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I stared into the mirror, debating if I should even bother combing my hair again. It had fluffed back up after pulling on my clothes, but surely it would take some sort of hair product to actually tame the unruly mop. Hair products that I happened to lack. I shrugged and wet my hands instead, smoothing my hair out and hoping that the fix was more than temporary. My glasses covered the bags beneath my eyes well enough, and I didn’t need to shave, so I straightened my tie and walked out of the bathroom. My roommate was lying on the couch and looking impressively miserable, so I could only muster up a little seething hatred for the task he’d dropped in my lap. Ever the enterprising journalism student, he’d managed to land an interview with some hotshot CEO for the student paper. Unluckily for both me and him, he’d managed to catch the flu, and even more unluckily for him he only had his antisocial roommate to rope into covering for him. I’d certainly heard of Dark Enterprises, as their considerable investments in aeronautics meant that I was likely to deal with them when I began working as an aerospace engineer. But interesting company name aside, this was surely going to boil down to an interview with some pompous withered asshole who was under the impression that he was hot shit for inheriting daddy’s company. “DDD,” I said, and my roommate looks up at me. He always goes by his initials and not his actual name, which is strange, but I can’t really fault him for it. I prefer a nickname myself. “Hey,” he croaks, before clearing his throat. “Hey Meta. Is uh…that really what you’re wearing?” he says, looking me over. I looked down at my simple white dress shirt and slacks, and back up to him with an expression that I hoped conveyed the proper amount of irritation. “Yes, let me just go grab the suit I definitely have from my closet,” I huffed, crossing my arms. DDD held his hands up, and a coughing fit wracked his body for a moment before he could respond. “Sorry, it’s just that this guy is super big. Impressions are important, especially since you might work for him someday. They do a lot of aeronautics,” he said. “And he is definitely going to remember a college student interviewing him,” I responded flatly. DDD shrugged. “Hey, you can definitely make an impression when you want to. Just make sure this impression isn’t the sort that got you banned from the chess club,” he chuckled. I glared at him in response and he only grinned wider. “Hey, lighten up. Anyway, I’m really thankful that you’re doing this for me. I know you hate people, but this took like six months of pestering to schedule and I’m not sure he’d agree a second time.” “You’re lucky that I’m agreeing to this at all. It’s only because you wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t,” I said. “Yeah, sure. You’d better get going though, it’s at least a two-hour drive,” DDD said, giving me the infuriating look he always had when he could tell that I was lying. Damn him. “Just lovely, and with city traffic too!” I said with false enthusiasm, picking up the satchel DDD had provided me. Ugh, I hated satchels, they always managed to make my shoulder sore. “Everything you need is in there, and the interview questions are the first thing in the folder. Just record it on your phone and I’ll transcribe everything,” DDD said. I slung the satchel over my shoulder and snatched the keys to our shared car. I was halfway out the door when DDD called out to me. “And Meta?” “Yes?” I asked. “Try not to be, y’know, too prickly?” he pleaded. I turned to look at him with a blank expression. “You know, if I knew how to control that trait, it would have saved me a lot of trouble,” I drawled, letting the door shut behind me and no doubt leaving DDD to ponder what exactly he’d unleashed on this unsuspecting CEO. I scowled as I extricated myself from the car and locked it behind me. The parking garage was packed, and I’d only managed to score a spot next to some asshole who thought the yellow lines on the pavement were merely guidelines. Luckily, though it caused me grief in almost every other aspect of my life, my small size had allowed me to slip out of the driver’s side door without climbing to the passenger side. I walked briskly to the stairs, quickly exiting the garage and walking the two blocks to the building at a brisk pace, glancing at my watch frequently. It was a frankly ugly powder blue, and the cheap LED screen was already fading, but it was both a gift and my only watch, so I didn’t want to simply toss it out. I finally made my way to the proper building and looked up for a moment, taking it in. It was admittedly impressive, sleekly designed and at least thirty stories tall. “Dark Enterprises” was spelled out over the entrance just above the street number, and the front of the building was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing me to clearly see the lobby from the outside. I glanced down at my watch and scowled before half-jogging into the building, making my way to a little desk inside the lobby. A disinterested-looking woman looked up at me as I approached. “Uh, what floor do I go to for the CEO? I have an interview with him,” I said. I resisted the urge to say something as she slowly looked me over, as if in disbelief that such a commoner could meet with the boss. “Twenty-fifth floor,” she drawled, and I nodded in thanks before dashing to the elevators, squeezing in to an already open one. Several people with suits stood around me, and I felt completely out of place here. Thankfully the crowd lessened with each floor until I was the only one left, nervously glancing at my watch. The door finally opened to the twenty-fifth floor with two minutes to go, and I walked briskly into the reception area, wanting to keep a sense of decorum by not running. Two smartly dressed people stood behind the desk, with the male one looking visibly unenthused about dealing with me. “I’m here for an interview with Michael Dark? Daniel Douglas-Dormer would be the name it’s scheduled under, but I’m filling in for him,” I said, a little out of breath. The woman looked over a written list and looked back up at me. “Name?” she asked. “Miguel Knight,” I said, resisting the urge to use my nickname. It would just seem childish to bring that up here. “Alright, I will take you to him in just a minute. Please take a seat,” she said. I nodded and sat on one of the geometric backless sofas that ringed the small lounge area. It wasn’t very comfortable, and I supposed that it was more for looks than functionality. I opened the satchel and pulled out the folder, but I didn’t even have a chance to look over the questions before an enormous man emerged from what I assumed was the CEO’s office. This guy was