Everyone in the studio was nervous about Mark, Eric could tell. Although Mark had tried to make it clear that he was not like those presumptuous dominant alphas that dominated the economic and social peak, many still doubted the veracity of that fact. And it was absolutely normal, when had such an alpha existed? However, they realized how different he was from other alphas when during the interview, even though the interviewer attacked with uncomfortable questions at all times, Mark always behaved with an impressive level of calm. Eric could hear the collective sigh of relief from everyone in the studio at Mark's great calm. Not only was that, but he could also hear little whispers commenting on how impressed they were by Mark's philosophy.
And then the people present went from being scared and cautious, to sighing because he was not only the perfect man, but the perfect alpha. Eric felt uncomfortable. On that day, there were many omegas and betas in the studio, both men and women, and they were eager to find out about Mark's love situation. But the interviewer did not want to push his luck and did not mention anything related to his love life.
The collective sigh was heard again but this time on a sad note.
Dream on, Mark is married, Eric said in his mind. He should be glad to know that no one in the studio would have a chance with him, but he suddenly felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he realized something: no one in the studio would have a chance with him, and that included himself. But even if Mark were a man without compromise, would he have a chance? Could he compete against all the omegas and even betas, both male and female, who have an interest in Mark? Could a recessive, infertile, pheromone-unstable omega get a shot at it?
Even if it’s just a one night stand... A single night being in his arms, feeling the heat of his body and his strong pheromones making a mess in his head... Feeling a great intrusion between his legs, his strong hips crashing against his butt... Just once…
It'd be enough?
He didn't want to know, although it was obvious. Who in their right mind could have enough after just one taste of heaven? It was human to be greedy, and he would be no exception. Perhaps he should be satisfied that, at least in his fantasies, he would be his.
The interview ended and Mark's tired face was evident. Eric wanted to run to him, but should he? When he thought of the perfect pretext, many of the people in the studio had reached out to Mark. Apparently the “talk between friends before saying goodbye” will be for later.
His disappointment turned to dislike when he noticed Secretary Keaton looking at him. His steady gaze without a hint of dissimulation gave him goosebumps. Since meeting Mark, Keaton had become too unbearable. Eric had probably been drawn into the mutual dislike that was born between Mark and Keaton, as if he were the bone of contention.
He shouldn't be in the recording studio, and although Mark had the best of intentions, thanks to his request he was now in Keaton's crosshairs. He didn't want any more problems with him, so he began to help the rest of the staff who had not succumbed to curiosity and the desire to have a conversation with Mark. Perhaps busying himself with something else, time would pass quickly and it wouldn't feel like an eternity to wait for a chance to talk to him.
While he was going here and there checking that everything was in order before leaving, the lighting equipment on the ceiling began to turn off one by one. The reflectors emitted a light so strong and natural that it seemed as if it were daytime instead of night. Even the night lights of the city were almost overshadowed, as if instead of being real windows, it was just a wallpaper that simulated the night view of New York. When the reflectors were turned off row by row and replaced with normal lighting, the night light regained its space as if it had never gone away.
Eric was almost spellbound by the sight, but the sudden flickering of a row of lights coming on at the far end of the stage caught his eye.
“Oh crap. Not again,” said a boy with a tired sigh as he moved one of the cameras.
“What’s going on with those lights?” Eric asked.
“I have no idea, but when we turned them on today before the interview, they also failed. Can you go to the control room to report it? I need to move the other cameras.”
“Don’t worry!”
Eric's voice sounded excited, but it wasn't because of the task, but because at last he would stop having Keaton's gaze almost drilling into his head.
He went into the control room completely ignoring Keaton. He was really starting to wonder if there was another reason he was staring at him so much besides his recent enmity with Mark.
What else could it be? He had no idea.
Eric opened the control room door and only half of his body peeked out.
“We have a problem…”
The control room manager hesitated before speaking.
“Oh my god, did they piss off Mr. Kennedy?”
Eric laughed a little shaking his head at how unlikely that was.
“A row of lights won't turn on, they blinked and went off again.”
A sigh of relief came out of the control room manager's mouth.
“Oh yeah. It's been giving us trouble lately. For them to turn on we would have to fix the wiring and reconnect it to the remote switch terminal. It doesn't affect much so don't worry.”
Eric suggested, “Manager, shouldn't that power line be shut off? As long as the lights are on, that row could keep flashing. If we're not careful, that line could be overloaded and the lamps could explode, an accident is the last thing we need.”
The manager sighed, nodding as he scratched his head. He looked at a young-looking boy who was getting to his feet. He was probably getting ready to leave.
“Kevin. Before you go, go to the storage room. The electrical circuit breaker of the whole floor is there, turn off line thirty-seven.”
