Chapter- 15

"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…"