Cameras flashed from all angles, a ceaseless storm of light that left Callum's eyes burning. He stood rigid before the crowd of reporters gathered in front of Catalyst's sleek, glass-paneled headquarters. Their flood of shouted questions made his ears throb but there was no escaping it.
It had been days since the explosion, and they hadn't left him alone.
Every morning, they were there, shouting after him as he entered the building. Every evening, they hounded him as he left. The headlines had been brutal too:
"Catalyst Games Under Fire: Gas Leak Sparks Explosion at Community Event"
"Corporate Negligence? Explosion at Gaming Event Injures Several Attendees"
"CEO Callum Pierce Faces Backlash Over Safety Standards at Catalyst Event"
"Charity Event Gone Wrong: Catalyst Games' Reputation in Tatters"
"Intern Hospitalized After Catalyst Games Explosion: Is the Company Liable?"
Every time, he would give them no answers other than the standard, non-committal 'no comment'. Well, now he had their statement ready.
Callum tightened his fingers around the edges of the podium, forcing himself to focus. He probably looked like hell, and he felt worse. His nights had been sleepless, plagued by images of Micah lying broken and bloodied in the aftermath of the explosion, melding with memories of Ashur's lifeless body in his arms. His reflection in the mirror that morning had been pale and gaunt, the dark circles under his eyes were a call sign to just how badly he was holding up.
But this press conference couldn't be postponed any longer. He straightened his shoulders, ignoring the ache in his ribs, and met the blinding gaze of the cameras.
"I will now be taking a few questions."
A reporter fired the first question, her voice cutting sharply through the noise. "Mr. Pierce, has Catalyst Games released a statement on the cause of the explosion?"
Callum took a breath. His PR officer had drilled the key points into his head over the past few days, but the words still felt heavy as he spoke them.
"First and foremost," he began, his voice low but steady, "we at Catalyst Games are deeply saddened by the incident that occurred during the LevelUp community event. Our thoughts are with everyone who was affected."
The cameras clicked furiously. He could feel the heat of the crowd's attention pressing in on him, suffocating.
"An investigation conducted by the fire department has concluded that the explosion was caused by a gas leak," Callum continued. "Footage from security cameras shows that the chef working at one of the food stalls left the gas running when he stepped away for a break. Tragically, a passerby's cigarette ignited the fumes."
The crowd murmured, a ripple of reaction spreading through the throng of reporters. Another voice called out, louder this time: "Can you confirm how many people were injured?"
Callum's hands tightened on the podium again. "A handful of attendees sustained injuries in the explosion," he said, his jaw tight. "Thankfully, there were no fatalities. As of now, all but one of those injured have been released from the hospital."
"Reports and records have shown that said individual is an employee of this company!" another reporter shouted.
Callum hesitated, his throat tightening. Of course they'd looked into it. Journalist were ruthless like that, constantly snooping around in search of the truth.
"Yes, the individual is one of our interns," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "A dedicated, diligent worker who was helping with the face-painting booth that morning."
He remembered Micah's laughter, his hands steady as he painted rainbows on children's cheeks, his teasing as he'd painted Callum into a bunny.
Callum's heart constricted in his chest. He swallowed hard, his next words catching in his throat. "I've been in close contact with the intern's guardians, but…"
We're not sure if he'll make it.
Callum's voice faltered as he thought about the last update from the doctors. They'd said Micah's condition was critical but stable. He was in a medically induced coma to give his body a chance to recover from the trauma. Third-degree burns covered his left arm and shoulder, and there had been significant smoke inhalation. The oxygen mask and machines were keeping him alive, but there was no guarantee of how—or if—he'd wake up.
Callum looked away from the crowd, his vision blurring as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but the words wouldn't come.
"I'm sorry," he managed hoarsely. "Excuse me."
The reporters surged forward, shouting questions, but Callum turned on his heel, his back rigid as he walked briskly toward the building. He pushed open the door, leaving the storm of voices and flashing cameras behind him.
Inside, the lobby was quieter, most employees had been working from home since the incident following a company wide mandate to prioritise themselves and avoid reporters. Ryan was behind that idea and he'd advised Callum to take some days off but Callum was the captain of this sinking ship. He couldn't run.
He leaned against the wall, his hands trembling as he tried to steady his breathing.
"Pathetic," a cold voice sneered from behind him.
Callum froze, his jaw tightening. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"If you'd been working instead of throwing silly little charity events, you could've avoided all this," Howard Pierce said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Callum turned slowly, his gaze hard. "Dad, this is not the time."
Howard glared and marched forward, his posture rigid as he stepped into Callum's personal space. "Do you think this is convenient for me?" he snapped. "Do you not understand how this disaster reflects on my person? On the company?"
"Do you not understand that this isn't about you?" Callum bit out, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
Usually, he couldn't talk to his father like this. Usually, his father scared him. But he was angry, depressed. He was constantly teetering on the edge of panic and despair and all his father, his own father, could do was mock him.
Howard ignored him, his cold grey eyes narrowing. "I told you to do better, Callum, and somehow, you made everything worse." He huffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Then again, I'm not surprised. You were always such a disappointment."
The words landed like a blow, but Callum said nothing. His father's insults weren't new, but they still hit the same raw nerve they always had.
"The board meeting has been moved to tomorrow," Howard continued. "I expect you to be on time."
With that, Howard turned and strode away, leaving Callum standing alone in the silence.
---
By the time Callum left the office that evening, exhaustion had seeped into his bones. He drove out of the underground parking lot in an unmarked car, one he'd switched to days ago to avoid being tailed by the press.
The hospital was quiet when he arrived. A nurse let him through to Micah's room, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. He knew that she only let him in because she knew he was the man paying for everything.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of monitors. Micah lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising and falling faintly beneath the oxygen mask strapped to his face. Tubes ran from Micah's arms to an IV stand, dripping fluids to keep him hydrated. The heart monitor beeped softly, its green line tracing Micah's faint but steady pulse. A ventilator hummed quietly by the bed, its tube connecting to the oxygen mask that covered Micah's mouth and nose. His left arm was heavily bandaged, his fingers peeking out from beneath the white gauze.
Callum sank into the chair beside the bed, his shoulders sagging under what felt like the weight of the world. He was Sisyphus and the boulder he had to roll was getting heavier and heavier with each passing breath.
Micah looked so small, so fragile. His bandages were stark against his now pale brown skin. The sight of him like this made Callum's chest ache with a pain he couldn't put into words.
He covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Wake up, Micah. Please wake up."
A few months ago, Callum hadn't known this man. A few months ago, an intern showed up at his company and bumped into him. Now Micah was more important to Callum than the breath he took, and if there was no Micah…
"I don't know how I can live this life without you."
For a long time, Callum sat there, his head bowed, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound in the room.
But Micah didn't stir.