Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Fifty Two | Fifth World

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There came a beep following Fahren's pretty intensive physio, signalling that he could finally stop. Which proved to be music to the ears as Fahren's arms eventually gave out and he collapsed onto the cool ground like a beached whale.

Emilio, who Fahren eventually began to see every day, expressed the importance of simple exercises like planks. Even if he started out small, it was still engaging his entire body; one which had been locked in a comatose state for just over three months. It was enough for some muscle deterioration, but not long enough for any hugely visible damage.

Regardless, Fahren was feeling the strain of the intricately planned routine and his body certainly wasn't thanking him for it, even if he could see the visible differences after only a few short days.

He regularly pictured himself as a hamster in a wheel, continuously running for the expense of others. Which in his case, was more like everyone was making what they believed to be the best decisions for him. But Fahren couldn't complain, he knew who probably stood just out of reach, in the other room. And he knew he had to be grateful for people like Emilio, who worked for the company and the man whose technology ultimately kept death at bay.

The shuffle of slippers roused Fahren out of his exhausted delusions. Only moving his head as the rest of his body felt like jelly, his cheek pressed against the floor as he looked up to see Emilio looming over him with a file in hand. As per usual.

His surprisingly dark lashes surrounded by light features, fanned down against the paleness of his cheeks as he ignored Fahren's melodramatic state and instead focused on tapping away. Likely bitching about Fahren's tendencies to lapse into a juvenile mindset when either exhausted from working-out, or sulking from not being able to stuff his face.

When Emilio spared a look, he propped one hand in his white trousers that sinfully hugged his toned thighs. But he still didn't offer a hand to help his patient, instead he sought enjoyment out of watching Fahren peel himself off the ground like a bandage off skin— painfully slow.

"You have reached the end of your program." He revealed as Fahren staggered to his feet. They weren't too dissimilar in height, but Emilio with his straight-backed manner definitely looked much taller. Then there was the way he looked at people, with a touch of iciness that Fahren put down to being the man's normal temperament. It was better that being met with the forced smile that made both men feel awkward.

"So what's next?" Fahren mused as he rubbed his face with a towel.

"You misunderstand. The overall program focused on your rehabilitation is completed, you have no further testing that requires you to stay at the facility. You have exceeded our expectations and are in the green on all test results."

The towel abruptly stopped moving. Fahren stared at the older man with a somewhat disbelieving stupor. "I can leave?"

Emilio nodded his head, "Although you're permitted to go home, I am required to advise you that you shouldn't be alone. You have excelled whilst here, Fahren, but your comfort has come from getting used to this place and its layout. Changing locations, even when it may be the familiarity of your own home, can result in shock. Especially when you're mentally still in recovery. I'm afraid that aspect of your treatment will take some time."

"I understand," Fahren smiled. "Knowing my mother, I'm sure she's made arrangements. So I don't think we have to worry."

Emilio didn't respond, instead looking from the warm expression to the screen in front of him. Electing to ignore some minor conflicting thoughts. But his fight or flight was triggered, so he wrapped up their discussion as quickly as possible and fled from the room after telling Fahren that he should shower.