Once His Nightmare, Now His Employee

DORIAN's POV

Beep... beep... beep...

'What the hell is that sound?'

Something was wrong with my body-it felt too still, too heavy, like I had been poured full of concrete.

The light bleeding through my eyelids felt like someone had shoved the sun into the room.

I cracked one eye open, my vision blurred around the edges. White ceiling. Blinking lights. A rhythmic beep that drilled into my skull.

'Hospital?'

My throat was sandpaper. I tried to lift my arm, but something tugged at me-an IV line. It was cold against my skin.

'Why was I here?'

My thoughts flickered like a radio stuck between static and music, tuning in only to cut out again. There was a shadow in the corner of my eye, but I couldn't turn my head fast enough to see who it was.

A dull ache bloomed behind my eyes. My heart lurched.

'What happened to me?'

Then I heard it-someone breathing beside me. Quiet and waiting. A response, maybe.

And that's when the dread settled low in my chest.

I wasn't alone. But I wasn't sure who was watching me either.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask, my voice shaking terribly, betraying the amount of courage I had managed to gather.

The figure moved from his seated position on the chair and came into my view.

Brown hair. Piercing eyes. Lips-full, flushed, dangerously magnetic. My brain stalled.

He waved at me, bringing me out of my imagination. "Hi, it's me. Ronan."

His voice sank deep into my heart. That voice... It was soothing as hell. Beautiful. Magnetic. Soft.

"Do you care to eat something?" He asked, moving his hands towards me.

But, my stomach clenched. An invisible weight pressed on my chest. I tried to shift back, to pull away from him, but my limbs refused to obey.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

His eyes dropped, almost as if he was disappointed. It felt as though he had expected something much better from me and I had failed to give that in return.

'Wait... Who am I?'

Names flashed through my mind like a broken slideshow-Michael? Arnold? Francesco? Alex? None of them felt right. None of them felt mine.

"You need rest." He said, as he stood. My heart quickened but the sudden fear was unexpectedly replaced by his soft touch as he gently helped me tuck my hands inside the blanket.

"Is he awake?" A voice came from behind.

The guy swirled around and I was able to see the doctor walk in, accompanied by a nurse who was all smiles.

"He needs some more time to regroup. As I said earlier, that is part of his sickness' symptoms." The doctor explained, locking eyes with the nice guy with the brown eyes.

'Sick?'

The word echoed. My heart thudded faster. I searched my memory like a man clawing at fog.

The doctor turned to me and placed the back of his right hand on my forehead. "Pretty normal. How are you feeling now, Dorian?"

'Dorian? So that's my name? Beautiful!'

"I'm... I'm..."

My throat went dry all of a sudden. My mind went blank. What had the doctor asked?

'Oh Lord!'

"You need some more time to rest, Dorian. Close your eyes." The doctor said softly as his right hand swept my eyes shut. They remained there too.

'Wait... What's that?'

A cold sting kissed my arm, sharp and sudden. My eyelids, though heavy, fluttered. My muscles tensed instinctively. No... wait... My breath hitched.

"What... are you doing?" My voice was a ragged whisper, barely escaping my cracked lips.

A warmth spread through my veins-unnatural, and slow. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, louder now. I tried to lift my arm. It felt... disconnected. My thoughts blurred, slippery things I couldn't hold on to.

"Don't..." The word melted on my tongue.

Everything slipped sideways.

Darkness reached up... And, I couldn't stop it.

*****

While I stirred, my eyes peeled open, greeted by the soft glow of stars blinking outside the window.

'Where am I?'

White ceiling and blinking lights. The environment was no stranger at all. I jerked up immediately. I was in a hospital gown, lying in a bed I had come to despise.

The air reeked of antiseptic. The sheets clung to my skin. Every breath felt borrowed, like even the hospital didn't want me here long.

This has become my life. But once-back when we still had money-things were different.

Once, our fridge hummed with leftovers and laughter.

But, everything had spiraled out of control and I had been left alone to look out for myself which I am obviously incapable of.

