"HOW DO YOU ASSUME TO REGARD ME?"
Uncanny— the CEO's thunderous roar slices through air, reaching unimaginable heights. A decibel so unimaginable, that it can be called uncanny. Ryan staggers, clutching his chest, relieved that he miraculously didn't plummet somehow over the balcony railings, shattering his bones on impact. The jolt rattles the brunette to his core, an uncomfortable stream of intensity shaking him."What on earth has he gotten himself into this time?" The thought prowess only for a split glimpse before the possessor of the doubts dismisses it, convinced that venturing into the lion's den of his boss's affair is not really too much of a wise choice, it will only label him as nosy. A flicker of concern crosses Ryan's face. Should he risk being labelled as an intrusive busybody, meddling in the affairs of others? "No. It's best if I don't," he weighs the potential consequences, conflicting thoughts racing at the back of his mind. But in the fullness of time, Ryan's compassion won out.Drawing a deep breath, Ryan releases his grip on the railings and retreats from the dizzying height. He settles into one of the worn wooden chairs, trying to find solace in the simple act of sitting down. Someone has said truthfully although, peace is a luxury— peace is eluding him like a distant mirage on a scorching desert.Suddenly, another defeaning crash shatters the silence into pieces, its source coming from a distance. Has the CEO ultimately lost it to final insanity? It certainly seems that way. Ryan, despite whatever crescendo of chaos, remains rooted to his seat, determined not to add fuel to the fire, or in other words not to contribute to the disturbance. He unfurls his eyes fixed on the picturesque landscape before him, desperately willing himself to believe that it is worth savouring. Amidst the turmoil that now blemishes Ryan's tranquil backdrop, it appears almost artificial— a twisted illusion created by his mind's crestfallen attempts at convincing him that he is indeed "enjoying" this moment of respite. A notion like this seems preposterous."Nobody wants to engage in any conversation with me," the CEO's former chagrin from earlier echoes eerily in Ryan's head. "No, no, Ryan! It's not your concern, let him handle whatever he is dealing with himself," the assistant scolds himself, resolute in not becoming entangled in someone else's web of troubles, regardless of how they unravel.But… what if something dreadful happens amidst this pandemonium? The plausibility gnaws at Ryan, its teeth sinking deeper. "What kind of horrid outcomes await if I remain on the sidelines? Stop inflating the situation, and blowing this out of proportion," easier said that done. He scoffs internally at how foolish he might be looking right now. "Nothing untoward will occur, Ryan Miller! It cannot possibly be Mr. Haughty's first rodeo. Mind your own damn business."Ryan frets, acutely aware of the potential consequences that failure to act might entail. "But, what if it's all in vain? What if my intervention only worsens things?" He reasons, his forehead cradles in his hands, responsibility stomping heavily on Ryan's weary shoulders.Forwarding, another distinctive thought creeps into Ryan's mind: every incident has a first time. What if today is that dreaded day? "No, it can't be. It just…can't be," he doesn't allow the fear to take over completely. "Bad things don't happen so easily. They require a a perfect storm of circumstances, they don't just materialise out of thin air," his own words offer little solace, leaving chasms widely untreated in the recesses of Ryan's mind.Is Ryan's resolute inner monologues truly efficacious in quelling his fear? He doesn't know, uncertainty clouds like a thick fog obscuring his vision. But above all, the brunette knows one thing— he would always do his best."But… but what if it does happen? Massive misfortunes do not come easily, but they always come eventually. Do I wish to regret my inaction? No. Do I want to shoulder the responsibility if something befalls on Mr. Haughty? Also no," Ryan laments, burying his face in his bent up knees. "But at the same time, I don't desire to be branded as the meddler, the one who incessantly sticks their nose where it doesn't belong. Mr. Haughty is a grown adult, surely he can fend for himself?"No. He cannot! Once furious, rationality flees, leaving behind only a tempest of tumultuous emotions. And to exacerbate matters, Ethan Smith carries a burden of suppressed sorrows— a lethal combination."SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU OLD FOOL!" That piercing scream rips through any semblance of calm that remained.That's it— a decisive resolve washes over Ryan's trembling frame. He cannot idly stand by and watch, no matter how imposing he may appear on the surface. Bona fide worry courses through his veins, drowning out any hesitations or reservations.Ryan bursts into action, his unwavering resolve propelling