Through the Storm (BL)

Zane's POVI hate mornings. Not because I'm lazy, but because they remind me of everything I haven't achieved. Every day feels the same—a monotonous loop of the same disappointing routine. The alarm clock blares at 6:00 AM, pulling me from the kind of sleep that feels too short, yet too long. I fumble to silence it, nearly knocking it off the nightstand in the process.The apartment is quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic outside. I sit up, groggy and disoriented, staring at the dull grey walls that have witnessed my downward spiral over the past few years. I never thought life would turn out like this. Twenty-four years old, living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment, working jobs that never last more than a few months. I guess this is what happens when your life peaks in high school.I throw off the covers and shuffle to the bathroom. The face staring back at me from the mirror is a reflection of my failures. Dark circles under the eyes, hair that's seen better days, and a stubble that's more "I gave up" than "ruggedly handsome." I splash some water on my face, hoping it'll wash away the self-loathing that's settled in overnight. It doesn't.Breakfast is a sad affair—instant coffee and a slice of toast. My phone buzzes on the counter, a reminder of the job interview I have in a couple of hours. It's a position as a secretary at some big company downtown. I applied on a whim, not expecting to hear back, but here I am, about to step into a world I'm not sure I belong in.The thought of the interview sends a jolt of anxiety through me. I'm not cut out for this. I've never been good with authority figures, and from what I've heard, this CEO, Ash Gonzalo, is as intimidating as they come. Ruthless, cold, a perfectionist—everything I'm not. Why would he even consider someone like me?I push the thoughts aside and focus on getting dressed. My wardrobe isn't exactly corporate-friendly, but I manage to pull together something passable—a white button-up shirt that's a little too tight around the shoulders and a pair of black pants that I haven't worn in ages. I tie a crooked knot in my one and only tie, the same one I wore to my last interview. That didn't go well either.As I finish up, my phone buzzes again. A text from my mom, probably another lecture about how I need to get my act together. I ignore it. I'll call her later, maybe after I've had a drink or two to dull the sting of failure.By the time I'm ready to leave, the sun has barely risen, casting a pale light over the city. I grab my keys and head out the door, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. I'll need it if I'm going to survive today.The subway is packed, as usual. I find a spot by the door and cling to the pole as the train lurches forward. The ride is a blur of faces, none of which register in my mind. I'm too busy running through all the ways this interview could go wrong. What if I trip on my way into his office? What if I forget what I'm supposed to say? What if he sees right through me and knows I'm a fraud?The anxiety festers as I exit the subway and make my way to the towering glass building where the interview is set to take place. It's massive, intimidating, and way out of my league. I stand outside for a moment, staring up at the sleek facade, wondering what the hell I'm doing here.But I can't turn back now. I take a deep breath, straighten my tie, and step inside, hoping I can fake it long enough to get through the day.The receptionist greets me with a polite smile as I approach the front desk. I mumble my name and the purpose of my visit, trying to sound more confident than I feel. She nods and directs me to a seating area, where I'm left to wait, nerves gnawing at my insides.As I sit there, I can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from employees passing by. They talk about deadlines, meetings, and "Mr. Gonzalo" with a mix of respect and fear. My anxiety spikes. What kind of boss commands that level of intensity from his staff?After what feels like an eternity, the receptionist calls my name. My heart pounds in my chest as I follow her down a long corridor to an elevator. We ride up in silence, the tension thickening with each floor we ascend.Finally, the elevator doors open to a sleek, modern office. The receptionist gestures for me to wait by the entrance. "Mr. Gonzalo will see you shortly," she says before walking away.I'm left alone in the expansive space, the walls lined with awards and framed photos of a man I assume is Ash Gonzalo—tall, sharp features, dark hair slicked back. He looks every bit the powerful CEO I've heard about. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them on my pants, trying to calm the nerves that are threatening to overwhelm me.A door clicks open, and I turn to see a man step out. It's him—Ash Gonzalo. He's even more intimidating in person, with an air of authority that seems to fill the room. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I feel like a deer caught in headlights."Mr. Matthews?" His voice is deep, commanding. He doesn't offer a smile."Yes, that's me," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper."Follow me," he says, turning back towards his office without waiting for a response.I follow, my heart racing, knowing that whatever happens next could change my life—whether for better or worse, I have no idea.