extremely tall and built like a brick shithouse, leaving me to wonder if he was some sort of bodyguard. “I know you’re not one for golf, so I assumed this would be more your speed,” the man chuckled, talking into the open doorway. There was an incomprehensible response from within the office and the large man only laughed in response, continuing out to the lobby. He nodded at me as he passed, and I must have looked like an idiot awkwardly nodding back. He slipped into the elevator and the door slid shut, leaving me alone with the receptionists once again. “Well, go on in,” the male one drawled, before making a noise that I’m pretty sure was the result of the rapid motion the female one made. She walked out from behind the desk, and I wondered how much damage those heels must have inflicted when she stomped on his foot. “I will take you to him. This way,” she said, and I stood quickly. She led me just through the door before nodding at the man within and returning to her post. The office was enormous, way bigger than anyone could ever need, and it was filled with black and silver furniture that was probably more expensive than my car. There was a luxurious sofa off to the side and huge black desk right in the center, with some dumb pretentious art pieces hung behind it. The man sitting behind the desk, however, made me do a double take as I approached him. There were two things vying for being the most surprising thing about him, and the first one was the fact that he was straight up missing an eye, with a jagged scar running over the empty socket. The second was that he was extremely young, no older than I was. He had perfectly tousled hair, and though I really hated to admit it he was a little cute. OK, scratch that, he was drop-dead gorgeous. I suddenly felt a little more self-conscious. “Ah, hello! Daniel, was it? For the interview?” he asked, looking over a schedule laying on his desk. His voice was deep and had a German accent. “Uh, I’m Miguel. Daniel was ill so I filled in for him,” I said, quickly getting over my initial shock. He seemed friendly enough, but these types were good at putting on a front. “Oh, well, it is a pleasure to meet you regardless,” he said, extending his hand over the desk. His handshake was firm, and his hands were cool. He motioned for me to sit. “I will admit, I am somewhat disappointed that I don’t get to meet the guy who was hell bent on hassling me until I agreed to the interview.” I was surprised at how casual his speech was, it seemed out of place with the bougie décor. “Yeah, Daniel doesn’t let up when he wants something,” I said. He’d certainly badgered me into agreeing to do this, even while sick as a dog. I opened the folder with the questions and looked awkwardly at the man. Mr. Dark was not as stuffy as I thought he would be, but I was still terrible with social interaction. Whatever, at least machines come with blueprints. “Apparently not. Anyway, I’m guessing those are the questions?” Mr. Dark asked, leaning over his desk a little to peek at the paper. I shifted it back a little out of instinct. He sure didn’t seem like the CEO of a billion-dollar company, but here he was at the CEO’s desk. Was this perhaps the real CEO’s son just fucking with me? “Yeah, I don’t really know what they say though. I only agreed to do this last minute,” I admitted, scanning over them quickly. Ugh, some of these are really personal. “Well, ask away! It can’t be worse than what they write in the tabloids,” he chuckled. “Well, Daniel wrote these, so get mad at him if they annoy you,” I said. It should be alright to be casual if he was being casual. I then grabbed my phone as I remembered the most important part of this whole thing. “You don’t mind if I record this, right? Just your voice?” “Not at all,” Mr. Dark said warmly. I quickly placed my phone onto the desk between us and hit record. “Alright, the first question then,” I said, reading the paper quickly. I then looked up at him. “Mr. Dark, to what do you owe your success?” Wow. What a boring start. At least there was nothing that could annoy him about that question. “Just Dark or Michael is fine. And probably the fact that my uncle owned this company first, and he loved me like a son,” he said. He must have noticed that I looked surprised, and he chuckled. At least I hope he wasn’t just laughing at my face in general. “Expected some silly speech about my exceptional talents? How it was my pure incredible wit and business aplomb that got me here? Nope, I’m not as delusional as a lot of people who have these sorts of positions. And that’s what I’ll boast about.” “Huh, so he just gave it to you? What about his children?” I asked, genuinely curious now. He seemed genuine enough, but he was being recorded so this could all just be a PR move. “He never had kids, and I did work for him before he resigned and promoted me. But there were plenty of more qualified people passed over due to my familial connection. Not that I blame him, this company was his baby and he didn’t trust anyone else. Especially not near the end,” Dark said. “The end? What happened?” I asked. Damn, none of these questions were on the list, and now I’m wasting time. But this guy is certainly an interesting character. “Hm, I’d prefer not to elaborate, but he became ill,” Dark said, his tone still friendly but unmistakably final. “Right, sorry for your loss,” I said quickly, feeling awkward now. Dark waved his hand in a dismissive manner, and I noticed that his nails were painted a vibrant red and filed into a pointed shape. Weird. “It’s been years now, bringing it up isn’t painful,” he assured, before folding his hands on the desk in front of him. After noticing the nail polish, I realized that his remaining eye was ringed with a generous amount of red eyeliner. It was certainly unusual to see a man openly embracing femininity like this, particularly a man as powerful as Dark. I have to admit, it looks good. Really good. “Um, right,” I said, reading the next question. “What is it like being a billionaire?” “Oh, I could feed you all the bullshit about how it’s actually really hard or that I struggle every day. But I don’t ever worry about money, I can buy what I want, I can travel the world, I can literally pay people to like me, it’s nice. Imagine a life where you never worry about money, and that’s pretty much what it’s like,” Dark said, looking thoughtful. He put a perfectly manicured finger to his chin. “I never really had to worry about money, so I won’t pretend to know what it’s like.” “It’s stressful, that’s for sure,” I said absently. