Bon Appetit [Dead Plate Oneshots]

Bite the hand, that feeds you (Ch. 2)

'Have you ever just loved someone so much that you wanna tie them up or saw all their limbs, so they wouldn't escape you?'

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, the pale man, puffed out the smoke, it disappeared as soon as it escaped his dry lips. The night was cold, the streetlamp barely giving any light— his sleeve shirt, barely warmed him from the cold but not that he minded anyway.

He leaned against his balcony, the white dots spread across the vast skies. It was such a blissful night, romantic even if one were to have a spouse with them.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" The corner of his lips twitched into an apprehensive smile, one filled with cockiness and disdain. He looked below him and watched as his beloved partner, bellowed on his feet.

With no limbs, how can he fly away? He can't fly away. Those were Vince's thoughts and it pleased him even though it was a pathetic sight to behold— it was sickening indeed.

The visible under-eye bags telling tales of relentless nights, Vince's bloodshot eyes screamed exhaustion. His desperation clung to Rody like a shadow; though he physically made sure that the brunette couldn't escape him, there was still slight paranoia that gnawed at him like insects.

Often awake to stare at Rody sleeping, following his pattern, his small breaths, just— something to tell him that he wouldn't escape if he allowed the deep slumber to consume him.

He'd stare with wide eyes, at the sleeping brunette, terrified that if he blinked, he'd wake up to an empty bed. The erratic rhythm of Rody's breath became Vince's lifeline, a feeble attempt to anchor himself in a world that threatened to crumble with every fleeting moment of rest.

"Please, please, please—this is just a nightmare." Rody's whimpering echoed in Vincent's ears, the man is a colossal crybaby. Yet, in his mind, Vincent's infatuation deepened, clinging to hope like a drowning man to a raft, as if the repeated words gave him relief, the nightmare felt more like a fleeting dream.

"Get used to this, this is your life now."
A sinister delight simmered within Vince, akin to a chef savoring the creation of an exquisite dish.

He relit another cigarette and it shielded with his hand "How about we take a walk to the kitchen?"

His dark pupils kept on fixating on Rody's numerous failed attempts to crawl. He licked his lips, relishing in the power to spice Rody's torment to perfection, each whimper a note in his culinary composition.

"Please no! Anything but that!"

"Shush, you don't have any say in this."
It was hilarious, that Vince couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, staring as Rody used nothing more than his stumps to get ahold of himself, whilst he squirmed and cried, hot tears dripping down his tan cheeks.

The brunette's current state reminded the male, of his precious bird as a child. It was adorable even, so stupidly adorable.

A flightless bird, a bird with no wings
He can't fly anymore, he can't run away.

Rody can't run from him— could never run from him. In this god-forsaken world, the only thing that gave him comfort was knowing Rody wasn't able to leave him and he'd cut all the possible solutions.

Though it did take a huge chunk of his life savings to hire a private surgeon— a family doctor if you will, to have all of his pet's limbs stitched up neatly and nicely. Aside from the medical cost, there was that hefty bribe to keep the surgeon's mouth  nicely kept shut.

Rody forced himself to crawl towards the kitchen, with Vince occasionally kneeling and whispering in his ear about how good he was as a pet— it destroyed Rody's soul.