Lost in London [Completed]

Quinze

Kay raised a curled fist up to the solid glass door, knocking sharply, before he could think. Before he could change his mind. Before he could think better of it. He was called in as his father's secretary left the room, brushing past Kay as she fixed the buttons on her blouse. Kay felt sorry for her. More than sorry.

"Aeon, please come in! It's good to see you finally stepping up," his father addressed him, having stood up and crossed the room. "And please take off that ghastly denim jacket, it's rude for a start."

Kay nervously entered the room, but made no move to remove his jacket. He hadn't even considered this request – the t-shirt underneath would do nothing to hide his scars. Instead of offering up a verbal argument, he just shook his head for now.

"Aeon, you can't act so stubbornly. Take off the damn jacket and show some respect for once," Stanley snapped. "Don't be a disappointment."

Kay made eye contact with his father for a split second, realising that there was no middle ground here. Either he took off his jacket, or was kicked out. It figured that his father would be so focused on a trivial matter. That always had been the way. When Kay had ended up in the emergency room, aged twelve with a broken ankle, his questions hadn't been whether his son was okay. Instead, they'd been him asking 'do you know how careless you were?' and 'do you have any idea how much those shoes cost?' This was something Kay should have been more prepared for.

He pulled off the jacket, right arm, then left. He turned his back to his father as he hung it on the set of hooks, only turning back to face him when he'd crossed his arms across his stomach, hiding the scars. Despite his father reading the court documents, he had yet to physically see the writing on Kay's arm, and Kay wanted more than anything for it to stay that way.

"What finally changed your mind? Made you want to get involved with Cardinal Pharmaceuticals? You always did hate the idea. What's changed?"

"What's changed?" Kay asked back, "Everything has! And I want to move on! Journalists have finally stopped hassling me for answers about you, and I'm really ready to move on. I don't want to be stuck living in New York forever, and if the only way I can afford to move away is to work for your crooked company, then I'll do that. I'm desperate, dad," Kay confessed, throwing his hands in the air as he spoke.

Then things stopped.

His father lunged forward, faster than a man his age should be able to, and took Kay's wrist firmly in his grip, forcing his son to keep the brand on his arm on display.

"What the hell is this? Do you think anyone will ever take you seriously with that on your arm?"

"What? I – I didn't do this," Kay tugged his arm away, but to no avail. "Do you really think? –"

"And what are those, Aeon?" Stanley continued with his rant, hand now encircled around Kay's inner elbow, grip firm.

Kay didn't even need his father to be more specific. He knew what was being referenced, and he didn't have a solid answer. His silence wasn't taken well.

"You come back, take advantage of me. You're such a damn liar, Aeon," Stanley had let go of his arm now, and Kay had pulled it back to his body.

"No – it's not like that!"

"You're an addict," Stanley snapped. "You run away, run out of money and come crawling back, blaming some fictional gang for your disappearance. It's almost impressive."

"That's not true – it isn't. I'm not lying! Where would lying get me?"

"It would get you this," his father snapped, "And it would get you a position in the company, which is what you've come here to ask for, isn't it?"