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Great job Meta, announce how broke you are in front of the billionaire. That’s not at all awkward. “Well, I do hope things look up for you,” he responded smoothly, smiling. It seems like a genuine smile and a genuine statement, and I find myself feeling even more awkward. “Thanks,” I said lamely. There was a moment of silence and I cleared my throat, the sound coming out louder than I intended. “What leisure activities do you enjoy?” Dark seemed to brighten up at this question. “Oh, I enjoy many things in my free time! I enjoy music, plays, movies, performances of all kinds… I love it when I can go to movie premiers in particular, what fun!” Dark babbled. He seemed like an excitable guy for a CEO. Maybe he was just lonely, though that confused me a little. Surely there would be no shortage of people wanting to hang out with a billionaire? “Mr. Dark, the two o’ clock appointment is here.” We both turned our heads to look at the receptionist who was poking her head in. Dark seemed to mull over something for a second before speaking. “Tell him that my current meeting is running late and that I will meet with him shortly,” he said, surprising me. The next meeting must not be very important. “Of course,” she said, turning to leave. “Thank you, Sable!” Dark called out, before turning his gaze back to me. “Any excuse to put off meeting with that guy is a good one. He’s a dick,” Dark said, before frowning. “Please don’t use that part.” “I’ll make sure to tell DDD, er, Daniel,” I said. This guy wasn’t very professional, maybe he acted differently when doing business. He also seemed easily distracted, which wasn’t a trait I expected from a CEO. “Thank you. Are there more questions?” Dark asked. I read the next one and frowned. Dammit, it was just like DDD to get personal and prying like this. “How did you get your distinctive scar?” I read. Dark seemed only a little taken aback, so hopefully he wouldn’t become angry at the question. Or if he did, he would direct it at DDD and not me. “Ah, a little more personal there,” he said, but I didn’t hear any anger in his tone. He must be used to the questions about it, it is a pretty unique feature. “Sorry, he can get really prying, I can skip this one,” I said quickly. “No, I understand how startling it looks, being curious is natural. An ex of mine was not happy I was leaving her and decided to blind me, but I fought her off before she could get the other one,” he said, tapping at his good eye. I quirked an eyebrow. I’d assumed he was gay with all the makeup, but I supposed that I probably shouldn’t have. Perhaps metrosexual was a more apt descriptor? “I hope she’s in prison, what a heinous crime,” I commented. I had my fair share of scars, but at least none of my trauma had come with a missing body part. “There’s a few more years to go in her sentence, and I would like to see her try getting past my security,” Dark chirped. His tone was cheery but there was an edge to it, almost like he was daring her to try it. Silence fell, and I scanned the next question. “What challenges does your disability pose?” I read. “Disability? Oh, the eye! Of course,” Dark chuckled. Did this guy seriously just forget about his missing eye? “Well, depth perception was tough at first, but I adjusted pretty quickly. I guess the biggest thing is that I’m missing half of my peripheral vision, so I like people to stand in front of me or on my right side. And 3D movies aren’t a thing I can do anymore.” “You seem pretty at ease with the whole thing,” I commented. Dark shrugged. “I can’t change it. It’s a cliché answer, but there’s no point in lamenting something that I can’t fix,” Dark said. “Trust me, I used to tear myself up over it, but I adjusted as my body did.” “Does the scar draw a lot of attention?” “I draw a lot of attention regardless, I think. The scar is just icing on the cake,” Dark said, grinning. Well, with a scar like that it would be for the best to like attention. If it wasn’t for the missing eye, I would have assumed it was makeup with how much it resembled a scar you’d see on an action hero. I read the next question, noting that there were only two more. “You donate a lot of money to research on rare disorders. Is there a specific reason for this?” I asked. Huh, so he did participate in some philanthropy. “A very good reason! My brother and I have one of those rare disorders,” Dark said, taking a more serious tone as he continued, “Awareness of these illnesses is important, and there are no treatments or cures without research. And there is no research without money, as bleak as that reality is.” “What disorder?” I asked, “I mean, if you’re alright sharing it.” He looked healthy to me, but I wasn’t about to say that like some ignorant asshole. There were a lot of things that could sicken someone without being obvious. “Ever seen Unbreakable? It’s what the guy in the wheelchair has,” Dark said. “Haven’t seen it,” I said. I barely have the time for this interview, let alone watching movies. “It’s called osteogenesis imperfecta. Most people call it brittle bone disease. It does what it says on the tin really, you break bones easily. It’s also why I’m shorter than average,” Dark explained. Great, he was short due to a disease and yet he looked to be my height. Not that it was easy to tell sitting down. “That sounds difficult. Have you broken a lot of bones?” I asked. I’d broken my fair share of bones even without anything pathological going on. Though I suppose I’m a little more active than most. “When I was younger, I used to get fractures yearly, but the disease lessens following puberty. I almost got taken away from my dad before they figured out the fractures weren’t abuse. Haven’t had a fracture in three years, and I hope to continue that way,” he said, knocking on his desk. I didn’t quite know what to say to that, so I nodded and moved to the next question. “Here’s the last one. Do you have any advice for aspiring business owners?” I asked. Dark shrugged, putting a hand to his chin. “Employ the most qualified people and consider the consequences of cost-cutting measures before you implement them. Some things are worth the extra money.” Dark then frowned and tapped at his desk before shrugging again. “I don’t know if I could even tell you how I successfully run this company. It’s just something I do.” How does he not even know what makes him successful? I felt almost like he was holding something back, but I didn’t really want to pry. His answer was perfectly serviceable anyway. “Well, thank you for answering these questions. I know you have to be busy,” I said, starting to pack up my things. “It’s no trouble, I usually don’t give too many interviews like this, but your friend was so very determined,” he chuckled, watching as I stopped the recording on my phone and started to stand. “Say, I have a question.” “Hm? What is it?” I said, sitting down from the half-standing pose I’d been in. “Well, several actually. I’m just curious about you,” Dark