Dead Plate Oneshots I Hate Your Girlfriend

—

The smell of burnt toast lingered in the small apartment, a stubborn reminder of Rody’s latest culinary disaster. Rody stood in the cramped kitchen, scraping charred remains off the toaster with an annoyed sigh. “I swear this thing hates me,” he muttered, as the toast crumbled into the sink.

Vincent, leaning against the doorway, watched with an amused but subtle smirk. His dark eyes followed every move Rody made, soaking in the little nuances of his clumsiness. Despite the small mess Rody constantly left behind, Vincent found himself captivated by him—every fumbled attempt at cooking, every awkward smile. But behind that amusement, there was an undercurrent of something far more intense.

“I told you I’d make breakfast today,” Vincent said, his voice low and controlled, with just the slightest hint of frustration. He stepped into the kitchen, effortlessly moving past Rody to retrieve a pan from the cupboard.

Rody flashed a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I know. But I figured I’d give it another shot. Maybe one day I won’t burn the toast.”

Vincent allowed a brief chuckle to escape, though it was tinged with something darker, something that had been gnawing at him for months. He couldn’t stand how oblivious Rody was—how blind he was to the way Vincent felt, or worse, how deeply attached Rody remained to his girlfriend, Manon.

Manon, the thorn in Vincent’s side. Every time she was mentioned, Vincent’s mood soured. She was everything Vincent despised: a barrier between him and Rody, someone who didn’t deserve Rody’s affection, and worst of all, the person who took Rody’s attention away from him.

“She’s coming over later, by the way,” Rody mentioned, as if on cue, while he fiddled with the salt shaker. “Manon’s been really busy, so we’re just gonna hang out here tonight.”

Vincent’s grip tightened on the pan’s handle. He forced himself to focus on cracking eggs into the pan, watching the yolks pool and sizzle as they hit the heated surface. “Does she know you can’t cook to save your life?” he remarked, feigning lightheartedness.

Rody laughed, oblivious to the tension in Vincent’s words. “She’s used to it. I think she’s secretly grateful for your cooking, though. I swear she’s always asking when you’ll make those lemon bars again.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “I’m sure she is.” The thought of Manon indulging in his carefully crafted desserts made his blood boil. Those lemon bars were supposed to be for Rody, a subtle expression of Vincent’s affection, a way to communicate what he couldn’t say out loud. But now, they were just another thing shared with *her*.

Rody didn’t notice Vincent’s change in demeanor. He was too busy trying to salvage the rest of the breakfast, unaware of the storm brewing beside him. “Anyway, I was thinking we could all have dinner together. Maybe you could show me how to cook something nice. Manon’s been saying she wants to try something new.”

The idea of spending the evening with Manon—of watching Rody’s attention shift to her, of hearing them laugh and share inside jokes while he played the role of the ever-supportive roommate—made Vincent’s stomach churn. But more than that, it was the thought of how easily Rody included him in their plans, as if Vincent was nothing more than an afterthought, a sidekick to their relationship.

“Sure,” Vincent replied, his voice strained but controlled. “I’ll teach you something.”

Rody grinned, oblivious. “You’re the best, Vincent. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vincent’s chest tightened at those words. *What would you do without me?* The question echoed in his mind, darker thoughts creeping in. If Manon weren’t in the picture, maybe Rody would see him in a different light. Maybe Rody would realize that it wasn’t just friendship Vincent offered—it was something more, something deeper.

But as long as Manon was around, Rody would never see it.

As they worked side by side in the kitchen, Rody’s easy chatter filled the space, a stark contrast to the silence in Vincent’s mind. Vincent watched him, his hands moving automatically as he prepared breakfast, while his thoughts spiraled into a twisted loop of jealousy and longing.

When breakfast was finally ready, they sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Rody dug in with enthusiasm, complimenting Vincent’s cooking as always. Vincent offered a small, tight-lipped smile in return, his mind already racing ahead to the evening.