him forward— he has faith in his decision. With graceful sways, he navigates his way from the deck, determination etched in every line of his face. "Are you alright, Sir?" His eyes frantically scan the surroundings, desperately searching for the man he seeks.The thunderous cry had emanated from the direction of Ethan's bedroom, but Ryan knows better than to solely rely on sound— it will not hurt to investigate further. Thus, Ryan closes in on the narrow passage, his footsteps resolute, until that bedroom surfaces.Only then does Ryan realise the source of the commotion lies deeper within. "Huh? John didn't mention the existence of another room…" Ryan inhales deeply, gathering his courage and cautiously proceeds, attention gumming on a small wooden door. Yes. Ethan Smith is still bellowing like the buffalo he is. "S- sir," Ryan stammers nervously, tentatively offering his concern, but his words dissipate into the air, falling on deaf ears compared to fervent snarling and shouting behind that barricade. "Nah, he will not hear my feeble attempts at consolation. There's no time for this," Ryan clenches his fist, mustering his strength, and pounds on the door with all his might. "Open the door, Sir. I beg you! Please open it!!"Damn it… how can Ethan remain so oblivious to everything outside that locked chamber? He instead continues to unleash a barrage of insults through the phone, his language becoming repugnant more and more, his sporadic gasps hinting at the struggles he endures to catch his breath. "Open this bloody door! I'm asking you for the last time!" Ryan spits. "I won't leave until you grant me entry, in case you're hoping for that! Do not mistake my resolve for weakness! Open. This. Door."Is Ethan even aware of Ryan's pleas? Or does he simply choose to ignore them? Ryan cannot discern the truth."Very well then!" The door is still stuck latched. "If you wish to play it hard, then I shall comply. I will continue pounding on this door until it collapses under the pressure of my insistence. If that doesn't work either, worse, I will gather all your employees right here," the brunette warns, bracing himself to deliver a final blow, and just as his fist is about to make contact…Click— "What the actual hell do you want?""Holy guacamole!" Not even flinching in the face of his boss's menacing presence, no matter if Ethan looks like a grizzly bear. No, it's not his boss that moves Ryan, it is something else entirely. It is the sight of the room beyond, a room so tragically dishevelled that it can make a long forgotten pigsty used by elephants as their trampoline feel like the penthouse suit at the fanciest of barns."What on earth did you even do in here?" Ryan can see it all so clearly— broken glasses of water are scattered across the floor, like little liquid casualties of a frat party gone wrong. Frames of absurd paintings, once standing proudly, now cling to the wall at most absurd angles. Clothes are strewn about, torn pants lying there in a state of tragic betrayal; the closet has vomited all its contents. And to add insult to injury, bottles of expensive perfumes and other gifts lay there."Did a tornado hit? Or maybe it was a massacre? Or better yet, did the ground just start shaking under your being? What kind of apocalypse took place here!?" He takes a daring step forward, even better, nonchalantly, pushing past his boss and entering the haphazard room. And then, in that moment, words are stolen from his mouth during a gasp. "Oh my…" Ryan can feel the room laughing at his astonishment, telling him "Look at what I go through each single day."Ethan's boss turns beet red with anger. "Get out right now, Mr. Miller!" He yells.But all Ryan does is laugh, because really, what else can you do in a moment like this? "Why don't you also add some confetti to complete the circus?""Listen up, Mr. Miller,"Ethan twirls his imaginary cap, "I'm trying my darn best not to be a complete disaster here. But, let me warn you, if you keep up with this ridiculous behaviour, all bets are off!"Ryan smirks, conjuring up an impish aura, like a mischievous kid who just discovered a whoopee cushion. "Oh really? You're gonna unleash the inner beast on me now?""Get out!" Mechanical, the CEO, points at the exit. "Leave this very instant!!" He drops the pitch to a ridiculously low scale. "You know I just hate so many things. Uninvited guests barging into my personal bubble? Yeah, that's one of them. Oh, and repeating myself is right up there too!""Ah. Here we go again! Mr. High and Mighty with his CEO charm! Do you really think that will work on me?""Let me make it crystal clear. I'm only saying this because you made me say it twice already," Ethan's face becomes as serious as a penguin in a tuxedo, as a cherry on top the ravenette makes sure his voice sounds like a werewolf with sore throat, "I will tell you one last time. If I have to repeat myself, things are going to get really ugly. So, scram!""Nope. Not