Chapter- 18

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 the smug chuckle, removes his smirk, releasing a blaze of uncomfortable, uncertain laughter into a void. "That's a peculiar way to put it," his voice slightly strenuous, "Ryan, as I mentioned, possesses quite a convincing character," he confesses, selecting each syllable carefully for maximum impact— Ethan, however, is far from at ease with this.

An unsettling feeling snakes its way through the arrogant CEO's gut, robbing him off the solace he so desperately rummages for, "And how do you know that, Cameron?"

Cameron has not encountered Ryan in the past, oh no. But, possesses a knowledge that transcends time and space, "It's not everyday and not everyone that we see someone succeed in persuading our dear CEO to join them on a humble lunch break date at a modest beanery…" his utterances both a testament to Ryan's persuasive prowess and an unintentional ridicule of their little excursion.

Ryan cannot contain himself any longer. His voice breaks through the conversation, adamant on clarifying their misinterpretation. "It wasn't a date!!" Emphasising each word, "I simply asked Sir to accompany me during our lunch break. That's all."

Cameron nonchalantly glances at his phone, disinterested in Ryan's rebuttal. He waves off the clarification, dismissing it as inconsequential, "Whatever," he pays no heed, brushing aside Ryan's protests. "It's still not everyday that rare occurrences like these happen, and we get to witness it first hand. That's why Ryan captured my fascination, I would love to get to know him more."

Ethan, ever the no-nonsense man he is, wants to cut to the chase, "No you don't! How about you now care to show us the email that you received…from me!?," he cuts, curt and business-like.

But Ryan refuses to let matters rest. Like a dog with a bone, he persists. Has he his reasons for holding onto it? Without a doubt. Date or not, their visit to the beanery was never meant to be broadcasted to masses— especially not to someone like Cameron, a subordinate within Ethan's company itself, LOVESICK. Ryan had fought tooth and nail to protect their privacy— the audacity of those pesky onlookers who dare infringe upon their privacy! But alas, they never ever seem to care, do they?

"What's the rush man?" Cameron's brow dances with astonishment as he cracks open the email, celebrating in the evident suspicions etched on Ethan's face displayed against beholding the message he himself had supposedly sent— or had he?

"Here, have a look," Cameron subtly turns his laptop to Ethan directly, chiming. The email is gloss and clear from [e-mail] sprawling corner to corner across the screen.

With a scarcely containable eagerness, Ethan latches onto the words, his impatience with Ryan's procrastination reaching its peak— he leaves Ryan with his thoughts alone. The email's subject line leaves no room for hesitation…not anymore…

Ethan delves into the crafted message, the grim reality of a situation unboxing:

'Subject: Urgent Action Required.

Esteemed Cameron,

It is I, Ethan Smith, the Chief Executive Officer. Regrettably, traces of dangerous explosives and noxious gases have been detected within the confines of our cherished new showroom, currently undergoing construction. Unfortunately, the exact whereabouts of these hazardous elements remain undisclosed.

I beg you, as your CEO, to swiftly evacuate the premises in order to safeguard every precious life inside, including your rescue team. Our team of experts are tirelessly striving to reach the distinguished bomb defusal unit. In the meantime, please refrain using your mobile phones and don't reply to this email. Please don't contact me by any means until I myself get back to you, or else everyone will face the consequences. Once again, do not try to contact me or be in touch in any way, for personal reasons, if you do, I won't hesitate to fire you with of course demanding compensation fees. Thank you!

Fervently,

Ethan Smith,

Founder Extraordinaire of LOVESICK.'

No matter how many times Ethan reads and rereads the message; it remains unintelligible, incomprehensible. It doesn't make much sense, nothing does— nothing except the name at the end. 'Founder Extraordinaire of LOVESICK' strikes a personal chord with Ethan. There is only one person Ethan knows who writes in a formal and careful encryption, obsessed with concealing his true identities veiled under cunning tactics. It all points to— "Mr. Miller, I think I know who it is…"

"Yes, Sir?" Watching his Sir becoming so overwhelmed, Ryan feels a little pang at his heart, he places a gentle solacing hand on Ethan's shoulder, "I don't know what you know or are thinking, but I believe there is an explanation for everything that's happening."

Ethan furrows deeply, "Mr. Miller… shall we return to the office now? We need to start working on the presentation about your new proposal to introduce it soon. Let's discuss its layout."

"Uhm–" Ryan, filled with uncertainty, seeks permission from Cameron, "If you don't mind, may I explore the building a bit? I trust you and your team fully but for my self-assurance, you know how worst that pestering compulsive desire can be."

"Our first floor is currently under renovation and being inspected. The workers have cordoned it off with construction tapes," Cameron shrugs, "I don't think they'll allow in just yet."

"Then, at least the ground floor?"

Cameron smiles mischievously, amusement that of a kid. "Why are you asking me for permission? The CEO himself is standing right there, arms crossed. Take a look at him."

Nervous, with behind-the-scenes hope, Ryan looks at his boss— without speaking a word, his appeal is in his broadened eyes.

"Fine! Fine!" Annoyed, Ethan gives in.

"Thank you!" Ryan beams with unspoiled enthusiasm. "Then suggest to me, where shall I start?"

"This room maybe? This office room?" Cameron slips his hands into his jean pockets.

"No," Ryan motions his head side-to-side, "You literally lead a rescue team, I don't want to waste my time by crossing you. If something was wrong you would have figured."

