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Mar 26, 2019 4:22 AM
Billionaire Lev makes new and exciting bad decisions.
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Lev works hard. (Unlike Sasha. Lazy. Inadequate.) 

Sasha brings him breakfast.

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He's asleep with his head on the desk.

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He puts the plate down on the desk and debates for a moment whether to wake him up — on the one hand he clearly needs the sleep; on the other hand he could get it in a bed. 

He shakes Lev's shoulder, not rough but not so gentle that Lev will sleep through it. 

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"Nnnrgh. Hi Sasha."

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"Good morning, Lev." He's smiling, gently, happy to see him. "Do you want to move to a bed?" 

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"Ugh, no, should be working." He opens a desk drawer, takes out a container of pills, swallows one. "Thanks for waking me."

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He nods. "Yes, Lev. Do you need anything?" 

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He doesn't answer. He's staring at the screen. 

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He takes that as his cue to go. 

He takes a shower (freezing cold) and watches a movie and writes down recommendations for Lev once he's done with work. At 3 pm he notices absently that he hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday. He doesn't get up. 

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There's typing and swearing from the office.

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...he contemplates kneeling at Lev's feet while visibly injured. 

Lev is working. He shouldn't. He doesn't. 

He does go and kneel at Lev's feet, though. 

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"Ugh," Lev says when he notices him, "go away, you're distracting."

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...okay. 

He goes. It feels wrong to go back to the library, or the movie room. 

He sits outside of Lev's door. He doesn't sing. 

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Work work work work work work.

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Useless. Worthless. Less than worthless. Disgrace. Only good for one thing, and not good enough even for that. 

(He's so cold.) 

Useless. Worthless. Less than worthless —

(He can never look Chris in the face again — nobody wants an useless worthless failure of a slave —) 

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"Hey, I'm sorry I snapped at you, I-- are you okay?"

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(locked out frozen dying alone —) 

"I'll," why is his throat so tight, "I'll be alright." He can make himself be alright. Lev wants him to be happy he should be happy. 

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Lev hugs him. "You don't look alright."

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He leans into the hug, clearly desperate for it. 

"I'm sorry, Lev." He's very very quiet. 

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"Why are you sorry?"

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Deep breath. 

"I was distracting. I considered being so deliberately. I caused you to worry. I wasn't in control of my reactions." 

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"It's fine, the only person out of line here is me, I didn't think about the fact that amphetamines make me irritable, I should have warned you before I took some."

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"--wait what?"

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"I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to elaborate on." 

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"...You're supposed to tell me when you're unhappy."

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