Unchosen Crown

ANCHOR

The darkness of the room was shattered by the blinding light of the phone, yanking Oliver from a deep sleep with the urgency of a fire alarm. The device vibrated incessantly, like a pounding heart demanding attention, exacerbating his irritation.

His movements were slow and uncoordinated, as if he were still trapped in a limbo between sleep and wakefulness. Oliver reached out a stiff hand toward the bedside table, his finger joints popping in protest as his fingers brushed against the cold metal of the phone, dragging it closer. His half-closed eyes could barely focus on the caller ID.

"Hello?" The word came out muffled, sluggish, as he fought for clarity.

In the background, a vibrant, festive melody with an unmistakably Latin touch reached his ears for a moment before being abruptly replaced by the familiar voice of Laura.

"Laura?" Surprise barely registered in his mind, still clouded by sleep. "It's 3 in the morning. What could be so urgent?"

Hearing her say "It's Ian" was like an electric shock coursing through his body, a jolt that made him sit up abruptly, brutally awake. His body tensed, muscles contracted, as his heart began to hammer frantically against his ribs. The sudden absence of air, a vacuum squeezing his chest, made his throat burn as Laura, not waiting for any reaction, hurried to reassure him. "Calm down, he's fine. But I'm in trouble here, Oliver. You're my last hope."

"What happened?" Anxiety punctuated every word, mingling with a slight resentment stemming from their last tense encounter months before.

Oliver was still hurt by the abrupt way past decisions had been thrown in his face, and how they had exchanged bitter accusations.

He knew the argument they had was the result of immaturity and desperation on both sides. Oliver, for his reasons, Ian, for his. But all the tension of recent years made him question his own impulsiveness, and in the end, nothing would change the fact that he would still do anything to have Ian back, even if they had to go back in time and re-evaluate each choice, one by one.

"He missed his flight back to Singapore and just told me he couldn't reschedule," Laura justified hastily, but Oliver's breath caught in his throat at this revelation.

"He's here?" His whisper was no longer sleepy but a fragile thread of voice struggling to emerge.

"He spent the last week in Spain. Old commitments or something like that," she explained quickly. "I wouldn't bother you at this hour, Oliver, especially after everything I said. But I'm on the other side of the city with Ryan, and it's impossible to find an Uber or a taxi at 3 a.m. on a Wednesday."

Laura fired a barrage of information that included the revelation of a boyfriend, something new for Oliver.

"Ryan?" He reacted to this unexpected detail, but the urgency in her voice cut off any digression.

"Yes, Ryan, my boyfriend. I'll tell you later," she interrupted impatiently. "Well, Ian is at a bar near Heathrow, possibly drunk, and our parents definitely won't like receiving a call at this hour alerting them about a slip-up of their favorite son."

"I always thought you were the favorite," he commented, more relaxed upon realizing it wasn't a tragedy, and Laura's subtle irony brought a brief smile to his lips, despite the nervousness growing in his chest, compressing it violently.

However, the possibility of a reunion with Ian stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him — guilt, anxiety, longing, all mixing into a restless confusion.

"I thought a lot about whether I should call you, Oliver," Laura confessed, her voice taking on an almost regretful tone, as if every fiber of her being was reluctant to say the next words. "But Ian stopped by home to say goodbye, and when he called me just now saying he was stuck at the airport, I knew he didn't miss that flight by accident. I thought maybe you could... want to do something about it."