Doc hadn’t eaten at lunch, being overwhelmed with recruits raining in his office with various injuries after Thatcher’s ruthless training in the morning. It was already 3PM when he decided to cook himself something warm and spicy to counterbalance the gloomy rainy weather outside. He had taken some Mediterranean vegetables and grabbed a thick white onion and some garlic. He had taken the chopping board out when he heard a well too familiar voice humming from the corridor:
“You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
When your heart's not open” Olivier was singing with his strong French accent.
Gustave grimaced while hunching over his board, hoping the idiot wouldn’t notice him. Olivier had that stupid habit of walking around, headphones on, listening at a volume way too high for his ears’ safety, belting out some Madonna, ABBA, Spice Girls and sometimes some Lady GaGa. Gustave was 99% sure it was a special mix meant to both annoy and stick songs in people’s heads (and he was pretty good at it, he had managed to make Sledge hum some Lady GaGa in the showers)
Anyway, it seemed today was a Madonna day. Gustave tried to ignore him, but Olivier walked behind him, and almost yelled in his ear:
“YOU’RE SO CONSUMED WITH HOW MUCH YOU GET
YOU WASTE YOUR TIME WITH HATE AND REGRET”
“Get out of my sight, Flament” Doc replied bitterly.
Then Olivier sat on the kitchen counter, next to Gustave’s chopping board.
He plunged his eyes into Gustave’s angry glare, and softly continued to sing:
When your heart's not opeeeen”
Gustave grabbed his chopping board, his vegetables and turned around to put his things on the opposite counter. He took the garlic and started to cut it into small chops, as he liked it.
Doc didn’t see it, but Olivier then stretched tragically his arms, as if playing some Sophocles on a prestigious stage and started to scream in wrong notes, sounding like a whining baby:
“Mmmmm, if IIIIIIIIIIIIII could melt your heaaaaaaaart
Mmmmm, we'd never be apaaaaaaaaaaaaart”
“You think you’re in some Bollywood?! Get out of my sight!” Gustave yelled back.
Gustave angrily picked the onion and started chopping it.
The stupid vegetable was making his eyes water a bit, so he tried to make it fast, but between this and Lion’s whining and stupid attitude, he wasn’t sure he was that hungry anymore.
Seeing that Gustave was back to the silent treatment, Lion crept closer, almost murmuring in his ear:
“Mmmmmm, give yourself to meeeeee
Mm, youuuuuu hoooold… the key”
“I swear to God, if you don’t stop Flament, I’m gonna-“
“NOW THERE’S NO POINT IN PLACING THE BLAME.
AND YOU SHOULD KNOW I SUFFER THE SAME”
Gustave let the knife drop from his hands and violently turned around, grabbing Lion’s collar:
“I GET IT YOU IDIOT. I GET YOUR STUPID MESSAGE, NOW LET ME COOK MY GODDAM CHAKCHOUKA”
Unlike what Gustave had expected, Lion shut his mouth, looking almost… shocked?
Olivier grabbed the headphone and removed it from his ears.
“I’m-I’m sorry Gus… “ Lion murmured, sounding sincere.
“What?” Doc asked back, astonished to see Lion so quickly backing off.
“I didn’t mean to… make you cry.”
“Wh-What? I’m not crying!”
Olivier pinched his lips, and ventured his thumb to Doc’s face, who looked like a dog about to bite him, and slowly wiped a tear from his cheek.
“Th-This?” Doc cried “That’s because of the onion!”
“Gus, you don’t have to hide… I’m sorry. I just thought the song fitted us and I… I’m sorry.”
“But I’m telling you I’m not crying! It’s the onion! Look!” Gustave theatrically pointed at the half chopped white guilty bulb.
But Olivier was not buying it. Gustave was fuming, because it was really because of the onion.
“But you know, it’s a beautiful song” Olivier started to nervously explain “Madonna was living through many things when she was offered the title and she said she wanted some oriental tones and instruments in it, to bring some vibes from The Sheltering Sky, you know that movie about that couple that travels through Algeria and the Sahara, and by the way that thing is a horrible drama and the way it ends, uuuuuugggh. But you know in the song she also sings that she’s willing to give so much, should they open their heart and give the key, and there’s that antithetic play on words because it’s called frozen, and the loved one is like frozen, and she asks to melt their hearts, to bring some warm and the thing is she really empathizes because she tells them that they both suffered and that she clearly sees how they’re frozen in hate and regret, and she says she’d be so broken if she loses them and-
“I’m babbling, right?”
“Can you give me my hands back?”
Olivier had been holding Gustave’s hands all along his logorrhea.
He let him go as if he had burnt him.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know how you suffered. I see it. I know I’m saying this like every day but-“
Gustave lifted an eyebrow.
“Okay, several times a day. And see? I’m being creative since I can’t seem to be quite errr at ease with words.”
Gustave lifted his second eyebrow.
(Yes, he was that good with eyebrows)
“Okay I’m so bad at communicating things. But I… I’m sorry and I love you and I’ll do whatever it’d take for you to give us a second chance.”
Well, that didn’t come out too bad, Olivier thought to himself, kind of proud.
Gustave sighed, grabbing his knife and playing with it.
“We’ll see about that” He murmured and went back to cutting the onion.
Olivier’s face fell. He had expected it, but rejection was always a bit hard to swallow.
He walked towards the kitchen’s exit, but Gustave’s voice stopped him just before he crossed the threshold:
“Nice song though” Gustave told him “But I preferred when you were wooing me with ABBA's S.O.S”
“I KNEW IT. I KNEW YOU LIKED THAT ONE.”
Gustave chuckled but didn’t answer.
Olivier’s face lit up, his grin stretching his cheeks:
“Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to fiiiiind
I tried to reach for you, but you have closed your miiiiind!” Olivier started to sing.
“And here we go again” Doc rolled his eyes, trying to refrain himself from smiling.
“Whatever happened to our love?
I wish I understooooood
It used to be so nice, it used to be so goooooooooooooood”
Olivier was definitely an idiot.
But he was Gustave’s idiot.