said, smiling beguilingly. What? What was there to be curious about? “Uh, OK?” I said slowly, a little unsure. If this got creepy, I was going to bolt. “Oh, nothing too personal! Just a few basic questions. What are you studying? I assume you’re a college student?” Dark asked, folding his hands in front of him. “Mechanical engineering at WSU. I’ll be receiving my masters soon,” I said. If finals go well, I added mentally. “Oh! You must be very intelligent then. What are your plans after graduating?” Dark said, seemingly genuinely intrigued. The compliment made my cheeks warm a little. I always have witty comebacks for insults, but compliments are impossible to respond to. “Thank you. My dream is to go into aeronautics, but I’m torn between getting right into my career and getting a PhD,” I said. “So you want to design airplanes? I invest rather heavily in the aeronautics field, but the specifics of how everything works is beyond my expertise. It is all rather fascinating,” Dark said, a glimmer in his eye. Huh, so he really was interested. Did he want to hire me? “Yes, jets in particular. My ultimate dream is to bring back supersonic passenger jets, but that dream may have crashed with the Concorde. It is hard to recover from a public image like that,” I said, sighing. You can fix the flaw that took a plane down, but you can’t fix the catastrophe it causes. “The Concorde? Hm, I swear I’ve heard that name…” Dark murmured, tapping a finger on his desk. The motion caused a loud clicking due to his long nails. “It was a French supersonic passenger jet that could cross the Atlantic in three and a half hours. It was in use for many years before one crashed in 2000 due to a burst tire puncturing the fuel tank. It never recovered from the publicity caused by the crash and was retired three years later,” I rambled, trying to keep it as concise as possible. I found crashes fascinating, and I was glad that being an engineer gave me an excuse to be so interested in them. Many would disapprove of such a morbid fascination. “You’re very knowledgeable! I can tell you have a passion for this, I do hope that your passion translates into success!” Dark said, grinning brightly. I can sort of tell how he manages to have people follow him now. He has that sort of charisma that energizes you by just talking to him. “Thank you, I hope so as well,” I said lamely. Dark nodded and then turned his head to the large window that made up one of the walls of his office, and I followed his gaze. It had a lovely view of the skyline, and the gray light from the overcast day filtered in through it. I noted that it was to his right side, the side that had complete vision. It had started to rain, and I watched the little rivulets of rain run down the glass as I heard Dark quickly scribble something down. “Well, if you have any interest once you graduate, I’m sure I could use a mind like yours on my team,” he said, and I turned back to see that he was offering me a business card. The card was sleek and minimalistic, plain white text on a black background with the company logo embossed in silver. I took it and slipped it into my pocket, nodding at Dark. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” I said. Dark returned the nod, his smile widening a little. “Excellent! Well, I won’t keep you from your studies any longer. Do be careful, the roads must be slick,” he said. I stood and was surprised to see him stand with me. Huh, we really were quite close in height, though I noted that he was taller with some irritation. “Well, thank you for the interview. I’ll be going…” I said, the last part trailing off. Dark seemed to pick up on my confusion. “I’ll walk you to the elevator, I need to stretch,” he explained, walking out from behind his desk. He was wearing sharp stiletto heels that clicked on the polished floor as he walked, and I realized that he was probably the same height as I was without those. I also found myself wondering how on earth he walked so gracefully in them without fracturing his brittle ankles. “Alright,” I said, and we walked side by side out of his office and into the lobby. The receptionists greeted us, or more accurately, him as we emerged. A guy waiting in the lobby tried to wave Dark down but was ignored as he led me to the elevator. “Do consider my offer. I am always looking for passionate people,” he said, pressing the call button. “I will,” I responded. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing an empty car. I stepped in and turned to face Dark. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miguel,” he said warmly. “You too, Mr. Dar-, er, Michael,” I responded, the name feeling strange on my tongue. His smile seemed to brighten as the doors closed.
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I stood stiffly in the elevator as it slowly made its way back to the first floor, stopping at a few floors to pick up other passengers. As interesting as Dark was, I wanted to escape this overly fancy building and retreat into familiarity. There was a beep as the elevator finally reached the first floor, and I was the last of the small group to spill into the lobby. It was raining steadily now, a sort of soft mist that cloaked the city in a haze. I walked into the little vestibule that separated the main building from the entrance and sighed, steeling myself for a run through the rain and making sure that the satchel was thoroughly closed. I jogged the two blocks to the parking garage, my speed doing nothing to prevent the rain from soaking my clothes. I shook the excess water from myself as I entered the garage, finally out of the relentless rain. My shirt was completely soaked through, and the upper half had become partially transparent. Great, I really enjoy looking like a complete idiot. I took the elevator this time, not wanting to move around in my wet clothes more than I had to. I squeezed out my hair as best I could and scowled at the water droplets obscuring my vision, a distinct disadvantage to wearing glasses. The elevator reached the level I needed, and I quickly made my way to my car, unlocking it and setting the satchel in the back seat after snagging my phone. I hopped into my seat and cringed at the feeling of sitting on wet clothing. Usually my shirt was perfectly fine for cleaning my lenses, but my shirt was soaked so I grabbed the lens-cleaning cloth I stored in the center console. I wiped the raindrops from my glasses and put them back on, relieved to have cleared my vision. I plugged my phone into the USB cable and started the car, the screen flashing to indicate a connection. My mind was far away as I pulled out of the spot. I pushed my swirling thoughts aside as I paid for the parking and exited the garage, having to concentrate on the snarled city traffic as I made