le coquin

“I–” Tomas stopped himself with a sound of frustration. Tomas has definitely told him, he definitely did not listen. Or rather Gabe had just been waiting for some kind of excuse to leave, kind of a fucked up one to use considering the timing. “Not exactly what I was dreaming of,” Tomas muttered as he turned to the front to stare at the cameras already set up in the room, all pointing towards them, ready to be properly set up to shoot. He wanted to make food for people, not for the camera. It may be exciting for Gabe, but not for Tomas. More terrifying, restrictive, unsatisfying.

Care was a big word? Tomas used to believe his vague answers was simply shy of their true meaning, now to think that he didn’t even care. He paused in hurt, letting the words of reality sink in. Gabe had already stabbed him in the stab long ago but now he’s yanking it back out from the front. It did matter, he wanted their years to matter because it’d mean that it was worth something at least. But ultimately? He just wanted closure, the pain to end, to dissociate from it coming by every time he looked at Gabe. “No, it- ..it doesn’t.” It did. Just not to Gabe.

Tomas avoided looking at him and his stupid grin, the grin filled with unrelenting confidence that charmed him over the years, now nothing more than a mockery. “Gabe it’s not a good idea..” he leaned in, almost a whisper warning, as if anything he said now could change reality that the dotted line was signed, both their lives lost forever, now belonging to Prometheus. “They want new chefs to cancel,” it was made evident when their promise was broken, of leaving him simply with his cooking show, to instead stretching him into project he simply had to skill in. “They want us cancelled for their entertainment just– Gabe, just be careful.”

“that’s more like it de visser.” he didn’t need any actual feeling behind being agreed with, the words were often times more than enough. he was uncomplicated in his own thoughts, saying exactly what he wanted to. there was no reason why anyone else needed to make things anymore difficult, and if they decided to, then that was their problem. he could not fix every person’s unhappiness. look at the sour face in front of him, how could he have said anything that would put a smile on that. still, he continued on his own quest, pouring the champagne. “

“that’s not a toast.” the warning fell on completely deaf ears. there was nothing that tomas could say that would broach a topic that gabe wanted. at least not in such a serious tone, he always had to take such negative approach to success. they’d signed the same contract, and tomas was still living to be a downer. what did cancellation even mean— really. it was entertainment that they should have fixated on. “it can’t be good or bad, it’s already signed! look at us!” 

“try again.” he pushed the second glass towards tomas, holding his own and waiting for something better to come out of their conversation. if he remembered, it was direction that was lacking in tomas’s work. “here’s to...new beginnings. something better.”

“Not before,” Tomas hadn’t been on Gabe’s mind at all, that he was certain and for the better part of the last two years, neither had Gabe on Tomas’. Life just couldn’t let him leave it alone. “For a week for my mother’s funeral!” Tomas raised his voice at the disbelief of what he claimed, of him still daring to call him mon amor. Right after that he wondered if he had just skipped it, he would’ve still had Gabe, but did he really want that? No. Seeing how Gabe really felt, he didn’t, but it doesn’t mean his heart can’t hurt about it.

Thank fucking god we aren’t. Tomas wasn’t sure if he could handle that, to come in perhaps announcing his show had a co-host now. It would’ve just been easier to get cancelled there and then. “Your new show..” he scoffed softly to himself, it’s like loving him set up the biggest blindspots, like staring at the sun, and now he’s slowly seeing everything that was so wrong. It’s always about him. His kitchen, his show, his problems, his wants. Tomas simply held his gaze at the man he thought he knew and loved. Rose tinted heart disintegrating into dust as if shattering into pieces years ago wasn’t enough. “Oh I’m ruining the mood-” Tomas had came in today excited, actually happy, and then he came along, wandering into the wrong kitchen.

It felt like Gabe was just giving bullshit excuses, everything in him wanted to scream at him, yet the stupid little part of his heart wanted to just believe it, what if he did lose your number? What if he did go to Rotterdam to look for him? What if he did care? Would it make Tomas feel any better about it? Maybe. Gabe wasn’t done hurting, he thought his heart was physically breaking again because this was the nail in the coffin, there was never finality, always a maybe. Did you? Did you really? I loved you and I needed you. Everything he felt was invalid then. “But you didn’t care about me,” the words leaked past his lips like venomous fact, realisation of what Gabe even meant. Tomas simply stared at the glass flute that sat on the counter, not willing to budge as he folded his arms, begrudgingly staying, taking the bait to at least have a civil, non-hurtful conversation with someone he did care, still cared about, “how did you even get the job?”

