Okay so I'm kind of obsessed rn with this game called Dead Plate. It's basically one of those diner dash games, where you have to serve customers at a restaurant before they leave from losing their patience like the karens they are. Except this one's a horror game and the hot emo chef wants to eat you. Literally. The main character is Rody, who's trying to get money to go somewhere nice with his girlfriend that he denies temporarily broke up with him.

SO OBVIOUSLY RODY AND VINCE (aforementioned emo chef) ARE GAY /j

Seriously if you play/watch the game you would agree with me XD

Anyway I rewrote the ending "Best Served Hot" but instead of Rody killing Vince and burning the restaurant to the ground they're gay. Enjoy.

The only things I must mention specifically for context is that Vince lost his sense of taste at a young age, which is the entire reason they're fighting, and that Manon was Rody's girlfriend.

TW: Cannibalism, blood, censored profanity

-

That face.

That face in that golden locket, stained with a splatter of dark crimson blood.

One side was my own face, but that didn't interest me. It was the girl on the other side, half covered by the blood. I didn't even need to clean the glass protector to know that it was her face. Her face.

"M-Manon...?" I didn't expect the locket to answer, but my brain wasn't quite processing the situation. Tears pricked the edge of my vision, my hands trembling as I clutched the locket.

"O-oh god... oh god..."

It was getting harder for me to breathe. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. What the truth was.

He was... was he... is that what...

A presence loomed behind me. Slowly I turned my head.

Dark eyes glared with furious intent, yet apologetic remorse at me before the world went dark.

-

I couldn't move.

It was cold - I was still in the freezer. Something dug into my arms. I groaned as my eyes opened, my head throbbing. My vision was fuzzy in the dark, cold room, but I managed to finally make out the door just a few feet in front of me.

I tried to move my arms. Rope dug into my skin through my white sleeves. Immediately panic set in, and I began to writhe on the ground, trying to free myself from the bindings. No luck - they were tied tight.

A flicker of memory crossed my mind - the matches! I have those matches I bought! I fumbled in my pocket until my hand wrapped around a small box. Carefully I turned onto my back so I could see my hands as I shakily opened the box, pulled a wooden stick from inside, and lit it ablaze. Soon I'd burned through the ropes and was free.

The door was locked. I needed something to break the window with. I quickly glanced outside - the kitchen was dark and empty. I glanced at a large hunk of meat hanging from the ceiling and at the industrial saw in the corner, and quickly formed a plan in my shaken mind.

With a piece of animal bone that I now possessed after cutting through the meat, I smashed the window. Careful so I wouldn't cut my arm on the glass, I reached my hand through the window and wrapped my hand around the handle, unlocking it and pushing through.

The room was dark (and much warmer than the freezer). There was one single light on across the room, something laying underneath it. Nervously I walked across the kitchen and looked at it.

A dead plate. A grilled hanger steak, by the looks of it.

A door creaked. My spine went stiff, and I fearfully looked behind me.

Dark, crazed eyes glared at me through the dark. The same angry eyes I'd seen seconds before he'd knocked me out, the same tired eyes I'd secretly enjoyed seeing every damn day I'd worked at this place.

He stared at me. His hand fell from the doorknob of his office, sliding down the metal knob and falling to his side.

I found the words to speak after staring at him for a moment. "V-Vince, I'm sure we can talk about this-"

Vince began to advance from the door, footsteps becoming quicker and quicker and quicker as I nearly tripped over myself to get to the back door.

"No- NO GET AWAY FROM ME! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER, GET BACK-!"

He lunged. Fire exploded on the side of my head, warm liquid running down my neck.

Before I knew what was happening I was on the ground, and Vince was standing over me, blood splattered on his face and around his mouth. My hand shakily rose to where my ear was throbbing in agony.

...oh god where's my ear...?!

My hand pressed against the open wound. There was nothing there. Just a welt of blood, not even a nub where the cartilage used to be.

"...ahh.. ahHh... AHHHH-"

"O-oh my god... ohgodohgodohgodohgod...!" My voice wavered, pain drugging my senses to a dull pulsing, my heart the only thing I could hear over the ringing in my ears. Or ear, should I say. "G-GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!"

Vince dragged a finger across his bloodied chin, not taking those black, black eyes off of me as he wiped the red liquid from his face. Earlier I'd thought I was imagining that apology in his gaze, but now I could see for certain that behind his wild, psychotic eyes was a sort of remorse he refused to reveal.

"H-how... how could you even think of making... food..." My own voice was a distant ways away. "...I-is everything you cook-"

"Do you even hear yourself?"

His voice was cold and empty, devoid of any emotion.

"No. That's disgusting. I would never serve anything like that in my kitchen."

That wasn't quite a reassuring statement, but I was glad to hear that at least.

"B-but then..." I stammered. "...w-why me? Why her?! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK TO BUTCHER HER LIKE THAT-"

"Well I wasn't planning on being the one to eat it." Vince seemed offended that I would ever suggest such a thing.

"WH... WHO THE HELL WAS GONNA EAT IT, THEN?! WHAT DID SHE EVEN DO, WHY DID YOU KILL HER-?!"

"Because you..." Vince hesitated, seeming angry for a second. "UGH! You were supposed to enjoy it!"

