Dead Plate Oneshots Heart and Soul

Yay! another swap au

The kitchen of *La Gueule de Saturne* was quiet, the last patrons gone and the staff cleaning up in the back. Only the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of meat in a pan broke the silence, as Manon Vacher worked with surgical precision at her station. Her hands moved like clockwork, the blade of her knife reflecting the dim kitchen light.

Rody Lamoree had just finished wiping down the last table, his tall, well-built frame hunched slightly from the long day. His auburn hair clung to his forehead, and a tired yet satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Despite the exhaustion, his thoughts were filled with Vincent.

Vincent Charbonneau, Rody’s boyfriend, was the reason he managed to survive the endless shifts. The quiet moments after work, when they could finally relax together, made it all worth it. Vincent was waiting for him outside, likely leaning against the wall with that soft, distant smile that always warmed Rody’s heart.

Manon watched Rody out of the corner of her eye as he finished his tasks. There was something about him—something magnetic, something that pulled her in, like a moth to flame. She had always admired his determination, the way he threw himself into his work despite the chaos. She had always *wanted* him.

But Rody wasn’t hers. He belonged to Vincent, and that fact grated on her every single day. Vincent, with his gentle touches and quiet words, always pulling Rody’s attention away from her. Vincent, who always seemed to stand in the way.

As Rody finally slipped into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, he flashed Manon a grin. “Another crazy night, huh?”

Manon’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah… hectic as usual.” She paused, watching him closely. “Rody, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Chef. What’s up?”

Manon set her knife down and turned to face him, her gaze intense. “What’s your favorite food?”

Rody blinked, surprised by the question. He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? Anything Vince makes. He just… puts everything into his cooking, you know? His heart, his soul. I can taste the love in it every time.” His face softened as he thought of Vincent, and a tender smile crept onto his lips.

Manon’s smile faltered for a split second, something cold and sharp flashing behind her eyes. *Love.* It was always Vincent. Always him. The knife on the counter gleamed in the dim light as her fingers tightened around its handle. But her expression remained neutral as she forced a laugh. “He’s lucky to have someone who appreciates him that much.”

Rody shook his head, oblivious to the tension radiating from her. “No, I’m the lucky one, really. He’s amazing.”

Manon didn’t respond. Her mind was already racing, the disturbing idea creeping in like a shadow. Vincent. He was the problem. He was the reason Rody’s heart was never hers. And if he were gone…

—

The next night, Vincent waited in the small alleyway behind the restaurant, his dark hair slightly disheveled from the cool evening breeze. He leaned casually against the wall, hands tucked into his coat pockets, waiting for Rody to finish his shift. He had arrived early tonight hoping to spend more time with his boyfriend but Marianne refused to let Rody off early. A few stars blinked in the night sky above, and the faint sound of city life hummed in the distance. He looked forward to these quiet moments with Rody, to the time they spent together after a long day. The door opened and Vincent stood straight expecting to see Rody but saw Manon instead.

Inside, Rody was finishing up, his green eyes bright despite the fatigue in his limbs. He couldn’t wait to see Vincent. Vincent had arrived an hour ago but Manon didn’t let him off. He really wanted to finish cleaning up as quickly as possible so he could leave with Vincent. As he grabbed the broom to start cleaning up the floor, Manon stopped him with an almost unsettling calmness. “Rody, I’ll finish up the rest. You can head out now.”

Rody smiled gratefully. “You sure? Thanks, Chef. I owe you one.”

Manon waved him off, watching as he disappeared through the front door. She waited until she heard his footsteps fade into the street, and then she moved swiftly, her heart pounding in her chest. The plan she had been formulating for days was finally set in motion.

—

The alley was cold and silent when Rody returned from a quick trip to grab a pack of cigarettes for Vincent. The second he rounded the corner and saw Vincent’s empty spot, a wave of unease washed over him. Vincent was never late. He always waited for Rody.

Rody looked around, searching for any sign of his boyfriend, but the alley was deserted. His heart began to race as he hurried back inside the restaurant. Something was wrong. His instincts screamed at him.

The kitchen was eerily quiet when he entered. No sound of pots clattering or the low hum of the refrigerator. Manon stood near the stove, stirring something in a pot, her back to him.

“Manon,” Rody called, his voice tinged with concern. “Have you seen Vincent? He was waiting outside, but I—”

“Sit down, Rody,” she interrupted, her voice unnaturally calm.

Rody’s brow furrowed, a pit forming in his stomach. Something about the way she spoke sent shivers down his spine. But he didn’t move.

Manon turned to face him, her expression serene, too serene. “I made something special for you tonight,” she said softly, gesturing toward a plate on the counter. The dish was beautifully prepared, steam rising from it in delicate tendrils. The smell was intoxicating—rich, savory, with a faint sweetness that made Rody’s mouth water despite the knot tightening in his chest.

“I don’t understand…” he stammered, glancing from the dish to Manon. “Where’s Vincent?”

Her eyes glinted with something dark, something dangerous. “He’s here,” she said, her smile widening in a way that made Rody’s blood run cold. “In every bite.”

Rody froze, his mind reeling. It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in. When it did, his stomach churned violently, a wave of nausea crashing over him.

“No… no,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. His legs buckled, and he stumbled back, the room spinning. “You… you didn’t.”

Manon’s smile never faltered. She stepped closer, her voice low and soothing. “You said you liked having his heart, his soul, in everything he made. Now, it’s yours. All of him.”

Rody’s body convulsed, bile rising in his throat. His heart shattered as the horrific realization took hold. She had *killed* him. She had taken Vincent from him in the most twisted, unimaginable way. And now… she was offering him up like some grotesque gift.

