[Sequel to Vanilla]
Seven years later, childhood sweethearts Vanilla Julian White and Leroy Cox reunite in the City of London for an unlikely reason. The latter-once a burning flame unfazed by the wind-had, since a couple of years ago, left the heat...
A/N: AAAAA ITS FINALLY HERE and I finally get to write my first Intentions chapter of Wax after this I can FINALLY truly explain the metaphor behind Leroy's loss of taste (or more specifically, altered taste perception for a very specific taste modality aka sweetness). Or if some of you have your theories/readings and are still reading my work, you may have already made your own guesses, knowing me as a writer hahaha!
Reading all the comments from the previous chapter was the greatest honor I could ever have, and every warm, heartfelt word made my day ;v; Thank you so very much. Some of you asked to have the extremely rough and ugly sketch of Leroy's (now) signature dessert uploaded here in case you missed it on Instagram (you can find me at hisangelchip). Here it is:
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Once again, thank you for reading and putting up with the wait as always. I can't wait to finish the next chapter (I already have the skeleton up) but I have an announcement about this too ;v;
I will be moving to Japan for 3 months for work and school, and I'm flying in a couple of days! While the settling down is going to take me some time, I'm also eager to get my creative juices flowing and get back into the rhythm I used to have back in Tokyo and London. Hopefully, the inspiration will take my writing to greater heights and I will soon deliver more than I can hope to ;v;
Enjoy.
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[Leroy]
Some people think the best and only indicator of good food is its power to magic clothes away and transport people to a whole new dimension filled with enlarged versions of every ingredient used in the dish, sparkling to the echo of moans and sometimes weird-ass imagery. Beats me where that came from. If Pao and Amelia were somewhere in another dimension making snow angels in vanilla ice-cream, undressed, good for them. If the genius behind this challenge was doing the same, well, good for me.
"What's taking them so long?"
Half the room gave Andre the side-eye for disrupting our peace. They had us wait in a fancy lounge area by the sea that looked visually stunning for the camera but a huge pain-in-the-ass for the sound guys; minutes passed, and then it was an hour after I'd prepped my dish for tasting. The air in the lounge had been heavy to begin with and the silence after I headed off to present my dish—the last one—added to that weight. Andre was the first to kick up a fuss. Nothing new.
"I mean, we all crushed it," Layla reasoned to no one in particular, staring up at the ceiling while she laid on her back and rested her leg. They'd given her a lounge chair for extra support. "Maybe they're having a hard time deciding on a winner."
