The city simmered under the sun's relentless assault. It was high noon, and the heat had pushed the metropolis to its limits. The sun, positioned at its zenith, transformed the asphalt into a shimmering mirage and the skyscraper facades into blinding flashes. At the bustling intersections below, exhaust fumes mingled with the cacophony of honking vehicles and the hawkers' shrill cries. The city pulsed with a frenetic energy, utterly oblivious to anyone observing from above.
Hades stood by the expansive window, phone pressed against his ear. The continuous dial tone droned on, but there was no response from Rava. Once again.
"Mr. Aven?" A gentle but firm voice cut through the air, emanating from his secretary. "The investor meeting is scheduled in fifteen minutes," she stated, maintaining a respectful distance.
Hades remained silent, his fingers reflexively redialing. The outcome was the same, the dial tone echoing in his mind.
"He never answers," he mumbled, the words barely audible.
A blatant lie, of course. Sometimes, Rava would pick up. On those infrequent occasions when Hades had a reason to call. But more often... he just called, seeking out Rava's floundering excuses for his silence.
The secretary wisely refrained from comment. She understood that no response was required.
"I should have insisted he come with me," Hades spoke aloud, his gaze fixed on the miniature figures navigating the street below as a yellow light flashed.
"You remember the events of last time, right?" she cautiously inquired.
Oh, he certainly did.
He recalled Rava frozen by the open car door, as if staring into a deep chasm rather than a luxurious black interior. How his fingers had grasped at the frame, knuckles turning white. How his breathing had become erratic and shallow, his eyes... vacant, fixed beyond reality. Hades remembered threatening to imprison him in the trunk unless he chose to enter.
"He's claustrophobic," Hades observed dryly.
However, he knew it had nothing to do with confined spaces.
It had everything to do with choices. With Rava's inherent aversion to feeling trapped. To having decisions imposed upon him.
And Hades understood this perfectly. Yet, understanding had never been an obstacle before.
"Mr. Aven, you should really get ready.."
"I am aware."
A final, fleeting glance at the phone. The screen went dark.
Rava could ignore the call. But that didn't equal to freedom.
The city continued to seethe below, completely unconcerned with their private struggle.
And Hades turned from the window, leaving the bright world and the commotion it held behind.
Blaine carefully placed a cheese slice onto the fresh baguette, then stopped abruptly, his hand suspended in mid-air. The cafe was quiet, enjoying that unique lull between the morning and afternoon rushes.
"You know," he began cautiously, wiping his hands on his apron, "if you happen to be facing any legal challenges..." His voice lowered. "My family employs excellent attorneys."
His glance subtly followed Rava's trembling phone, now silent after another rejected call. In their short time working together, Blaine had already noticed Rava's reaction, his face becoming paler each time it rang.
"No, don't worry," Rava replied quickly, turning towards the sandwich station. "It's just family stuff."
Blaine raised an eyebrow. His expression shifted into one of careful consideration, but he simply shook his head and gave Rava's shoulder a friendly squeeze.
"I get it. Overbearing parents," he chuckled, recalling the past. "In middle school, I once snuck out to a friend's party and switched my phone off. My dad's secretary probably rang about three hundred times." His laughter reverberated in the calm kitchen. "I got quite the reprimand afterward, haha."
Rava felt chills prickling his skin. Behind the nonchalant tone was something darker, prompting him to instinctively cover Blaine's hand with his own.
"I hope... it didn't affect you negatively afterwards," he whispered, realizing how hollow the words must have sounded.
Blaine stilled. His typically energetic eyes became dull. In the heavy quietness, Rava could faintly hear water dripping from a loose tap.
"Of course not!" Blaine then exclaimed with artificial joviality. "I was back at that same friend's party the very next weekend."
Yet his smile lacked genuine emotion. Rava recognized that a window into someone else's hidden pain had been slightly opened, and now he couldn't act like he hadn't seen it.
