"Here we go!" Lucian exclaimed with relief as he kicked off his combat boots, fresh air touching his feet.
He got home feeling so hungry after the jog that his stomach was growling loudly, even though his body could have kept running for hours.
His legs weren't even tired and his lungs weren't straining. But his stomach was a different story.
His apartment was a one-bedroom flat. Everything in it was humble and modest. The kind of place that screamed temporary.
In it was a bed that creaked when he moved, a small kitchenette with a stove that only had one working burner and a fridge that hummed constantly, struggling to keep cool.
"There should be something inside to eat, right?" He muttered with a desperate hope as he ransacked the small fridge but couldn't find anything to eat.
Not even leftovers. Not even condiments that could pass for a meal.
That was when he remembered.
"Damn!"
He was supposed to stop by the convenience store to get something to eat before heading home. He had planned it this morning- something cheap, maybe instant noodles or a sandwich. Anything.
But he hadn't gone.
Because of the crying stranger who had consumed his thoughts for hours.
Lucian wanted to blame him. He wanted to resent him for making him miss his stop, for making him jog home, for making him so distracted that he had forgotten the one thing his body desperately needed.
But he couldn't. Because he didn't even have money to buy food anyway. He had spent all he had to buy that expensive drink at that coffee shop.
"I would just have to sleep on an empty stomach then..." Lucian heaved a sigh and shrugged nonchalantly as he closed the empty fridge.
It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. His body could survive without food for days if it needed to.
"At least I will start working tomorrow. I will start earning money and then I can eat properly..." He analysed gently as if that would soothe his angry stomach but it did nothing to help.
Ignoring the bites in his stomach, Lucian pulled his shirt off, pulled down his pants. Now, clad only in his boxers, he got on the bed.
The bed groaned in protest as he adjusted himself comfortably on it but Lucian didn't give a care.
"Hello, Dreamland!" He said with a small smile as he closed his eyes. He wished for sleep to come so as to drown out the protest in his stomach.
But sleep refused to come.
His mind wouldn't quiet. It kept circling back to the same image, over and over again...
The man on the bus. His tear-stained face. The way his whole body had trembled as he cried. The bewildered look in his eyes when he'd woken up and realized where his head had been.
That expression. Shame mixed with desperation. Fear mixed with something else Lucian couldn't name.
Lucian sighed heavily and mumbled to the darkness, "I hope he's okay."
The words felt strange in his apartment. Strange because he rarely cared about anyone outside of his own survival. Strange because something about this stranger had gotten under his skin and he couldn't shake it out.
He turned onto his side, pulling the thin blanket up to his chest.
But sleep still wouldn't come.
An hour passed. Then another. His stomach continued to growl, a constant reminder of its emptiness. His mind continued to drift between two things: the gnawing hunger in his belly, and the image of the man's broken face.
Which one was keeping him awake?
Was it the empty stomach? Or was it this stranger?
Lucian didn't have an answer. He just lay there in the darkness, staring at nothing, waiting for sleep that refused to come.
~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, at one part of the city, Ray had been driving around the city for forty minutes looking for his boss.
When he spotted Rowan walking alone on the street, his chest tightened with panic. Rowan Donovan didn't walk anywhere. Rowan Donovan used cars.
"Just what is wrong with him today? Is he sick?" Ray wondered to himself.
He pulled the Mercedes over immediately and got out, moving quickly toward his boss. His face was creased with worry.
"Sir! Mr. Donovan!" Ray called out, approaching Rowan carefully.
Rowan's head lifted. For a moment, Ray saw it- the crack in his armor. The devastation behind his eyes. The way his entire body seemed to be held together by sheer force of will.
But then it closed.
It was like watching a door slam shut. Rowan's expression hardened. His shoulders straightened. The cold CEO facade slid back into place like a mask that had been waiting on the shelf for him to put it on again.
"Are you alright, sir?" Ray asked, concern evident in his voice.
Rowan's eyes narrowed to slits as he demanded sharply. "Do I not look alright?"
The question wasn't really a question. It was a warning wrapped in ice.
Ray swallowed hard and shook his head.
"I---no, sir. Of course not. I didn't mean---" The driver stammered. He knew he had trespassed.
Well, it wasn't as if he deliberately wanted to, or as if he didn't know how his cold boss was. He had allowed the vulnerability he thought he caught in a blink of an eye on his boss's face to make him slip.
Of course, he should have known better: Rowan Donovan would never look vulnerable or be in a depressed state. He definitely didn't have any reason to.
He had everything, so what could possibly make him sad?
"Obviously, it was my eyes that has problem..." Ray thought to himself, shaking his head slightly.
"Are you tired of your job, Ray?" Rowan cut off his thoughts, his voice dropping to that dangerous softness that made everyone around him nervous.
"Would you prefer to be fired?" He added.
"No! No, sir. I'm sorry, sir." Ray's hands trembled slightly as he moved to open the backseat door.
Rowan stepped into the car without another word. He settled into the seat, simply, his face pulled tight, his expression absolutely blank.
The coldness was worse than any rage. Ray had learned that years ago.
Ray got into the driver's seat and waited for instructions. He knew better than to ask. He knew better than to probe.
Then one word came from the backseat, delivered with the precision of someone accustomed to absolute obedience;
"Home."
Ray nodded with a little fearful bow even though he knew Rowan Donovan wouldn't be looking at him, started the car, and began driving.
As he navigated the city streets, he muttered quietly under his breath, his voice barely audible;
"Of course the ice prince would forever be unapproachable."
He didn't think Rowan heard him. But even if he had, Rowan wouldn't have reacted.
He would have just said one statement, one that seemed to live on his tongue, one that had caused lots of employees to cry;
"You're fired."
And whenever that came out of Rowan Donovan's mouth, there was no going back.
Rowan Donovan didn't show mercy to anybody, no matter who you were or how long you have worked for him.
He was the ice prince, after all. Cold, emotionless and ruthless.