My best friend walked as cautiously as ever into the ward with a basket in his hand. As soon as he laid his eyes on me, a smile spread on his face but he didn't say anything. Then, I called his name.

"Ronan."

His intoxicating brown eyes lit up as if he had expected me to call him first. He finally reached where I sat and dropped the basket on the cupboard.

I peeled his hands off me, trying to shake off the electric unease his touch left behind. He wouldn't believe what happens to me anytime he touches me.

"I want to leave here. I don't want to stay here."

"You can't leave, Dorian. The doctor said you would be spending the night." Replying with his soft manly voice, he tried to stop me from removing the IV line.

I gently pulled his hands off me, getting rid of the abnormal feeling. "Stop your little jokes. This is not the time for it."

"I'm not." He replied, blinking.

"You must be joking," I said again, my voice low and sharp, like the edge of something ready to break.

"I understand health is wealth. But you can't possibly take care of her if you are not in a good condition." He said, rather quickly.

"You know I can't stay here, man," I said, my voice tight with emotion. "My mom's at home alone... and she's sick. It's cancer, Ronan. You know what that means."

I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat, fighting the helplessness that was rising fast.

"I can barely afford two decent meals a day. Some days, I skip just so she can eat. If I stay here overnight, I will be burning the last bit of money I've been saving for her medication tomorrow."

My voice cracked. "What kind of son would I be then?"

I looked at him-really looked-and hoped he would understand what I couldn't say out loud: That every second I spent lying in this bed felt like I was failing her. That I was running out of time, money... and strength.

"If you had the Migraines with Aura I have... if you had Temporal Lobe Seizures, lost your father, had no job, no one willing to help... and your mother was diagnosed with cancer... would you let her stay alone? For twenty-four hours?"

My voice shook, overflowing with everything I had buried for too long.

Ronan blinked, his jaw slightly parted. His hands stayed frozen by his sides, as if unsure whether to comfort me or let me burn.

I slipped out of the hospital clothes and pulled on my casual clothes in silence. My phone was in my hand as I made my way towards the door.

But one question still clawed at my chest.

'What would I even find when I get home?'

DORIAN's POV

"How was the interview?" Ronan asked, drying a glass behind the bar. "You look like hell, but I'm hoping for good news."

I sat in front of the bar, rolling my eyes while dropping both my curriculum vitae and my phone onto the tiny slab.

"How do you think it went?" I muttered, dropping into the stool like dead weight. "Martini. Double."

"Gin or vodka?" Ronan calmly asked, careful not to probe into the interview or my joblessness-and I couldn't have been more grateful.

"Gin."

He nodded and began mixing the shots while I pressed my nails into my skin, hoping the sting could match what I felt inside.

All the savings I had left was what I used to get my mother's drugs earlier this morning. Again, I had gone in search of a job but... nothing as usual. Walking in the heat, being dismissed, or how the receptionist looked at my resume like it was trash.

Today makes it exactly five months since I had been marking tallies on a calendar or opening a folder filled with rejection emails.

Five months of unemployment! Five months of scouting for jobs and it just seems like some kind of god had decided to place a curse on me.

"I know you will find a job soon enough. I just feel it in my bones, but whatever you do, don't give up hope on trying." Ronan advised, passing me the shot and I scoffed.

My phone beeped and I reached into my pocket before retrieving it to stare at the text I got.

'Your mother just passed on. My condolences, Mr. Dorian. Our deepest condolences.'

My breath caught. Everything slowed-the noise in the bar, the flicker of lights, Ronan's voice calling my name. My heart pounded once, hard, and then went quiet. Like even it didn't want to go on.

"Dorian?" Ronan called but I could only hear him through a daze as tears slid down the corner of my eyes.

Cancer!

She was always in pain. I could remember how she kept on asking if the surgery would happen. But I couldn't even look her directly in the eye.

If I had just gotten one goddamn job... one stable income. She could've had the surgery. The bills wouldn't have piled so high. She would still be breathing. Still calling me her boy.

I could only stare at my hands and see her blood on it-They were stained by it.