happening.""You just have to be the one to get on my nerves!?" Ethan booms, "No? NO, really? You abuse your guts! I thought you were smarter than this, Mr. Ryan Miller.""I'm not leaving until you admit that your favourite food is actually carrot!" Ryan couldn't resist the opportunity to push his boss's buttons further, knowing just how much it will irritate the ravenette.Ethan's face contorts in a mix of anger, "Carrots? Seriously? You've got to be kidding me right now. I built a company from the ground up, and you want me to now suddenly admit my favourite food is carrot? What's wrong with you?""Oh come on! I can see it. You look like one. And there's a very common saying that says you are what you eat."Ethan's anger escalates, "I- what do you mean? I look like a damn carrot!? This is…this is so absurd. I don't have a favourite food, and even if I did, it most certainly wouldn't be carrots. Now, leave! You made me repeat myself again! I don't have time for this!""You know, Sir, maybe if you just embrace the carrot loving side of you more, you wouldn't be so wounded up all the time," Ryan's smile falter to a degree, eyes locked with his boss's, "Don't be always so hell bent on the big things, big moments, big achievements. Maybe, it's time to let loose and enjoy the simple things in life.""I am not wound up! And I absolutely don't need unsolicited advice from a good-for-nothing like you!!"Ryan's playful nature simply vanishes, off the face of the room, just like that, now replaced with an indescribable hurt— true. He is a good-for-nothing. He shouldn't have trusted his decision; when has it ever proved to be in his advantage? Ryan should have listened to his guts when it talked him against meddling with other people's business. His eyes well with unshed tears, "You know what, Sir? You're right. Maybe I should just leave…"The room tosses into silence. Ryan reaches for the doorknob."So, you are just like everyone else, Mr. Miller…""So you're just like everyone else, Mr. Miller…"The relentless echoes of words resonate through the walls, each syllable penetrating Ryan's resolve like a thousand knives. And still, the brunette presses on, his feet carrying him forward— at the end of the day, he is a 'good-for-nothing.'But Ryan wouldn't falter. Gracing his fist around the cold steel knob, he refuses to turn back. He refuses to be labelled as just another mediocre soul, destined for insignificance. No, not this time. Not when his heart burns with a fire that no insult could extinguish; from infancy Ryan had learned how to stand straight without letting anyone bend his back.The rhythm of the latter's footsteps quicken, matching the raided heartbeats that thrum in his chest. He could practically taste the displeasure seeping from Ethan's very core, "Go. Just go!" The man seethe, a desperate plea blanketed in a poisonous command.Ryan releases his hand on the doorknob, his body shifting ever so slightly, imperceptible
"And what if he really is my assistant, Sarah?"Gut wrenched, two of the heads cork towards the owner of the speaker— Ethan Smith himself is shoving an ID card to the receptionist, that reads,Name: Ryan Miller Age: 19 yrsDOB: 01/01/20xxSex: maleGender: malePosition: Personal Assistant Address:Contact info: 9176xxxxA chaos brewing in Ryan's heart reaches its tempest tossed crescendo. Doubt and panic titillate his every fibre, rendering him immobile— how the hell did Ethan show up? Ryan is stuck in an agonising limbo. Web of assumptions entangle Ryan's thoughts. Could it be that Taylor, his supposed confidante, betrayed him, snitched on him? Or worse yet, had Ethan, his employer, caught onto the intricate net of deceit he had spun? Followed Ryan because the ravenette doesn't trust his assistant an inch? And if Sarah was playing any treacherous game, the receptionist with secrets concealed beneath her deceptively pretty, innocent face? The infinite possibilities stretch out; poss
Ah, the intriguing enigma that is Ryan. Our tale begins with the cryptic utterance of those words, "I was waiting for you, Ryan."Oh, how now the brunette must be wrestling with Cameron's existential riddle that lies within! What heads or tails is meant by dear Cameron by a proclamation similar to that? How does one usually respond when someone says something like this?With a smirk that could rival the prettiest of art pieces, mocking Ryan's confusion, "Just… you're quite an interesting personality," words drip with honeyed garnishing— the tantalising bait which dangles before our protagonist. And how does Ethan, ever the guardian of propriety, react? With a touch of rudeness of course, barging into their conversation, with what to him seems like righteous indignation, "May I have the pleasure to know why exactly would someone like you be waiting for someone you haven't even known? For MY assistant?" He wants, practically oozing with scepticism up until. Cameron, ever the master of