The boy stared at him somewhat taken aback by the sudden task, but only sighed dejectedly and nodded. Eric didn't have to guess much to know that this boy, who looked barely in his early twenties, was just an intern.
Eric stepped aside, letting the young intern pass, and exchanged a few words with the manager before exiting the control room. However, the intern was just a few steps from the control room, staring straight down the long hallway that led to the storage room as he clutched his backpack as if fearful.
Eric, puzzled by the boy's behavior, approached him.
“Something’s wrong?”
The boy was scared, but immediately calmed down when he saw that it was Eric.
“The storage room…” the boy began to say something fearful but at the same time ashamed. “I heard from my superiors that strange things are heard there…”
Eric frowned in total disbelief.
“Strange things?”
The boy nodded. He didn't seem to be lying, he was really terrified. Eric wanted to laugh. Does this guy really believe in ghosts? he thought. But then he recalled that interns are often the objects of jokes. He wouldn't be surprised if some superior told that to him just to joke around. Poor boy. He suddenly remembered when he too was an intern too.
“I think the superior who told you that, just wanted to play a joke on you.” Eric gave a small laugh at the end, the boy was too naive.
“Really?” Eric nodded. “Oh… well, alright. thank you.”
The boy, still doubtful, began to walk towards the storage room. But every step of his was so slow and fearful that suddenly Eric felt bad for him.
“You know what? I'll go,” he said after sighing. “But you owe it to me!”
Eric's words brought the boy back to life and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Next time I see you, I'll buy you coffee!”
Eric shook his head.
“If you stop believing in everything of this kind that your superiors tell you, I'll be more than satisfied.”
“I'm sorry…” The boy blushed at the scolding.
“It’s alright, go home.”
“Thank you so much! Bye!”
Eric sighed and shook his head as he watched the boy leave. Suddenly he felt old, although being 26 was not the end of the world.
He started walking towards the storage room and unexpectedly got a little understanding of the intern. It was quite a long hallway. The distance from the study to the control room was barely nineteen or twenty feet, but the distance between the control room and the storage room was almost one hundred and sixty feet, perhaps a little more. The studio was on one side of the building and the storage room at the other end, the distance was reasonable. The hallway was narrow, with white walls and floors. The more he walked, the quieter everything became since the studio part was built in a way that did not affect the IT department by noise.
Already halfway there was nothing to be heard. If he were alone on that floor, he would probably be scared, but luckily there were people in the recording studio and in the control room. But… If something happened to him, would anyone listen?
Come on, don't get paranoid now, Eric, he thought as he scolded himself.
Arriving at the storage room door, he instinctively hesitated. But after a second scolding himself, he opened the door. The interior was too much of a contrast to the bright, clean hallway. It was dark, quite dark. He groped for the light switch, and when he tried to turn it on, there was no response. There was no light in the storage room.
“If the intern had come, he probably would have started crying,” he said, joking with himself.
He opened the door fully, letting the light from the hallway illuminate the storage room a bit. He thanked all the gods that could exist when he saw that the electrical circuit breaker had a small green light that made it easy to locate. He walked carefully there and opened its door. Inside were too many little switches with little lights on top of them, each with an identification number. With all the effort of his eyes and the help of the dim lights, he searched for the switch he needed to turn off. As he did so, the light above the switch that was glowing green changed to a red color.
Now it was just a matter of leaving the storage room and returning to the studio. Mark would probably be free at last. Leaving the storage room was an easy task, it was just a matter of turning around and walking towards the light coming from the open door. But before even moving his feet a little, the dim light that was in the storage room thanks to the light from the hallway, disappeared. All this while listening to the door close slowly.
Being afraid was instinctive, but Eric thought it was absurd. Why should I be afraid? The door closed. So what? Not that I had a great fear of the dark and I don’t believe in ghosts either. Just grope and soon I’ll find the door.
“I was wondering why Mark Kennedy was so insistent on protecting you when you're just an ordinary beta” A voice began to say from the darkness. Is it a ghost? No, at the time Eric would have preferred it to be a ghost. “I was also wondering why you had such an interesting scent these past few days.”
“Secretary Keaton? It’s very dark… and the light in the storage room doesn’t work. If you open the door again, there might be a bit of light… Whatever topic you want to talk about, wouldn't it be better if we weren't in the dark?”
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Keaton asked, his voice sounding closer and closer. “Darkness has its advantages, you know? In the dark, our other senses become more sensitive… touch, taste, hearing and most of all… smell. Right now my sense of smell is more sensitive to smells… I can smell all kinds of smells from the storage room and especially I can smell you. Strange, huh? You're supposed to be a beta, why do you suddenly smell so good?
“It's just a new perfume I'm wearing.”
“I can smell your lies too, Eric. You are an omega, isn’t?”
The feeling of chills coupled with great fear made it difficult for Eric to respond.
“You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I can find out for myself.”
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