liberal use of my horn. The rain was cutting visibility, and the other drivers seemed to have forgotten how to drive in the rain. I somehow managed to keep relatively cool and I finally reached the entrance ramp to the freeway, letting my thoughts take over as I cruised down the open road. What exactly was I supposed to make of Dark? He would have to be an excellent actor if he had just been putting up a front. And if he were to fake a personality, why would he fake one that seemed entirely unsuited to his position? He’d come across more like an overly friendly guy you’d meet at a bar, not like the CEO of an international corporation. Dark was also incredibly young, there was no way he was over thirty and I’d be surprised if he was more than a year or two older than me. His appearance was also stuck in my head, much to my intense shame. Perfect hair, perfect skin, and a toned body were not traits I’d been expecting. Nor was I expecting the distinctive scar and the missing eye. I liked distinctive people, and he was about as distinctive as they come. The way he chose to dress was also surprising to me. I had no problem with it, in fact I thought it suited him, but surely that’s the sort of thing more unscrupulous people would tear at you for? I got enough shit for my feminine face, I couldn’t imagine how much more cruelty I’d suffer if I dressed in a feminine manner as well. Coupled with the scar I could easily imagine the insults and lurid headlines, but Dark had seemed fairly at ease with himself. He had seemed at ease with me as well, though I couldn’t be sure if he took a liking to me or was simply that open and friendly. He had asked questions about me, and he’d even been fine with me rambling about planes. That was honestly the thing that lingered in my mind the most clearly. Dark had seemed genuinely interested, even asking questions and praising my knowledge. Hell, he’d offered to hire me, even though he could’ve just been saying that. People praised the hard field I studied, but they were rarely interested in the specifics. They would let me ramble away and then laugh about the weird nerdy engineer. Dark hadn’t struck me as that sort of person. I sighed and tried to let those thoughts slip away, realizing how futile it was to dwell on this. I probably wouldn’t even see him again, and even if I was hired, I doubted that we would ever have a chance for a similar chat. It was all remarkably pointless in the end, and I felt a little hollow as I continued towards home. I walked into the apartment to find DDD still holed up on the couch, looking even more miserable than before. He was shivering a little despite having apparently buried himself under any blanket he could find, and his eyes had that glassy look you get from a fever. Great, there was no way I could bitch him out for making me trudge through the rain and grapple with traffic when he looked like this. He looked up at me as I let the door close. “Oh hey, I was getting worried about you,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak. I walked over to him and set the satchel on the mound of blankets before taking a second to press the back of my hand to his forehead. He was burning up. “Traffic was awful. Did you take anything for that fever?” I asked. “I didn’t want to get up,” he admitted. I sighed in irritation and went to retrieve some water and Tylenol, quickly returning and handing them to him. “Thanks,” he croaked, swallowing the pills and downing the water. DDD had an awful tendency to not take care of himself when sick or to downplay his symptoms. Pointing out how stupid he was acting did nothing, so the only thing I could really do was try and keep an eye on him. “Take more in six hours,” I said. “Alright. Hey, how did it go?” he asked. Well, so much for ignoring my thoughts. “It was…interesting,” I said, causing DDD to quirk an eyebrow. “Good interesting, or bad interesting?” I hesitated for a second. “Good, I suppose. I didn’t realize he was so young,” I replied. DDD only chuckled, moving the satchel onto the floor beside the couch. “He’s definitely a strange case. Successful at such a young age.” “Well, he did inherit it,” I pointed out, causing DDD to give me an odd look.“Yeah, but Dark Enterprises was worth like ten million when he took over. Nothing to sneeze at, but he managed to turn it into a multi-national billion-dollar company. He’s a brilliant investor and entrepreneur,” DDD explained. Wait, what?“He never mentioned that,” I said, totally shocked. But he was so young! Even if I pegged him at my highest estimate of around thirty, that was still a maximum of twelve years to turn ten million into a billion, and that was if he became CEO when he was eighteen. Dark had to be some sort of genius to manage that. DDD seemed surprised at my response.“Really? I guess he didn’t come across as the bragging type in the other interviews I read,” he mused.“He was very weird. He didn’t seem like a billionaire, he was so informal and…” I searched for the right word. “Excitable?”“Well, I guess I’ll have to hear for myself. You did record it right?” he asked. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and handed it to him.“Of course I did. Did you think I would forget the most important bit?” I huffed. “Hey, just making sure,” DDD responded. “Right. Well, I’ll be studying in my room if you need anything,” I said, already undoing my tie.“Gotcha. Thanks again for all of this,” DDD said, shifting to retrieve his laptop.“You’re lucky I didn’t want you infecting people,” I sniffed. DDD rolled his eyes.“Wow, such a humanitarian,” he drawled.“Hey, I single-handedly prevented an epidemic here,” I quipped as I headed to my room. I walked in and quickly changed into something more comfortable, slipping Dark’s business card into my new pockets. I took a seat at my desk and booted up my laptop. My room was neat and well kept despite how beaten up the furniture was, and a few scattered posters decorated the otherwise bare walls. I pulled up the study guide and grabbed a notebook from one of the stacks.Several hours of intense study and numerous pages of calculations later I slipped a hand beneath my glasses, rubbing at my tired eyes. The words and numbers on the screen were beginning to run together and blur, and I decided to take a short break. But first, I wanted to answer a few questions. I pulled up my browser and quickly typed “Michael Dark” into the search bar.The basic information popped up right on the side of the page. Michael K. Dark, age 25, born on October 13, 1993. His height was even listed there, and I was a little surprised that he was the same height as me. Those heels must have been at least five inches then. As I scrolled through the results, I realized that they were half legitimate business articles and half articles on how the author really wanted to fuck him. One article made me squint at its title.