That Stupid Little Waiter

Chapter 9 - Whistles of Your Heart

The art of half-truth, Vincent knew it all too well. It was something he had mastered in the two decades of his life. Vincent was an honest man, some would say too honest sometimes to the point of being blunt, but it was never his concern, or rather he couldn't afford to make it his concern. Even if the full truth hurt, even if it was raw, it would almost always what he chose because he was aware of the damage a comfortable lie had. The feelings that rushed through him when one of his friends reveal out of suppressed anger during an argument that she hated his guts but stayed because his popularity was the only reason she even had friends, he still remembered it all too well. The heartache when his ex told him he no longer was in love with him but didn't break up because he didn't want to hurt his feelings and he was afraid of being alone, it was still vivid in his mind, probably more than he would like to admit. However, honest as he wanted to be, it wasn't always desired in his eyes, and in those times, half-truths were what he aimed for. It wasn't the real story, but it was based on the full truths.

Just like what Rody wanted to tell him.

But could Vincent really blame him? Especially considering how Pierre and the other chefs were also there?

Under normal circumstances, Vincent would not leave Rody alone if Rody was gone for a long enough time for Vincent to have a reason to think something was wrong, especially during the times he was still vulnerable after the break-up with Manon. Ringing him, leaving him a voice message, checking up on him in person when he got the chance to. But this time, as his hand hovered over the phone, he couldn't find it in himself to pick it up and call Rody, no matter how much he wished to, no matter how much his mind was screaming at him to.

Not when he, out of all people, should know he didn't have the right to call him and ask what was wrong, when he himself knew damn well exactly what happened.

As his gaze darted to the sofa his eyes had been avoiding making contact with for the past three days, he let out a grunt, pulling his hand back hesitantly before heading to his room. It was as though Rody had put him under a spell, any day Rody was gone and Vincent didn't know why, the day felt longer than it was supposed to be. Every second felt like eternity, every minute he wished the day would just be over already, and each time he had hoped his heart beats had slowed down, he was brought back to that accursed night. His mind rarely had any moment of peace, so by the time he could close the door to his apartment behind him, he was restless. Today was no different. The moment night fell and it was time to close up the restaurant, he let out a sigh of relief, happy that he could finally be alone with all these difficult emotions.

Oh wait, maybe Rody did put him under a spell.

Love.

Vincent stared at his ceiling as he let his body fall onto the bed, feeling its softness swallowing him whole. Vincent knew he had a low alcohol tolerance, he knew having alcohol with Rody that night was a recipe for disaster. But somehow, he was stubborn. He was foolish to not have listened to his instincts. "It wouldn't be too bad, would it?", he thought in his mind as he walked up to Rody to offer him a drink. But what he thought was him passing out on the couch and slightly embarrassing himself, turned into him spilling his entire heart out, to the person he had hidden those feelings from. As a matter of fact, it wasn't just Rody that he had concealed those emotions away from, it was also himself.

How ironic, the man who would always rather go down the path of bitter truth because he hated comfortable lies, was living in one himself.

He put his arm across his face, tired alone from the knowledge that he likely wasn't going to get a wink of sleep either tonight. While he would love to believe he wasn't aware he caught feelings, he knew better not to create more pleasant fabrication of reality after he had committed such a heinous act, after he had held Rody's chin, expressed how he wished to keep him to himself, to love him the way Rody had taught him, and especially not after their lips had almost touched, sealing the fate they were not yet ready for, if Rody even wanted it in the first place. All this time, he had conveniently brushed off his strange behaviors as him tolerating Rody's shenanigans, but it was more than that, and he knew so. Rarely did he smile from someone's dumb jokes. Rarely did he enjoy teasing someone. Rarely did he try to find excuses to see someone. Rarely did he let his guard down around someone so quickly. And rarely did he allow himself to be so vulnerable.