Trip pushed the barbell skyward while inhaling. As he exhaled he dropped the weight back down. Sweat formed tickling his skin as it trickled down. There was a light knock on the door.
"Come in." Trip strained out. The door was opened and then gently shut. Trip's movements didn't cease nor did he acknowledge the intrusion.
"Oh, look at you keeping healthy. I wish I had your stamina" Virus said walking in with a handful of papers. "I asked you to work on this but it isn't done yet." He said with a smile.
Trip continued to heave, making slight adjustments to his grip as sweat slicked his palms.
"Yeah. I'll get to it when I get to it." Trip answered.
Virus tapped the the papers against his hand.
"Trip, we are talking about millions of dollars we have to keep track of. If you would just write an algorithm a computer would do it." Virus' voice began to take an agitated edge, but still sounded disturbingly cheery.
"Why would I do that? I'm not gonna let a computer take my job." Trip said allowing his anger to show through with more vigorous pumping. Virus was the business side of Morphine. He managed the clients, kept relations in check, and did most of the pencil pushing. Trip's only contribution was his mathematics. He couldn't lose that.
Virus went quite and Trip hoped his partner left him in peace. They didn't hate each other but they had their occasional arguments, like most coworkers.
Suddenly one side of Trip's barbell outweighed the other.
"Shit!" Trip hissed as he fought for equilibrium. The other side balanced out on its own as weight was added to it. Trip could no longer pump the equipment. It was all he could do to hold it in place. He tried to rack the barbell but it was no use.
"Trip, I really need you to do what you're told, when you're told." Virus said cooly.
Trip gasped as his vision focused on the bar above him. If it fell on his head it could knock him out, or possibly kill him. If it fell on his neck he could choke, also killing him. If it fell on his chest it would roll to his neck leading to the previously mentioned outcome.
Trip then felt a light weight settle on his stomach. He glanced down to see Virus had straddled him.
"I sure hope you're in the mood to do your job now." Virus said hovering the papers over Trip's straining red face.
Trip's arms slightly trembled. Sometimes Virus could come off as normal, but it was in these instances that the sociopath was evident. Trip tried to focus on the writing.
"Vi...rus," He gasped, spittle flying from his mouth, "I can't focus...like this."
"Oh, we both know that's bullshit. You're a regular John Nash. You eat, sleep, and breath numbers and you're just as crazy as he is." Virus responded with a toothy grin, continuing to hold the papers in Trip's field of vision.
His eyes squinted as sweat leaked in them. All Trip had to do was get the numbers in his head. His mind could easily work out the rest.
"Ah!" Trip gasped as one of his nipples was suddenly pinched. Virus' soft laughter followed.
"I'm sure you can work with several distractions at once." Virus prompted using his free hand to roam across Trip's chest to tweak the other bud. "You're very smart."
"Uh, next page!" Trip growled through clenched teeth. His arms shook harder.
"Good boy." Virus said flipping the papers. His voice held a bit of praise. As if he thought of Trip as a dog who had just learned a new trick.
Trip's eyes raced across the information but Virus' wondering hand was slowing down his progress. He could handle impending death better than sexual come ons from his coworker.
Virus scooted back slightly till his bum reached Trip's hips. This put Virus nearly laying down on top of Trip, his arm outstretched with the papers.
"What. is. this?" Virus asked shaking his rear on Trip's growing erection.
Trip gasped at the sensation. He had never been horny in a situation where his life was on the line. Virus could make him experience new things right from the comfort of home. A real joy.
"Hnnn, next page." Trip hissed. His arms were now completely unstable. His muscles burned and he was sure a tendon was torn. Even through the pain his dick struggled against his spandex shorts as Virus dry humped him.
Thankfully this page was shorter than the rest. Trip's mind captured all the numbers and with that information his mind began computing.
Virus was right, Trip's mind was crazy with numbers. Digits fell into place, forming order. Math made much more sense to him than people did. Math was either right or wrong, unlike Virus. Virus could be right and wrong at the same time. Like now, he was right to get the work done as soon as possible, but wrong in the way he was handling it. Like a colorful equation Trip had to try to balance out. White light was every visible color between 380-760 nanometers. Virus was the whole spectrum. He was the white light.
"We'll lose money if we don't cut off supplies to the Ohara group. Their returns were good last month, but the numbers say they're dwindling." Trip explained in a barely audible whisper. He had less than a minute to get rid of the barbell before it came toppling down on him.
Virus ground his hips a little faster.
"Uh huh, but they've always managed to pay us. Why question them now?" Virus asked bringing the papers to his own bespectacled face.
"They are going to default this month. They paid us last month in the exact cost of a Bugatti Veyron with a depreciation of 2 years." Trip rushed hoping Virus would be satisfied with his answer.
"So, you're telling me Ohara sold his car to pay us."
"YES! And he hasn't made enough sales to return the amount for this month! That car was his most liquid asset, he can no longer pay us! Cut him! Do not lend him any more!" Trip yelled counting down in his head. Primitive abundant, prime, 18, prime...
"Well, who am I to question you when it comes to numbers. See? No current algorithm would've caught that Bugatti cost. Only you can do that." Virus said finally getting up. He took off one weight causing an imbalance. This time Trip didn't try to save it. He let the barbell fall to the heavier side with a loud crash.
The younger man knew he had a small amount of time while his endorphins were still running. The pain would set in soon, so he had to act quickly. He bolted up and grabbed Virus by the shirt collar. The papers scattered about as Trip hauled the smaller man up against a wall.
"I could break your neck." He threatened, bringing his face close to Virus'. His breath fogging the other's glasses.
Virus cracked a smile. "Now now, Trip, we both know you won't do that." Virus assured snaking a hand down to grope the still straining hard on.
Trip made sure to show no emotion as he was fondled. He couldn't let Virus think that he wasn't a threat. Their relationship only worked because it had balance. Virus was white light and Trip was blackness. The black of nothingness, the absence of light. It's why he needed Virus. It's why they needed each other.
"Test my composure again and we'll see." Trip stated stepping back, freeing his colleague.
The suited man tugged at his lapels and smoothed the front of his jacket. He was smart in all the ways Trip wasn't. A genius at social manipulation. The art of words was Virus' power.
"Neglect work again and you won't get a test next time." Virus answered, his eyes scanning Trip's body. "Are you a homo?"
Trip was taken aback by the unexpected question. He genuinely didn't know how to respond. Numbers and words raced across his mind in a jumbled mess. He frantically tried to pick the words out from between the numbers.
"You're the one who was on me." Trip accused hesitantly. He still wasn't sure if that was what he wanted to say.
"That is what we call attempted murder, Trip. I was trying to get you to kill yourself, not fuck you." Virus educated in his mentor voice.
Trip shifted on his feet. What did he say now? He couldn't confess...Could he? While fishing in his mind for the right words Virus gave a heavy sigh.
"Forget it. Pick up these papers and make sure to do your job on time from now on." Virus said making an exit.
Trip was left still trying to put words together in his head. Words like like, love, hate, and abuse were lodged between the golden ratio and the formula for sinusoidal waves . He didn't know how to string his thoughts together and Virus never gave him the time to figure it out. He didn't know if Virus ever would give him the time.
Trip bent down to pick up the papers but he couldn't. The pain had set in.