I was already at the brink of losing my mind knowing that if I didn't pay rent by next week, I would be homeless and then my mum?

"Dorian, what's wrong with you man?" Ronan asked, jerking my hands a bit and that pulled me out of my ocean of thoughts saving me from drowning.

I shifted the phone over to him and his countenance fell as he stared at the contents on the screen.

"Dorian, I'm so sorry."

I shrugged, taking slight deep breaths to level my heart rate. "Make it a double Martini, Ronan." I requested and Ronan shook his head in negativity.

"I know this hurts, Dorian. But I'm not about to let you drink yourself into the grave." Ronan stated in a firm voice and I just swallowed hard.

"Fine then. I'll just go and wallow in misery back at home." I seethed, standing up immediately but he grabbed my hands, pulling me back down.

"Dorian, you're my best friend and I probably know you better than you would ever know yourself. This isn't a good time for you to be alone, you'll spend the night at my place today." Ronan stated, matter of factly leaving no room for any kind of argument. "We will go pick her body up from the hospital tomorrow."

A disturbing thought always crept in whenever I was around Ronan.

He was my best friend. It had been for years. But would he still be... if he knew? I wasn't sure. And tonight, the thought of being that vulnerable, that exposed-it scared the hell out of me.

I wasn't so sure about that and leaving I and Ronan in one enclosed room, at night, I'm quite unsure how that would go.

If he touches me... will I break?

What if I want him too?

That's not possible. Ronan and I are close buddies.

There's nothing between us but I still feel something was off. Maybe because Ronan is not gay? At the same time, I haven't seen him with any lady lately.

*****

An hour later, Ronan was done with his night shift. He clocked out, and we walked home in silence.

The walk back was cold and quiet. Ronan didn't say much, and I didn't have the strength to fill the silence. I just replayed her laugh in my head... the way it used to echo through our tiny living room.

Ronan turned to stare at me for a few seconds before patting my shoulders a bit.

When we got to his apartment, I just settled in on the couch lost in my own thoughts as Ronan presented dinner but I declined.

"You're not really going to starve yourself, are you?" Ronan queried and I grabbed him by the shirt.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, Ronan." I blurted out and he threw his hands up in surrender while I went ahead to scroll through old pictures of my mom.

Just as I scrolled through her pictures, I saw a pop up of an incoming mail but it vanished almost immediately so I had to enter my mail to confirm what it was about.

And right there...

'JOB INTERVIEW FROM VALE ENTERPRISE.'

My phone fell from my hand almost immediately with a slight thud onto the table as I took deep breaths trying to stabilize my heart rate as I kept staring at it in disbelief.

"There must be a mistake. They must've clicked the wrong file and mail. My resume? It's nothing impressive. Two years in retail. A failed internship. A business degree gathering dust in a folder titled 'At Least You Tried.' No way!"

I blurted out, dropping my phone onto the table with a slight thud as I stared at my friend's wide eyed.

"Umm, Dorian? What are you talking about?" Ronan asked and I gulped, unsure of what to say while staring at the mail long and hard like I was trying to see past some glamour and see the real message.

'There's no way they're actually accepting me right?'

"I think Vale Enterprise wants a job interview with me." I said quickly and he dropped the food he was holding whilst picking my phone up.

"Like The Vale Enterprise that we all know of? Are you sure?" He was equally stunned as I rubbed my wrists, wondering if this was all just a dream.

Speaking of dreams...

And now that I was halfway to my dream, the person I wanted to make proud was gone.

DORIAN's POV

My chances of getting the job were shrinking with every rushed step I took through the towering gates of Vale Enterprise. I paused for a second to check my watch-and instantly regretted it.

Who the hell shows up late to an interview for a job that sounds too good to be true?

Apparently, me. Of course, me.

My palms were already clammy just thinking about it, each step closer to the front desk another inch closer to a no.

No company wants to hire someone who can't even be punctual. And just to make matters worse? My resume didn't exactly scream "CFO material."

"I'm here for the interview. The Chief Financial Officer position. I think..." I added the last part in a hushed mutter, hoping the receptionist wouldn't catch how uncertain I sounded.

