Relover

The Other Man

You approached the door cautiously but you hardly needed any knocking before a voice called out from within.

"Come inside!"

A young man leaned against the desk, "Hello... It's good to finally meet you... Y/N."

He quickly shuffled to his feet, attempting to maintain a professional demeanor, "Please, take a seat..." Though his unease was palpable, "Please."

You complied, and he mirrored you, settling into the chair behind the desk. The old nameplate sat atop the polished wood like an artifact, a silent reminder of the man that used to sit here the last time you visited this place.

"It's impressive how one person can achieve so much in such a short time," he continued, his gaze darting from one spot to another. "You have a wonderful work history, I mean it."

"How does that feel?" he pondered aloud as his fingers traced the contours of his growing beard, "Oh! I'm sorry about this... I forgot to shave. T-that's why you must be so quiet, isn't it?"

"No, no, you do have a point" he insisted, dismissing supposed your unspoken thoughts with a wave of his hand. "It's not that big of a deal, is it? It's barely noticeable."

You had to agree despite not making any point, you hadn't even noticed.

"I'm sorry," The man suddenly stood up from the chair. "I'm so... How would you call it?" He took a deep breath as he began to pace the room, "I was so anxious about all of this, you know? Yeah." He nodded.

He possessed a kind of boyish charm, his features soft yet offset by the sharp line of his nose. Something about him reminded you of an albino rat, though his cool gray eyes were the direct opposite.

"Did you receive my letter?" he asked. "I had to write it three times, you know? I didn't know how to begin it," He tried to laugh, but you found it forced and unconvincing. "Or how to end it!"

Finally, he brought up something coherent.

"You must be thinking, how does he know? How did he find out? What will he do?" He asked, a glimmer of wonder in his eyes. "It's not the end of the world, Y/N. I don't intend to destroy your life in any way imaginable."

"I'm not doing anything too drastic, you know? I just wanted to meet you in person..." He walks closer to your seat, looking down at his shoes. "After all, I couldn't possibly let someone as remarkable as you just slip away without saying hello. I'm sure you get my point."

"I hope you understand that my intentions are... Respectable, in a way," he stutters, "It's a win-win situation, really," he insists, still not making much sense. His attempts to rationalize his actions grow bolder, his tone becoming more demanding. "It's not like I'm asking for your soul or anything. Just a little agreement, a bit of cooperation, and we can all move on with our lives."

The man takes a deep breath, his voice now a low, intense murmur. "I admire your work," he begins, trying to sound nonchalant. "I admire your dedication, your intelligence, and your ability to think outside the box."

"Yes, exactly," the man nods to himself. "You're brilliant, really. But sometimes, I can't help but feel like you're surrounded by people who don't see your true potential. People who don't see you the way I do." Your gazes meet briefly but he walks away. "All I'm asking for in return is a bit of your time and attention. Is that too much to ask?"

Turning back to face you, his hands clenched and unclenched as he waited for a response.

"Of course, you are free to decline," he adds quickly, a flash of impatience crossing his face. "But I have the upper hand here, and I'm not above using it." His eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It's your choice, Y/N. But believe me, life could be so much easier with me on your side."