Transcending Abnormality

Four-thirty Coffee

TWs for the whole book: Language, pills, manipulative energy, classism, general heavy themes, violent threats, general themes of medication, blood,
From Chapter 12 onwards: DEATH, kidnapping (and all associated with it), blackmail, graphic descriptions of violence, hospital setting, drugging

Virgil lifted his eyelids drearily as the voice in front of him repeatedly chorused his name.

He looked up to the sound, flipping out of his trance at the sight of his uncle's most valued assistant.

"Mr Glythe, you're requested in Lord Dyle's office."

He groaned, resenting the title that was used on Janus' name. He'd been given a Lordship a few years ago, although Virgil was adamant that he didn't deserve it.

To be fair, Virgil was adamant that Janus didn't deserve most things he had.

"You, uh, you fell asleep on your laptop again. It's four, young master."

He'd been streaming a show that one of his friends had told him to watch, but, if he was being honest, it was boring as shit. He was tired, could you really blame him?

Still honing that uncomfortable sensation that a person gets when they fall asleep fully clothed, he sat up.

"Right- yeah, I- I've told you to come off that title, Emile."

"It's at Lord Dyle's request that all of us staff address you properly, Mr Glythe." The pink-haired man replied, smiling sympathetically.

"Yeah, and I've requested that you don't. You know that Virgil is fine."

The assistant sighs. "Respectfully, I follow his orders above yours. He pays my bills, Mr Glythe."

The cool, blue-light of the industrial glow emitted from the ceiling reflected a slightly coloured tone on Virgil's pale skin. His hair was a mudded brown that bordered on black, but he had some purple undertones - much to his uncle's dismay.

The boy had contemporarily beautiful features, a curved nose and rosy lips that border on the thicker side. His eyes were a rare grey. Unlike most people, he didn't wear contacts to alter the colour of his eyes, although his uncle's assistant did, the colour matching his hair, and his pupils converted to small five-pointed star shapes.

Virgil had a sharp jawline, dotted with very faint freckles that made their way up to the bridge of his nose.

"You were supposed to be there about five minutes ago, and it's on the other side of the building. Do you mind if I teleport you?" He holds a thin, clear remote with an unnoticeable screen.

"No, no. Don't do that. I'll walk. I'm not risking another debilitating headache." He scoffs, standing and extending his arms to stretch them.

"It's funny you would say that, young master."

"I know, I understand the irony."

Virgil's uncle was the owner of the world's leading pharmaceutical company. They manufactured pills that were created to cure all kinds of headaches. Virgil himself? He didn't trust them. He knows his father's brother too well for that.

It was ironic because he was expected to take over the company when Lord Dyle retired. Some kind of heir to the company that doesn't trust the products he's going to be selling.

"Would you like me to escort you there?" Emile asks, trying to get the 19-year-old heir to come around.

"I know the way, thanks." He rolled his eyes, walking out of the room.

He tried to drown out the murmurs and machinery sounds as he walked through the offices of his uncle's employees. He stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing a plain black shirt with a white graphic, and a purple flannel under another black, unzipped hoodie. His jeans flared out at the bottom, the overall pattern being a fade of black to lilac.