He needed to do something, anything, to make Rody see the truth. And if that meant confronting Manon—removing her from the equation—then so be it. Vincent’s gaze drifted to the kitchen knife resting on the counter, the blade glinting in the morning light.

No,He couldn’t do that. Rody would despise him if he did that. He had to think of something else.
—

Evening fell, and with it came the hum of the city outside their apartment. Rody was in the living room, attempting to tidy up before Manon arrived, while Vincent stayed in the kitchen, meticulously preparing the ingredients for dinner. He moved with a precision that spoke of years of experience, but tonight, every slice, every chop, carried a weight of determination.

The doorbell rang, breaking the tense silence. Rody perked up, a smile stretching across his face. “That must be her,” he said, almost to himself, as he hurried to the door.

Vincent didn’t bother to look up, instead focusing on the vegetables he was chopping, his knife gliding effortlessly through them. But when he heard Manon’s voice, bright and cheerful, his grip on the knife tightened.

“Rody!” Manon’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Vincent, grating on his nerves as she embraced Rody, her laughter filling the small space.

“Manon, hey! Come on in,” Rody replied, pulling her into the apartment. “Vincent’s just finishing up in the kitchen. He’s making something special tonight.”

Manon’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered, glancing towards the kitchen. “That’s sweet of him,” she said, her voice losing some of its earlier warmth.

Vincent finally looked up, meeting Manon’s gaze with a cold, calculating stare. “Manon,” he greeted, nodding stiffly. “Dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you two make yourselves comfortable?”

Manon hesitated, but Rody, oblivious as always, led her to the couch. “You’ve gotta try Vincent’s cooking tonight. He’s really going all out.”

Vincent returned to his work, his mind working faster than his hands. He listened to Rody and Manon chat in the living room, his jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. Each laugh they shared, each word of affection from Rody, felt like a twist of the knife Vincent was holding.

As he arranged the ingredients for the main course, Vincent’s thoughts grew darker. He knew what he had to do. He would use tonight’s dinner as an opportunity to show Rody the truth—show him that Manon wasn’t worthy of his love, that she was a hindrance to what they could have together.

When dinner was ready, Vincent plated the dishes with care, making sure everything was perfect. He carried the plates to the table, his expression unreadable as he set them down in front of Rody and Manon.

“This looks amazing,” Manon said politely, though Vincent noticed the slight tension in her voice. She wasn’t as comfortable as she pretended to be.

“Thanks, Vincent,” Rody added with genuine appreciation. “It smells incredible.”

Vincent nodded, taking his seat across from them. He watched as they started eating, his eyes flicking between them, waiting for the right moment.

The conversation flowed awkwardly at first, but Rody, ever the optimist, tried to keep things light. “So, how’s work been, Manon?” he asked between bites.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Busy, but nothing too exciting.”

Vincent’s gaze sharpened, catching the slight edge in her tone. She was holding something back. He knew it. And so, he decided to push.

“I’m curious, Manon,” Vincent began, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of something far more dangerous. “You’ve been so busy lately. Do you still find time for Rody?”

Rody blinked, looking between the two of them, sensing the tension but not understanding its source. “Vincent, come on. Manon’s got a lot on her plate, that’s all.”

Manon shot Vincent a wary look, clearly uncomfortable. “Rody and I make time for each other. It’s just… life is complicated right now.”

“Complicated?” Vincent echoed, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you call it?”

Manon’s eyes narrowed, sensing the challenge in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vincent’s smile was all sharp edges. “Just that Rody deserves someone who’s fully committed. Someone who won’t let ‘complications’ get in the way.”

Rody, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation, tried to intervene. “Hey, let’s not—”

But Vincent wasn’t done. “I see the way you look at him,” he continued, his voice low and dangerous. “Like he’s an obligation, something you have to make time for instead of something you *want* to make time for.”

Manon’s face flushed with anger. “You don’t know anything about our relationship,” she snapped. “Rody and I have been through a lot together. We care about each other.”