“oh, it was just a week? too bad, i might have stayed.” the thought stuck for a moment before being turned down with a good natured shake of his head. no when the wind changed, it was best to go with it. he was happier to not have been stuck in paris, the strange domestic life that tomas seemed immediately keen to recount. they’d both still be cooking in a kitchen that wasn’t theirs, now he had his own show! “cooking for a camera, it’s a little strange wouldn’t we say.” trajectory always on and up. “but exciting, exciting all the same.”

he finally located the champagne glasses on his set, setting two on the counter so that he could finally have the celebration that he deserved. “care is such a big word tomas, and it was so long ago! who’s to say.” he certainly couldn’t be the one to read those emotions. it didn’t really matter. tomas seemed to want to live in the past. he forgot that it wasn’t very good in the first place. “it doesn’t matter, now does it.”

and the champagne cork popped, unceremoniously, but the grin on his face broke out all the same. big and bright, nothing to hide but guileless easy charm. a golden boy being handed a kingdom. “i signed a contract of course! don’t we all.” he didn’t know how they’d gotten from point a to point b really, one minute he was booking plane tickets to tokyo, the next his own show. “they wanted a new chef! and i’m a man of the people.”

“No– I’m not. ..I just needed the money,” Hollywood big shot was the farthest thing he aspired to be, the fact blatantly shoved in his face of how far he was of everything that he wanted to be. “Sisters. I have younger twin sisters.” He can’t expect Gabe to remember everything. He tried to keep his expectations low as he listened to his reasoning, nothing to do with Tomas himself. “I don’t have that luxury,” he scoffed at the suggestion, in both financial and contractual terms. Of course he wanted to travel and go on a food tour and explore all the fascinating cuisines. But he also wanted to make sure his family was okay, that things weren’t crumbling down at home.

..Quaint, what is that supposed to mean? “Family’s family. You wouldn’t even know that I left Maison,” Tomas had to do what he had to do, at least he had a reason to leave. Every single comment a subtle dig at him, a stab right back into his heart again, and again. “It.. it’s all yours I guess,” Tomas mumbled gesturing to the space. He let Gabe walk past him onto the set, a humourless laugh caught in his throat that started to feel hoarse as he spoke, the sudden anger and hurt bubbling and building up, “where I do even– why are you here?” He asked once more, words strained and tearing into the space between them as he walked up, words spilling past his lips, “why are you suddenly here in this kitchen, working beside me again, why are you popping champagne at eight in the morning, why did you leave Maison just when they really needed you- when I needed you, why–.." 

Tomas finds himself face to face with Gabriel inches away as his legs carried him over in the heat of the moment, shaky hand grabbing at his shirt tightly, too close for comfort when they haven’t been this close in years. His pained blues could only hold Gabe’s for so long before the unsettling feeling lurched and he stumbled a few steps away, stepping off the set in a long silence. Perhaps there was only one why that he needed to know, to move on with their separate lives: 

”..why didn’t you say anything?“

twins? he was joking! tomas always trying to back him into a corner and confuse him with all sorts of things. i thought we were dating, my adelaide is a twin. certainly confused, unable to keep in mind the truth of the situation. “yes i would know! you’re here!” stand in for all the time that had passed. he never had bothered to return to the maison, there wasn’t much of a point. he had learned all that he could from the place. “besides, you’re too angry. you left first mon amor.” at least he was pretty sure that was how the timelines had worked. one week tomas was not there, giving him free reign to go where he pleased. he pleased bali. he tried thailand. it wasn’t his fault that he never looked back once dropped. 

“we are not working with each other, you can still be the star of your own show, don’t worry.” silly tomas, put him in one movie and he’s the lead. he runs the whole kitchen, he’s forgotten his place. they all have one role, they shouldn’t overstep. “i am in my kitchen celebrating the new show. and you’re ruining the mood now.” he pouted, lips overdramatic in their turn down, sidestepping whatever meaning tomas was trying to fill his questions with. he surely didn’t know what any of it was supposed to mean.

Don’t say my name like that, he had to flinch, it was hard to tell if his skin was crawling or shivering but he’d much rather believe the former. The golden boy with a flashing smile was stark different from the reserved boy with a trembling frown. “There are a few,” he edged the words past gritted teeth, the whole floor and above was for the cooking genre, they could’ve easily not crossed paths and yet, he had to end up here, right now door. Tomas looked across the joint door that would lead straight onto the next studio, and he could feel a part of his soul wither at the thought, “probably- right.. my producer did say someone new was joining.” Now it just all feels like a sick prank.

“It’s literally next door.. you can–” find your own way and leave, Tomas sighed, knowing somehow he always just falls into this trap of- whatever it is, even trying to get a simple answer to a simple question. It’s always a quid pro quo. “..fine.” Worse for it to sound like an insult to his own set. Or a direct insult to him. Tomas coldly folded his arms as he led the way, with the only consolation that his kitchen was still his, his safe space, his domain. “How–” he started but Gabe quickly answered to his own ramble on. In all honestly it surprised Tomas for him to even remember. “Which one? Ade? or Aleid?” Tomas gave in to the slight conversation. Family, he could hold himself talking about family, even if everything else was eating away at him. “Why were you at Rotterdam?” Tomas hated that a small part of him wondered, just wondered if it was to find him, but of course not. “Skylar. He’s fine,” I’m fine too, thanks for asking, “we’re running the bakery,” he swiped his staff card at the door as it beeped open into a whole other kitchen studio, just literally twenty feet away. He took a few steps into the abyss, flipping some of the house lights on before finally turning around to face the nightmare he was so sure he got rid of, “so?” hoping it’s dark enough to at least hide the look on his face, of heartache, of shame, “why?”