“Sexy Billionaire Michael Dark Posed for a Fashion Shoot and the Internet is Shook,” I muttered, reading it. This passes for journalism? I reluctantly clicked the link, curious about the photos. The article was peppered with emojis and seemed to feature mostly screenshots of tweets agreeing that Dark was hot. Mercifully the link to the photos was at the top of the page, and I clicked through. It took several seconds for my decrepit laptop to load the pictures, and I was taken aback as they popped up on the screen.I’d expected some standard photoshoot with Dark wearing various suits and standing around, but this went further than that. The first one was tame, if a little suggestive, with Dark looking into the camera as he shrugged off his coat and pulled off his tie. The second one was a close of his face, and an artsy little arrangement of flowers covered his missing eye. The lighting in the photos was dark and moody, with dark shadows and harsh angles. The third was where it got more risqué, with Dark laying back on a desk with his legs posed in the air. He was almost silhouetted against the window behind him, and the lethal looking stilettos he wore made for a stark shape. I liked the dark, almost film noir style of this photographer. Or perhaps I was more drawn to the subject matter.I tried to continue only to hit the bottom of the page and a short blurb that told me to keep an eye out for the full series coming in a week’s time. I backtracked to the page of results, making a mental note to keep an eye out for those photos. For research of course. The other results followed the same pattern of thirsty bloggers alternating with serious articles, until I got further down the list. Articles started popping up that derided his sexuality and feminine tendencies, asserting that the latter guaranteed that he was both gay and a bad influence. That was sadly to be expected, but what surprised me was a link to what looked like a story of sorts. I clicked it and was shocked to find that it was a fanfiction about someone who was presumably the writer being romanced by Dark. With that I closed the window and shut my laptop, heading out of my room to grab some food and water from the kitchen.“Holy shit Meta!” DDD exclaimed as soon as he spotted me, making me jump a little. I glared at him.“What?” I snapped. DDD took one of his earbuds out, giving me a look that was equal parts smug and giddy.“I’ve been listening to the interview you did,” he said. I kept my eyes on him as I got myself a glass of water, the short counter separating the kitchenette from the living room allowing me to still see him clearly.“That bad?” I asked.“No, you were fine. A little off topic at times, but fine,” DDD said, causing me to give him a questioning look.“What is it, then?” I said, taking a drink. I was careful to avoid the chipped part on the rim of the glass.“You do realize he was into you, right?” DDD said, and I choked on my water a little.“I sincerely doubt that,” I responded, wiping water from my lips.“You’re so oblivious sometimes. You didn’t notice anything at all?” he laughed. “I’m pretty sure he wanted to hire me,” I replied, taking another drink. “That didn’t sound like a professional interest.”“He asked me some questions after I stopped recording and offered me a position after I graduate,” I explained. DDD only raised an eyebrow.“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have known your degree before you told him. This guy was interested in you before he knew you were an engineering student, Meta,” DDD quipped, grinning at me. I waved a hand at him dismissively. “Look, he gave me his business card and told me if I was interested, I should give him a call,” I said, pulling the card out of my pocket. I’d pulled it out with the back facing me, and I squinted at it as I spotted something odd. “Doesn’t mean there wasn’t another reason,” DDD teased. I didn’t respond, staring at a neatly written number on the card. The words ‘call me’ were written in neat cursive beneath it, with a crudely drawn heart next to them. I pocketed it quickly, trying not to betray any sign of my shock.“I doubt that. I think it’s wishful thinking on your part,” I said, carefully controlling my tone. DDD sighed heavily.“Well, it’s useless arguing with your stubborn ass anyway,”“Ditto,” I said dryly, downing the water and turning to fill it again. “Hey, are you done with my phone?”“Yeah, I downloaded the sound file onto my laptop,” DDD replied. I grabbed a cup of yoghurt and a spoon before making my way over to him. He held my phone out to me.“I’m going to go back to studying. Show me the first draft when it’s done, I’m curious,” I said, taking it. There were a few messages, but nothing important.“Will do,” he said, going back to tapping at his keyboard.“And leave me out of any of your future billionaire lover fantasies,” I drawled, not catching DDD’s response as I slipped into my room. I set the glass and yoghurt onto my desk and took a seat, taking the business card back out and placing it in front of me. The number and message were obviously handwritten, using some sort of silvery ink that contrasted against the black card. Who even kept office supplies like that around? With how wealthy Dark was I couldn’t shake the thought that the ink could be made with real silver.I set my phone on the desk as well and opened my contacts. I opened the entry form for a new one and quickly filled out his name and number before saving it. His name looked out of place to me among all the familiar ones in my phone. I tapped on his name and opened the new contact, pressing on the ‘send message’ button. The little entry field for messages was tauntingly blank. I typed out a few feeble attempts at an opening line and deleted all of them before pushing my phone aside and sighing. It was late and my mind was firmly in engineering mode, not socialization mode. Well, it would be better to study with less distractions anyway. The phone could wait until morning.I opened my laptop and threw myself back into my studies, returning to my half-filled notebook. Hours slipped away as I worked, and I only noticed the time when I finally leaned back to stretch. Shit, it’s two AM, and I have work and classes tomorrow. I picked the remains of my snack up and carried them into the kitchen, passing a snoring DDD on the way. He really was hell bent on not leaving that couch. I quietly placed the glass and spoon in the sink and tossed the trash before creeping back to my room and flipping off the lights.I tugged my shirt off and grabbed my phone, checking that my alarm was properly set as I slipped into my bed. It creaked under me, no doubt a result of how ancient the frame was. Most of