That Stupid Little Waiter

Chapter 8 - Crimson Craving

A hand reached over to adjust the music, jolting Vincent back to the present moment and guiding his gaze to the one driving the car. As the car kept running down the road, Vincent seemed as though he was glowing amongst the darkness of the night. His dark eyes gleamed under the dim streetlight through the window, his skin as fair as ever and peaking from under his collar, as one of his dexterous hands moved up from the steering wheel to comb through his dark locks that sparkled as though it was under a shower of fairy dust from the few raindrops that got on while he was getting in the car. His fingers rhythmically tapped the steering wheel, the same fingers that were placed on Rody's shoulders when Vincent caught him silently crying at the back of the restaurant. His eyes were on the road, the same eyes that had looked at him with concern even thought he would outright deny it. Vincent was a vicious man, they said. Vincent's heart was ice cold, it was rumored. Vincent could care less about anyone else, Vincent said it himself. Yet, Vincent was someone who was there for him in the past seven months Rody had spent getting over a relationship that he had hoped would progress into something more. Vincent was not a man of sweet words, he seemed more like someone who would call out on your idiocy and knock some sense into your mindless self-depreciation, but Rody knew each word of reassurance and each piece of advice Vincent had given him, it was genuine.

Before Rody even thought he would one day be in the same vicinity as Vincent, Vincent was a masterful chef and a ruthless critic that Rody was sure he would never get along with. When Rody first stepped into Vincent's office seven months ago, Vincent was someone Rody had to impress and the person whose aura had captivated him without realizing. When he got hired as a waiter, Vincent was his boss that he felt he had to perform well in his presence. And now, when he's sitting in his car, after seven tough months of battling with his feelings, Vincent was someone he could trust, and if he dared say, he was almost like a friend to him.

"Something on my face?"

Vincent's voice jolted Rody out of his train of thoughts, and only then did he notice Vincent had glanced over him briefly and definitely had caught him staring.

"Ack-It's-" Rody looked away, his eyes down at his legs again. "It's nothing, I was uh-just thinking."

"About...?"

"Oh you know-" Rody chuckled awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head. "Food, rent, normal stuff-"

Vincent narrowed his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him before turning back to the road before them. Thankfully, Rody's destination was now in sight and Vincent pulled over, slowing down gradually before stopping completely in front of Rody's apartment complex.

"Thanks Vince. I-don't know how I'd get home if not for you." Rody gave Vincent a smile as they stood in front of the front door. "Well, goodnight Vince-"

"Wait." Vincent's voice made Rody halt on his track before turning back to look at him.

"What's up-"

Before Rody could complete his sentence, he was interrupted by a hand being placed on his forehead. As the rain kept pouring outside, the sound of the raindrops hitting the ground drowning out all the sounds that there may be and the only sources of light being the streetlights and the ones from inside the apartment, Rody was silent as he felt the warmth of Vincent's hands melting away the cold of the night as Vincent wore a mysterious expression on his face. Rody would not attempt to read it, but somewhere in his heart, he knew he cared, and that everything was going to be okay.

"Good, no fever." Vincent took his hand away, and somehow, Rody started to miss those seconds of warmth. "You had me worried for a sec there."

"I-" Rody touched his forehead, as though trying to process what just happened there. "What for?"