“Rody,” Manon cooed, her voice soft, coaxing. “He’s gone now. But I’m still here. I can give you what he couldn’t. I can give you *all* of me. Everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Rody’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurring with tears. The pain was too much, too raw. Vincent… his beautiful, gentle Vincent… was gone. And the monster who had taken him stood there, smiling as if she had done him a favor.

He lunged at her, his grief turning into rage, but his knees gave out before he could reach her. He collapsed onto the cold tile floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the reality of what he had lost crashing over him in waves.

Manon knelt beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. I did this for you. For *us*.”

Rody pulled away, his body shaking with anger and grief. “You… you killed him,” he spat, his voice thick with emotion. “You took him from me”

Manon’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “I took what was in the way. Now you can see… I’m the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always been here for you. Vincent was holding you back.”

Rody stared at her, horror and disbelief swirling in his chest. He could barely process the words she was saying, the twisted justification she offered for her horrific act.

Vincent was gone. And in his place, Rody was left with nothing but the unbearable weight of his absence and the haunting knowledge of what his boss did.

Rody’s breath was shallow, his body trembling as Manon’s words echoed in his mind. *“Vincent was holding you back.”* The room spun around him, the nauseating stench of the dish still lingering in the air—**Vincent**, served up on a plate like some sick mockery of their love. Every time he blinked, he saw Vincent’s soft, affectionate smile, felt his warm touch, heard his gentle laughter.

And now he was gone. Taken from him in the most horrific way imaginable. Because of her.

Manon knelt next to him, her cold hand resting on his shoulder as if offering comfort. As if she hadn’t just destroyed his entire world.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Rody,” Manon’s voice was a near-whisper now, low and coaxing. “This was always meant to happen. Vincent was… in the way. You’ll see that soon enough. You’ll—”

“Shut up,” Rody growled, cutting her off, his voice trembling with rage. His hands were shaking as he wiped the tears from his face, but a new resolve began to build in his chest, dark and consuming. His grief was boiling over into something dangerous, something primal.

Manon tilted her head, her smile faltering as she took in the intensity in his eyes. “Rody?”

He stood slowly, towering over her. The kitchen lights flickered above them, casting long, distorted shadows across the tiled floor. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, every muscle in his body taut, his mind consumed by one singular, all-encompassing thought: **she has to pay.**

Manon started to back away, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Rody, I—I did this for you. For *us*,” she stammered, her voice trembling for the first time. Her calm, calculated façade was starting to crack. She had never expected Rody to react this way. She had never expected this kind of wrath from him.

“For *us*?” Rody spat, his voice rising. “You think this is love? You think I could ever love you after this?” His voice broke, raw and filled with fury. “You killed him, Manon! You *killed* the only person I’ve ever loved!”

Manon stumbled back, her eyes widening as she realized the gravity of what she had done. She had miscalculated. Severely. “Rody, I—”

He lunged at her before she could finish, his hands wrapping around her throat in a flash of rage-fueled desperation. The moment his fingers made contact with her skin, his mind went blank, consumed by the overwhelming urge to make her feel the pain she had inflicted on him. To make her suffer.

Manon gasped, clawing at his hands, her eyes wide with shock and terror. “Rody, no—please!” Her voice was a strangled plea, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to pry his hands away.

But Rody didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The grief, the anger, the disgust—all of it was fueling him now, pushing him further into the abyss. His grip tightened, his knuckles white as he squeezed, his vision blurring with tears.

Manon’s struggles grew weaker, her face contorting in a mix of horror and desperation. Her legs kicked out feebly, knocking over a nearby pan, sending it clattering to the floor. But Rody didn’t flinch. His focus was unyielding, his thoughts consumed by the memory of Vincent’s warm smile, the way he used to hold him close after a long day.

Vincent would never hold him again. And it was all because of her.

“You… took the love of my life from me,” Rody hissed through clenched teeth, his voice shaking with emotion. His heart pounded in his chest, a painful, rhythmic reminder of everything he had lost.

Manon’s lips parted, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Her eyes rolled back, and her fingers fell limp at her sides, no longer fighting back.

And then, with one final, desperate breath, her body went still.

Rody’s hands remained around her neck for several more moments, even after her body slumped to the floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as the reality of what he had just done slowly sank in. Manon’s lifeless eyes stared up at him, her face twisted in a grotesque mix of fear and regret.

He stumbled back, his hands shaking as he looked down at her, his mind reeling. The adrenaline began to fade, and the weight of his actions crashed down on him like a tidal wave.

But as he stood there, staring at the body on the floor, he felt no remorse. No guilt. Only a hollow emptiness.

She had deserved it. She had taken Vincent from him—his sweet, kind, innocent Vincent. The man who had loved him with every fiber of his being, who had always been there for him, always understanding, always patient. He would never taste Vincent’s cooking again. Never feel his warmth beside him in bed. Never hear his voice whispering softly in his ear.

Rody collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with sobs as the reality of his loss finally broke him. He buried his face in his hands, crying out for Vincent, for the future they would never have.

And in the dim, empty kitchen, the only sound that remained was his heartbroken cries, echoing in the void left behind by the man he loved.

—

Rody didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his grief. Time had ceased to exist in that moment. Eventually, though, the silence became too much to bear. He couldn’t stay there. Not in this place that now reeked of death and betrayal.

With trembling hands, he stood, stepping over Manon’s body without so much as a glance. The door to the restaurant creaked open as he stepped outside into the cool night air, the weight of everything pressing down on his chest.

Vincent’s absence was suffocating, an ache that would never leave him.

But for now, all he could do was walk away.