As already said, Blaine had been employed at the cafe for merely three days, somehow without causing any catastrophes, burning down the kitchen, or even misinterpreting any orders. He showed up promptly and departed with everyone. Sometimes, he would keep the team later, for "an Instagram selfie with the cafe after hours".
Most importantly, he made sandwiches! Flawlessly prepared, with just the right amount of sauce and never a hair out of place.
The coffee machine, however... that wasn't quite as smooth.
"Okay, watch—you simply push this button..." Rava began the training.
CLICK-THUNK-BANG!
Three seconds later, the expensive machine was hissing like a pressure cooker, leaking brown liquid, while Blaine stood nearby with angelic innocence:
"Oops."
Rava was about to scold him about proper care, when:
"No worries, I'll order a new one."
And, a mere hour later, a new coffee machine, still smelling of the manufacturing packaging, was delivered.
"I also got three-kilo cans of Illy as an apology."
"So much for 'money can't buy happiness'," Iris sighed.
Rava just stared at this wealth, thinking once again: Wow, it must be great to have money.
The memory made Rava blush.
"What, remembering something amusing?" Blaine chuckled, poking his reddened cheek. "Or maybe you're just allergic to work?"
Rava snorted and dramatically started assembling a sandwich, pretending it needed his undivided attention. After a few seconds, when Blaine didn't respond, he just shrugged and returned to vegetable chopping, audibly sighing, as if he was the victim of heartbreak.
Today was Friday, and they had a welcome party for the new employee. Rava, for once, could join—no more Friday streams to worry about.
"So, where are we going?" Ivi was brimming with excitement. "That new bar with.."
"Oh, stop that," the owner cut in, slapping Blaine on the back so strongly that he nearly dropped his knife. "Our regular across the street! Decent food, cheap vodka, and they clean the floor twice a week. Perfect for welcoming the newbie!"
Everyone laughed.
When the floors were glistening, and the cash register made its final click after the day's revenue count, Blaine approached Rava, who was deep in thought, polishing glasses at the table.
"Hey," he nudged Rava gently with his elbow, "I know my stories make me sound like a wild person, but honestly... I haven't been out with anyone for ages."
Rava nodded absently, still focused on the glass he'd been cleaning for the fifth time.
Blaine frowned. In those three days, he'd already discovered how to discern the tension in Rava's shoulders - they were rigid, like someone preparing to withstand a blow.
Bzzzz—Rava's phone vibrated abruptly in his pocket, breaking the awkwardness.
They both jumped. Blaine noticed Rava's fingers tremble, as if he was about to drop the glass.
"You tod.." Blaine started, but Ivi's joyful cry cut him off:
"Guys, coming? We're about to leave!"
Blaine sighed and pointed towards the door.
"Shall we?"
Rava took out his phone, about to put it to his ear—when, in a swift motion, Blaine snatched it from his hand and rejected the call.
"Hey, what the hell?!" Rava's voice cracked sharply. He reached for the phone, but Blaine dodged smoothly, throwing it between his hands like a street performer. "I have to answer it! It's vital!"
"More important than your well-being?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, still juggling the phone. "A minute ago, you were paler than this mug, and now you're shaking like a leaf."
Rava clenched his fists, anger erupting. Yes, he appreciated Blaine, but it didn't grant him permission to invade his life. He grabbed again, but Blaine dodged again, then pressed the side button to silence the phone.
"Listen," Blaine's voice suddenly softened, "I'll return it to you straight after dinner. Scout's honor." He showed the phone briefly before putting it in his own pocket. "Just give yourself one evening off."
Rava froze, his breathing gradually calming. Blaine's eyes contained no condescending pity, only sincere concern.
"Fine," Rava finally said, releasing the tension. "But if there's even a single unanswered message!"
"Then I will compensate you personally," Blaine grinned, nudging him towards the door. "Now, come on."
Rava glanced once more at Blaine's pocket, where his phone was now held, and—to his own amazement—experienced a strange relief. Maybe a night without those calls was worth it.
He'd handle the consequences later.