Lance opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "Yes."
There was a pause, as if Ansel was listening closely to every breath he took.
"You and I have business to discuss today. I'll send a car for you in thirty minutes."
Lance blinked. "Thirty minutes? Ansel, I can't—"
"You can.." Ansel said. "And you will."
Henry's hand curled into the couch cushion near Lance's shoulder, tension radiating off him in waves.
Ansel's voice dropped lower. "Don't make me come there myself."
Lance's breath caught.
Henry let out a bitter laugh under his breath, but he didn't pull away.
"Do you understand me, Lance?" Ansel asked.
Lance closed his eyes for a moment before answering. "Yes."
"Good. Be ready."
The line clicked off immediately after, giving Lance no time to argue.
He lowered the phone slowly, the silence in the room suddenly felt suffocating.
Henry stared at him, eyes dark and unreadable.
"I guess today's your fuck day.."
Lance sneered as he pushed Henry off him, this time he added a bit more force.
"Henry don't forget your place, I don't like the way you speak to me 'I said pick it up' you're commanding me now? I'm a Masochist I'm not denying it, I'm submissive, I'm also not denying that, but that is only for my partner, I'll only allow them to command me, not you. You don't get to do that, don't ever fucking try to dominate me Henry, it won't play out well.."
Henry didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, jaw clenched, eyes burning with every emotion he didn't have the right to express.
The air between them was tight enough to choke on, and Lance was already exhausted from the tension long before the day had even started.
"I'm not trying to dominate you," Henry finally said, voice low but sharp enough to cut. "I'm pissed off, why Ansel Lowell of all men? I could have given you that 350k, why would you choose him over me?"
"That's none of your business," Lance replied. His voice was calmer than he felt. "You don't get to comment on the men I deal with."
Henry scoffed, running a hand through his hair like he couldn't decide whether to yell or walk out. "Yeah, sure. Because that's what you do, right? You throw yourself at the nearest rich asshole who waves money in your face."
Lance didn't rise to the bait. He was too tired, too hungover, too overwhelmed to start another argument.
Instead he turned away and headed toward the bathroom. "I'm going to shower. Leave if you want. Stay if you want. I don't care."
He shut the door before Henry could respond.
The hot water did little to help. His head still throbbed, his stomach twisted with a mix of dread and nerves, and every time he closed his eyes Ansel's voice echoed in his head.
He didn't know how Ansel was going to treat him, he had signed the contract so he couldn't complain about the methods Ansel used or how he treated him.
Was he going to hide his true nature like Henry or show it from the get go.
Lance hoped it was the latter, then he could brace himself.
He washed quickly, got dressed, and returned to the living room tugging his dark brown jacket into place.
The outfit felt fine, nothing special, but he didn't have the energy to put on a fashion show for a man like Ansel.
Henry was at the dining table eating like nothing had happened, chewing angrily, stabbing into his food more than actually lifting it.
He glanced up at Lance only once. The irritation was obvious, but he didn't say anything. He just kept eating.
Lance scratched the back of his head awkwardly, wishing the car would arrive sooner. Anything to escape this thick, uncomfortable silence.
"What? You're not going to eat?" Henry said without looking up. "I'm going to Canada to see my mother, so you don't have to worry about me for a while. I'll be back before exams."
He stood, brushing crumbs from his hands and straightening his clothes.
Lance hesitated. "How's she doing?"
Henry shrugged, his eyes focusing on the table instead of Lance. "I don't know. I hope she survives, but at the same time there's nothing I can do if she doesn't. She's already on end-of-life care, so…"
He finally looked at Lance. "Take care." walking to the door with his hands in his pocket, Henry didn't have the heart to give Lance a final glance.
Lance opened his mouth to say something but the honk of a car outside cut through the room. The timing was cruelly precise.
"Of course.." Henry chuckled as he walked out.
Lance slipped his phone into his pocket and headed for the door too. "Henry—"
"Forget it.." Henry said, pulling his hood up. "Just go."
He quickened his steps and got into the elevator before Lance could catch up to him.
There, they both stared at each other as the doors closed.
Lance pursed his lips as he locked the door, placing the key inside his back pocket and walked to the elevator.
When he got to the entrance, Henry was nowhere to be seen.
The car in front of him was a PORCHE CAYENNE, what the hell? Lance eyes widened, the Ansel really sent a porche cayenne to pick him up?
He got into the car and greeted the driver.
"You took your time, Mr. Lowell also gave me a time limit. If we don't hurry my bonus will be deducted."
"…"
Ansel wouldn't go that far? Lance shook his head, Ansel would definitely go that far.
"I'm so sorry, Sir.."
The driver waved his hand and sped off, off to the financial district.
Lance felt like he should take a picture, it wasn't everyday he got to ride in a Porsche Cayenne.
Still, he had to keep his composure in front of the driver.
Broke boys have class too.