Vincent’s eyes darkened. “But not enough, right? Not enough to be here without looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Vincent, stop,” Rody pleaded, his voice strained. He reached out, trying to grasp Vincent’s hand, but Vincent pulled away.

“No, Rody,” Vincent said, his voice softening as he looked at him. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who sees you, who appreciates you—someone who doesn’t treat you like a second thought.”

Manon’s expression twisted with a mix of guilt and defiance. “I’m doing the best I can, Vincent. It’s not your place to judge.”

“Maybe not,” Vincent replied, his gaze piercing. “But it is my place to care about him. And I won’t just stand by and watch you string him along.”

Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between the two people who meant the most to him. He couldn’t understand why Vincent was doing this—why he was attacking Manon like this.

“Please, can we just have a nice dinner?” Rody’s voice cracked with emotion, the tension finally getting to him.

Vincent’s expression softened as he looked at Rody, seeing the hurt in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to push this far, hadn’t wanted to see that pain. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Manon stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’m sorry, Rody, but I can’t do this right now. I need some air.”

She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Rody staring after her in shock.

The silence that followed was deafening. Vincent remained seated, watching Rody’s reaction with a mix of guilt and satisfaction. He had done what he set out to do—he had driven a wedge between them. But at what cost?

Rody finally turned to Vincent, his face pale and his eyes wide with confusion and hurt. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vincent didn’t know how to answer. He could see the betrayal in Rody’s eyes, the question that hung between them—*Why would you do this to me?*

Because he loved him. Because he couldn’t stand to see Rody with anyone else, especially not with someone who didn’t deserve him. But how could he say that? How could he explain the depth of his feelings without scaring Rody away for good?

“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, his voice tight. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Rody stared at him for a long moment, his emotions warring on his face. “I need to think,” he finally said, his voice trembling. He stood up, pushing his chair back as he made his way to the door.

Vincent’s heart sank as he watched him go, the door closing softly behind him. The apartment felt emptier than ever, the quiet oppressive as Vincent sat alone at the table, staring at the half-eaten meal before him.

He had done what he thought was right—what he believed was necessary to protect Rody. But as the night wore on, and the silence grew heavier, Vincent couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake.

Outside, Rody walked through the darkened streets, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He had never seen this side of Vincent before, had never realized just how deeply Vincent felt. And as he tried to make sense of it all, one thought kept repeating in his mind:

*Why did it have to be like this?*
—

Rody’s footsteps echoed through the empty streets, the chill of the night air biting at his skin. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his mind still reeling from the confrontation in the apartment. The city was alive around him—cars passing by, distant chatter from late-night diners—but Rody felt utterly isolated, trapped in his thoughts.

He couldn’t understand why Vincent had done what he did. Sure, they’d had their disagreements before, but this? This was different. Vincent had always been there for him, supportive in his own way, but tonight felt like something else entirely.

The image of Vincent’s cold, intense gaze as he confronted Manon flashed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t just the words Vincent had said—it was the way he’d said them, with a venom Rody had never heard from him before. It was as if Vincent had wanted to hurt Manon, to drive her away.

*But why?* Rody thought, his heart heavy with confusion.

As he walked, his thoughts kept circling back to the way Vincent had looked at him after Manon left—the regret in his eyes, the way he had almost reached out but then stopped himself. There was something behind that look, something that Rody couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Before he realized it, Rody found himself standing outside a small park, the cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees. He sat down on a bench, trying to calm his racing mind. The quiet of the park offered some solace, but it couldn’t quell the turmoil inside him.

He pulled out his phone, staring at Manon’s number on the screen. He should call her, apologize for what happened, but his fingers hesitated over the dial. The thought of hearing her voice, of trying to explain Vincent’s behavior—it was all too much right now.

Instead, Rody leaned back on the bench, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. He needed to clear his head, to figure out what was really going on between Vincent and Manon—and more importantly, what he was going to do about it.