"Hmm," Cameron leans back, the black leather creaking softly beneath him, gesturing towards the narrow hallway leading further inside their building, "Well," he kicks off, "There are only two more rooms on the ground floor that might be of interest. The first is the lodging room for our hardworking employees. It's a modest space but it gives them a place to unwind after long shifts. The second is the trashroom, where all discarded items find themselves temporary refuge."

Ethan wrinkles his nose at the mention of the trashroom— why did Cameron have to bring it up?

"I suppose we should start with the lodging room, then," Ryan returns to his boss with a mixture of determination and low-key apprehension. Understanding their unspoken agreement, Ethan sighs and nods reluctantly.

Ryan's heart quickens with a combination of excitement and trepidation, usually known as a 'thrill'. Ryan adjusting his collar, they step into a dimly lit hallway, the only source of light coming from battery powered fluorescent tubes overhead.

The air smells like fresh paint, and construction, mingling with the lingering aroma of brewing coffee from the cafe nearby. Ryan leads his boss through labyrinth corridors, their footsteps soft against the polished linoleum floor.

Approaching the heavy wooden door of their lodging room, Ryan pushes the door open, it creaks softly, protecting against its ancient hinges. The room unfolds like some long-forgotten secret hiding place.

The lodging room is cozy, yet worn. Rows of neatly arranged twin-sized beds line the walls, each with a simple, faded quilt. The muted sounds of a distant radio seeps through thin walls, adding melancholy— Ethan's footsteps are muffled by the threadbare carpeting, his eyes instinctively drawn towards small desks placed at the foot of each bed. On them are scattered bits of life— crumpled notes, forgotten trinkets, and faded photographs.

Ryan watches his boss sifting through these fragments of forgotten memories ex employees had left behind, Ethan's fingers tenderly brushing on edges of ephemeral remnants of those who came before him. There is a reverence in Ethan's touch, a genuine curiosity and respect for the lives that have left their mark within these walls…"Sir, I think there is really nothing doubtful. Everything looks normal," no, being Ethan's assistant, Ryan can't let him get carried away, floating with maybe memories about his own family?

"...."

"Come, now," the duo doesn't explore the room any further— Ryan can always come back if he wishes, eliminating that, the room is too transparent either way, nothing under the covers. "Let's go for a treasure hunt."

Skipping only a wall in between, there exists the trashroom. Ryan lets his boss be, if Ethan can't put up with his assistant's procrastination, neither can Ryan be forbearing with his employer.

Ryan resumes his excavation— 'treasures' are found within trash every time. Moving past a white plywood door, his eyes search out the smallest details. The cracked window overlooking a courtyard in their neighbourhood, framed by faded curtains that billow gently in the breeze. The rusted radiator, once a source of warmth and comfort, now silent and inert. Ryan's keen attention reaches places where a man can't, processing every nook and cranny, expecting the unexpected. For Ryan, is it really only to observe if something feels like an odd one out …or is it to rip off the layers of his boss? The answer is obvious.

Mounting a pile of discarded items, in it Ryan unearths a peculiar collection of mismatched socks. They lay in a colourful jumble, forsaken and forgotten— they too have lost their purpose. Ryan can't help it but giggle at the thought of his fastidious boss perfectly polished and put-together during the day, defeated to such an everyday misplacement.

Presenting forward, he discovers a drawer overflowing with pens, each in its own different colours, shapes and brands. Ryan brings a hyphen in his conduct, considering the importance of this small treasure. Probably these pens were once used by Ethan to craft his meticulously written plans, to sign life-changing documents, or to jot down spontaneous bursts of brilliance. Ryan envisions his boss's mind overflowing with ideas encapsulated by these humble writing instruments.

Inspired by this unwrap, Ryan's focus sharpens, and he continues his search with renewed vigour. A 'treasure-hunt' is incomplete without childhood toys— Ryan spots a tattered teddy bear missing an eye, a worn-out sock monkey with crooked smile, and a miniature clown with chipped nose. Each toy becomes a representation of Ethan's hidden playfulness, a side of Ethan Ryan hasn't seen…yet. Along the findings, is also a small photograph, its faded edges telling stories of forgotten moments frozen in memories— a picture of teenager Ethan, a complacent grin on his face, holding a violin.

Ryan's quest leads him to a forgotten corner, where a stack of yellowed papers lie precariously atop an antique task. Doing closer inspection, they reveal themselves to be old concert programs, frayed at the edges and filled with faded ink. The dates and venues speak of a time when live music reigned, of evenings spent immersed in the symphonies and concertos of great composers. Amid the pile of junk sheets, Ryan hunts down sheet music. The melodies written on a yellowing page giving off feelings of fulfilment. Ethan's assistant imagines his boss sitting in his office late at night, unable to resist the call of a dusty violin, coaxing tunes out of its strings.

Lost in the sea of discarded treasures, Ryan's imagination takes flight. He paints a picture in his mind of Ethan as a young prodigy, captivating audiences with his ethereal violin playing. The music enchants not only those who listens but also the young assistant rummaging through a pile of rubbish, looking for hidden gems.

The room becomes a symphony itself— in this moment of transcendence, Ryan can almost see his Mr. Haughty as a conductor, his eyes filled with shared passion for arts; Ryan's treasure hunt reaches its climax, he stumbles upon something that tugs at his heartstrings— a perfectly fine violin, carelessly tucked away in an old, weathered case. Its polished wood is glimmering, calling out to Ryan to pick it up and breathe life into its forgotten melodies…this is the violin from that old photograph.

Maybe, just maybe, once again, Ethan will love to live…again.

A mundane presentation and paperweights pulls the curtain on Ryan's second day at work…