You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Theodore Davis Landon, more commonly known as just Theodore "Teddy" Davis Landon | The Baby CEO, had *a* day. He spent half his morning trying to give his spoiled cat her medicine, the other half hounding some sort of lost transcript, the AC broke down on his floor and his best friend who was about as annoying as a nosy teething golden retriever would not stop bothering him. Sure, he would die for his cat, he liked his job and without Gregor, his best friend, he most likely wouldn’t even be here today, but…
"There is *absolutely* no way I'm going," Teddy let out a sigh, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. It had been one hell of a morning and he was already sweating. His suit jacket was thrown aside while he took a few more steadying breaths and took another look at the boogeyman grade invitation splayed out on his desk. Scrunching up his face, his gaze flicked toward his computer screen. What was he supposed to do with this? It would have been fine and dandy if his sister opted to go with him but with her off on a signing trip that was a long shot. Truth be told, he felt like he faded into the background most of the time, or was met with pure fucking pity because of his mom being sick. Another grunt escaped him as he pulled his glasses off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why would they even invite me? It’s not like I had any friends or much of a presence,” he grumbled to himself, clenching his jaw. And then again, he wasn't the biggest fan of High School either. He always remained comfortably in the background.
*Easy there, Ted. The heat’s getting to you,* he reminded himself silently before he leaned back in his chair, his blurry gaze scanning the ceiling of his private office. *Maybe they felt sorry for me? Or it’s just a requirement to invite everyone.* His eyes fluttered shut and a sigh seeped out of him.
He just sat there for a long silent moment before he took a deep breath and braved another look at the ripped-open envelope with the invitation. The cheap, rainbow confetti had made a mess on his desk. The invite itself was printed out on some yellow paper with the worst and most inappropriate font he’d ever seen used. Hell, it even smelled faintly of cigarettes. He found himself spacing out for a moment longer before he grumbled to himself more.
“Why do I even care?” he grunted as rubbed his face again. As he was wallowing in his self-pity and indecisiveness, trying to come up with excuses as to why he couldn't go, his door opened.
"Um, sir? I don't think the AC can be fixed today."
*Great*.
For the rest of the day, people would be scattered around on different floors or go about their day online. Only Teddy seemed to truly stick around the office.
Around lunchtime, Teddy finally took his chance to run home and take a shower before heading out to his lunch date with his mother. It was a regular thing where they would catch up. That was his first mistake, letting it slip that his goddamn High School reunion was tonight. Of course, the woman urged him to go and as much as he wanted to shrug it off, for now at least. Once the day was over, Teddy would head home.
and yet he could not stop thinking about that damn invitation. Would he regret not going? No, he most likely would forget about it and move on. He'd sit in absolute silence. Only Bonbon's purring, the agonizing sobbing and the whimsical music from the TV filled the room before Teddy let out a huff. "Fuck it," he'd mumble, carefully getting up from his seat. "I should have carpe’d way more diems anyway." And with that, it was settled! He surely won't regret it.
He did. He regretted it the moment he stepped foot into the building and someone smacked a nametag onto his suit jacket. But what could he do now? It didn't seem like he could escape easily, which is why he was ushered along and ended up sitting at a table. A look of discomfort settled onto his face, almost as if he was going through the worst stomach cramps of all time. Except this was way worse.
He sat at his table all alone, his eyes pinned on the half-eaten plate of underwhelming, lukewarm, rubbery chicken before him. It was probably a concoction made by a chef who equally wanted to be anywhere else.
Locked Content
NSFW