It was the start of a new week. The trio left the parking lot and entered through the entrance in the basement, making their way to their station. Behind the glass wall, Mariah was standing in front of a seated Telly, clearly pissed, her hands on her hips.
"Either you take your pills, or go home," her voice blurred by the glass wall.
"Wow…Einstein's in trouble," Sarah muttered as they walked through the door to their usual station on the other side of the glass partition.
Mariah turned to them, her expression stern. "Don't talk to him until he takes his pills."
"Uh, how am I supposed to do that?" Telly's voice was muffled, his hands cuffed behind his seat as he smirked.
"Is he drunk?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowed.
"Poor observation skills, Johnson," Mariah shot back. "Am I a sadist? Do I look like the type to bind my star employee unless he was out of his right mind?"
"Wait till he's sober, then call me," Mariah said, her tone dismissive as she turned toward the door. "Dancing naked in your garden," she called over her shoulder.
Sarah's eyes widened. "Wow, he's far from boring."
As the hours went by, the air in the room was filled with the clatter of keystrokes and the hummed buzz of the projector.
From time to time, Kendrick glanced over at Telly and the small cups of pills in front of him.
"Should we wake him up?" Peter asked quietly.
"What are those pills even for?" Kendrick wondered aloud.
"Hangover?" Sarah offered.
"Five different pills for a hangover?" Kendrick turned to Sarah, frowning.
"I think those are suppressants," Peter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Maybe he has bipolar disorder."
"Really?" Sarah said, her voice soft.
"Maybe that explains the recklessness, the drinking… everything," Peter said, his expression thoughtful. "My ex had those."
Kendrick felt a pang of sympathy for Peter, and Sarah just nodded, understanding.
A loud groan from the other side of the partition caught their attention. Telly rose groggily, looking around, then he seemed to inch forward, realizing he was bound to the chair.
Telly tried to slide his pants off.
The trio panicked—Kendrick dialed his phone while Sarah watched what Telly was doing, and Peter ran outside, trying to block the view from the other room.
Then there was a sudden thud, and they all froze. Something was vibrating on the floor.
Peter's eyes widened—he might know what it was, but he was too shy and didn't want it to be true. Sarah was shocked and excited, while Kendrick turned away, embarrassed.
Moments later, the cup of pills slid across the table, and Mariah crossed her arms as she watched Telly take them. The three of them sat by the sofa by the wall near the door.
"Can we get back to work?" Telly began to rise.
"They," Mariah's eyes focused on the trio, "can get back to work," she said firmly. "You are going to the hospital."
"I'm fine, I really am," Telly insisted, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"No, you're not," Mariah's voice softened but her expression remained stern. "So, it's your choice—hospital or home?"
"I just hate taking those pills," Telly admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It slows down everything, my thinking, my productivity."
"So, you'd rather go manic, chain-smoke like a chimney, and go on a sex spree?" Mariah scolded him, her tone sharper.
Telly rolled his eyes, biting back a retort.
Kendrick glanced over at Peter and Sarah, his brow furrowed with concern. The weight of losing his recommendation was clear on his face—he was visibly anxious about the impact this would have on his career.
"You three," Mariah turned to the group, her gaze steady, "are going to work from home with him."
"You can't be serious," Telly chuckled weakly. "Do I look like I'm playing?"
Mariah stared him down, her eyes unyielding. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Mariah, you know me," Telly tried to reason, his voice almost pleading now.
"Yes, I do," she said, her voice low and steady. "And that's why I'm insisting. You're going home until this episode is done, and then you can come back."
"If you don't," she added with a hard edge, her eyes shifting to Kendrick, "both of you will lose that recommendation."
Kendrick's face tightened as he looked away, unable to meet Mariah's gaze. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard, his fear of failure and losing the recommendation for his future weighing heavily on him.
"Mariah, leave him out of this," Telly's tone was softer, more desperate now, a hint of anger rising.
"Do as I say," Mariah sat back down, her gaze unwavering.
The clinking sound of fumbling keys filled the air while the statue of Medusa sat at the center of the flowing fountain. Telly opened the door and went in, the three of them followed, dragging their luggage in behind them.
All of them were in awe by the sleek, classic interior—marble floors, ornate chandeliers, and a grand staircase that curved upward to an upper level. Telly turned his face away, reluctant.
