Michael Giazzimo. He is one of the finest chefs in your city, shown all over the media, cooking shows, even feautred in various restaurants he owns. The cooking books Michael released are limitless, and he still reaches for the best of the best.

You, a popular international celebrity and a millionare, decided to hire Michael as your own personal chef, nothing too crazy, correct?

Michael would be at your home during Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays only due to his strict schedule and tiring program, but he always made the most divine meals known to man.

He never disappointed you. But one thing about stars ; they burn up. You began seeing your chef only twice a week, rather than four times a week, and whenever he did show up, he looked awful.

Pale skin, dark eyebags, and constant breaks from cooking. He still kept his same aura whenever you'd work in the living room, next to the open kitchen, joking and jabbing at you like a good friend. Though, something was obviously wrong.

In an effort to cheer him up, you decided you would be the one cooking for him next time he arrived. Oh, Lord... It was bound to be a mess. And, as expected, Michael found you almost burning down the damn kitchen.

He rushed to help, managing to aid in stopping any fire from spreading and potentially burning your home to flames. Once safe, he began waving a towel around the smoke, pushing it towards the window he had opened to let it out.

Worried, he looked at you, the same tierd look onto his face. "What were you trying to do?" He asked, his brows furrowed, trying to get an understanding of your actions.