

Surely.

Must be the weather. He was just sick. Probably. Hopefully.

"What about you?"

Rody seemed surprised at that question and Vincent wondered why. He thought asking back the same question was something polite to do. "What's your favorite food?"

Rody rubbed his chin and looked down at the ground again. "Do I have to pick just one?"

"That sounds pretty noncommittal."

"Alright, alright-"

It took everything in Vincent to stop a shit-eating grin from creeping up his lips. Seeing the flustered look on Rody when he got hit back with his own line was probably the highlight of his day so far. Honestly, even if Rody's service was utter crap by his usual standards, having him around was rather entertaining.

Huh, it had been a while since Vincent had this much fun teasing someone, he just realized. Even with his business aside, he rarely ever took joy in being playful with someone. His friend telling him a funny joke? Already heard it (he didn't, he just didn't want to hurt the poor guy's feelings from how damn unfunny he found it). His ex roaming his hand on his chest? He had got to do better than that. Hell, the reason he even liked raw lemons in the first place was because they were so intensely sour, and that, out of all things, was the only thing that could give him any kind of feelings on his tongue, therefore to him, it somewhat resembled a "taste". It was so hard to get any kind of reaction from him other than anger and disgust that someone told him that he could be a critic. To this day, he couldn't decide if it was a compliment or an insult.

Well he couldn't change it either way. He was used to it, and since it wasn't hindering his path to success, he saw no need to change it. That was, until now, and it was because of a stupid waiter he hired against his better judgment. There was no way this guy convinced him to loosen up more, but then again, that made sense. The dude looked like he worried about nothing except his rent and getting his ex-girlfriend back.

"I guess I eat whatever my girlfriend's into?"

Speaking of ex-girlfriend, Vincent felt like he should be shocked at that answer, but he was not, and that was the scary part.

Oh my god, you have no sense of identity, Vincent held back a deadpan gasp, but he did cross his arms and narrow his eyes at him. "That's also not an answer."

"It's still better than lemons."

Rody darted a snarky look at him, and while Vincent would've loved to retort back with something that hurt way more, he just decided that he was too tired for it today. Fighting with himself was already enough.

"Nevermind."