Chapter eight
Kairen clutched the stack of files to his chest as he quickened his pace. The higher up he went, the thinner the air seemed to feel. His eyes had lingered too long on that wide glass window—too long imagining what it might be like to just… slip through it. A fall, clean and sudden. Would anyone even notice until I hit the pavement? Probably just a headline: "Man in cheap shoes takes flight."
He shook the thought off, almost laughing at how ridiculous it was, though the humor sat too close to his ribs, jagged and sharp. "Before I jump, better get these files back," he muttered under his breath, half joking, half not.
Clutching the files tight, he reached for the door handle, eager to bury himself in work before his head betrayed him again.
But the door swung open first.
He collided full-force with someone on the other side. Momentum dragged him down, his feet tangled, and then
Crash!
The files scattered mid-air like startled birds before slapping to the floor. Kairen braced for impact, but instead of cold marble, he landed against something hot, solid, unyielding. Both of them toppled hard to the floor, the sound echoing through the polished corridor.
Kairen's cheek pressed into a chest—broad, warm, smelling faintly of expensive cologne laced with cigarette smoke. His head rested there, dazed, while strong arms had already looped instinctively around his waist, as if catching him was muscle memory.
They stayed like that.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
Only the ragged cadence of their breaths filling the silence, their hearts slamming against bone in a rhythm that felt too loud.
Kairen's face burned. His body said get up, but his limbs refused. And the man beneath him… he hadn't let go either.
For a fleeting, dangerous second, the world narrowed to that contact—the weight of Kairen's body pressed against another's, his cheek rising and falling with each breath that wasn't his own.
No recognition yet. Just the tension of two strangers bound by accident, their silence louder than words.
Sebastian's arms stiffened. For a brief, unguarded heartbeat, it felt natural to hold this stranger close, the slim frame pressed against him, the thrum of another pulse beneath his palm. But then the warmth soured into irritation. He scowled, shoved the body aside, and rose to his feet in one fluid, impatient motion.
"What the hell are you doing in my office?" His voice was sharp, clipped, carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed.
Kairen scrambled, clutching at the scattered papers, kneeling low to the ground. His head dipped dangerously close to Sebastian's groin as he fumbled, muttering quick apologies, his breath shaky.
"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean.."
Sebastian froze. That voice.
Soft. Lyrical. Annoyingly gentle.
He knew it, knew it deep in the marrow, the same tone he once silenced with fists, the same timbre he mocked until it trembled.
His eyes narrowed. "...Kairen?"
Kairen's head snapped up.
And in that instant, their eyes locked.
The world stilled.
For Kairen—it was fire. Shame ignited every inch of his skin, an unbearable heat that made his chest tighten. His heart slammed against his ribs, not out of affection but sheer panic. He was kneeling in front of his boss? No—worse. Not just his boss. Sebastian Cross. His high school nightmare in flesh and bone.
Sebastian, meanwhile, let his lips curl into a smirk. He tilted his head, gaze raking over the man before him like he was still sixteen and Kairen was still the boy he toyed with. "It's been a while, Nu Nu." The nickname rolled off his tongue like a weapon polished and waiting.
Kairen's stomach twisted. The sound of it cracked something inside him. He staggered back, nearly tripping over himself, and without another word, bolted out the door.
Sebastian watched him go, a low laugh caught in his throat. He pulled out his phone as he walked into the office, typing a quick message to his sister.
"Forget Germany. I might stay here a while."
When he slipped the phone back into his pocket, a slow smile tugged at his lips. For the first time in months, something felt entertaining.
And then the door shut behind him.
Kairen burst into the bathroom, slammed the door behind him, and nearly tore his bag open. His hands shook so badly he almost spilled the small pill bottle across the tiled floor. With a panicked gasp, he popped two into his mouth, swallowing them dry before lunging at the sink, cupping water in his palms and sloshing it down his throat.
The mirror gave him back a trembling stranger. His shirt clung with sweat, his face pale, eyes wild and unfocused. He gripped the porcelain sink, his knuckles bleaching.
It was him.
That crawling unease, that invisible hand choking his chest—it was Sebastian Cross. Amara had said the Cross family and he hadn't connected the dots. Now it all fell like a hammer. The head slammed against the wall. The laughter that followed him down hallways. The footsteps pounding behind him, chasing him until his lungs burned. His bully. His nightmare. His boss.
Kairen gasped for breath, fumbling his phone out of his pocket, desperate to call Amara—but his hands jittered too violently to even press the right buttons. His chest rattled with shallow gasps, sweat dripping down his temple.
The door creaked.
"Now who the hell—" a voice barked, raspy with irritation. "I just scrubbed this bathroom. If y'all start puking or scuffing up my tiles again, I swear—"
Kairen froze.
The janitor's small frame stepped into view, her mop bucket squeaking behind her. Ms. Jo's sharp eyes flicked toward him, already narrowed with complaint. "Mm-hmm. I knew it. Someone roughin' up my clean space. You kids don't—"
She stopped.
Her gaze softened the moment she caught sight of him. Kairen was hunched over the sink, trembling, his breathing loud and broken, his phone slipping from his grip.
"Oh, honey." Her voice dropped, all the sharpness drained away. She set her mop aside, her tone warmer now, like a sudden blanket in winter. "You look like you seen a ghost… or worse, like you are one."
Kairen tried to shake his head, but he couldn't speak. His throat locked.
Ms. Jo clicked her tongue, stepping closer without fuss. "Uh-uh, don't you keel over on me. Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. That's it."
The bathroom felt less suffocating in her presence, though Kairen's body still shook as if it remembered things his mind didn't want to.
Ms. Jo nearly dropped her mop when she caught sight of Kairen hunched by the sink, pale as paper, water dripping down his chin.
"Sweet baby Jesus," she exclaimed, rushing over with her hands flapping. "What on earth happened to you? You look like somebody wrung you out like a wet rag. And don't tell me it's the flu—you too fine to be lookin' like roadkill, baby."
Kairen swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but she was already circling him like a hawk, squinting at his face.
"Breakup?" she guessed, her voice sharp but teasing. "A fight? Did some boyfriend of yours leave you cryin' in the bathroom? 'Cause listen ain't no man alive worth smudging up the floor I just cleaned." She pointed at the tiles, half-threatening, half-playful.
Kairen lifted his eyes to her, torn between laughing and collapsing.
"Oh, don't you look at me like that," she huffed, softer this time, wagging a finger. "I been in this building long enough to know who's who, baby. You gay—I clocked that on day one. Don't worry, I don't judge. I just gossip." She winked, trying to ease him, her voice suddenly gentler. "Now, tell Ms. Jo what's eatin' you up."
Kairen's throat tightened. His fingers trembled against the sink. Finally, the words came out, hoarse:
"I'm… being bullied."
For a beat, Ms. Jo froze. Then her whole body jolted with outrage. "Bullied?!" she barked, already spinning on her heel toward the door. "Oh, no, no, no. Not on my watch. Come on—show me who! I'll snatch 'em bald right here in the lobby if I have to!"
"Ms. Jo" Kairen called after her, panicked.
"Don't Ms. Jo me, sugar. Point me to the fool dumb enough to put hands or words on you."
He hesitated, chest heaving. His lips parted, the name slipping out like a curse he'd carried too long:
"Sebastian Cross."
Ms. Jo stopped mid-stride. Her shoulders stiffened, her mop clattered against the wall. Slowly, she turned, eyes widening.
The humor lingered on her lips, but underneath it, her face had gone serious—too serious. Because if it was Sebastian Cross, the heir of the empire, the golden boy with a mean streak… then this wasn't just office gossip anymore.
It was dangerous.