"I'm totally late."
Ethan muttered it to himself as he rushed through the glass doors of Apex Holdings, almost tripping over the carpet by the reception. The clock behind the front desk read nine-thirty. He was thirty minutes late. Great.
He tightened the strap of his bag and hurried toward his office, already planning what he'd say when he saw Marcus. He couldn't wait to tell him about his ridiculous night, about how he'd ended up in bed with a stranger after too many drinks, and a man at that.
The elevator mirrors caught his reflection as he stepped in, and he almost looked away. He could still see the faint red mark on his neck, a reminder of the night before, of something he still couldn't name. He didn't even know what to call it, mistake, curiosity or weakness, or maybe all three.
When he reached Marcus's office, the door was closed and the lights were off.
He blinked, a little confused, and leaned closer to peek through the glass panel. The room was empty.
"Hey," Ethan stopped one of the junior staff walking by, "have you seen Marcus?"
The guy shook his head quickly. "No sir, haven't seen him come in today."
Another person said the same thing. No one had seen him all morning.
Ethan frowned, he took out his phone and dialed Marcus's number, waiting as the line rang once, twice, three times, then went straight to voicemail. He tried again, and again, but still nothing.
It was strange. Marcus was always the first one to come in.
"Maybe he's running late," he told himself under his breath as he walked back to his desk. "Or maybe his car broke down."
But even as he said it, something about the silence in the office felt wrong.
He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and tried to distract himself with work. But he couldn't stop glancing at the time, then at his phone, waiting for a text, a call, anything.
Ten o'clock passed. Still nothing.
By eleven, his phone vibrated sharply against the desk. Ethan jumped, snatching it up.
Unknown number.
He picked it up quickly. "Hello?"
"Is this Ethan Vade?"
The voice was unfamiliar, calm but clipped.
"Yes, who's speaking?"
"I'm calling from St. Claire's Hospital. Mr. Marcus was brought in last night after a car accident. You're listed under his work contact. We thought someone from the office should be informed."
For a second, Ethan didn't understand the words.
"An accident?"
"He's stable now," the voice continued, "but you might want to come."
The call ended.
Ethan sat frozen for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand. Then he stood so fast his chair rolled back and hit the cabinet.
By the time he reached the parking lot, he was already running.
Traffic blurred past him on the way to St. Claire's. His heart wouldn't stop pounding, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
When he reached St. Claire's, he parked carelessly and ran inside. The smell of disinfectant hit him hard.
At the front desk, he said Marcus's name quickly. The nurse checked something on the screen and pointed him toward the east wing. Room 204.
Ethan muttered a thank you and followed the corridor. His chest felt tight, each step heavier than the last.
When he finally reached the room, he stopped at the doorway.
A man in a suit stood beside the bed, tall, sharp-faced, and oddly composed for someone in a hospital. He turned when Ethan entered.
"You're from Apex, right?" the man asked.
"Yes," Ethan said. "I, someone called from here. They said Marcus was admitted."
The man nodded once. "I was told to stay until someone from the office arrived. The doctor said he's stable."
Ethan didn't even know what department the man was from, and right now he didn't care. His eyes had already gone to the bed.
Marcus lay still under the white sheets, head wrapped in light bandages, his usually neat hair a little messy. His face looked pale against the pillow, IV line hooked to his arm, chest rising slowly. His skin looked too pale, lips too dry.
Ethan walked closer, barely breathing. "Marcus..?"
The man in the suit checked his watch. "He wakes up sometimes, but not for long. I have to go now."
He stepped out quietly, leaving Ethan alone in the room.
Ethan sat down beside the bed, heart thudding in his ears. He didn't know what to say, the steady beep of the monitor was the only thing reminding him that Marcus was still here, still breathing.
When Marcus's fingers twitched slightly, Ethan leaned forward, catching the movement.
"Hey," he said softly, "you're awake?"
Marcus's eyelids fluttered. "Ethan?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
Ethan nodded quickly. "Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"
"Like I fought a truck and lost," Marcus murmured, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.
Relief mixed with worry in Ethan's chest. "You look worse than you sound."
Marcus tried to chuckle but winced instead. His hand shifted on the blanket, searching for something to hold. Ethan hesitated, then lightly held it.
"What happened?" Ethan asked. "They said it was an accident?"
Marcus's eyes opened halfway. "Yeah. Someone cut in front of me. I don't remember much after that."
"Thank God you're alive," Ethan said quietly, glancing at the bandages. "You scared me, you know."
Marcus's expression softened. "Sorry."
"Don't say sorry," Ethan muttered, "just get better."
"Should I tell Ryan?" Ethan asked suddenly.
Marcus hesitated, eyes shifting away. "No."
Ethan frowned. "Why not?"
"I don't want him to know," Marcus murmured. "He'll worry… or worse."
Ethan didn't really understand what he meant, but Marcus looked tired, and he didn't want to push.
"Alright," he said softly. "Rest for now. I'll stay."
Marcus smiled faintly, eyes already closing again. "Thanks…"
Ethan waited until his breathing evened out before he stood, stretching his sore legs. He glanced around the room, the flowers on the side table, the IV line, the phone on the drawer beside Marcus's bed.
Ryan.
Marcus didn't want him to know, but Ethan couldn't shake the thought that if it were him lying there, he would want to know. So Ryan deserved to know.
He glanced toward Marcus again, then he reached for Marcus's phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up easily. He scrolled through the contacts until he found Ryan's name, copied the number into his own phone, and typed a short message.
He read it once, then sent it.
Ethan looked at Marcus's sleeping face and exhaled slowly.
He hoped he hadn't just made things worse.