MAXEN
The community center was already bustling when Maxen arrived. Volunteers moved between tables, handing out food, organizing supplies. The familiar hum of conversation and distant laughter filled the air.
Maxen pulled into a parking spot but didn't move right away. He sat there, hands resting on the wheel, staring at the entrance.
He could still leave.
But instead, he sighed and stepped out.
The moment he walked in, everything felt the same. Except, maybe, for the fact that he was searching for someone.
His mother hadn't seen him yet—good. He wasn't in the mood for her knowing smirk.
The scent of warm food filled the air—freshly baked bread, soup, something sweet in the distance. Volunteers moved between tables, serving meals, sorting supplies. The chatter and laughter blended into a steady hum.
He wasn't new to this place. He'd been here a few times when he was younger, mostly at his mother's insistence. But last week had been different. And today… well, today felt even more different.
His mother was busy speaking with one of the staff, so she hadn't noticed him yet. That was good. He wasn't ready for her teasing glances.
His eyes scanned the room, searching.
He didn't even know what he was looking for—just an answer, maybe. A confirmation that last week hadn't been in his head.
Then, he saw him.
The guy was at one of the tables, laughing at something an older man was saying. The older man had a wiry beard, his eyes sparkling with humor, his voice rich and warm as he gestured enthusiastically with a fork. Rian's sleeves were rolled up, a faint streak of flour dusting his wrist. He looked… at home here. Comfortable.
Maxen wasn't sure what he'd expected.
Did he even remember me?
He hadn't thought about that. Maybe last week had been nothing to him. Maybe Maxen had imagined that moment—that connection.
He could turn around right now. Leave before anyone saw him.
But then, as if sensing his stare, the guy looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for a split second, something flickered across his face—recognition, surprise, something unreadable.
Maxen felt his chest tighten.
Then the guy smiled.
And just like that, leaving wasn't an option anymore.
Maxen didn't move, didn't blink.
His mind replayed last week's moment—the instant their eyes met, the way something had shifted inside him, a pull he didn't understand. Back then, it had been an impulse, calling him Rian. It just… felt right, like a name he had known all his life.
Now, standing here, he could still see why.
Rian's eyes were a deep, stormy blue, the kind that caught the light and held it, making them impossible to ignore. They were sharp, observant, but there was something else too—something unguarded, like he was constantly searching for something he hadn't found yet.
His hair was slightly messy today, strands falling over his forehead, as if he'd been too busy to fix it. There was flour on his wrist, a smudge of something on his sleeve—small details that made him seem… normal.
Not like the Elio Veymar he had read about.
Because, of course, Maxen had searched him up.
Maxen hadn't planned to think about him after the event.
But later that night, as he lay in bed, his fingers hovered over his phone screen, debating.
He had done this before—searched for people he met, looked up random names just to satisfy curiosity. This wasn't any different.
Except it was.
Because the moment his mother had first mentioned him—"Adrian"—something had settled in his mind. And now, after meeting him, after that odd, almost magnetic pull, he wanted to know more.
He started simple.
Adrian.
Nothing. Too common.
He tried again.
Adrian, charity, volunteer.
Still nothing.
Frowning, he tapped his finger against the screen. It wasn't like he expected to find much—maybe an Instagram profile, some casual posts. A way to connect.
So, he switched approaches.
Adrian, blue eyes.
It was stupid, but whatever.
Then, finally—something.
A picture.
At first glance, it was just another face in a sea of online profiles.
But Maxen's gaze snagged on the sharpness of his jawline, the striking blue of his eyes—the same eyes that had met his last week.
He clicked.
And suddenly, everything clicked into place.
Adrian Elio Veymar.
Maxen stared at the name, then at the long list of articles that followed.
The headlines. The features. The wealth.
Elio.
A name that carried weight, power. One of the biggest figures in entertainment.
Maxen exhaled, leaning back. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't… this.
He locked his phone, tossing it onto the bed.
Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it did.
Either way, he was going to see him again.
And here he was.
Adrian Elio Veymar.
One of the wealthiest figures in the entertainment world. A name linked to industries Maxen had never cared for—film, media, global events. Someone who could buy entire cities if he wanted.
And yet, here he was.
Here, he was just Rian—a man wiping flour off his wrist, smiling at an old man's story, blending in with the people who had nothing.
Maxen had expected arrogance. Superiority. The kind of detached politeness people like him often carried.
But Rian wasn't like that.
He was lost in a way Maxen recognized.
And he was passionate—about people, about this place, about things he didn't even have to care about.
The world had a way of assuming things about people like him. That they were selfish, untouchable, too far removed from reality to care.
But maybe, just maybe, Rian was proving them wrong.
Maxen exhaled and took a step forward.
Because no matter who Adrian Elio Veymar was, Rian was standing right in front of him.
And for now, that was all that mattered.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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