Chapter Text
Kindle didn't care if it was wrong, all he wanted was a little bit of love. Even if it meant possibly taking away someone's life. He figured that if he's going to die some day he might as well live chasing his dreams. Not a bad idea, right?
An amber liquid similar to apple juice was poured into a silver pot with a floury white powder. White steam immediately caked Kindle's face yet he proceeded to stir the mixture despite it. This was his ticket out of the dull thump of reality, no more chasing lazy handjobs and empty wallets 'cause from now on it'll just come to him. A small grin graced his cheeky face as any male teenage human being had imagined at least once before. A prephla of women shaking their behinds at his face; at his more private areas. . .
Kindle hissed when the concoction had begun to boil over and soak through his oven mitts. He heaved the pot off the stove with deep breath and onto the kitchen counter, which also hissed under the mighty chemicals found in it. Perhaps he used too much alcohol? Unlike any good chef Kindle didn't have the luxury of tasting his makings. He wouldn't want to start falling in love with his reflection, now would he? That is, unless a REALLY hot girl had offered to serve it to him. That'd be a different story. Kindle figured he'd just leave the solution over night to cool off in his freezer just to avoid any suspicion or rejects of the drink at work. The last thing he wanted was for his plan to fail and be fired.
Being a waiter at one the most prestigious hotel restaurant meant that his plan didn't have much room for error. Especially since the hotel had been cleared out for thirty days by a very influential celebrity for about twenty guests! During preparations Kindle had over heard from other kitchen staff that all of them were going to be one gender, and considering the celebrity was a male it was a pretty safe bet to say they were all going to be females. All he had to do was serve the potion to them and within minuetes they'll be like dogs in heat with himself being the only identifiable male. It's genius!
Kindle jerked at the sound of glass shattering, he stepped back to reveal shards of what used to be an elegant pilsner. "Hey" A stern voice shouted. Through the warehouse shelves filled with jugs of distilled drinks, the evident flicker of a flash light quickly began to close in. Swiftly Kindle screwed the lid on the last jug and booked it. He basically weaved through the humongous packages and worn down cabinets before reaching the compound's emergency staircase. Kindle heavily panted as he made his way to the kitchen with a jug under his arm. The moment the kitchen doors swung open he let his legs buckle, honestly Kindle wasn't sure if he was going to be able to reach the kitchen doors before the storage guards decided to check the stairs. His fellow colleague, Oscar, had also sighed in relief at the sight of Kindle. "Dude, you scared me. You took so long to get the dang thing I thought you bailed on work today." Oscar wrapped an arm underneath Kindle's shoulders in an attempt to haul him to his feet. "What's taking so long, eh!?" Chef Origanio called, to which Oscar shouted back and managed to throw Kindle's strained body inside.
The moment of truth. Once the day shift commenced the guests came and had taken their fill, ravishing every bite, every spice that landed on their plates. They'd comment on chef's cooking and Kindle's playful smile, but then again, they were old ladies and retired youth, they could be amazed by almost anything. The end of the day shift also signaled that Oscar was now going to be off duty, including all the chefs. Kindle had the qualifications to cook and serve twenty people, and not only that he was the most underpaid of the bunch, meaning he couldn't afford to refuse the manager. Not that Kindle would, everything was going swell! In his tailored suit and Micky Mouse gloves he steadily held up a silver platter. The last drink of the evening, the potion.
Kindle proudly marched through the kitchen's strikingly shinny entrance. Chatter was obviously more hushed compared to the usual dinning hall organised discord, but no matter, Kindle actually preferred less hectic places. The guests were seated in the middle of the restaurant at a large circular table. They wore what could've been called in this context, commoners clothing; Striped and poka-squared, loose or tight, too dull or over the top clothing. Nevertheless, Kindle approached them and they seemed to pay no mind. Kindle held out the tray to one of the more anti-social guests and bent down a bit into their personal space, just to see some good'ol breasts. Peering at their chest he saw no boobies in sight, just pec and some raven bushy hair.
"What's wrong?" A butch voice questioned. Kindle glance up to their face and was astonished to find he hadn't realized it earlier. They weren't women. They were hooligans. Kindle's vision swayed and mind dazed, he couldn't tell you if he had answered or just fainted at in that moment but next thing he knows he's sliding against the kitchen doors with his back pressed against it with an empty tray.
What has he done?