Dear Secretary

ADRIAN

I glared at my reflection in the mirror, fury and hurt etched on my face. My hands clenched into tight fists as I gazed down at the damage the wine had done to my shirt. The crimson stains spread across the fabric like a map of chaos, a constant reminder of my life at Great Fisher.

A wave of loathing washed over me. I hated this city, its suffocating grip choking the life out of me. My own life was a sham, a never-ending cycle of disappointment. My family, a constant source of frustration.

And this job... I hated every minute spent at the Great Fisher, the pretentious boss, the backstabbing colleagues, the suffocating routine and the damned horny bastards that patronise this place.

I hated how every client in this bar only see me as a means of entertainment. To them, I was nothing more than a distraction, a plaything to be used for their amusement. My role as a server was constantly diminished, reduced to mere eye candy.

It wasn't their fault, it was my damn family's fault for abandoning me for these beasts to feed on. Or maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I shouldn't have been born. Or maybe I shouldn't have come out to my family.

Perhaps if I had remained closeted, maybe things would have been different.

'Get out of this house, Adrian. Do not ever dare think of coming back into this family until you can rid yourself of your homosexual tendencies and lead a morally upright life.'

My father's words to me that night as I came out to the people I had always considered my family made my stomach twisted with anger and disgust.

"I hate them! I fucking hate them so much." I breathed out, my chest tightened in sheer hurt.

My hands trembled and my ankles buckled beneath me, I gripped the faucet for support. My breath hitched and my eyes burnt with unshed tears as the memory of that night replayed in my head.

'Don't touch me, Adrian. Leave and don't contact me until you've become normal again. I refuse to accept you for who you're not supposed to be. I don't want a gay child.'

My mother's voice ranged in my head, her words to me that night was like a shard of glass pierced into my chest. No matter how many years had passed, the memory of that night remained fresh in my memory and each time I recalled how my family had turned my back on me, I couldn't help but think of how it could have been if they had accepted me for who I am.

"Fuck!" I groaned, turned the tap on and scooped water into my palms. I lowered my head to splash water on my face, my teeth gritted angrily when the image of my brother, my damned twin brother flashed through my mind.

'Adrian, I'm sorry, but please just comply with their demands. You can try to be with girls, you can like girls. Maybe this is just a phase. This isn't the brother I know. This can never be you.'

"No." A deep grunt rumbled through my chest as I shook my head slowly, "No!" I barked, letting the water slipped out my joined palm and punched the wall.

"This is who I am! This is who I fucking am!" I yelled angrily, my shoulders jerked back as I clenched my hands tightly to my side. Staring at myself in the mirror, I could barely recognise the face I was seeing.

"This is not just a phase, this is who I am and this is who I have always been." I yelled at my reflection in the mirror, pretending it was my brother I was staring at.

As identical twins, Aston and I shared an uncanny resemblance. However, our similarities ended there. He embodied excellence, excelling in every aspect of life with his intelligence, compassion, and dedication. I, on the other hand, had forged a reputation as the black sheep of the family - impulsive, flawed, and perpetually disappointing.

"You've always been the favored one, basking in Mom and Dad's unwavering love and approval," I spat, my words laced with venom. "You've never had to sacrifice your identity to fit in. How dare you lecture me on hiding who I am when you've never walked a mile in my shoes?" My voice cracked, but I bit back the tears, my jaw locked in my reflection in the mirror, imagining it as my brother.

I wished I could have said this to my brother's face that night. I wished I could have told him to fucking go to hell instead of scurrying out of the house that night like a scared kid they had made me to be.

A knock came on the restroom door and I slammed my hands on the counter, panting heavily. "It's occupied. Fuck off asshole."

I seethed with anger, my teeth clenched and my back straightened in defiance. I ripped off my shirt, glaring at the stained fabric. The urge to storm out and shove it in the face of the careless bastard who'd drenched me in wine was overwhelming.

I longed to make them understand how much I loathed being treated like a doormat, how desperately I craved an end to the constant abuse. But fear held me back. I knew I couldn't stand up to those thugs alone.

After a futile attempt to rinse out the wine, I conceded defeat. The stain persisted, taunting me. I reluctantly slipped back into the damp shirt, its clingy fabric showcasing my toned physique. The effect was unsettling, making me feel vulnerable and on display.

In hindsight, I should have left the shirt stained; at least then, the imperfection would have been a distraction from my body. But now all those bastards would have more reason to feast their eyes on my body.

"Fucking perverts!" I muttered, slamming the faucet off and tugging my shirt into place. As tempting as it was to hide out in the restroom, I knew I couldn't avoid my shift forever.

With a reluctant sigh, I headed for the door, reminded that I still had hours to go before my freedom. Matt, my boss, would have a meltdown if he discovered I'd slipped away.

I grasped the doorknob and swung the door open, but my escape was short-lived. My eyes widened in terror as I faced the last person I wanted to see: the man who'd sent me fleeing to the restroom. A sly smile spread across his face as his gaze crawled over my chest, lingering on my nipples. I felt a chill run down my spine. With a startled shriek, I slammed the door shut, blocking his leering gaze.

A sudden bang on the door made me flinch, as the thug's fist crashed against it. "Come out, sweet pea," he taunted, his low, menacing tone sending shivers down my spine. "You think you can hide forever? Think again." His voice was laced with a sinister intent that made my heart race.

"Damn it," I muttered, my voice barely audible. My hand trembled as I grasped the doorknob, hesitating for a moment wondering if I should open the door or not.

I heard fading murmur of voices and the receding sound of footsteps from the hallway and my ears perked up.

Huh? Did he already left? I thought, my heart racing as I gently cracked open the door to reveal the man I had thought I would never ever meet again.

My eyes widened in stunned surprise, and a fiery blush spread across my cheeks. I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my gaze locking onto his piercing silver eyes. The air thickened as our eyes met, and I swallowed hard, my throat constricting.

"Hi," I managed, the word barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a sly smirk, and my mouth went dry, leaving me breathless.