KYNK

Fifty Shades of Gay

I was going to kill him.

Since I'd been appointed as the chief secretary of Elliott "Just Elliott" Grimme, life had become far more complicated that I'd been anticipating. When he'd more or less challenged me to accept the position, I'd accepted out of defiance and hadn't taken the time to consider how horrible of a decision it could be.

Well, here I was, several weeks later, draped over my desk with an empty tumbler in my grasp. The stress was real.

During those two months, I'd learned two things very well; for one, all adults were liars. Work was not fun. It wasn't even remotely enjoyable, especially if you happened to work for an overly demanding prick. And two, it was actually possible to be too exhausted for sleep itself. I hadn't had a proper night's sleep in nearly a week, what with all that'd been going on, and my body was suffering the consequences. If I had the energy, I'd have strangled Elliott where he stood, but I could barely curl my fingers tight enough to hold a pen, so carrying out that vendetta would have to wait.

Until then, I would be whispering sweet nothings to the blotter cushioning my head.

By eleven, I'd been relinquished. Jung practically had to carry me to my room, under the impression that I was heavily drunk. I didn't have the energy to explain that I was just drained. Yeah, if someone could lock me away in a stasis chamber for the next two hundred years, that'd be great. The sleep would be well beyond welcome.

That night, I slept in my clothes. It was the best sleep I'd gotten all week - the sort that was so deep you didn't even have the pleasure of a dream. I snoozed long into the afternoon the next day, grateful for the fact that it was Saturday and that no work was required of me. When I awakened, it was to find that I'd half-undressed myself and had one new message awaiting my attention.

Bleary-eyed, I swiped over the notif and squinted at the tiny text.

Anonymous:

'What are your plans for lunch today?'

Elliott. The last person I wanted to hear from on my day off. Couldn't this fool take a hint? I wanted to sleep. I wanted some peace. I wanted-

My stomach made some sort of angry, inhuman noise and it was followed by the horrid cramping that only came with serious hunger. Right. I'd been subsisting on coffee for the majority of the week, and last night had been no exception. I'd worked through lunch and dinner, then I'd had the nerve to sleep my way through breakfast. When I typed my response, I was careful not to sound too interested. No need to invite more conversation.

'Undecided.'

Ha. If a one-word message wasn't enough to imply I wasn't exactly up for chats, I didn't know what else would be.

Anonymous:

'The Peacock an hour from now. Meet me.'

Groaning, I checked the time and inwardly scowled. Elliott was going to ruin my day off.

Instead of dwelling on that fact, I dragged myself out of bed, stripped out of my work clothes, and tossed them into a nearby hamper. A quick shower later and I was feeling a little more human. Face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed - there, now I even looked civilised, not that he deserved it. I guess I still had an image to maintain, though.

I kept it simple with a pair of close-fitting black jeans, a Pogues band tee, and a cardigan. Onto my feet went a pair of combat boots, and I'd left most of my hair down, save my fringe, which had grown out in recent months. I tied that section up into a little ponytail and took my leave, slapping a note on the fridge for Jung just in case he wondered where I'd gone.