That Stupid Little Waiter

Chapter 7 - Silent Cries of the Night

Splish splash... Splish splash...

The water around Rody gently splashed around along with his soft movements, his arms hugging his knees close to them as his half-lidded eyes mindlessly stared at his own in the reflection.

Guess Vincent was right after all. It was only yesterday that Rody was in his apartment as his waiter, serving delicious to his guests. Never would he have known, a full twenty-four hours later, he was back here but as a disheveled, helpless puppy, soaking himself in warm water in Vincent's tiered bathtub. Even though it had not been of his taste ever since he saw it yesterday, the tub was undeniably and surprisingly comfortable to sit in, but was it a surprise when it was big enough to fit two full-grown adults and looked like it cost three months of his rent?

How he got here was a blur, all that he could remember being the panic in Vincent's voice and his faint voice that struggled to make itself heard under the ever growing rain, but now that he could have a quiet moment to himself in the safe space that was Vincent's apartment, Rody figured he must've been in a pretty terrible state for Vincent to frantically drag him back here. As his own reflection stared back at him, everything on his face was on full display-his tired, dry eyes that had stopped shedding tears because there was simply no more left, his tousled brown locks that looked more of a mess than it usually was, and a gloomy, dejected expression on his face.

Pathetic, the thought rung in his mind as he curled himself up even more and buried his face into his knees, not wanting to look at himself any more. In fact, he didn't even want to leave this bathtub, his body felt weak and his legs could barely find the strength to move. The only motivation that got him to leave it was Vincent and the clothes he left for him on the sink counter.

As a guest at the apartment, Rody felt it was only right that he let Vincent take a bath first-after all he had embarrassed himself enough, he didn't need to be an annoying frick to add to it, not in front of Vincent. However, Vincent insisted that Rody take it first, and when asked why, he said he had a towel and could wait, plus Rody was in the worse condition anyway.

That just stung Rody even more as he picked up the nicely folded clothes off the counter, biting his lips as he did so.

He didn't deserve this, any of this. He didn't deserve to even work here in the first place, but for some odd reason, Vincent welcomed him in. He wasn't worthy of his help, his tolerance, his cheeky jokes. And most importantly, he wasn't deserving of his concerns, of being here bathing in his bathroom, and wearing his very own clothes. Vincent could have walked past him and left him there under the rain without even bothering to bat an eye at him, and Rody wouldn't blame him one bit. Vincent didn't need to do any of this, yet he did.

Why would he go out of his way to help someone so pitiful like him, that was what Rody asked himself as he put on the clothes Vincent left for him. Judging from the difference in their physique, Rody was worried he wouldn't fit in any of Vincent's clothes when every time he saw Vincent, he was always in something small that perfectly hugged his tall slender body, sometimes Rody even thought they were too tight for him. However, it fit Rody surprisingly well, perhaps it helped that it was an oversized sweater, which of course was black, and gray baggy sweatpants. Even though they looked like regular loungewear, they felt high-quality, the fabric being the softest thing he had ever touched. But again, it was to be expected.

As Rody entered the living room, he saw Vincent sitting on the sofa with a towel over his neck, his head down like he was reading something before he turned back to look at Rody, seemingly having noticed his presence.

"Oh you're done, how was..."

Vincent trailed off all of a sudden, his mouth agape and his eyes widening as they looked Rody up and down.