The Billionaire's Final Venture

Prologue (Elliot Morales)

 Dead quiet.

 Arranged chairs seated with lifeless corpses, all mouths sewn shut as the only sound is coming from the hum of the air conditioning up above the frosted windows. A painting of a woman lying on a bed, dominated by blues and oranges as her black hair smeared all over the sheets. She looked sad, mournful even, with eyes glassy with tears. And right beside the canvas, a lone man with square glasses has an exasperated expression that looms all over the class.

 “Come on class, it’s not that hard, what do you think is the clear indication of emotion in this painting?” The man swings his head from side to side to spot out any unlucky corpse to answer the question.

 Still, it’s quiet. No one replying to the question. Until, a single hand rose, trembling.

 “Yes Mr. Elliot Morales, what a brave soul you are.”

 Everyone cranes their neck to look at him. His blue, ocean eyes widens with embarrassment. He stumbles to stand from his seat with trembling knees and lips. He’s gone pale, life drained from his already pale face.

 “He–her–e–eyes.” He mumbles, even his other classmates didn’t hear him. While the other classmate, a girl, is stifling a laugh behind him.

 “May you repeat that Mr. Morales.” The man, now the teacher, bellows, startling Elliot from his seat.

 “Her…eyes.”

 “Very good!” The teacher exclaims as he clasp his hands that shook the dead quietness of the room as he continues his discussion on the emotion of the painting that Elliot notices was made from oil pastel. His other classmates nodding in amazement as they glance at him in praise, well, one of them staring that has a build of every jock you would know in every movie.

 Elliot stumbles to back to his chair, everything about him a shaking mess, most noticeable is his hands as he grips the pen he used before he answered the question. He peers on his notebook, a faint sketch of an eye that mirrors his own.

 “What you drawing there.” A hand slams on Elliot’s shoulder as he feels a smile creep from behind him.

 His breathing hitches as he accidentally throws the pen to the ceiling, the pit in his stomach intensifying all because of the girl behind him that guffaws in silent torture, only wheezing and gasping coming from her. After a second, the pen drops to the ground with a rattle. Great thing is the teacher didn’t see it, but his other classmates did who all covers their mouths to resist laughing.

 But it got the attention of the teacher.

 “Is something wrong?” The teacher, who is writing something on the chalkboard, looks behind him.

 The class falls silent once more.

 But to Elliot, it felt like it’s getting rowdy. Everyone pointing a judging finger at him with mouths wide open as they mock his clumsiness. Even the teacher’s chortling, saying demeaning sentences that made him curl into a ball at his seat.

 A hand brushes on his shoulder, now it’s more comforting.

 “Hey, you okay?” A girl’s voice breaks his nightmare, pulling him back to reality.

 He grips the hand tightly, earning a wince from the girl that’s clearly in pain but she takes it and forces a weak smile when Elliot turns his head to look at her. He breathes a sigh of relief, every shaking body part relaxing. Only to jolt awake from the incessant ringing of the school bell above them.

 A wave of student shoots up from their seat with a screech, all turning their backs to the teacher as they jam their notebooks,  textbooks, pen cases inside the bag and zipping them up in a hurry.

  “Okay class, don’t forget about the–”

 Elliot, still at his seat, didn’t hear what the teacher said. Focusing on fixing his things so he can go home and lock himself in the safety of their dorm.

 “Hey, hey, hey.” The girl violently shakes Elliot’s shoulder which breaks his focus. “I’m hungryyy, let’s go eaat!” The girl makes circling motions on her stomach and flashes a pout on her face.

 Elliot gazes at her with a hand still inside his bag. The thought of going out always sent a chill down his spine, always looking down on the pavement to avoid eye contact with other people. His walking would always wobble as if he was about to fall.

 But with her, she feels safe. He feels like his vocal cords weren’t clipped, he can skip a little as long as she is near him.

 “Sure, Eve.” He mutters that sends Eve to a shouting frenzy.

 “Ms. Reyes.” The teacher’s authoritative tone shushes Eve’s delight, she mouths a sorry as she squeals in a lower volume that only Elliot could hear.

 “Hmm, how about…” She taps her index finger on her chin, her nose scrunched up as she tilts her head to the ceiling, thinking of which restaurant they should eat at. Still, Elliot buries himself on his bag that he can’t seem to fix only to groan in frustration and just jamming everything in.

 “Ooh! Ooh! There’s a new food place in The Hearst Building! I forgot what it’s called but someone told me about it!” Eve chimes with a giddy expression sprawled on her face as she violently shakes Elliot’s shoulder. “Come on! Come on!”

 Elliot mutters a little chuckle as he zips up his bag. He brushes his dark blue hair and slings his bag on his shoulder, almost knocking him to the seat in front of him if it weren’t for Eve.

 “Hey, have you eaten yet?” She asks while clutching Elliot’s hand. He stands up and shakes his head.

 “Come on, food’s on me.” Her voice filled with concern as they head out the classroom, but making sure they wave goodbye to the teacher who smiled back to them.

 Now they’re at the noisy college halls–a melting pot of running, gossiping, and smooching adolescents–of one of Greenville Institute many, many buildings. Their classroom is at the Raymond Building, named after one of the highest contributors to the school, in terms of money that is.

 Elliot got into the school from an Art Scholarship. He would always loathe the day it happened, he could still feel the intense stare at him instead of his artwork, scrutinizing every wrinkle, every pore on his short stature. He could still hear those berating words that made him almost hurl on the wooden floor of that room.