the furniture here was nice owing to DDD having a pretty well-off family, but my personal stuff was secondhand and rather beat up. I still preferred it, since it was something I myself had earned. Our car was purchased by his family as well, but my ability to repair it granted me partial ownership.I considered my phone, wondering if I should text Dark, but I decided against it. It’s late anyway, so I doubt he would even answer. I set the phone on my nightstand and took my glasses off, watching the world blur. I folded them and set them beside my phone before flipping off my lamp. The bedding was rapidly warming against my skin and I wriggled further underneath it until only the top part of my head was visible. Exhaustion pulled at my eyelids and I let them slide shut, sighing in relaxation. I drifted off quickly, dreaming of possibilities and a missing eye. The number is forgotten in the chaos of the next three days, as my classes and job dominate my time completely. I work at a little shop in the local mall called Lor, and it is a hellish existence. The shop itself was pretty nice, selling a range of nerdy merch that included plenty of posters and shirts alongside action figures and plush toys. But the bratty teens that frequently descended on the place like a plague of locusts wore on my admittedly thin nerves, and the owner was a prick. Mr. Mahoroa was a stingy sort that often picked at me to sell more of the pricier items, and it was just more stress to heap on my shoulders.School was going well though, and I was retaining my place near the top of my classes. Finals were creeping ever closer, and it was instilling a sense of dread. Lucky for me I’d started a study group a year ago for engineering students. It had grown to nine members, and we’d become close after all the hours spent together. I had a fair number of friends despite my antisocial tendencies, which was odd to everyone who knew me and even myself. Despite the support network, I was becoming horribly stressed, so I jumped at the opportunity to take a night off from studying when a friend of mine offered to bring some wine over and hang out.I was lounging on the couch with DDD and reviewing one of my hand-drawn schematics when there was a knock at the door. I hopped up and went to get it, greeting my friend in the open way I reserved for only those closest to me. Kirby smiled at me, and I quickly took the plastic container from his arms so that he could more easily carry the bottle of wine he held. He was a stockier guy, with pale skin and puffy hair that was dyed bubblegum pink. I led him into the kitchen and set the container down, and he set the bottle beside it.“So, how have you been?” he asked, his tone as bubbly as usual. Kirby had been the second person I’d met when I’d first arrived at WSU, and his unending friendliness and happy nature had managed to get through even my colder tendencies. “Stressed. I’ve been studying every free second I get,” I said.“What’s in the container?” DDD asked, having left the couch to stand with us. He was always very keen on food, though in this case I couldn’t blame him. Kirby was a fantastic cook, and sweets were his specialty. “Snickerdoodles! I figured you two could use some pick-me-ups with all the work you’ve been doing,” Kirby chirped, pulling off the lid and moving the paper towels within aside. The cookies looked perfect, exactly like the pictures in cook books.“Aren’t you busy too?” I quipped, picking up a cookie. DDD snatched one and devoured it rapidly before grabbing another. I didn’t mind if he ate most of them, I was careful with my diet anyway. With how he ate I was surprised that DDD was as fit as he was. Sure, he had a pudgy belly, but his arms were absolutely ripped.“I just have the finishing touches on my project and a couple essays,” Kirby said. I could tell from the stress in his eyes that he was downplaying the amount of work he had but pointing it out wouldn’t help.“Well, a break is good anyway,” DDD said, spraying crumbs as he spoke. I made sure to keep eye contact with him as I brushed a few stray pieces from my shirt. “Sorry.”“Yeah, it is. I got some good news too!” Kirby chirped, almost hopping in place.“What is it?” I asked, munching on my cookie. It was delicious and had a perfect chewy texture.“You know that portrait series I took?” Kirby asked, placing a hand on the neck of the wine bottle and looking around. I pointed at the drawer with the corkscrew and he retrieved it as DDD took a break from eating cookies to grab three wine glasses.“Yeah, me and Meta are in it, right?” DDD said, setting the glasses out on the counter. “The Blue Sky Gallery is going to be putting them on exhibit in a month!” he chirped, beaming. I looked at him in shock and DDD clapped.“That’s amazing! Heck, it’ll be cool seeing my face in an art gallery too,” DDD said, grinning back. I recovered quickly from my initial surprise.“Excellent. Your portraits are brilliant, they deserve such recognition,” I said, offering my own slight smile. Kirby was a talented photographer with a knack for portraits, and if I stopped to think about it, I wasn’t really surprised that a big gallery wanted to host his work. Though I didn’t know how to feel about my face being displayed somewhere.“I was wondering if you guys wanted to come to the opening night? I’m inviting everyone who’s pictures I used,” Kirby said, pushing the corkscrew into the cork. He opened the bottle with a loud pop and started pouring the wine into the glasses. I didn’t even have to ask to know that it was probably a Moscato. Kirby and I both had a propensity for sweeter things, and that preference extended to alcohol.“Of course,” I said, picking up a glass. “I definitely won’t miss it!” DDD added, picking up his own glass and raising it. Kirby grabbed the last one and we clinked them together.