"I asked him to come a little late today, I don't want him to find out. You told me you will take care of it, did you?" Ethan steadily paces back and forth, clearly riddled with distraught, his mind a tornado of anxiety accompanying frustration. Heavy scent of mahogany permeates in the air, mingling with a rich aroma of caffeine wafting from the untouched cup on his desk, drowning only by a melodious cacophony of faintly chirping birds coming from outside— lines of worry etch themselves deep into Ethan's forehead. "How did Cameron become privy to our visit to the beanery?" An undercurrent of fear rushes through the CEO. Only one explanation remains— the dreaded realisation that Cameron had stumbled upon the publicly shared social media posts when those were yet to be expunged. It was an act of carelessness, a mistake of folly on Ethan's part, and now they are here paying the price. "I'm well aware that it was you who posted the threat on your profile," his voice hushed, Ethan finds h
"Are you, by any chance, single, Ryan?" Jack Bennett asks, "I'm Jack Bennett by the way, you can call me Jack."With bated breath, Ryan had primed himself for what he had thought to be a mundane conversation centred around work, resolving doubts, defending mechanisms. Never did he expect a seemingly innocent inquiry would penetrate the brittle walls of his personal life. Ryan's heartbeats quicken, a forced smile dancing on the dais of Ryan's shivering lips. This unimaginative snooping into Ryan's boundaries had caught him off guard, unsure of how to answer to that. Nervously, his fingers scratch at the transparent top, a futile attempt to ease the dryness that plague his throat. The jug of water sits untouched, a spotlight on Ryan's discomfort— he is self-conscious even when it comes to the simplest jobs like drinking water, if it's to be done in front of everyone."Jack!!" Ethan's voice slices through like a blade. LOVESICK'S strict policy of safeguarding their employees' confidential
"You're speaking from your life, aren't you?"It flares bright right now, memories, revived by an adrenaline that comes with defiance of Ethan's orders. Heartbreak often drives humans to brave acts; Ryan is one of them, right now at least."Sir," cigarette fumes from an ashtray steals into the assistant's nostrils. "Can we… revisit the site? Site for your showroom?""What?""The site. For LOVESICK's new showroom, can we revisit it?" Shouldn't he be fumbling for words? Trying to piece so that his boss doesn't get offended— why, then, is he finding himself through a mosaic of ferocity?His assistant's words aren't making much sense, or even if they are, Ethan is very sure he can't understand a word of it. "Mr. Miller, what exactly are you trying to convey?""I just… just want to go to the location. That's what I'm trying to convey," what is so hard about it for his boss to understand? Ryan doesn't know, does everyone always have to decode the hidden meaning first and then only follow ins
The prison gate locks from outside. 'O'. The letter 'O' can embody exactly what Ryan is feeling right now— its roundness metamorphosing into an entire spectrum of emotions, ranging from shock, ending at panic.Ryan's heart leaps into his throat, sending a pool of fear coursing through his veins, "What. . . the hell?" His words incongruously tumbling out.Compromising confusion registers a gravitational fear, but its parent Ryan struggles to understand whatever is happening. "Oh fuck! I was just talking about this," mind trying to make sense of their predicament, Ethan shares dissatisfaction— in the pit of Ethan's stomach, a warning issue.Who dares even to bat an eye, not Ryan in this case, "Sir…"It's bare escape for one rusty sink, and an old wooden table. The looming silence only adds. It feels more like a real prison, that Ryan is actually trapped inside."You want to know how do we get out of here, I know," words flowing like a twisted stream of consciousness, Ethan gives a cyni
Sleeping day in the duvet of a twilight, delivering an aroma of violin stroking Lyra's nose, Mrs. Lyra Miller, sits hunched, trekking a stack of t-shirts. Her husband, with one distant expression, stands by Lyra's side, their hands automatically matching folding rhythms— neatly folding mound of laundered fabrics. Lyra hears, is hearing the gentle strains of Ryan's violin being played, "We made Ryan nearly sacrifice his love, didn't we, honey?" "Lyra, we were thinking about Ryan's future," Mr. David Miller, is a soft rumble. Lyra's attention returns to the half folded jeans in her hands, "We bought this pair of jeans when Ryan used to be sixteen. You remember it, David? It was larger in size when we bought it, but Ryan thought it was so pretty…we thought he could wear it when he grows up." David nods knowingly, "Of course, I remember," understanding the complexities webbing in Lyra's experience, "Ryan has barely ever worn it, Lyra." "He has never worn it, David. . .he does not even