New Life

Pressure Points

Every detail of Mew's outfit was meticulously chosen—tie perfectly centered, shirt crisp, suit pressed until the fabric could cut glass—all out of a foolish, boyish hope that Gulf would notice. There was a thrill in the ritual: the way Mew ran product through his hair, the moment he caught his own smile in the glass. Today, he'll be impressed. Today, I'll make him look at me like I'm his entire world.

He didn't expect to find war waiting in his office.

The door swung open and the world shrank. His father sat behind Mew's desk, fingers templed, gaze cold. The air felt ten degrees colder.

Mew's happy greeting evaporated. "Dad—what are you doing here?" he managed.

His father rose from the chair, slow and deliberate, smile stretched tight as piano wire. "Can't I come to see my own son?" The words dripped with sarcasm. "I heard your company isn't doing well. Should I intervene? Or would that hurt your pride?"

Mew's temper flared, cheeks heating, "My company is fine, thank you. Keep your money and your nose out of it."

A dangerous glint crossed his father's eyes. He stepped into Mew's space, his voice chilly. "Watch your tone. I didn't raise you to bark like a street dog." The faintest pressure of his hand on Mew's shoulder—a sharp, unspoken reminder of old power—made Mew's breath catch.

Mew bit back his retort and stared at the floor, teeth gritted so tight his jaw ached. He refused to let his father see him break, not now, not ever.

His father turned to the window, eyes on the city. "I heard you brought on a new marketing director a few months ago. Quite the prodigy, they say."

Mew's heart dropped, a chill running down his spine. "Why are you interested in my employees?" he pressed, trying—and struggling—to keep the dread from his voice.

"Oh, I hear things. I also hear your new marketing director is a bit...more than an employee. Something personal, perhaps?"

Mew's hands curled into fists. "It's none of your business who I hire or—" he faltered, biting off the end of a sentence that could be used as ammunition.

His father's smile widened, almost kindly, but his eyes were knives. "Ah, that's the look—just like your mother, when she thinks she's hiding something." He brushed imaginary lint off Mew's jacket, savoring the discomfort. "Well, I'll leave you to your...rising empire. Just remember, everything has a consequence." With a final, cutting smile, he sauntered to the door, pausing only to tap Mew's shoulder once more—territorial, proprietary.

As the door swung open, his father nearly knocked into Gulf in the hallway.

Gulf blinked in surprise but kept things smooth, plastering on an award-winning smile, all dimples and charm. "Good morning, sir."

Mew's father sized him up for a heavy moment—a wolf eyeing a new neighbor. "Morning," he nodded, then swept away, his presence lingering like a bad perfume.

Gulf blew out a breath, quietly muttering, "Well, he seems like the life of any family reunion..."

He composed himself, smoothed his own shirt, and knocked on Mew's partially closed office door.

From inside came a voice as brittle as cracked ice: "Not now."

"Not now? Alright... Guess I'll go test the espresso machine!" Gulf replied with practiced teasing.

There was a heartbeat of silence, then the door flew open, and Mew nearly barreled into Gulf, yanking him inside and slamming the door shut.

"I missed you," Mew whispered, wrapping arms around Gulf like a drowning person finding land. It was desperate and soft at once.

Gulf blinked, caught off-guard but pleased. " we saw each other a few hours ago."

Mew squeezed tighter. "And that was hours too long. I needed you."

Gulf, playing it up, gave a melodramatic gasp. "Are you trying to break all my ribs before the morning coffee?"

With a start, Mew pulled back, looking genuinely alarmed. "Oh God, did I hurt—was that too much?"

"Relax! I'm not made of glass." Gulf laughed, smoothing the hair from Mew's brow. "But I'll happily file an injury report if it guarantees extra cuddles."

Mew groaned, hiding his face in Gulf's shoulder, mortified and a little silly. "Don't joke. I—God, he just gets under my skin, and you're... safe."

They stood holding each other, Mew's nerves unraveling with every steady beat of Gulf's heart. Gulf held on, conscious of the weight in Mew's embrace, and the heaviness in his own chest—timelines, secrets, the ticking clock of his mission pounding at the back of his mind.

"I should get back to work," Gulf said softly, even as he squeezed tighter.

"Five more minutes," Mew pleaded, pouting, a small smile breaking through the stress.

Gulf's heart twisted. He tried to play it off. "One day you're going to set the record for world's longest goodbye hug. Guinness will knock on our door."

"I hope so," Mew replied honestly, lips brushing Gulf's ear. "You're the only thing right today."

Gulf fought the urge to apologize—for what, he didn't know. Instead, he let the moment last a little longer, silently rehearsing the lies he'd have to tell later, the trigger he knew he'd soon have to pull.

But for now, for these stolen minutes, fear could be kept at bay, muscled away by laughter, closeness, and the desperate hope that love—real or make-believe—might outlast the gathering storm.

To be continued...

More mystery and suspense to come. Hope you like the story...🧐

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