AN: This is a story based around the romance of Hell's Chef x Guest Boy (who I have given the name Steve). He still has the design of the protagonist from Gregory Horror Show: Soul Collector. No use of OCs in this story. Light foreplay and light swearing in this story. Warning for OOCness of Hell's Chef. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated.
Hi. My name is Steve. I am a 13-year-old boy stuck in a place called the Gregory House. It is a twisted hotel where lost souls stay. I, for one, admit that I am not a lost soul. Everyday I desperately try to collect souls so I may find a way out.
Then, something happened that I never expected to happen.
Gregory, the owner of the hotel, walked into my room one late night. I was tucked in bed and fast asleep. I had begun to stir in bed when he began to call out my name. I did not want to wake up, but it was instinct. I was having such a pleasant dream for the first time in awhile. I had glimpses of my family that I had long forgotten. Then, as if he knew that I was dreaming of such pleasant times, Gregory came in and ripped them away from me.
"Oh, my dear friend...I have a...task for you." he cackled hoarsely. I grunted and rolled in bed, refusing to listen to him. Gregory proceeded to insist for me to wake up. Eventually, I had done so, and I sat up. I faced the man I had hated so much.
"...Yeah..?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. Gregory stepped closer to me with the candle in his hand. "I know it is late and you must be so very tired, but could you be a dear and clean the kitchen for me? The prompters are not available right now and there is no one to do the job. I'm quite busy with my own...er, things...too." he chuckled nervously. I wasn't convinced. Despite this, I sighed and stood up. Maybe the exercise of cleaning could help make my rest more fulfilling. "Fine." I agreed, staring at the mouse. Gregory chuckled again, grinning like a mad man. "Good, good. I left the cleaning supplies outside your room."
He then dragged his old body out of the room, and kept my door open so I could leave. I scowled deeply and took a deep breath. I hated that mouse with every single fiber of my being. I have deemed he is the reason I am in this stupid hotel. Cursed rat.
I had eventually taken the supplies and made my way to the kitchen. Then I just remembered who inhabited that kitchen.
The thought of that damned name made me shudder. He was undoubtedly one of the most feared members of the hotel. He would make anything and everything into a stew, or any kind of dish you can imagine. He makes salads with scissors in them. Once he made the previous guest into pizza rolls. I walked inside the kitchen, carrying my cleaning towel, a sponge and a bucket. Surely enough, despite it being the late hours of the night, the Chef was cooking. Most likely experimenting with recipes.
He turned at me slowly, as if he were an owl that could turn his head in impossible ways. It was eerie and haunting. The glow of two red dots underneath his hair indicated his eyes. He just continued to stare, until he grabbed his giant butcher's knife. "Why are you here..?" he asked, with a slow and deep voice.
"G-G-G-Gregory sent me here to clean the kitchen." I choked out, voice quivering in fear. He seemed unphased. But then he nodded, turned back to his cooking, and seemed to disregard me. I got down on my knees and proceeded to coat the floors in water, then scrubbed it with the sponge. I made sure to get every tainted area of the hard floor. Then, when I pulled out my towel to wipe away the water, I felt a pulsating pair of red eyes on my back. He was staring at me. He was making sure I didn't mess up his kitchen in the slightest.
I shivered, feeling like he was going to stab me in the back at any moment. I continued to clean the floors in the same process over and over again, and luckily, he didn't stab me. I was almost completely convinced he would. He was the most menacing man I had ever met.
After I had finished the floors, I moved on to cleaning up the pantry. This is where he was most paranoid. He kept staring at me, eventually turning back to his cooking to stir it. He always ended up looking at me again.
Then, he looked up. "I'm going to go get some herbs for my cooking...Touch anything, and I will do terrible things to you." he growled, ghosting past me and gently closing the door to the garden behind him. I gulped.
Looking at the food was tempting me. I was starving. I saw a perfect pack of Salt & Vinegar potato chips calling out my name. "Steve, Steve, Steve," they said. I really am going mad.
I reached inside and quickly opened the bag, taking some of the chips and wolfing them down. I feel like as if I hadn't eaten in days. I scourged for the largest chips in the bag and ate them.
Then the door opened again. Chef's boots made their distinct noise, and I knew I was in deep trouble for disobeying his commands.
