Chapter- 03

Lillian gasps at his brother as he finishes drivelling on about his new overseer, Ethan Smith. 

"Do you…really mean that?" Lillian murmurs, eyes darting between the coat smeared with coffee, distributing a nutty aroma of that brewed beverage and the talker himself. 

The air, at that, stiffens around them and threatens Ryan to suffocate, in humiliation— in case he can not concoct a rejoinder. 

"Of course!!" Ryan croaks out with a sadistic smile. Lillian can see the elder man filling with irritability with every barest account he makes of the events from earlier in the morning. 

Sensing his obvious frustration, Ryan quickly says, "You're still too young to understand any of these! Besides, my stomach is growling."

There isn't much to sort and Lillian had practically known he has doomed himself to an uncomfortable few whiles; much thanks to Ryan's horrendous petulance.

Now that Ryan is straggling, the younger decides to meander down to the kitchen to grab something to satisfy both his and his brother's appetite then afterwards he can just lounge on the couches like a hobo— could there be any better opportunity than this? Apparently no.

"Can not blame the stomach. You haven't had your breakfast."

"Neither brunch," Ryan adds swiftly. 

"I'll get you something to survive on," that is an obvious exaggeration which pours from Lillian's lips put agape, "In the meantime…" he takes Ryan's hands in his, unfurling the fist, returning the parchment tuxedo to its incidental owner,

"...try to figure out what can you do about it?" Putting up a peace sign, Lilian retires to the kitchen, located at the very back corner of their humble abode, right across from the dine-in. 

Ryan persists to be retaining as a dunderhead; now with a surplus onus on him,

"Screw my life!" 

Technically, it was not Ryan's fault, if Ethan Smith chose to put his coffee mug at the very vicinity of his table's edge. Regardless, Ryan is to be held accountable, if his foreman chose him to be so, no matter what.

LOVESICK was a perfect gateway, and Ryan thought. 

If there is anything, in his 19 years of living life, Ryan Miller's father has taught him, is to carry his own weight— none will ever be willingly responsible for the decisions he chooses to make. 

Ryan's trembling arm reaches to bring in the ladder back chair. While being lugged, the sharp piercing screech of the very furniture was not the kind that could pass unheard. 

The brunette was finally beginning to settle down and focus on the jumbled vocabulary in front of him; the coffee stench filled parchment coloured tuxedo. Maybe, he was starting to understand what was in his power to pledge the job at such a distinguished American enterprise on relationships. 

Anything he has been seeing and thinking of is ripped away by a sensation worse than burning, in his ears. Ryan had not even noticed that wooden furniture to move, but the unknown shrill which cut through the air, lacing his ear, made Ryan stumble a little in the otherwise direction before that buzz died and he could ultimately slump into the core of the cushion's malleability.

Ryan's eyes stay glued to LOVESICK's CEO's coat…until they aren't. 

There is a sudden quiet over the room, corresponding to all those voices which did not leave the man alone for a second, right after Ryan had casted the source of all his forebodings aside. 

Ryan picks up his head at the sudden quiet of outrageous murmurs crawling around his head like beastly spiders. He squints to see a dark troubleshooter by the Turin table, 300cm in length, 76 cm in height— Ryan's phone. 

"Fuck myself," he curses and throws himself forward in his seat, "Why haven't you let your presence be known to me earlier!!??" Clawing and scolding that lifeless phone, Ryan, without squandering any moments begins to browse, 

'How to get rid of coffee stains on tuxedo?' 

There, arrives a plethora of solutions— with which arrives Lilian, his hands occupied in clasping two plates containing cherry cheesecake shooters in one, and sausage and hash brown casserole in another. 

Upon his recurrence, Lilian takes note that his brother is deeply driven in his cellphone, which evidences, he would not care less to spare an attention to Lilian or the food he reheated any time sooner. 

"Ryan!" The younger male desperately tries to get through to his brother, "Ryan! Your brunch!"

And it results in his stark futility; efficiently doing nothing better than hurting Lillian's throat that hit puberty of late. 

