ACT 12: Delirium

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TW: Depiction of manipulation and abuse.

Status: Unedited.

Note: As usual

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(M/n) woke with a start, his gaze darting to the soft blue glow of the digital clock on his nightstand. The numbers blazed at him accusingly: 11:03 a.m.

"Shit!" He bolted upright, his mind racing. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?” he muttered, scrambling out of bed and stumbling towards the bathroom. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m dead!” The next few moments were a whirlwind: brushing his teeth in a hasty, furious motion, struggling to pull on his shirt while attempting to button it with one hand. Anxiety gnawing him. As more scenarios of potential 'punishments' appears on his imaginations.  Lucian was going to kill him. “This is it,” he whispered to himself, darkly amused.

“Today is the day I die by the hands of Lucian Frost. I’m sorry grandma…mom, dad I’ll see you guys soon in heaven, if god places me there that’s it.” A single tear ran down his left cheek. Praying to god Lucian would spared him today.

As he yanked open the door, expecting the empty hallway, he came to a sudden halt. Standing there, bathed in soft morning light, was Lucian himself. But this wasn’t the Lucian he braced himself to face—no piercing gaze, no cold scowl, no flick on the forehead as an initial warning. Instead, Lucian held a tray, laden with food, his usual harsh lines softened. A piece of golden-brown toast, two perfectly scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, a chocolate croissant, and a steaming glass of warm chocolate milk sat on the tray as if they were lifted straight from a picture-perfect morning. Chocolate- something that Lucian would often forbids on his diet plan. "This is rare'. His mouth salivates a bit. The whiff of the delicious meal in front of him was overbearing.

“Morning.” The CEO simply said.

“Lucian…” (M/n)’s voice wavered as he processed the scene. “I... I’m so sorry, I overslept!” He ran a nervous hand through his hair, looking up to gauge the tyrant’s reaction. But instead of the expected glare or cutting remark, Lucian only gave a brief nod, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as his crimson eyes softened slightly.

“I cleared your schedule for today,” Lucian replied smoothly, an unusual gentleness in his tone.

(M/n) stared, stunned. This didn’t fit with any reality he knew. “Wait—what? Did you... did you just fire me?” His usual confidence gave way to a touch of panic, his anxiety rising as he searched Lucian’s face for a hidden motive. 'Was that why he looked so happy today?!'

Lucian’s gaze held steady, his expression uncharacteristically tender. “No,” he said, brushing off the suggestion with a slight shake of his head. “I just wanted you to rest.”

Before (M/n) could protest, Lucian stepped into the room and set the tray down on the bed. “Breakfast in bed,” he murmured, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. 'What....The....Actual...Fuck?'

(M/n) blinked, words failing him. Lucian—Lucian Frost—was giving him breakfast in bed. Was the man he feared and admired capable of such gentleness? Overwhelmed by the bizarreness of it all, he darted to Lucian, placing a hand on his forehead. “Are you… are you sick or something?”

Lucian raised a brow, faint amusement in his eyes. “Just eat,” he replied simply, his cool mask cracking just enough to reveal a hint of warmth beneath. "After that, we'll visit your grandmother"

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