"Due to unforeseen circumstances," Telly closed his hands in front of him, his tone almost apologetic.
"I wish I could unsee the prior circumstances," Sarah whispered to Kendrick, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.
"You are now in my private space, so I'm going to lay down some rules," Telly said, his voice steady but with an edge of irritation.
"There are two fridges in the kitchen," he continued, leading them into his spacious, modern kitchen. "One is for seasoned or preserved foods—kimchi, pickled stuff—like this," he said, opening the fridge on the right.
"And the other is for cooked food and less scented dishes," he opened the fridge next to it, revealing neatly arranged containers of leftovers.
Telly led them up the stairs, showing each of their rooms and the bathroom downstairs and on the next level. "You can eat whatever you want, cook whatever you want, but the sink, the station, everything you use needs to be cleaned and put back in the place you found them," Telly instructed, his eyes flicking from one to the other as he spoke.
Telly then led them to his study—a spacious room with multiple whiteboards against the oak-colored walls and a ceiling-high bookshelf filled with books. "You can only use that side of the library," he said, gesturing to the shelves behind his seat, which were lined with collector's editions and rare books, "the rest of the space is off-limits."
Kendrick's eyes widened as he looked around, swallowing hard. This wasn't just about following rules—this was about respecting Telly's space, something Kendrick felt uneasy about given the stakes. Sarah seemed fascinated, but Peter looked more wary, his face taut with worry.
"So… no peeking at the weird, hidden section, got it?" Peter whispered to Kendrick, his eyes darting around the room as if to find something off-limits.
Kendrick nodded, his expression tight. "Right. No peeking."
Telly's gaze flicked to Kendrick's tense face, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he turned away. "Good," he said, his tone softer now. "Now, let's get you settled in."
Night fell, and the fountain continued flowing, the water's soft gurgle soothing against the crisp night air. Telly sat on the edge of the patio, cigarette in hand, taking slow, deliberate drags as he watched the smoke curl in the dim light.
The door creaked open, casting a long, faint light across the garden. Telly turned as Sarah stepped out, her silhouette clear against the glow. She approached him, eyes fixed on the cigarette he offered.
"Can I have one?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.
Telly handed her the pack, watching as she lit it up. Her face contorted slightly as the smoke hit her lungs. "You are a strong motherfucker," she muttered, taking another drag.
Telly chuckled softly. "I know this isn't your dream life, and I'm inconveniencing you more than one way," he said, taking another drag. "But I really hate how I am on meds."
"Why are you talking to me?" Sarah said, her tone more curious than confrontational.
"Because you're the one who'll like me the least," Telly said, looking out at the garden, his eyes distant. "Because you're selfish, just like me, or forced to be."
"Wow, you really read people that easy," Sarah said, taking a drag and looking up at him through the smoke.
"It's kind of a skill you gain when you've pleased people your whole life," Telly said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You kind of get a feel for what you should do to be liked."
"Yeah, I'm sick of that too," Sarah replied, her eyes turning thoughtful. "But I don't want a life of regret, rejecting the things I want."
"You can't undo the things you've experienced," Telly said, his gaze sharp as he turned back to her, his voice gentle. "Try to live with it, and give another chance to live."
Sarah took another drag, then let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke dance in the night air. "I guess that's what we're all trying to do, right?" she said softly, her eyes distant.
"Yeah," Telly said, his gaze steady on her as if searching for some answer in her eyes. "We are."
For a moment, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the fountain and the distant buzz of the city beyond. They sat there, side by side, two lost souls finding a quiet peace in the night.
Inside, the clatter of keys came to a halt as Kendrick lifted his finger from the keyboard. Across from him, Peter sat hunched over, his phone glowing in the dimly lit room.
Peter turned his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the screen. He shifted his pupils toward Kendrick, then back to his phone. The chat box blurred, overlaid with a dark gradient and an eye icon that read: For your eyes only.
"Did it work?" Kendrick asked, leaning forward.
Still in the same position, Peter tilted the phone toward Kendrick. He watched as the eye icon transitioned to an animated scan, the device vibrating softly before flashing a bold red message: Access declined.
"It worked," Kendrick said with a small grin.
Peter exhaled, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, the hard part's done," he said, slipping the phone back into his hand. "Let's get to the messaging."
Kendrick nodded and began typing, his brow furrowed in concentration. "So...you live with your mom?"
