Apéritif [ Carmy Berzatto || THE BEAR FF ]

Chapter 15 - Chopping Board

Carmy's eyes snapped open before the alarm clock had a chance to ring. He suffered one of the worst sleepless nights since he lost Mikey. His head throbbed with a dull headache from the alcohol fighting against his system. The proof of bottles scattered across the living room floor.

With a groan, Carmy reached for the alarm clock, his hand shaking with frustration. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he hurled it across the room, not even bothering to watch it shatter against the wall. The skin around his knuckles was still tender, the scarring from last nights outburst as he took a beating at the furniture around him. The flipped chairs, the scattered papers and broken glass. His home was hazard area.

Carmy tried his best to lug himself out of bed. He tried to keep up with the pace of the outside even though everything felt slow and mechanical.

By the time he arrived at the restaurant, Carmy was in a daze, his eyes unfocused and distant.

They tried to work around him, picking up the slack where they could, but it was clear that something was wrong.

As the day wore on, Carmy's agitation grew, his frustration simmering just below the surface. Like an active volcano about to blow. And it wasn't until Sydney made the mistake of leaving the house sauce cooking on the stove for too long in a desperate attempt to pick up after Carmy's slack.

"Yo YO YO?!" He rushed over to the pot that was slowly starting to bubble over. "YO WHAT THE FUCK?!" He took a strong grip on the handle of the pot before lifting it and slamming it back down on the stove. Red liquid splashing everywhere like a murderous crime scene.

The loud bang not only made everyone in the kitchen stop, but it silenced the dining area. The only thing you could hear was the confused murmurs of guests.

"CHEF?! What is wrong with you?" Tina bellowed as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of red marking her face.

"Your sous chef doesn't know how to do her fucking job."

"Woah." Everyone's voice started to pick up.

Richie made his way past the double doors and stood frozen as he took in the mess that was the kitchen.

"Your sous chef is saving your ass right now." Sydney was inches away from Carmy's face. A fiery finger pointing between Carmy's eyes.

"Do you see this shit? ARE YOU DENSE?!" The towel that was once tucked in the ties of his apron was thrown onto the ground.

"You come into MY kitchen, fuck up MY sauce, fuck up MY BUSINESS." Meanwhile Tina and Ibra is trying their best to break up what could be a physical fight. There was yelling and commotion, people holding back Carmy and Sydney the best they could. But neither side was backing down. And in between all the whirlwind of chaos, a voice managed to cut through the commotion.

"It's not your business."

Richie face stood still.

"What?" Ibra's grip loosened from Carmy's shoulders. The only thing, or person, standing in between Richie and Carmy was Marcus. And he very much didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

"Okay let's all calm down, holy fuck." Marcus yelled.

"You know what get the fuck out." Carmy pointed with a straight finger towards the back doors that led out to the alleyway.

"Excuse me?" Richie scoffed.

"I said Get. the. Fuck. Out."

"I know you're not talking to me buddy. Your ass is flying too close to the sun." Richie shot back.

And the very words every one was scared of hearing seeped right through Carmy's teeth with a venomous rage.

"Richie. You're fired."

"Dude—"

"No hes not." Sydney chimed in.

"You know what?! You can get out too." Everyone's eyes darted between each other anxiously , as if they were waiting for Carmy to pull out a smile and say it was a ll a joke. But Carmy, does not like to joke in the kitchen.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

The kitchen fell into a stunned silence as Carmy's words hung in the air like a dark cloud, suffocating the room with their weight. The only sound left was the heavy footsteps of Richie and Sydney leaving through the back door.

And as the sound of feet shuffling fell silent, Carmy faced the remaining crew. "Get back to work!" His voice roared through the line with the veins of his neck poking out. But his words fell on deaf ears as everyone stood there silently.

Fak stepped forward, his voice sterner than usual. "Carmy, man, you're over your head. You need to calm the hell down," he said, his words coated in disgust. But Carmy ignored him, his gaze fixed on Tina, who stood there with tears in her eyes and her brows knit together. If it was anyone to set Carmy straight, it was Tina. She saw Carmy as one of her own, despite all the bickering they put each other through.

Tina rubbed her palms down her apron, the cold sweat drenching the cloth. She took a big deep breath out before blinking a few times to gain focus.

"Tina, you better not leave," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with desperation.

Tina shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "Im not, Carmy," she said, her words tinged with anger. "Not because I want to stay, but because I spent too much blood sweat and tears to help build this for you, for us Mikey, for fuckin' Mikey, just for you to tear it down."

"Marcus go grab the prep ingredients from the walk-in please." Her gaze not breaking from Carmy's.

He turned his head to face her, his heart heavy with regret. "And Chef," Tina continued, her voice softening just a bit, "put a glove on." She nodded towards his arm, where a small trickle of blood ran down the open bruises on his knuckles.

"Your hand is bleeding."