 Well, that was how he remembered it…Eve remembered it differently. She stood on a bench she pulled near her to get a better look at how Elliot was doing. Laughing at the fact he was sweating buckets when all the panel did was stand, clapping and hooting incessantly. She read on their lips that it was like Van Gogh, some Monet, and other famous painters she couldn’t make out. She would always remember the time Elliot looked out that window, and she gave him a supportive thumbs up that formed a smile on his face.

 They head out the busy hallway, the first thing they both see is the floral assemblage circling a head monument of Sir Raymond which the building was based on. Eve rushing to the bottom of the stairs that connects to a much longer pavement, while Elliot lags behind, admiring everything he sees from the floral arrangement surrounding him as well as the large field just across the street.

 Even with Elliot’s almost 7 years in this school from 7th grade to 1st year college, he still looks at everything like it was the first time. His excitement never ceasing like every color is new to him, every new smell giving him an unknown rush. Eve would always chortle at him being naive, but Elliot couldn’t help it.

 Greenville Institute felt like its own city. Streets for colorful jeepneys zooming in and out, dropping of students in their buildings, cars of some students that gleam on the afternoon sun. Everyone wears casual clothes like it was a neighborhood they live in. Speaking of living in, Elliot and Eve live not far away from Raymond Building, actually just behind it so being late wasn’t an issue.

 The two walk through the pavement, passing by some of their classmates who either had arms draped around them or they were doing the draping.

 Eve sighs. “When will I be like those?”

 “Like what?”

 “Duh!” She lightly shoves Elliot, “being taken!”

 “I don’t know,” he scratches his nape, “seems like it’s a lot of work.”

 “That’s the fun of it!” Eve jumps to prove a point of some kind that resulted in a light chuckle from Elliot.

 They walk through countless buildings, chatting with each other until they notice that the once lit up streets were getting dark. Elliot turns around, looking at the setting sun that reflects on his blue eyes, mesmerized by its beauty.

 “Oh no, we’re almost here, come on!” She drags Elliot inside the Hearst Building.

 One word to describe the building: futuristic. White tiles, white walls, lined with a pulsating sky blue light which gave that futuristic feel. They are met with a long retro white couch, with blue pillows.

 “Seems like this Hearst guy likes blue.” Elliot mutters as he eyes a magazine on one of the coffee tables.

 Tristan Hearst, a thirties trillionaire

 He holds up the magazine, the cover features Tristan gripping his tie, the red scar on his eyes standing out from the grey filter on the magazine. Elliot feels a tingle on his stomach and a blush creeping on his face.

 “No, no, no.” He mumbles to himself as he slams the magazine back on the table, looking at his hand as if he committed a grave sin.

 A hand brushes on his back, comforting him. “Hey, hey.” Eve flashes a warm smile that calms Elliot’s shaking nerves, and his shaking hand. She inserts her arms on Elliot’s, almost like those times during a promenade. Elliot nods at Eve with a hurt smile. She grips his hand to let him know she’s here.

 They venture into the futuristic halls, reaching a large cafeteria filled with sleek white tables and blue chairs. Metal cabinets on one side atop were salt shakers, a water dispenser and cups. Stalls on one end that had a blue flair to them even if the colors were kinda off which Elliot cringes at.

 “Which one is the new one here?” Elliot eyes all the stalls.

 “All of them seems new to me.” Eve grins, dragging Elliot to each stand and ordering each of what they like. Elliot protests on only getting him the cheap ones but Eve insists, buying almost everything on the menu. After a while, they set their tray with a loud clang on one of the tables, an enormous feast that was too many for them. A loud ‘shh’ makes them crane their neck to the source, only now noticing that there were other I.T students staring on their laptops. They silently giggle and gorge on every carbs, protein, in their food.

 “God, that was great.” Eve licks her lips, tapping her satisfied stomach.

 Elliot eyes the table, everything licked clean. “Yeah, we should go here again next time.”

 “OMG! Eve!” A high-pitched scream from the door made the two turn their heads.

 “Oh my God! Mars!” Eve scrapes the chair and rushes to Martha, who Eve calls as Mars. The two hugs and share formalities while Elliot sinks back to his chair avoiding Mars gaze.

 “There’s gonna be a party later at Honey’s, you coming?” Mars exclaims, the other students rolling their eyes from their loud voice.

 “Sure…” Eve’s voice trails, turning her head back to Elliot, “but I’ll bring him back first to our dorm.” Eve leans in on her ear to which Elliot can’t hear. Mars face made an ‘oh’ expression and nods.

 “So, I’ll see you there?”

 “Sure!”

 Eve walks back to Elliot. “You going home now right?”

 Elliot nods like a child with pouting lips. Eve nods, waving goodbye to Mars and heading straight to their dorm room.

 “Lock the door before you sleep okay? I have a key don’t worry.” Eve declares with a motherly tone in her voice.

 Elliot nods. “Don’t drink too much okay?”

 “I won’t!” She smiles, waving goodbye to Elliot and heading out the door.

 Now Elliot is truly at peace. Eyeing the bookshelf beside his bed, he flicks at one of the covers and it drops on his hand. After turning one page, he places a bookmark that rests on his bedside table.

 He snatches the laptop from his bag, firing it up and checking his emails.

  Tons of projects offering asking for his prowess in arts. Elliot, being too into painting and anything about the arts, plows through them in just three hours, ending him with about $100, that was about 5,000 pesos that he uses for his everyday living.

 Elliot smiles at himself as he closes the laptop, grabbing the book once more as he locks the door, before lying on the bed with a book above his face until he starts to feel the weight of his eyelids. And just like that, he drifts to sleep.