Peter glanced up briefly before resuming his typing. "Yeah. She's been feeling lonely since my dad left."
"I'm sorry," Kendrick said, his voice soft.
Peter shrugged lightly, his tone casual but tinged with sadness. "Yeah." He hesitated, then added, "How about you?"
Kendrick's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. He drew in a breath before typing, "Well, my mom's in the hospital. She's been in and out since I was in college, so..." His words trailed off, the screen reflecting the faint tension in his expression. "I really want to try my best," he finished, his voice quieter now.
Peter looked up at him, his eyes softer, the usual sarcasm replaced with something gentler. "You're doing good, Kendrick," he said. "Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."
Kendrick offered a faint smile, nodding but saying nothing. For a moment, the two sat in silence, the weight of their words lingering in the air. The glow of their screens was the only light in the room, reflecting the unspoken understanding between them.
As night fell deeper, silence stretched into every corner. The kitchen was empty, its once lively clatter now stilled. The living room sat in shadows, its usual hum of conversation replaced by stillness. The house felt devoid of life, and yet Kendrick lay awake in bed, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling of a room that felt as foreign as his thoughts.
Should I talk to you? The question lingered in his mind, restless as the beating of his heart.
Kendrick exhaled sharply, sitting up. His gaze drifted to the window, where a faint plume of smoke rose into the night sky like a silent signal, calling to him. He leaned against the windowsill, watching it curl and dissipate, unsure if the answer he sought lay out there or within himself.
Maybe I should.
He turned back to the small desk in the room, the lamp's glow spilling over scattered papers and pens. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing a pen, his fingers trembling as they pressed it to the page.
"I really don't know how to say this, but I know you're out of my league," Kendrick wrote, pausing before continuing. "You deserve better—someone more put together, more confident. I'm not the kind of guy you'd usually consider, but if there's even the smallest chance…" He stopped, tapping the pen against the paper as his thoughts jumbled together.
"I'd like to get to know you," he wrote at last. "Maybe you won't even read this. Maybe you'll throw it away. But if you're okay with it, tomorrow, give me a glass of tea. If not, give me coffee. I won't push, because I don't know if you're ready to talk about your feelings."
Kendrick's hand lingered on the letter as he finished, rereading the words, questioning every sentence. Would it come off as desperate? Was it too forward? But he couldn't bear to rewrite it—these were his honest feelings, raw and unpolished.
He folded the letter carefully, clutching it in his palm as he padded toward the door. His breath hitched as he bent down, sliding it beneath the wooden frame. For a moment, he lingered there, crouched on the floor, listening to the stillness of the house.
The door creaked open, breaking the quiet. Kendrick froze, his breath hitching as Telly stood on the other side, his silhouette outlined by the faint light spilling in from the hall. Their eyes met, and Kendrick's chest tightened, his heart hammering with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Telly's face was unreadable, his gaze steady yet impossible to decipher. Slowly, his eyes drifted downward, catching sight of the letter still clutched in Kendrick's trembling hand.
Without a word, Telly reached out and grabbed Kendrick by the wrist. The touch sent a jolt through Kendrick's body, and before he could protest, Telly was pulling him forward, into the room.
Kendrick stumbled slightly, his feet dragging as his mind screamed for him to resist, but his body refused to move. The door clicked shut behind them, silencing the faint hum of the house.
The hall was left empty, bathed only in the pale light of the moon through the window, while inside the room, Kendrick stood just a step away from Telly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a vice.
The door creaked open, breaking the quiet. Kendrick froze, his breath hitching as Telly stood on the other side, his silhouette outlined by the faint light spilling in from the hall. Their eyes met, and Kendrick's chest tightened, his heart hammering with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Telly's face was unreadable, his gaze steady yet impossible to decipher. Slowly, his eyes drifted downward, catching sight of the letter still clutched in Kendrick's trembling hand.
Without a word, Telly reached out and grabbed Kendrick by the wrist. The touch sent a jolt through Kendrick's body, and before he could protest, Telly was pulling him forward, into the room.
Kendrick stumbled slightly, his feet dragging as his mind screamed for him to resist, but his body refused to move. The door clicked shut behind them, silencing the faint hum of the house.
The hall was left empty, bathed only in the pale light of the moon through the window, while inside the room, Kendrick stood just a step away from Telly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a vice.