She gave me a tight smile and started tapping away at the landline in front of her.

"Well, Mr. Keene. You're late. I assume you already know that." Her voice had a bite to it, and I curled my fingers into fists inside my pockets, scrambling for something-anything-to say.

"I mean, yeah, I know... but I have a solid explanation. Traffic was a nightmare, and then, right outside the building, someone splashed mud all over me. I had to run home to change. I couldn't just show up smelling like..."

She cut me off by turning her attention completely to the call she was making. Not even a blink in my direction.

"Please," I added, desperate. "I know this looks bad, but... surely there's some room for..."

She slammed the receiver down with a sharp clack, rolling her eyes before meeting my gaze.

"Third floor. Hall six. You're already late, so I suggest you stop wasting more time. And between us? Even our janitor talks less than you do."

Her voice faded out as I bolted for the elevator.

Third floor. Hall six.

Or was it the sixth floor? Hall three?

My mind scrambled for clarity, the receptionist's voice looping in my head like a scratched record. I swallowed hard and settled on the third floor, hall six.

That sounded right... right?

I punched the button and pulled out my phone, skimming through the notes Ronan had helped me prep last night. Every word, every possible question, drilled into me by that beautiful man's midnight lectures.

And talking of Vale Enterprise, the building smelled like money, power, and anxiety-all things I didn't bring with me.

The elevator dinged open and I stepped out, adjusting my tie and slicking back the stubborn curl in my hair. My palms were already a mess, so I wiped them discreetly on my pants.

Gross, yeah. But necessary.

I reached Hall six, took a deep breath, and twisted the handle open with a small creak.

All eyes turned to me the second I stepped in.

A long table with a group of stern-looking people. A dimly lit projector flickering across serious faces. And there was silence so sharp that it cut through me.

"Who are you?" Asked the man at the end of the table, his voice was like steel wrapped in silk.

My mouth went dry. My brain fogged.

"I... I'm Dorian. And a little confused," I muttered.

There were murmurs. Two security guys began making their way toward me.

'How did I get here?'

I tried to rewind the moment, piece together the steps-but it was like someone had scrubbed the memory clean.

"Dorian Keene? Applying for the CFO role?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," I answered carefully, holding my file tighter, trying to seem composed when I absolutely wasn't. "I was told my interview was here."

"This is Hall three, Mr. Keene. Your interview is in Hall six."

My heart dropped.

And that's when it hit me-this wasn't the interview room.

I blinked at the plaque on the wall beside me.

Hall three.

Shit.

I barely held back the loud curse building in my throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said, backing out quickly as the tension in the room crackled like static.

Get it together, Dorian.

I made it to the real Hall six this time, hesitating only slightly before opening the door.

Inside was a woman seated at a desk, her expression unreadable. "Mr. Keene?" She asked. I nodded, forcing a breath out. "You're late," she said bluntly.

I opened my mouth to explain but promptly shut it. I had already done enough damage for one morning.

"Let's begin," she said, flipping open a folder as the door behind me creaked open.

And then he walked in.

A man in every possible sense of the word.

Tall-easily 6'5. Blue eyes that could freeze time. Broad shoulders. Lips that looked like they belonged in a sin.

"Mr. Keene," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "You can consider me the second interviewer."

He extended a hand. I took it immediately, my smile automatic, my thoughts not so much.

His voice rang in my ears like déjà vu. Familiar. Too familiar.

Was he... the same man from the other hall? Or am I losing it?

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" I asked, my brows furrowed slightly.

He smiled, and the damn room lit up.

"Highly unlikely," he said, that calm tone not giving anything away. "But not totally impossible."

One look at those eyes again and-God help me-I already knew I would be completely ruined for the rest of this interview.

I remembered the time I went for my first interview. I once saw a Blue-Eyed man too and I stared into his eyes till the end of the job interview.

And if you ask me what led to me not being able to get the job?

The interviewer had seen me staring at him and that threw me out even though I knew from the start that my chance of getting the job was very slim.

Now, would I repeat the same?