IDOL (Yandere Male x Male Reader)

ACT 10: Sleep

TW: Mention Of Stress.

I love that face you make when terrified
That body of yours, want it so badly to be mine, oh
Love it? Lali. Y'know I love it. High
Poor little thing, you're really such a bad boy

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Acheron’s live recording session had just wrapped. The lights in the studio dimmed, the last lingering notes of his voice still reverberating in the quiet space. It was a vulnerable kind of silence, one that followed a performance given with everything he had. 

‘Strange’ He muttered. The world seems like it was shaky and snipping a bit was there an incoming earthquake? As he turned to leave, his foot caught on a stray cable snaking across the floor, and he stumbled forward, nearly falling. A strong hand grasped his arm, steadying him just in time.

“Wowww easy there kid, are you alright?” The voice belonged to the sound manager, a seasoned man in his forties whose eyes held a mixture of sympathy and concern. “You look exhausted, kid. You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” (M/n) murmured, trying to offer a reassuring smile despite the fatigue gnawing at him. “I can push through.” But the manager only sighed, knowing better than to press further. Acheron’s CEO and producer, Lucian Frost, had mapped out an unforgiving schedule for him—one that left hardly a sliver of time for anything but work. The manager had seen it in many idols before: the barely hidden exhaustion, the weight of a life dictated by the unrelenting march of fame.

(M/n)’s days had become an exhausting cycle, each morning beginning before dawn. He rose at five, made his way to the gym, and arrived at the agency by seven sharp for his daily meeting with the CEO. His hours were filled with rehearsals, reality show tapings, brand photoshoots, and interviews—each a piece of the empire that had erupted from his debut.

If it were layed out one by one it would be like this:

  - 5 AM - Wake up and go straight to the gym.
  - 7 AM - Meet Lucian for morning briefing and breakfast.
  - 8 AM - 12 PM - Idol stuff.
  - 12 PM - 1 PM - Lunch with Lucian.
  - 1 PM - 3 PM - Idol stuff.
  - 3 PM - 6 PM - Vocal Training/ Etiquette Class
  - 6 PM - 8 PM - Choreography Training.
  - 8 PM - 9 PM - Dinner with Lucian.
  - 9 PM - 12 AM - Meeting with Lucian.

Where in truth, his schedule was far darker. After 9 PM - 12 AM it will always be- SEX, SEX, SEX with Lucian. Those nights belonged to Lucian, whose hold on him went beyond contracts and professional commitments. In the note he would guise it as  late meetings and private rehearsals, Lucian would seek him out, and he endured, night after night, the relentless cycle of intimacy that the CEO’s increasing stress had only made more frequent. It wasn’t every night, but nearly so—and as the pressure from Lucian’s business troubles mounted, so did the demands he placed on (M/n).

He seriously does not understand. Where did the motherfucker get all of the stamina and energy from?  or That damn vampire sucked all his life essences away from him.

Not everyday, but it was almost everyday. Now it was getting more and more frequent as the CEO was getting more stressed with the issues that were happening in another branch of PRIMS’s business. All he had to clung to a single thought to endure it all: grandma or else he’d lose his shit. Each night, he reminded himself of her medical bills, of the quiet warmth in her smile, the gentle touch of her hand when she was well enough to sit with him. 

But on rare nights when the tyrant’s mood was unusually generous, (M/n) would be allowed to finish early, the CEO releasing him to visit his grandmother or catch a few more hours of sleep. These were small mercies given only when Lucian was pleased, when Acheron had done enough to be considered “a good boy.” The notion twisted in his chest, but he buried it deeply. Today, Lucian was out of the country on business, and for once, the idol might have a chance to rest after 8 PM when the day's schedule lightened. Perhaps, he thought with a sigh, he could catch some sleep—maybe even enough to feel like himself again, if only for a little while.