—

Back at the apartment, Vincent remained seated at the table, his head resting in his hands. The silence was suffocating, every second that ticked by a reminder of how badly he had messed up. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far, hadn’t meant to drive Rody away.

He clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. Why had he let his emotions get the best of him? He knew better—knew that confronting Manon like that would only push Rody further away. But seeing her there, smiling and acting like she was the best thing for Rody, had made something snap inside him.

Vincent stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He couldn’t just sit here and wallow in regret. He needed to make things right. Rody meant too much to him to let things end like this.

Grabbing his coat, Vincent headed for the door. He had to find Rody, had to explain—had to make him understand why he had done what he did, even if it meant revealing the feelings he had kept buried for so long.

—

Rody was still sitting on the bench, lost in thought, when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up, surprised to see Vincent standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“Rody,” Vincent said softly, taking a cautious step closer. “Can we talk?”

Rody stared at him for a moment, his emotions warring inside him. Part of him wanted to walk away, to avoid another confrontation, but another part of him—the part that still cared about Vincent—wanted to understand.

“Yeah, okay,” Rody finally replied, his voice tired. “Let’s talk.”

Vincent sat down on the bench beside him, leaving a careful distance between them. He glanced at Rody, noting the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand like that.”

Rody let out a bitter laugh. “You didn’t mean to drive her away, but you did. Why, Vincent? Why did you do it?”

Vincent hesitated, struggling to find the right words. How could he explain something so deeply rooted in his heart, something he had hidden for so long?

“Because I couldn’t stand seeing you with her,” Vincent admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Every time I see you with Manon, it hurts. It’s like… it’s like there’s this constant ache in my chest that I can’t get rid of.”

Rody turned to look at him, confusion etched on his face. “Why? Vincent, I don’t understand. You and Manon barely know each other. Why does it bother you so much?”

Vincent closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was it—the moment he had been dreading but knew had to come.

“Because I love you, Rody,” Vincent confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I was too afraid to say anything. I thought I could keep it hidden, that I could be content just being your friend, your flatmate. But when I see you with her… it feels like I’m losing you, and I can’t stand it.”

Rody’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of Vincent’s words hitting him like a tidal wave. He had never expected this—had never even considered the possibility. Vincent, the man who had been his constant, his anchor, loved him?

“Vincent…” Rody whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the emotions swirling inside him. All he knew was that this changed everything.

“I know I’ve messed up,” Vincent continued, his voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t expect you to feel the same way. I just… I needed you to know. I’m sorry, Rody. I’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, Rody was silent, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything. He thought about all the moments they had shared, the late-night talks, the way Vincent was always there for him, the way he always seemed to know what Rody needed before Rody even knew himself.

And now, knowing that it was all because Vincent loved him… it was overwhelming.

“Vincent,” Rody finally said, his voice soft, “I… I don’t know what to say. I care about you—*a lot*—but this is all so sudden. I never thought… I never realized…”

Vincent nodded, his heart sinking as he prepared himself for the rejection he knew was coming. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I just needed you to know the truth. Whatever happens now, it’s up to you.”

Rody looked down at his hands, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He thought about Manon, about how much he cared for her, but also about how their relationship had been strained lately. And then he thought about Vincent—about the way his heart had ached seeing Vincent so broken tonight.

*Could he…?*

“I need some time to figure this out,” Rody finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t give you an answer right now, Vincent. But I promise I’ll think about it. I’ll think about… us.”

Vincent nodded again, relief and sadness mingling in his chest. It wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but it wasn’t a rejection either. And right now, that was enough.

“Take all the time you need,” Vincent replied softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Rody. I’ll be here… no matter what you decide.”

Rody managed a small, shaky smile. “Thanks, Vincent. For being honest with me.”

They sat there together in the quiet park, the night wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. For now, the tension between them had eased, but the future remained uncertain—filled with possibilities, both terrifying and exhilarating.

As they walked back to their apartment, side by side but not touching, both men knew that things would never be the same. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

A/N
This is more of a modern au lol