I was caught off guard by this. "...W-what?"

"The dish," He glared at me, but softer now. "It was meant to be for you."

I stared at him.

"But," he sighed. "You refused to eat it. And now you've gone ahead and wasted it. It... it wasn't for me, Rody, it was for you!"

"That's..." ...sickening, but sweet of you. "Vincent, that's [beep]ing insane, you know that, right?"

"Besides," Vince said. "You never told me your favorite food."

He tried to force a smile at me, but it was crooked and wrong. Like he wasn't used to it. But it was genuine, at the least.

I snapped myself back to the present, pressing my hand against the bleeding wound of what used to be my ear.

"M-my ear, you ate my ear..."

"Well, don't flatter yourself, it probably would've been better cooked."

"S-so you... you do eat people?"

Vince seemed genuinely shocked at the proposal.

"-?! No. I can't stand eating. No matter the ingredient, no matter the recipe, everything tastes the exact same."

His voice wavered. "It tastes like nothing, and it makes me sick."

His hand balled into a shaking fist around the object he had been holding this whole time - a corkscrew.

"But... maybe with you..."

I knew what was about to happen. I scrambled backwards for the door I'd failed to reach. I stood up, my blood soaking my sleeve and staining the white cloth red.

I desperately fumbled with the handle. Locked.

His weight slammed into me, one hand on my chest and the other on the wall near my bloody excuse for an ear.

I gasped for breath. Why is he so strong-?! "Y-you... you never told me how you knew her. No point in dodging the question now, right? There's not much else to [beep]ing hide."

"It wasn't long, this wasn't some long grift - a short while you asked for the job." Vince's black eyes pierced my soul, shifting from explosive emotion to nothing at all. "She showed passing interest in me, but I was wasn't interested. It had an obvious rebound on her behalf. It wasn't until after you gave me your sob story crying over her..."

He attempted a smile again, to the same avail. "...More particularly when you showed that much desperation and sacrifice for this girl, that I realized..."

"...You realized that she was part of the recipe you were looking for.."

It made sense now. The tasteless chef had been searching for a way to put passion into his food - which I honestly understood, his food didn't quite have the taste of the fort put into it that others on his level could make.

Just... like this...?

I found myself sympathizing for the poor guy. Which I wanted to slap myself for. Life or death, Rody, why are you doing this to yourself-

Vince's expression became angry again. "...And you weren't even willing to TRY IT!"

I finally managed to shove him off of me, stumbling across the kitchen and finding the handle of his office door. Quickly I opened it, slamming the door shut behind me before Vince could drag me back out. I locked the door behind me and scanned the room.

The air smelled heavily of Vince's cigarettes, a debut to the well-used ashtray on his desk. There wasn't much in there, as I knew from last time I'd decided to snoop around after my shift.

Except now there was a half-shattered wine glass on the ground.

Immediately I began to reach for the glass, a plan already formulating in my mind.

But I stopped. My hand trembled. My missing ear was, at this point, a dull throb, though it was still agonizing if I focused on it. But that's not why I stopped.

Somehow the thought of stabbing him seemed... sickening. Heartbreaking. I tried to tell myself it was just my general non-psychopathic mindset, but no matter what I told myself I couldn't bring myself to touch that shattered wine bottle.

I sighed, frustrated with myself. I was gonna die if I didn't do something, and if I did something most likely Vince would die. And no matter what he did, I didn't want that. I mean, sure, he attempted to get me to cannibalize my girlfriend - er, ex-girlfriend now, I guess. But not because he's a psychopath or anything - he just wanted to make good food. Which in itself was something I didn't relate to very well - if I so much as touch something food related, I always seem to burn it. But I could see the logic.

And I... really didn't want to kill him.

So I took a deep breath, turned around, and, with a shaking hand, walked through the door.

Vince was waiting. He wasn't trying to break through the door. He knew there was no way out through his office - I would've had to come back out no matter what. I so much as closed the door before he was on me again, a crazed, anticipating look in his eye as he kept me against the wall. At first my mind went into panic mode again, prepared for him to rip into my skin with his teeth once again...

Vince gave a small, surprised gasp as I wrapped him in a hug. I didn't let go, just prepared for him to go crazy again and try to bite my other ear off. We stood there for a moment, the feelings between us somewhere inside the bounds awkward and comforting. I thought he was gonna stab me with his corkscrew, but I eventually heard it clatter on the floor and felt his hands on my back. He didn't say anything, didn't make any sound. Just silently hugged me.

"You don't have to do this," I said in a soft tone. "You can be better than this."

Vince didn't reply for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Rody... I thought you would... like it..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He wasn't crying, that much I could tell, but his apology was genuine. If he was less controlled, he might've been crying, I don't know. "It's okay."

Silence again. I didn't like it, it was weirdly awkward. But I didn't know what to fill it with.

"Y-you understand that I... did it for you... yes? I... didn't do it out of malice."

"I know."

"Do you know why?"

"No."

Vince took a deep, shuddering breath. "Because I love you, Rody."

...well, I wasn't quite expecting that. But I didn't hesitate to answer.

"...I love you too, Vince."

-

2179 words

Little late valentine's special I guess. Hope you liked my sudden urge to fanfiction :)