"Ryan," he clears his throat in an another attempt, "Take your food."

To no use— when straying his head from the unresponsive creature, he sees Pansy, their only kitten, trying to slip her way into 'Mr. Haughty's' tuxedo. 

"Stop, Pansy!! Not there," Lilian hurriedly shoos the feline away and checks the coat again, "That could be dangerous, you fool! Judging from how Ryan is describing him, who knows if his tuxedo is as wicked as him?" He continues to check, like it would walk away at any moment; and no hell in a million years will Lilian let his elder brother be down or humiliated. 

He feels a spark of conscience lighting his soul up,

"Maybe…I should do something," incomprehensible Lilian speaks to his own profound gestures, "I can not possibly let my brother be turned away from the job for such a trivial matter," the lucidity of Ryan's distorted attention is clear, thus making Lillian's contemplations be vague. But Lilian also feels a pang of anxiety on how Ethan Smith would react, given his personality, if believed in Ryan's phrases. 

Making himself scarce from the intimacy of Ryan and his phone, Lilian obtains the tuxedo and withdraws to his and Ryan's private room, busting his head about what could be done with that piece of agony. 

                                           ***

Ethan has an abundance of thoughts of horrible scenarios racing to his brain, the past few months have shown the ever so perfectionist man the hideous face of loss— which Ethan Smith could not digest. Conflict made the blood drain from his face:

'IS IT THE END ROAD FOR ETHAN SMITH?'

The inciting headline engaging in most of the space from Times Daily was in itself abundant to make the CEO seethe in a rugged ferocity. Without moving an inch, Ethan only clenches his jaw, unknowing what to do. 

The chief cause behind Ethan Smith, the recognized all-rounder, to want to employ a Personal Assistant is solely this— in the face of loss. Ethan has spent sleepless nights and yet he could not wrap the idea around his head, how despite all his best efforts and effective measures, customers would either leave the app or be displeased with its service. 

What had Ethan Smith not done? Beginning with checking forums, social media, including comments under the dating apps of his closest competitors and finding the vault accordingly to introducing gamification in LOVESICK— Where did it exactly go wrong?

These defeats had him wrapped around their fingers, because the defeats knew Ethan's darkest fears, whether they were the same as every single unfortunate loser or Ethan was just too bad at hiding those. 

Ethan's grandiose narcissist alter-ego yanks the man back into reality. He takes long, slow breaths, the wicked laptop and the comments in it looming over him and taunting him no more than his own employees. He feels like innumerable pairs of eyes are watching him, the stares of so many dissatisfied users puncturing his skin, and the sheets he is sitting on, on his bed, feels uncomfortable and uninviting. 

Ethan waits a few solid minutes before daring to stare up and close his laptop with a thud, laying bare a belonging that Ethan indefinitely was not expecting to be there— Ryan's green embroidered handkerchief. 

Like a shaft of sunlight drawing itself out from beneath murky bushes, Ethan's lips stretch into a smug grin,

"I know who can help me!" 

                                               ***

Absurd. That is the word Ryan wants to incant until he grows worn out of it. All that tireless browsing for discovering 'the chemical reason behind why coffee stains are hard to get rid of.'

The food is kept covered, seemingly miles away from the one who is to devour it. Ryan keeps scrolling and scrolling and scrolling….and finds nothing. 

On the flip, Lilian, keeping peering upon the hall only holding onto hopes theat the food would not get any colder or soggier than it already is. 

Notwithstanding his rambling hunger, Ryan keeps ceaselessly foraging for any and every solution for alleviating a tuxedo off of coffee stains. 

That is up until his phone proves itself to be an ultimate distraction. "Ding!" Making the person holding the device wince at that notification's brusque appearance, Ryan registers in his mind, an email has popped up. 

Grimacing, Ryan taps on the bar, to be disappointed to a greater extreme, 

'From: [e-mail]

To: [e-mail]

Sub: Empty

This is Ethan Smith, Mr. Miller. Meet me now. Urgent. At my place. Will spare you 30 minutes sharp. Be late and lose your job. Thank you!"