“Thank you so much!” Kirby said happily. We continued to celebrate into the early hours of the morning, chatting and allowing ourselves to forget our worries for a night. I liked times like these, when I could just be in the moment rather than worrying about what was to come. The next day passed monotonously, and I found myself struggling to pay full attention to my classes. The funk I was in followed me to my job as well, though the shop was mercifully barren right now. Many of the usual patrons were teens, and the local high schools wouldn’t let out for a few more hours. I was leaning on the checkout counter and watching people walk by the storefront, having exhausted the menial tasks I could do without customers there. I needed something to engage myself with, and an idea hit me as I fidgeted with my phone in my pocket.I pulled it out and opened my contacts, glancing around to ensure that Mr. Mahoroa wasn’t lurking about. I tapped on the name I was looking for and agonized over what to type for a few minutes. Finally, I forced my fingers to move.Sorry for taking so long to message you. It’s Miguel. I typed the message out and sent it, pocketing my phone. I was trying desperately to ignore the way my heart rate had picked up, causing an unpleasant fluttering feeling in my chest. It was incredibly rare for me to feel like this and I decided that it wasn’t something I particularly enjoyed. I valued control and predictability in my emotions, and this had thrown me for a loop. I jumped a little as my phone buzzed.I took it from my pocket and read the message. I know ur busy, it’s fine! I’m glad u messaged tho. What’s up? So, he was informal over text too. Though there was a lingering suspicion I had that was inherent with this sort of communication. I decided to quickly ease my paranoia. This is Michael Dark, right? Just making sure.The response took a solid minute, but it managed to completely ease me. Hey, it pays to b careful. Here’s some proof for u. Attached was a picture of Dark holding a little piece of paper with “hi Miguel” written on it. His hair was tied back today, and he was wearing gold eyeliner that really accentuated his light hazel eye. I knew nothing about makeup, but I knew what I thought looked good. I felt obligated to reciprocate the photo, so I took an awkward selfie and attached it to my message.Thanks for humoring my paranoia. I paused and added a second part before sending. I go by Meta outside of formal situations. I’m not offended by my real name, I just prefer that one.Another minute passed before my phone buzzed. Cute pic! And good to know! Meta is an interesting nickname, is there a story behind it? He’d attached another photo of him holding the same note, but “Miguel” had been crossed out and “Meta” had been written above it. My lips quirked in a slight smile. Dark was just as strange and charming over text as he was in person.I quickly typed out my reply. It started out as ‘Metal’, but the L got dropped somewhere along the way. I used to do a lot of metal working which is how the whole thing started. It only took a few seconds for my phone to buzz again. Dark was a quick texter. Metal working? Like blacksmithing? More like welding. I made sculptures and simple machines. I sent the reply, finding myself wishing that I had blacksmithing skills.The next message was preceded with a surprised-looking emoji. Cool! Do u have any pics of what u made? I searched through my photos, hoping at least one of the pictures of my old creations had survived this long. I finally found one at the very beginning of my photo gallery. It was a simplistic little sculpture of a bat that I’d made from scraps around the shop.Here’s one of them. I sent it and then began to type a second message, not wanting to keep the conversation entirely on me. Do you like to make anything?Dark sent another surprised emoji before sending his proper response. That’s amazing! U have some real talent! His next text came just a second after the first. And I write sometimes.
What do you write?
There was a longer pause this time. Poetry. Embarrassing, I know. His immediate self-deprecation when it came to his interests struck a chord with me. I had the same habit, and I knew it for what it was. A defense mechanism.I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all. Could I see one? I sent the message, hoping that it would make him more comfortable.I’m very flattered, but I’d rather not. They’re very private. I saw that he was still typing and held off on responding. Maybe some other time. I was very curious about what his poems were like, but I knew when to drop a subject. That’s understandable, art is a personal thing.See, u get it! Dark’s response was almost instant, and I found myself imagining the enthusiasm on his face. Anyway, what r u up to?Work. It’s pretty dead right now. You? Speaking of work, I took a moment to look around the store, making sure that no customers had shown up while I was distracted. The store was still empty.I found myself hoping that it stayed that way.
I’m between meetings rn. Where do u work?
I supposed that it was only fair to tell him, as I obviously knew where he worked. Lor. It’s a little mall shop for nerd merch.U like it there? I considered his question for a few moments.
No. I’ve never been one for customer service positions.
His next message took a full minute to arrive. Burned out? Or r u not a people person? I carefully considered my response. I didn’t want to lie, but I also didn’t want to make myself seem overly antisocial. The latter. Socialization isn’t my strong suit.
I like ur bluntness tho. It’s refreshing.
The compliment makes my heart flutter a little. Used to corporate ass-kissing? I frowned and quickly sent a second text. I’m just joking.But it’s true! U wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get an honest opinion from people. He sent a second message within seconds. BTW, how’s the article going? Right, the whole reason we’d even met. DDD had been steadily working on it, obsessing over every detail. It was going to be the magnum opus of his academic career and he was equal parts stressed and excited about it.
DDD says it’s going well. He’s just been whining about some details.
My gaze lingers on someone who seems to be debating whether they want to enter the store, but my attention snaps back to my phone as it buzzes. U mean Daniel? What’s he missing?I recall DDD’s annoying complaining. Just stupid stuff. He mostly wanted original photos.
What kind of photos? I have some free time tomorrow.
The photos I’d seen online came to mind, but I chased away those thoughts. There’s no need, I don’t want to interfere with your time off.His response was quick. I wouldn’t mind at all. I enjoy photoshoots. I’d have to talk to DDD, I don’t know what exactly he needs. Dark must be horribly busy, why would he want to waste his time doing a photoshoot for a college paper?Just let me know and I’ll see what I can do. I started typing a reply, but he sent another text before I could finish. Shit, GTG. I’ll u text later!Alright. Goodbye. I frowned and quickly sent a second message, worrying that I had sounded too curt. l look forward to it.He sent a heart in response, and I stared at it for a while. I usually found emojis irritating, but they somehow fit with how peppy and energetic Dark was. I would have probably pondered the texts longer if a customer didn’t wander into the store. I slipped my phone into my pocket and greeted them. Hopefully I would have another break in customers so that I could text DDD. He’d be over the moon at the chance for some original photos, and I was admittedly quite happy about the prospect of seeing Dark face-to-face again. For the rest of my shift I am in a far better mood than usual.