“producer you say? look at us both making our way in the world. tomas de visser hollywood big shot.” he clapped as if it was a great surprise, or even a good joke, following to the new set without so much as a second thought. it was in his nature to assume that people were doing what was asked of them, that all he need was smile and the world was unlocked. “you’re trying to trick me! you know your sister goes by ade!” or was the nickname aleid? flash another smile and it wouldn’t matter much. “i was visiting. i thought the museum might be interesting. you know you ought to travel tomas. nothing quite like it.” after all that’s where he had been, across the world with fifty recipes, able to recount the cultures of a dozen more places than  he had before he left that suffocating parisian resturant. 

“ah yes the family bakery, that’s right, how quaint of you.” but tomas had always been rather small minded in his approach to things. to follow the recipe and nothing more. he was distracted from saying more by the sudden illumination of the new studio in front of them. “look at this place! much nicer than next door, good call tomas.” and it was, just ever so slightly bigger, ever so slightly cleaner. the competitor’s edge. 

It had been a long, long well deserved break in between the seasons. With everything of Boy Venus finally closing its chapter, Tomas had a full few weeks to himself, to the bakery, to Juno, until Prometheus tugged them all back in once again. And the cycle repeats. He’d like to think that he was adjusting well to the routine, it was getting easier at least. So obviously everything just had to get harder. Of course. The cooking show had a much longer filming hiatus since before filming boy venus and the producer told him that they were sprucing up the kitchen sets, so Tomas actually hadn’t been back for a few months, excited to see the refurnished kitchen - promised that all his equipment have been untouched - and restock the place to life again. 

First day back on set to shoot for the new season, super early as usual, Tomas hummed and smiled as he pushed open the familiar doors with his back, arms filled with ingredients he brought for the episode. That smile didn’t last long when he heard the painfully familiar voice that unconsciously made his heart ache and the blues that his own met with. Everything was long forgotten yet too familiar, and too painful to process. Tomas blinked at the uncomfortable few silent seconds before his carefully placed his bags down on the floor, “…no.” Just.. no to the whole scene in front of him, and he backed out the door, physically almost following through with what he mentally wanted to do - just run away. 

But he took a moment to breathe deeply, giving a reassuring smile to the confused front desk, maybe he was just hallucinating, first shooting day nerves. He squeezed his eyes shut and came back through the door, fuck- he’s still here. Tomas gathered the courage to grip his heart and look up at Gabriel. “No,” somehow that’s all he could say as he picked back up his bags of ingredients, “just– no. I’m not intruding, this is my set.” He couldn’t find the courage to hold his gaze or move any closer, instead walking around towards the furthest shelves and manically put things away until he faltered, trembling hands falling to grip the edge of the back counter. Some fucking dawning of some new era. “Pourquoi êtes-vous là?” why did you leave, why didn’t you come back, why didn’t you call, why did you do that? It was too easy slipping back into a comfortable language but his voice was still soft, strained, hurt.

“tomas de visser!” he was startled for a moment from the negative reception he was getting, but then the face came more clearly into view. an old parisian ghost back to haunt. one much take such things as omens, but they could be good ones. his smile didn’t lose a fraction of its brilliance, the same movie star charm that had landed him in los angeles. it had been yeas since he’d even thought of the de visser name, but it seemed little tomas had done well for himself. “your set. i could have sworn they told me the studio was mine, but it’s possible.” he grabbed the bottle of champagne off the counter before tomas could touch it. he seemed like he was cleaning up for the day instead of getting started, a negative sign but it was one that could quickly be overcome. “does that make the beautiful one next door mine?”

his studio is gleaming and pure. it is the dawning of a new era as young gods go, the last of which he has to conquer is célébrité. he need only look in the mirror to be assure that such a task is possible. his agent has said as much. the heavy studio door swung open, someone else walking on the stage, the first to witness a king on new land. he turned around with a dazzling smile to greet them. “bonjour. you’ve intruded! but i promise i will forgive it, if you can think of a toast for me.” a bottle of champagne is sitting on the counter. flown in from champagne. there’s only one glass but he moves quickly to pull a second from the rack. it is only a display, but that doesn’t mean they should not be used. everything will be eventually, that’s the beautiful of a kitchen. “this is the dawning of a new era, as they say.”