Seven, Again

Superego

Thank You.

Independence is the rebellion of the hand that feeds you.
To deny your needs is to be independent of them.
Failure follows soon after.

Such as him.
Wrath.

An independent mess. Once, a reliable man, now a lonely chef. A man who refuses the help he needs. If only he had learned the people there for him. I can show him.

You'll see, Charles.

"Charles! Charlie! You ok?"
"I-I'm fine. I'm GOOD! Get these dishes out, now!"

Charles' hands begun to shake, as he paced back and forth between his station. He pointed at a completed dish to his assistant chef, before grabbing another chicken breast and placing it into the pan.
His chefs noticed something different about him, but didn't want to mention it to him, fearful of disrupting him while he was at work.

On the surface, Charles looked hard at work.
On his back, however, something began to emerge.
Steam began to emit from Charles' back, as he intensely focused on his work.

It was a pain never felt before, but a pain he didn't have the time to pay attention to.

"CHARLIE!"
"WHAT?!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH YOUR BACK, DUDE?!"

He paid no attention to his peers, moving onto another station to chop Parsley.
His collegues sllowly began to halt their movements in astonishment, intensely spectating Charles.
Slowly, Charles began to concentrate less and less on what he was doing.

On his back was the cause of his pain, a tattoo forming slowly on his back. It had the appearance of an Ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail.
The pain forced a tear down Charles' face, forcing his chops to be less precise.
He kept his back to his collegues, not wanting to face them out of embarassment.

"Charlie."
Charles stepped over to his pan and tilted the chicken slightly, noticing the bottom was burnt.
He knew he had to stop.
"I'm going on break."

Charles stormed out the kitchen into the back alleyway, where he had been with Kentaro just a moment ago.
He searched around the alleyway before turning the corner and seeing Kentaro walking away from the restaurant.
He contemplated calling out to Kentaro, but stopped himself.

Should I really call him?
After what I said? After what he's told me?
Would he even care?

He wouldn't.
Fuck him.
He doesn't give a fuck about what happened to me. He never did, not once did he ever even ask me how I was doing.
Fuck you, Kentaro. Fuck you and your problems. Fuck you and fuck T. Fuck

"Charles?"
Charles peeked over his shoulder and saw a familiar face across the street. A face he hadn't seen in a while.
A comforting one.
"Darnel? The fuck're you doing here?"

Darnel ran across the street, while Charles wiped his face from the sweat and tears of the kitchen.
"We were just drinking at the pub, waiting for Jason so we can celebrate his birthday. He's still a no-show."
"Should've seen it coming. Never shows up to anything, that prick. Why not drink at your dad's?"
"Are you joking? Who the hell would drink at their dad's bar?"
Darnel laughs, heartily. Charles lets out a small chuckle, before averting his eyes.

"Hey, you want one?"
Darnel held out a cigarette, offering it to Charles.
"I'm alright, thanks."
"What, you stopped smoking all of a sudden?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"
Charles straightened his posture out, startling Darnel.
"Nothing, dude."
Charles scoffed and began stepping toward the door back into the kitchen, before being stopped by Darnel.