I quickly wrapped the chips up and put them back. I licked my lips of any evidence and continued rearranging.
I felt his stare anyway.
"Look at me." he demanded, taking my chin from behind and jerking it around so I faced him. He observantly examined my face, checking for any evidence. I prayed there wasn't anything. He swiped his gloved hand over my mouth, and looked deeply at the finger.
I saw the sparkle of salt on his gloved finger.
Rest in peace Steve.
He began to shake in anger, the redness in his eyes intensifying. He grabbed my chin again, gripping it tightly in his hand. "You ate my food." he said. He kept repeating it as if it was still registering in his mind. "You ate my food...you ate my food..." he growled, shaking my face. I couldn't help but feel tears sliding out of my eyes. I was frightened to no end. I began to shake as well. With my lips puckered due to Chef's tight grip, I mumbled out pleas for mercy. "I was starving..!" I cried out.
He became still, and just stared at me. He tilted his head as if he gained an idea. "Come with me." he demanded, and dragged me by my face over to the pot he was stirring, which was filled with a thick, creamy stew that was filled with vegetables. He let go, and stirred it once more. He then poured out a bit of it into a bowl. He placed a spoon inside of the bowl and slid it over to me.. I was good as dead. This was poison.
I had to take a spoonful. I took it into my mouth, and swallowed it.
I took my spoonfuls into my mouth, gulping it up. Chef watched sternly, like he always does. I soon finished the delicious stew, and turned to him. "Thanks...What's it called?" I asked. "It is simply a stew. No name." he simply stated. I nodded to the statement awkwardly, hoping to have received a real answer. I then put my bowl and spoon into the sink, and turned to him. "Thanks, Chef..." I honestly said with a full belly. I turned around and began to take my leave.
But soon, I felt his hand grab my shoulder from behind. I faced him with fear. What if that was just to fatten me up? So he could make me into a meal? What If I'M the final ingredient to his stew?
But suddenly, he did the impossible.
He, gently this time, took my chin in his grasp, and placed his lips on mine. My thoughts were racing. I was confused, and never before had thought of having feelings for a man. My tears seemed to have completely dried in that instant. I felt everything stir inside of me, and my heart seemed to flutter. I trembled. After a long kiss, he finally pulled back.
"...You're the first one to ever taste that recipe. I felt you deserved something special. From what I hear, kisses are a sign of affection from Reality." he stated.
I simply looked up at him, still shocked. "I..." was the only thing I could choke out. "You..?" he asked questioningly. I sighed. "Chef...a kiss means more than that. It could mean that you love me." He stared at me. "Could it be that I 'love' you then?" he asked dully. "...It could just be."
He sweeped my tiny body into his arms and kissed me again, and then my gentle neck. I lidded my eyes, feeling a warm sensation. Ever since I had entered the hotel, affection was far from what I had imagined to happen to me. He held me protectively, as if he never wanted to let go. He stroked my shoulder.
"What do people do when they love eachother?" he asked. "They...go on dates. They give eachother tokens of their love." I responded. He then placed me down on the cutting board, suddenly panicking. "Chopping me up isn't affection!" I cried out, putting my hands out in front of me. I shivered in fear, but then, he did another impossible thing. He put his hands on both sides of me, and kissed me again. I closed my eyes tightly, trying my best to kiss back. I had never kissed before, and this was a strange sensation for me. I put my hands on his cheeks, stroking them lightly. He began to rub and squeeze at my sides, his nose breathing against my face. Once he released back, he kissed down my neck, and over the veins that inhabited it. I squeaked lightly, looking up at the ceiling as he did so. This was strangely arousing to my feelings, but not really my body. He gently kissed my collar bones, and the lines they seemed to form. I wanted to cry because of the great affection I was feeling.
He then swooped me into my arms again, putting his forehead against mine and closing his haunting red eyes. "Get to bed." he said, kissing me again. I nodded. "I will."
He put me down, and then I walked back to my room, the thoughts swirling in my head. I was dazed by everything that happened, and when I arrived at my room, I collapsed.
The Chef...wasn't all that bad. Perhaps misunderstood, or really changing in emotions. He may not remember this tomorrow. He may have had too much alcohol or something. But whatever it was, it was blissful.
It almost made me want to stay in the Gregory House.